Monthly Archives: May 2013

The Street

The Street

Bad Girl

These girls in juvie say they know how to fight
That they can do everything
That they have tricks you don’t have
That the street is just messing around

-They don’t know what the street is-

Living in the street is risking you will get beat up
It’s not having a roof over your head
It’s enduring big storms and cold
It’s going hungry
It’s finding friends who only introduce you to bad things
It’s ending up in prison or the hospital –with luck-
It’s having to obey your click’s leader
Instead of your mom and dad
It’s exposing your self to murder and rape
It’s not having comfort from anyone

These girls are proud to say they are from the streets
Because they don’t know what it is like to grow up there.
The streets are nothing great,
It’s the worst thing that can happen to you.
If I would have known what the street was about
I wouldn’t have chosen it.
But this is my path…
 


I Didn’t Know He Was a Palabrero*

Published by: Olivia

I Didn’t Know He Was a Palabrero*

Margarita
I didn’t know he was a palabrero
but I love him very much.
I thought he was an average guy
but even so he was everything.

He told me he loved me
I believed him
although now he is going to be a dad
I want to forget him
and I can’t

All of a sudden
he has another women
it hurts me a lot
but that’s how we women are
-idiotic-
we believe men
without thinking about what they do

*palabrero: a well-respected person within the gang who gives orders


How Do I Call Them “Homeboy”?

Published by: Olivia

How Do I Call Them “Homeboy”?

Butterfly

Homeboy was
a word
that I really liked
because of how it sounded.

A homeboy was
Someone strong
With authority and character
Sure of what they did.

A homeboy was
someone who would be there
from the very beginning
who would never fail me
who would support and correct me.

The homeboys were
my family
that didn’t let me down
who protected and took care of me,
and who gave me love.

A homeboy gave me security
that if something happened,
we would figure it out together
because we were happy
to share the same problem

A homeboy would stand up for me
if things didn’t go as we planned.

A homeboy would never
wish me harm.

But the day came
when I saw
the other side
of the coin.
 
Nighttime.  A house.  Alcohol. Drugs. Money.
5 homeboys. Really drunk. High. Music. Drugs.
Persistence. Resistance. Anger. Deception. Screams.
Begging. My cries. Their laughter.
 
I was nothing to them.

Disgust.
Repugnance.

I couldn’t do anything.
 
My mind went blank
to not feel anything else.
 
Abandonment.
Solitude.
In the midst of so many people
they didn’t see me.
 
Regret for having left my house.
Fear to continue walking in the street.

How many more people were there like this within my gang?
 
How do I call them homeboy
after what they have done to me
knowing that I was part of the same family?
 
How do I call them homeboy knowing
what they did to me hurt me
and damaged me as a woman?

How do I call them homeboy with respect
if in the end it is just a front, a bunch of crap…
the strong ones, the respected ones…

How do I call them homeboy
with the care and affection they ask for
if in reality they disgust and deceive me?
 
Very few
have earned
the name homeboy.

But for me
the word lost its meaning
the night they showed me
what they were capable of doing.