#jackcalavera

Stimulating

Madness

Satiating

Momentarily

Prefers,

Wine

From the neck

Of a siren

I remember when I met you.

I didn’t like you.

Obnoxious,

Loud,

Overconfident

Thinking you can beat anyone in a fight

Yet you run away laughing when challenged

Then one day,

I was passing by

And saw you confronted by a group of four.

I hid myself observing.

I remember what they told you

“You’ll never be a ‘Real Mexican’”

I saw that look in your eyes.

I know it all too well.

But you,

Being

Obnoxious,

Loud,

Overconfident

Shouted

“That’s right! I’m more than that! I’m Black-xican!”

They didn’t know what to say.

They winched

And walked away.

From the distance I smiled.

The next I saw you

You shouted you can beat my ass

I just laughed.

“I think I’d rather fight with you instead, Roland.

We’re Mexicans.

We have each other”

You had nothing clever to say..

We became friends.

The boys and I accepted you.

Taught you every curse word in Spanish

From puto,

Carbon,

Guey,,

Pendejo

And to anyone who dared make a racist remark,

We made damn sure they never got away with it.

You were one of us;

Bastard Sons of Arvin

Raised by dysfunctional families,

Broken homes,

Some of our parents didn’t care if we came home late or not at all

Some of our parents were all in one

Playing the role of two.

Some of us didn’t have parents

We had to be our own

For our siblings.

But we had each other.

We always had each other.

In the spring of 2019,

A man was found dead following a shooting.

He left behind a family

Of two beautiful children

And a woman who loved him

Tolerated him

As much as we did.

I remember Spider-Man was your favorite superhero.

I wonder if you knew who Miles Morales was

And saw yourself in him.

Did you know Mexico’s second president was black?

Vicente Guerrero.

And the first thing he did in office was abolish slavery.

Thirty three years before Lincoln singed the emancipation proclamation.

I never told you this,

But I once got into a fight with someone over their use of that word.

I was looking for the teacher to sign my progress report.

Another boy called me names.

And I told him “Watch it, fat boy, I don’t play games”

He then goes “Why you tryin’ to talk like a _____?”

I felt my entire being set on fire

Glared at him

“What did you say?”

He tiled his head back

Widening his ugly smirk

“Why you trying to talk like a-“

. . . . .

I got suspended for three days.

The next I saw him in class,

He never talked to me.

Never looked at me.

Roland Johnson,.

You’re one of us.

At times I wonder

The life

Before

Her bones

Was her hair long,

Dark,

Made of silk,

Reflecting

The Sun?

With a set of black olive eyes

In sync

With her face

Bearing shades

Of a sugar cookie?

Strawberry

Stained

Lips?

Perhaps those lips

Were of a different color.

Lucious

And ripe,

Sweet as blackberries

Inviting me to dance

In your rhythm.

Yet while the rest of you

Is rich in mahogany

Soft as sand.

Your mane,

Wild,

Untamed,

As your spirit.

Maybe you were a canvas

Red rosy cheeks.

Eyes

From lagoon

To autumn

And aventurine.

Locks of gold,

Chestnuts,

Ginger

And charcoal.

Or maybe

You’re from a land

Where beauty doesn’t exist

Except for within women

Whose beauty they’re willing to reveal

Are the gates to their soul.

Testing anyone

Worthy

In seeing the rest of you.

But I know your origins.

You’d have fire in your veins.

With the many shades of Raza;

Coco,

Mazapán,

Nueces japonesas

Y chocolate.

But I love to imagine.

I know you’re indigenous.

Rebellious with nature,

Hair,

Smooth as obsidian.

Skin,

Kissed by the Sun.

Bearing the same colors as the Earth.

Much like the dirt

Beneath your feet

You’re full of

Diamonds,

Minerals,

More valuable than gold.

Yet again I do love to imagine.

Because I prefer you transparent-

Unfiltered.

Wearing darkness as a cloak.

With the only light in the shadows

Are your pale, moon, bones.

I love that you’re a woman

Because I am never bowing down to a man

-Jack Calavera

She was made

By Divine Hands.

Designed to be

His perfect fit.

Unwilling to give into

His demands,

She tested his confidence,

His authenticity,

And perhaps she'll submit.

And after failing her exams,

He reached out to Divine Hands.

Now she's replaced by another.

All because he failed to love her.

And she couldn’t be happier.

Refusing to be bound by the laws of man or her fate set by Divine Hands,

She roams the Earth consuming Forbidden Fruits.

Tasting the knowledge of independence, freedom, and many other attributes.

She shares this knowledge with her replacement and she too, was in awe of inspiration.

And that is how it all began of how a single woman took matters to her own hands.

Leading a rebellion against the ideals of man.

She’s a woman.

Independent.

Assertive.

Intelligent.

Dominant.

Influential.

Confident.

Social.

She's your equal.

She's lethal.

She's a woman.

Your silky smooth skin complementing your luscious strawberry lips.

My chest beating to every inch of you- to the depths and trials one must endure to win you over.

Feeling dead inside in a world where the unrealistic expectations are handed to you without any instructions.

“You can be anything you want to be, as long as I approve it".

Committing spiritual suicide of what I’m not.

Ironically being resurrected by having another skeleton painted over me to embrace the idea that no one knows who I am and therefore I can be someone else, I can be myself with another name.

I am The Living Skeleton.