WORDS WORDS WORDS
Just say the words. Just say the words? Give me some thoughts on that. What does it cost you to speak?What's the difference between you and me?
Just say the words? Okay, let's see. My lips are parted but I can't just speak. I can't because my mouth has been conditioned to be silent--
Every word that's kicked out is afraid of its sound---so they turn their volume down. They start to be quiet because
they might be too loud.
Just say the words? I cant.
MY words don't just fall out, they stumble. They rumble in the tongue of my exotic jungle. But...
Just say the words, THEY mumble.
My teeth, my trees. My tongue, my earth. My throat seems to you like el Rachuelo en buenos aires; I'm sorry I can't hide this.
Dios mio, If my words could talk they'd turn your red velvet mouths into desserts. If my words could talk they would sound like Shakespeare, Neruda, Cortazar. And if i could abrazar the language of my past, I'd be just like you...i'd have more words than thought.
Just say the words? Por favor. That's not enough me. I like my words without "justs" my mouth with more grit.
Y cuando my tongue sits in my mouth, relaxed and ready for its morning mate but still feels the pain of the forgotten masses
when its weighed down with history untold, with the thoughts of poets young and old
then i'll say some words. Then I'll speak. I'll scream so loud, i'll shriek.
I will walk the walk and talk until my cheeks feel weak. Until my teeth: my roots, my tongue: my earth, until my throat: my sea..until they all band together to show you me.
And perhaps you'll understand your teeth: your swords, your tongue: my bonds, your throat