© 2015 by Antonieta Villamil
It is happening right now in my heart, in my mind, on a city street of any country; but I need to take that the revolution is not here because conformity is sitting its big potato ass on a couch of misled-me tales and we, the outraged 99% have to push all at once with all power from the ground up but first, need to dig that we are the base. Here I break the screen before the system implodes a replay in my face. Here I exercise the muscle of rights before they become flaccid but first, I need to digest this: I protest, YES, because the nipple finds its way to the needy mouth but I watch what kind of lollypop I get to shut me up. Administered like Prozac, the revolution is bipolar, sold to people as genetically altered mad cow with scorpion genes and beware, smells like mass destruction.
The revolution is at home, teaching children another way; teaching that public woman means leader and not prostitute, as it is written in the dictionary of men, and while you grasp that, take this: Organized women of the world will close the legs not to give war more kids, still attached to placentas as body bags. These are ìweapons charged with futureî and take these words to heart; the revolution is a planet of hungry widows with no work; homeless women and children with a future against all common sense. And what is for breakfast and dinner is next war until the next war of poor against poor, while the 1% predator kind, breaks a richer laugh.
ANTONIETA VILLAMIL is an international award-winning bilingual poet, writer, singer and editor with over 11 published books and a blog: www.antonietavillamil.blogspot.com. She focuses her writing on the forgotten ones and honors them with a persistence that compels us to hear their voices. She directs the review and salon PoesÌa FÈstival that brings poetry to the underserved community of native Spanish speakers in Los Angeles.