Chicano Poet

Saturday, June 19, 2004

Don't Drink The Coconut Water


A warrior is lying bloodied
in the dusty streets,
his other leg lies half a block away.

Back home there is an uproar
over somebody publishing pictures
of flag-draped coffins.

Welcome to the real world
you sons-of-bitches. Did you think
this was a made-for-TV-movie?

A teenage girl lies dead on a wooden table,
her eyes wide open, a gaping hole
where her left breast used to be.

There’s a burning car at an intersection.
A human barbecue
hangs halfway out of the door.

Not far away a Humvee burns,
and a soldier’s helmet is being tossed about
by an angry crowd of onlookers.

Meanwhile, back at the Crawford Outhouse
the President insists that we are winning the war,
but his dumb-ass smile says otherwise.

Wednesday, April 28, 2004


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