Chicano Poet

Tuesday, November 30, 2004

Frost Not Being Around

The high ones die, die
or so we hope
but

it never happens.
The bastards
go on living,

evading
heartattacks, cancer,
automobile

and airplane crashes.
They dodge
the bullets

we shoot at them,
and the words
of truth

have no
effect on them.
And God,

the anachronistic
fool,
let’s them

go on living
so they
can

continue
their evil ways
upon Aztlan.