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LIAR!!!

LIAR!!!

You call yourself an activist

Fighting for injustices

You say you’re in touch with your feminist side

YET………

Behind closed doors you’re a lying, cheating, whore

You cruelly lie and pretend

You play games

You claim to be a hard core Xicano

Fighting for OUR cause

How is it then….you can bring a fellow comrade down

You deceive and lie about yourself

Pretending to be into me

Only to let me down

Lied about having a girl friend

Lied about being available

Lied about your calls and texts

You made me promises you didn’t keep

Then excused yourself behind a woman

You are fraud

You are a jerk

Disappointing in so many ways

You have fooled not only me

But many more too

 
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Posted by on February 3, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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de/romantic revolutions

I remember
the first time I went to the MEChA meeting
he was there
to the side with his Ché mane
sad eyes
and I liked him
                                                                        (no, you don’t understand)
he’s a beautiful brown man
he reminds me of my brother
lost, rocky childhood, angry, charismatic, womanizer
but wants to be a lawyer or politician
do right by his people
                                                                        (his mother)
first time he holds my hand, we’re at the movies
watching motorcycle diaries
his sweaty palm, let’s go
stares and for a moment I imagine revolutionary love
                                                                        (wack right?)
that’s when he tells me I’m naïve
I don’t know anything about people
people aren’t good.
 
He reads Langston Hughes,
I too sing America
I am the darker brother….
and then say’s he’s a feminist
because he believes women should have sex before marriage
                                                                       (sex with him to be exact)
I tell him I’m a virgin, I don’t want to have sex anytime soon
he’s totally into it
until we make out and he gives me a guilt trip
that I’m a tease
“blue balls” to be exact
“can’t you take care of that?” I ask
            “no, it’s not the same” he says.
 
The first time it happens
I’m in complete shock
                                                                       (he didn’t even ask)
I didn’t feel a thing.
Whenever “it” happened
I was never there, it was never about me.
 
I tried saying I love you, once
searched his eyes for a loving gesture
but never found one
I felt my body an object
a woman archetype
to get off
when I finally asked how many women he’d been with
he looked down and said “two”
                                                                       (seriously?)
“I don’t know….14-15?”
he’s 21.
 
“You’re too difficult.”
his response when I plead
for him not to enter me from behind, again…
and when he walks out enraged, I know it’s over.
 
Overdue.
 
About time I realize
 
romance and revolutions
 
don’t mix.
 
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Posted by on March 8, 2013 in Her stories

 

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