1988_05 The Daily Collegian May 1988

              v
Page 5  Moolay, May 2, 1988
inner visions
as i stand here
here on the threshold of my future
i contemplate the rason for being
am i here to only please and help myself
if so
then the hell with everybody else
I think not
there must be something more
are you a reflection of myself
if you are
then I must take care of thee
for i can not truly know
myself
if I do not know thee
Mystic Warrior
time passes ever so continually
people are dying ever so continually
but do I care
no
because
I make money ever so continually
fuck this capitalistic ideology
ever so continually
Mystic Warrior
AVEN1DA de REVOLUCION
Perched peacefully atop the bridge of life
Sit the beautiful children
Numb to the noxious stench of urine
And the rest of the shit
That comprises their existence
Singing La Bamba
Hoping
Wishing
Praying
That the young Mexican haters
Could find it somewhere
Anywhere
To be generous
Just this once
But of course—
The young Mexican haters
Who come by the thousands
Invading
Raiding
And exploiting the exploited
Never see the children
Nor do they hear the strums of tiny guitars
Or the wails of a proud people
Who sing their song
The song that the young Mexican Haters
Dance to in their exclusive clubs
Without ever a thought
From where the song came
No!
The young Mexican Haters
Rush their obnoxious selves
To their exclusive clubs
Which plays the song
Poetry
Corner
wrucn tne Deauutul cmiaren sing
but they fail to hear
In their tequila clouded ears
Large families set up homes
In front of Woolworths and Dennys
And anywhere else their is room
Inviting the young Mexican haters
Into their homes to visit and see the family heirlooms
Treasures of combs, batteries, cigarettes.
lottery tickets, lighters, chicklets,
And priceless Indian bracelets
Which the people offer up as gifts
Only to be shunned
By the young Mexican haters
Who go to the neighbors
Looking yet, for a better deal
The young Mexican haters
Who've come by the thousands
To eat
to drink
to party
to carouse
But not with the prisoners
Whom they guard with their greed
Instead they rejoice
For they are free to roam
To conquer the streets
And peer in the windows
Of the people's homes
Spying on the loving rnothers
Feeding milk to the babies
While ignoring the children
Who possess but one thing
An empty tin cup
Which overflow with my tears.
*■ Larry-Michael-Hobson
ODE TO CHILES
Mis padres like the
stinging flavor of your seeds.
Waxen green, yellow,
red thumbs and elongated
bells on ctiurch towers.
You always grow ripe
for the harvest which
spells your death.
Kneeling, mis padres would
pinch your dp,
snap you from your shrunken branch and
strip Dare the bush
with such speed,
their buckets would
form a mountain
above the can's rusted rim.
Even though you are stored in a bin,
you refuse to remain lifeless.
Perhaps your flesh settles into a fury
because of the
rage of my
slaughtered ancestors who
seek revenge by hiding under your skin.
Mis padres eat you every day with
tortillas and came because
for them you are sweet hot mole.
-Pedro Lopez Ramirez **
IDEALISTIC YOUTH
Bom into poverty, sold into slavery.
Now you're middle class and moving up fast
Whai about those that you left behind?
Lefi in the gutter to wind and die.
I remember sitting around drinking the "Bird.''
Talking about politics and changing the world.
We used to dream about living in Utopia.
But now you're too good to be my friend.
^Remember when we were outcasts for taking a stand?
We carried signs and spoke our minds.
We weren't afraid to fight for our rights.
But now you've gone out and joined the man.
4 years of college, no years of knowledge.
Now you're working for IBM.
Big expense account, a company car.
But do you know who you are?
You were bom into poverty and sold into slavery.
And now you're middle class and moving up fast
You've turned your back on what you believed.
Now you're voting Republican and going to church.
You've sold yourself to IBM.
loined a country club and have got new friends.
Always on top of every new trend.
And now you're too good to be my friend.
Remember drinking Olde English by the rail road tracks?
Singing songs and talking politics?
We used to dream about the revolution.
Now you've joined the problem and abandoned the solution.
You've, made some money and fed your greed.
But you're a prostitute no better than me.
What about those thai you left behind?
Left in the gutter to wine and die.
Larry -Michael-Hobson
JERRYS (FALWELL) GIRLS
Daughters are bom day by day
No trumpets blaring no cigars
Mothers mistake
No little Clippers
No one to follow in fathers footsteps
No one to follow
To cany on
Carry on the family name
Daddy's little girl
Pigtails and lace
Soon to folow in mommy's place
Bom to be a martyr
For better or worse
Bom to be a martyr
To serve and obey
Sentenced to the kitchen
To cook and clean
The husband is the head
A bible made king
Women, be feminine
Submit lo your man
Or youll throw off
God's ready made plan
UHry-Michael-Hobson