Chicano Poet

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Rope A Dope

Artemio remembers with pride and disgust
what has been done to him,

what he has done to others, what he would like to do,
the beans he ate for breakfast

for a hundred years it seems,
no speak in spik Miss Abernathy snapped,

the grave-like tacos which tasted so good
he would not admit to himself,

the small things, the big things,
the just plain chingaderas of his brown upbringing,

battling not just the outside world
but the inside world as well,

finally defeating both, not arrogant,
I Am The Greatest, he whispers.


At 3:37 PM, Anonymous Marinela said...

Great poem :)


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