A Good Poem.
Wealthy vampieres. With the cold hands of executioners execute executive decisions, determined to destroy, what a million of men, women and children. 1910 die drowning in the rage of battle. Mothers half naked infants clutching their necks, running frantically tripping over the bodies of their sons teeth gnashing, swinging manchete, spiting blood and mud and screaming. Land and liberth.
Were erased, buried and burned, along with the memory of the dead. Along the "ejido". With the smoth stroke of a pen and with the ghost of Nixon present in their eyes they smile and pronunce the omnipotence of the free market. The prophets of profit extending the scourge of "Columbus" and "Pizarro". The freedom to by things you could never afford. The freendom for indians to buy corn that once flourished, overgrown in their backyards. The freedom to die of curable disease. The freedom to wath their childre's stomachs swell and burst. The freedom to starve and die witout land… or liberty.
Bur "Ramona" with eyes of obsidian purring throgh her blood and sweet drenched mask darting unseem changing direction with a swiftness of a bird through the shanties of the canyons with every "coyote", every "insect", every "phylum" of life urging her propelling her forward. The leaves and branches and the forest parth for miles, clearing her path. The voices and screns of the dead beneth her feet echo in the deepest charm of her soul.
Hurling her toward the city. History surging through her veins pulsing through her fingers, hurling her toward the city. She caresses hes trigger and the words of Mogan fulfill her being. And with each shot she fires she affirms her movementy saying ENOGH, ENOGH. No, i will see mey own blood flow before you take my land… or my liberth.
Zack de la rocha it was integrant of the band Rage Against The Machine until the year of 2000.
If it will have some error of orthography, correct me please, I am half-illiterate.
Tópico: Poem of Zack de la Rocha (Lida 2023 vezes)