We are wombyn
We are one with each other
We are one with the earth
Our tierra madre
We are born to a universal womb
The umbilical cord of
stars and galaxies
is attached to our belly buttons
when our hearts first beat
it beats as one
can you feel it?
The moon guides our fertility cycle
The ocean heals our broken bones
The sun gives us our creativity
And the dirt feeds our babies
With riquezas de frutas y vegetales
Maíz, frijol, granada
We are one
Our tierra madre
Can you see her?
She is crying
When it rains
She is dying
When there's flames
on her greens
right now, our cycle is broken
its dry and hot in January
the flowers stop blooming
in may
because there were no
april showers
it snows in august
how could this happen?
No one hears our mother cry
As they silently but violently
Rape her with skyscrapers
Roads, bridges, cars, planes
Sweatshops, maquiladoras
Every night, she hurts
Every day, we do nothing
Our mother is silently crying
Our mother is silently fighting
Our mother is silently dying
What are we doing
To defend her?
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Belli
Quiero una huelga donde vayamos todos.
Una huelga de brazos, de piernas, de cabellos,
Una huelga nacido en cada cuerpo.
Quiero una huelga
de obreros de palomas
de choferes de flores
de tecnicos de ninos
de medicos de mujeres
Quiero una huelga grande
que hasta al amor alance
Una huelga donde todo se detenga,
el reloj las fabricas
el plantel los colegios
el bus los hospitales
el carretera los puertos
Una huelga de ojos, de manos y de besos.
Una huelga donde respirar so sea permitido
Una huelga donde nazca el silencio
para oir los pasos
del tirano que se marcha.
I want a strike where we all go out.
A strike of shoulders, legs, hair,
a strike born in every body.
I want a strike
of workers of doves
of drivers of flowers
of technicians of children
of doctors of women
I want a great strike
that includes even love.
A strike where everything is shut down.
the clock the factories
the nursery the schools
the bus the hospitals
the highway the harbors
A strike of eyes, hands, and kisses.
A strike where breathing is banned,
a strike where silence is born
in order to hear
the departing footsteps of the tyrant.
-- Gioconda Belli
Una huelga de brazos, de piernas, de cabellos,
Una huelga nacido en cada cuerpo.
Quiero una huelga
de obreros de palomas
de choferes de flores
de tecnicos de ninos
de medicos de mujeres
Quiero una huelga grande
que hasta al amor alance
Una huelga donde todo se detenga,
el reloj las fabricas
el plantel los colegios
el bus los hospitales
el carretera los puertos
Una huelga de ojos, de manos y de besos.
Una huelga donde respirar so sea permitido
Una huelga donde nazca el silencio
para oir los pasos
del tirano que se marcha.
I want a strike where we all go out.
A strike of shoulders, legs, hair,
a strike born in every body.
I want a strike
of workers of doves
of drivers of flowers
of technicians of children
of doctors of women
I want a great strike
that includes even love.
A strike where everything is shut down.
the clock the factories
the nursery the schools
the bus the hospitals
the highway the harbors
A strike of eyes, hands, and kisses.
A strike where breathing is banned,
a strike where silence is born
in order to hear
the departing footsteps of the tyrant.
-- Gioconda Belli
Xicana Feminism as "Theory in the Flesh" (1981)
"A theory in the flesh means one where the physical realities of our lives-our skin color, the land or concrete we grew up on, our sexual longings-all fuse to create a politic born out of necessity. Here, we attempt to bridge the contradictions in our experience.
We are the colored in a white feminist movement.
We are the feminists among the people of our culture.
We are often the lesbians among the straight.
We do this bridging by naming our selves and by telling our stories in our own words."
From Cherrie Moraga and Gloria Anzaldua, This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color San Francisco: Aunt Lute Press, 1981.
We are the colored in a white feminist movement.
We are the feminists among the people of our culture.
We are often the lesbians among the straight.
We do this bridging by naming our selves and by telling our stories in our own words."
From Cherrie Moraga and Gloria Anzaldua, This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color San Francisco: Aunt Lute Press, 1981.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
3rd flier....I think I'm getting better.
But on a more serious note, come through to the Open Mic Series I'm organzing!
http://www.facebook.com/n/?
WHAT: In collaboration with Still Waters Poetry Collective, we will be dropping a MKE Summer open mic series for youth & young adults
WHEN: This series will run from Tuesday June 16th through August 18th (7-close)
WHERE: Two different locations will be utilized: Brewed at 1208 Brady St. and Taste of Art on 47th and Lisbon
WHY: The purpose of this series is to provide a place for youth and young adults to come, meet, build community and share their art, music, poetry, and spirit. There will be at least an hour block after 9pm to kick it, freestyle, etc. The venues will alternate weekly. The idea behind this is to build community that will travel to the other location the following week.
If you have any questions, would like to host or feature hit up:
Jeanette Martin
(414)758-0199
jeanette.mrtn@gmail.comor
Alida Cardos Whaley
(262)352-6036alidaisabelle@gmail.com
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Monday, June 1, 2009
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