Roman Candle

​You ever wonder what a Roman candle feels like on the inside
At that very moment when the fire touches it’s fuse??
Burning desire and passion exploding out of every crevice that allows its escape
Do you ever wonder what a Roman candle feels like?
Lighting up the night, lighting up the sky
The colors dance across the smiling faces of all the passerbys
Do you ever wonder what a Roman candle feels like?
Knowing that this beauty, this uncontrollable passion will one day fade. Some people might forget it existed. But for those moments it is as powerful as the sun. For those moments it changed lives. For those moments time stood still. For those moments it was free.
Do you ever wonder what a Roman candle feels?
– Sobre
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How Much The Cost?

When did freedom become an economic choice
I would be free if I could afford to just BE
Shit I know I’m difficult
How much does it cost to be a person like me
Nah for real, let’s break it down, economically
Standing against patriarchy
Refused adherence to euro-centricity
Deconstruction of white supremacy
Let’s run that tab, how much will all that cost me?

-Sobreviviente

Ellipsis

We were so much to one another
How did we end up being such
Such
Nothing
If only there was
Was
Something
But the more I touch it
You running
It’s pushing
Us apart
I know I’m a part
Of the problem
But it’s like an uphill battle
Every time I work to resolve em
So if it’s easier
I’ll just be the monster
And we can play the
Blame game

– Sobreviviente

There is War

There is war
Til we no longer have to run like emmet
Until Catch 22s no longer systemic
Until there is no longer the allusion of seclusion
Or delusion towards inclusion
There is war
Until truth is shed through the M.I.C.
And they heed the locks of Martin
Avoid the booze in more than just the tunes
And refuse the general dynamic of a destructive planet
There is war
Oh yes there is war
Until we no longer celebrate the pawns used to destroy
For the sake of capitalistic game
There is war
We will fight it in the street
There is war
We will fight it in the classrooms
There is war
We will fight it in the boardrooms
There is war
We will fight it in the court rooms
War
We will fight this war
Revolutionary war
War of love

– Sobrevivente

Note: Inspired by “War” by Bob Marley

Is It Real, Is It Real

Is it real is it real
The feelings I make me feel
The conscious that I revealed
Obnoxiousness concealed

Conscientious
Con sheet endless
Can she end this
They tell me she’s a pro
Cuz she knows just what she wants
Will settle for nothing more

Is it real is it real
Please just tell me what to feel
Tell me what’s on my mind
Help me make something build

Knock knock
Who’s there?

My mind is a mess
How the fuck did I get here

Is it real is it real
The energy that I feel
When your spirit enters mine
Loosened by some wine
Maybe a little dutty
Maybe a single element
Maybe a little pure

Why do I adore you?
Because you are God
When the world tells you to kneel you rise
When we lock eyes
I’m blessed by your energy
Interlock thighs I’m not sure I’m ready
For the overwhelming flow of a goddess
Infecting my spirit with brilliance
Until the mere thought of you invokes orgasmic feelings of ecstasy
This can’t be sustained
Terrible Tuesday’s are coming
But not as quick as I am

Is it real is it real
My guts spill
Pour out my brain heart and soul
An acid trip gone awry
Not even hunter can reach my depth
Lost in a trip I might of heard about before

Where am I??
Where did I go
Seek my soul to reflect the power of the outermost
One day a Buddha will be enlightened by a Instagram post
Toast to that

Is it real is it real
It must be
Because when she whispers
When it whispers
When I whisper
It touches me

-Sobre

Blame Game

We were so much to one another
How did we end up being such
Such
Nothing
If only there was
Was
Something
But the more I touch it
You running
It’s pushing
Us apart
I know I’m a part
Of the problem
But it’s like an uphill battle
Every time I work to resolve em
So if it’s easier
I’ll just be the monster
And we can play the
Blame game

– Sobreviviente

The Pursuit of Happyness

In conversation with a friend she seemed to have the idea that she could just will herself out of her dissatisfaction with her life.  Will herself to happiness.  That happiness was just a choice that she could make every day if she was just strong enough to do so.

It seems with the rise of books/documentaries like the secret this is a common idea among people.

From what I have experienced you cannot simply just choose happiness or sadness.  Your choices have to be a change in the material conditions that facilitate your happiness and sadness.  You can’t continue to do the same exact things when you were sad or angry and think just telling yourself these things make you happy actually will.  Your emotions towards these things are valid and should signal in you a desire to change.  So changing your understanding of the world around you and changing your behavior will help garner incremental improvements.  But the real improvements will come when environment is changed. That is when you will truly begin to see a shift in your emotional state and well being.  A change in people, places, and things as the fellowships would call it.

These are the lessons I have learned through quitting a high paying job to chase my dream as a social change agent using dialectical materialism as my guide.

I hope this helps.

 

With Revolutionary Love,

Sobreviviente

Love Don’t Live Here Anymore

You know that place between sleep and dreaming, that place you can still remember dreaming? 

That’s where I will always love you

All the mistakes 

Not a single one I would undo

As my mind runs through 

Memories of mine 

Memories remind

Feelings in line

With the stars 

Before we all turned to dust 

We’ve come so far 

So much has changed 

It was a must 

But so much has remained

In that place

Between sleep and dreaming

That’s where I’m fiending

For the feeling 

and the action too 

I’d say I’m fiending for you

But love don’t live here anymore

You’re My Favorite Drug

I feel you

Pressed against my lips

Just another hit

Would be enough to let me ride off into the sunset I desire

I light you and you light my

Mind, my spirit

I find sight where I was blind

I find sounds where I couldn’t hear it

You are what I feared, it

Isn’t so scary now that I’m near it

Inhale you deep into my lungs

hold you there as long

As I can handle

As long as you permit

And as you leave my soul

I am blessed by your gift

I Seen a Man Cry, suprisingly, No Man Died

As a child I think we all are taught to believe that our parents are borderline superhuman.  They have an omnipotent and omnipresent dominion over the world as you know it.  They both have their reigns of vulnerabilities that they are “allowed” based on gender norms but even those seem never to hint at any fallibility in who they are (e.g. mothers crying and fathers getting angry).  There are rare occurrences where that is challenged.

I remember the first time that I saw my father figure, Vega, at the time cry.  I was 7 years old and he was leaving us to move to Florida so that he can start up a life there that we would follow him into.  As he hugged my mom and me at the airport he was crying.  It wasn’t just a subtle cry but an uncontrollable cry similar to the one I would do when my mom would get in that ass for me lying or being the rambunctious little demon she claims me to be (I dispute this wholeheartedly).  I had never seen him release so much emotion and appear so vulnerable.  For the first time I was able to feel like he was scared, unsure, and hurting.  

That was one of two times I ever saw him cry in my life.  After that I had seen other men cry but I never had the reverence for them as I did for Vega and they never represented that male figure in my life the way he did.  Also their cries never seem to be as free and revealing as his was in that moment.  They seemed like they were being fought at every step.  Almost a betrayal of the tear ducts from what the mind really wanted to happen.  I had many deaths in my life preceding and succeeding this time I saw Vega cry but even then I never saw this type of cry.  

About two years ago I went to a conference in which we broke out into small groups. In these groups we worked through this exercise that brought us to an end in which we admitted something that we wish we could do but just felt like we couldn’t.  People throughout the room shared their various end results to this exercise.  I was in a group with three men, one white latino, myself mixed race latino, and a black man from the US.  We all had the same end result, “I just wish that I could cry and it would be okay.”  It was a stunning revelation for me and made me reflect on that event that grips such a strong place on my childhood memory, Vega crying. I wondered, how often did he really want to cry in that same way but never did?  How often do all men feel that way?  Why are we so afraid to cry?  

The answer of gender roles, toxic masculinity, and patriarchy are obvious answers here.  Men are not allowed to be their full true selves in a society that puts them in a box of acceptable expressions of emotion completely ignoring the uniqueness of who they are and the spectrum of masculine and feminine energy that lives inside all of us.  This is why male acceptance of third world feminist/womanist revolutionary theory and action is so vital.  We have a stake in this to.  Our freedom to be our full selves is at stake with our complicit or overt uplifting of the system of patriarchy and our overt or passive refusal to making dismantling such a system a priority.

I look back and I wish that my parents and the community that raised me would have expressed more vulnerability to me.  Wished that they showed me that they were not perfect and admitted that to me.  Maybe I wouldn’t have felt so much pressure to be so perfect all the time.  The pressure to live up to all the gender roles they laid out for me and the denial of self at times to fulfill the “successful man” archetype needed to receive the praise and love of peers who buy into a white-patriarchal-capitalist-imperialist system.  

In those critiques I realize the community that raised me did they best they could with the subset of information they had.  They put me in a position to become who I am and be able to work through some of the deconditioning necessary to be my true self.  Helped me attain the access to the means to create a world I want to live in.  For that I am grateful.