Teen Speak - Poetry: 2011

Saturday, November 5, 2011

The Revolution Is

Change for the world and America
And every single person too scared
To speak their mind for fear of losing their voice

The revolution is for people who go to sleep starving
Wondering when they'll have their next meal

The revolution is for all the "aliens" who are just
Trying to find a safer place to live
A place where they can walk outside
Without the fear of being shot

The revolution is for 18-year old boys
Whose families push them to enroll in the military
They say it'll make you a man

The revolution is for all teenagers who try to speak up
And try to find their own voice but they are
Silenced by the media, parents and politics

The revolution is for 11-13 year old girls who
Are followed, stalked and raped
But may never say so out loud

The revolution is for babies who lose their life
Before they even had a chance to fight for it

The revolution is for anyone who is in
An abusive relationship whether it be mental
Or physical - never lose hope, stand up for yourself
For you are not alone

The revolution is for all single parents who
Have to work day in and day out and never
Get to see their children and when they come home
There's not much there as they can barely afford
The one room apartment they are living in

The revolution is for gays and lesbians
And their rights which they fight for everyday
We're happily married, why can't they be

The revolution is for factory workers
Who work all day but might only get a few dollars
They work in filthy conditions to give us
Our designer clothes and they turn into
Nothing but a number for the company they work for

The revolution is for all people of color
Who might get glanced at warily
When they walk into a store

The revolution is for all girls and women
Who struggle everyday with thinking
They're not pretty enough
They can be the smartest people in their schools
But they think that doesn't matter

The revolution is for all boys and men
Who are thought to believe that being manly
Means treating a girl like nothing
That being manly is about violence and weapons
But they rise above it and for that they are teased

The revolution is for everyone
Everyone that believes in things such as hope
Freedom and an open mind

For everyone that is struggling just know
Things will get better because the revolution is coming
And we're all a part of it

The revolution is for everyone
Anyone can join whether you are fat, skinny,
Short, tall, bald or have a full head of hair,
Gay, lesbian, straight, Mexican, black or white

The revolution is about equality
The revolution is about change

© Leanne Rodriguez, 2011

Our People

Hidden history, hidden truths
of my people not heard for what
For who we are
for what we look like
for where we come from

History of people fighting for
what is right against oppression
against what is considered the norm

I remember the people who gathered
in the streets united in one voice
yelling into the ears of those who
wanted to keep them down

I remember those who stayed
and stood their ground while they
were ridiculed and beaten

Those who gathered peacefully
were greeted with violence
We all should remember those
who had these struggles
and realize they are not done

Our struggles will not be ended
by an illegal war
by a material object we hold
so dear or a style of fashion

People speaking out together
United for all these people that fought
and still fight for our people
We must keep our people in our hearts

© Ruben Delgado, 2011

The Stage

Being told what to do 24/7
like a four year old, when I'm seventeen

Where is home

Bored all day with only 27 feet of land
to play on when their is about 10 kids
who want to play

Where is home

Not knowing who is right or who is wrong
When 200 people speak at the same time

Where is home

My own world, my own self being turned
into another character of my choice
Where when I want to speak, I can
and people have no choice but to listen
My home, my life, my world

Is the stage

Without the stage I'm nothing but one
out of on billion dots on this Earth
Without the stage I can't speak my mind
I can't hear the applause and I can't
hear my fellow comrades tell me how
wonderful I did

Without the stage
I am a dot
Without the stage
Where is home

© Genesis Cardenas, 2011

Music

My voice was not made for singing
My fingers not made for strumming
My ears were made for listening

The lyrics my best friend
The beat my lover
Worries end
The only thing I worry about is buffering

My homeland
Where would I be without this natural high
This lovely invasion of sound and poetry
This destroyer of boredom

Will I go mad when this invasion
This destroyer is corrupted by
Judgement and greed

© Francisca Vargas, 2011

Saturday, October 8, 2011

My Soul Is

My soul is the water that was poured on my people

For protecting our equal rights

My soul is the club that beat on the teenage Latinos

On the wide open streets

My soul is the teeth of a dog that was released

To my Latino brothers and sisters

My soul is the dirt that my Mexican brothers

Had to kneel on to pick fruit

My soul is the badge that won’t let my Latino

Brother come to this country for trabajo

My soul, my soul, my soul

What soul

The Oak Tree

The intuition of a dark place

Trapped in a soul of an old oak tree
Giving life to be reborn

As a young apple tree awaiting

Maturity for a chance to give life

Apples are the fruit of ignorance

Souls ignorant to everything around

Born slowly rotting with destructive knowledge

Until that one point where the soul

Is yours again and you become

An old oak tree standing tall

In a cemetery of life

Slayer of Avarice

My soul is the arc angel of lost memories.

The thoughts of the dead brained and deceased conformists.

My soul tastes the defeat of the lost; a taste that isn’t sweet –

Except to the governed.

My soul carries the scythe of despair and lack of will.

My soul commemorates the reality of those who fought.

My soul is the taker of the deceitful, scalps the ass of those

who speak likewise to their feral excrements.

My soul knows the truth of everlasting light.

It knows the despair, but also knows the truth of joy.

My soul is the wielding slayer of avarice and sin.

My soul is me.

My Soul

My soul is the root

Of evil and hatred

My soul is violence

Is joy and love

My soul is the dead

Carcass being eaten

By the vulture

The creature devouring

Its own heart

My soul is the man

Stomping on a face

And will not stop

My soul is a broken nose

A bloody mouth, a black eye

A broken jaw, a ripped ear

A busted lip, broken teeth

A cracked skull my soul

Wants blood and that is love

Monday, September 19, 2011

Paco's Dream

I speak with a name

With anger and expression

I speak with the cultures

Of us and graffiti on walls

I speak with knowledge

And screams that mean everything

I speak against this

Mediocre fantasy

These are all my languages

I have many but have one name

My Language

I speak in the language of ART

The language that sounds like

Pencils scratching on paper

The language that sounds like

Paint gushing on a blank canvas

The language that sounds like

Singing in your room while no one is home

The language that sounds like

A guitar being strummed

The language that sounds like

A bird chirping at first

Singing of light in the morning

The language that sounds like ME

Speaking Rain

I speak rain

I speak when most needed

Sometimes big fat drops

Or stinging slicing rain

This language is soaked up

By the dry Texas ground

Growing flowers and green

Making hair frizzy and shoulders damp

Blocked by black umbrellas

I speak rain

Mi Lengua

I speak with many tongues

I have a professional tongue

For those who think I’m not

As intelligent as I know I am

I have my teen tongue

For the streets and

Those “let’s hang” types of times

I have my tongue for when

Things are hurting me

It’s kind of funny though

I never tell anyone

What’s really hurting me

Then I have my first tongue

Mi lengua

Mi primera lengua

The tongue given to me

By my abuela

I have my singing tongue

Oh how I love to sing

These are my tongues

That make me who I am

Language of Life and Death

I speak in the language of life

The forbidden tongue

That was learned

When the first bite

Of the sinful fruit was taken

It sounds like the scream

Of a tortured soul regretting

The choices that are now

The cause of its agony

It sounds like the speeding

Heart of a blushing bride

About to start the beginning

Of the rest of her life

It sounds like the tapping

Of fingers on a keyboard

Creating a masterpiece

It sounds like the determined woman

Protesting in the streets with

More bravery than any man

I speak the language of death

Untitled (working title)

Words can change

Alternate emotions

And express feelings

Like how water slices

Through eroded rock

My words

Can cut people down

Like the depth

Of a canyon

Or covet someone

With a bassy coo

I speak with eloquence

And also with integrity

Words without purpose

Are blank words

Blank bullets

Harmless to a malleable victim

I speak in sanctity for

The essence of reason is to fight

Words change but should

Never lose meaning

Adrenaline

I speak in hyperness

The adrenaline running through my body

I’m waiting until I speak

Every word coming out faster

My brain tells me I need to move around

I dance

I sing

I run

I scream

I try to hide every ounce

I say millions of words within a statement

My hands shaking

My heart racing when I speak

My heart beating along with my voice

As I talk my language

Hyperness

I Speak

I speak in sadness

When I am sad

I speak in happiness

When I am happy

I am a teen who doesn’t get

The attention of anyone

I use my voice

So they look my way

I speak in eagerness

And I speak with excitement

Being here, meeting new people

I speak my own language

I wish not to change my voice

I wish not to be any one else

It’s my language that makes me

Speak

I speak in

Happiness

Anger

And in knowledge

The language I speak

Makes it hard to talk with people

My age, but not older people

My language is different

From my family’s

My dad’s side of the family

Speaks gossip, cruelty and in selfish ways

My mom’s side of the family

Speaks about school, work and

Agrees with the government

Everyone speaks their own way

True Love

What language do I speak?

I speak in love

Not the love people talk about

In those cheesy American movies

That have now shaped

What we consider love

I speak in a love far deeper

I don’t make out with the people I love

I hug them and tell them

How much they mean to me

I talk to them and if they have a problem

I try to help them as best I can

I keep their secrets and I try

To never let them down

And if I do I feel bad for a long time

Because I’ve hurt the people I love

I speak in real love

The only love

The true love.