Wednesday, October 31, 2018






Now Is Not The Time
    
                                                     
When can we discuss it?
the 'it' of senseless dying
The 'it' of crazed of leaders;
of rabid politicians. 

When will it be appropriate 
to talk of children killed
in classes
in everyday happenings,
napping in their own cribs
sitting in a movie,
walking down the street.

Going to work everyday, 
kissing their wives 
hugging their mothers
unaware of the finality 
of that act.

When will it appropriate
to talk about common sense
to mourn our loved ones
before our next loved ones
prepare themselves 
to be mourned.

When will it be appropriate,
perhaps after the next
Sandy Hook
or Chattanooga;
the next Emmanuel, 
the next Aurora or Lafayette.

When will it be appropriate
to ask the hard questions;
about racism, xenophobia 
sexism and hate.
When will it be appropriate
to remove the symbols
of pain and memorials
to death

When can we lift the
torch of freedom
and the blindfold
of injustice
so that all may
walk head high
hand in hand
in peace


It is said that this is not the
time; that it is time for prayer,
for coming together,
grieve with the families
but not the time
to prevent 
the next time. 
to stop the next
inappropriate time 


Ramón Piñero
© 7/25/2015

Monday, October 1, 2018









She Kept On


She kept on
even after
they took
her race cars
and gave her
dollies that
did not look
like her

She kept on,
even after they
said "get down
from that tree"
and even told
her to act like
a lady (as if
royalty were
the goal)

She kept on,
even as she
solved for x
and the only
pi she cared
about was the
three point
one four
and the numbers
that ran into infinity
because as anyone
can tell you, "Girls
can’t do math"

She kept on,
even after
the boys in the
hood and the
little cholitas
who followed
them,
tried so
very hard
to play
their reindeer
games because
she knew, “shit
there ain't
no croquetas
in jail.”

She kept on,
even when
they told
her to wear
a dress
get high heels
put on lipstick
act like a lady
(again, as if she aspires
to royalty).

They really
don’t get it;
those little
hood boys
and them
gangsta girls
(who she beat
at every game
played in;)
tried to beat
her in.

She kept on
even when
he came on
to her
known for
many years
played bball with
played futbol with
played cops and
robbers with
he told her
he would
take her home
its late
its gonna
rain; its gonna
snow,
c’mon
get in.

She kept on;
even after
they stitched
her wound
even after
they poked
and probe
even after
all the
questions
and even after
he was
acquitted.

She kept on
turning pain
into strength

She kept on
during the12 hour
labor. she kept on
when they said
she could not.

In the face of
naysayers, haters,
enablers;

She kept on
even when she
stood in front
of the gates
and told Peter
“I’ll take it
from here”

© Ramón Piñero
Derechos Resevados



Wounds


open wounds
slow to heal as
the pain lasts
longer than
the longest day.

open wounds
seek salve
in words
and soft
touches
kisses on
the forehead
and a
cuddlemuched
night.

in silence,
wounds fester
and grow
taking over
healthy tissue
like the evil
that goes
unanswered
by good men


© Ramón Piñero
    Derechos Reservados














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