Love is for mindless whores
wandering for a fix, page after page
stumbling drunkenly into the arms of a new lover.
Scratching off the covers, and tearing into each new chapter
devouring each other's tales, desires, and woes.
Lifting their voices higher and higher into the night
the rhythm drags on and further into the electric sky.
Numbed by their own displays of pain and frustration,
frozen by the stark naked whiteness.
Filling into an unreached form,
untranslatable loss, search, and reconnection.
Folding through each and into other,
merging of cosmic connections
writhing and disarming both writer and reader.

I fonud myself reflected through another women's body
realizing the woman I have become
We have studied her form, dissected her intellect and capacity.
She has fulfilled her duty with the paragraph,
She has written herself away senslessly.
She hates her body like she hates her ideas sliding of a pen.
Awkward and exposed
Tired, original, and amused.
She has the eye and ears of money, glory, gore.


I want someone who look's like you, screws like you and I know sometimes you like to.
wandering into a jar, staring from a far
my love in car, wandeirng through the starry streets, dragging his feet
I told him to meet me in a bar.
But when he took out his light, we got in a fight
and made up in the car.
not evevn the chariots can chase after him
we lost all might and gave in to foolish whims
not even the truth was held in her whispers

And never wait for him again, not even a friend, can hold me down.


And at times, lazy, wandering, and unfocused.

Rubber Heart

Confused, perplexed rubber heart,

misunderstood from the start

Misshaped and overworked

Bounced on concrete, tossed on dirt.

Slamming walls, attacking from the ceiling

Packed with air, punched with healing

Happy, firm, and overworked

Rubber heart never tears apart,

Decompressing at the ends

Hissing, squeezing, filling holes

Mending, molding, compounding souls

Grasping, uniting, compress amends

Blocking, Plugging leakages

Stopping overflows, forming friends

Grounding self, covering space

Stretching, holding, scolding place

Burning chest, tearing heart

Rubber holes, blocking parts

Filling ends, returning starts

Fuck yeah flowers, surrealism

Riverspouring out of vaginas

Drowning ends selves in tears sweat and blood

Locate my center, trace back my piss

Deep into the tract, down the locus

Balancing self, contradicting soft maze of flesh

Uncompressed desires reunite forbidden parts

Where sexual streams , ripping seams

Uncloak, deeper, moisted dreams

Spilling through robes, leaking through sheets

Where hunger opens, mothers weep

Everything is wonderful electric,

Friends are always beautiful

As we unshackle ourselves and emerge from subterranean cages

Unhooking chains, separating layers, licking sugar

Yet tasting salt.

working on shit, not the end, not final, saved in public reminders

We are dying too heal

All the problems you just like to conceal

Yet there is so much to contemplate

Time love wait and meditate

Living outside of ordinary

Wound up in precarity

I open up lyrically

I want you psychospiritually

I touch more than just physically

But if you let yourself, It can be more than just something else

Than just light the flame

Foolishe hearts have only themselves to blame

But if I tell you all I want,

(what I mean internally,

I want to love but I have to let myself be

You should just run away

Time will tell when were ready and ok)

Language becomes undecipherable

Words define the principle

Where time never has its proper place

Progressing unrealiable

Faling into place

No longer speaking quietly

Fall asleep to the memories

That no longer hold a place

Where in my mind I hope to see

A dark and clouded face

Bodies frozen, where desire floats through the stages

At last I find some relief, settled into the pages

Fall into place

Holding onto hopes I can still see your face

Call and we’ll fitgh h

I just told me boss it is time for me to quit

Getting ahead,

Losing former selves behind

Free ourselves, bodies, and minds

Chasing fears, follow desire

Much more than plain monotony can inspire

Because I love you a

And I need you

I got more than time and air left to feed you

Because your taken

And I’m breaking

Oh, well not all is goood

I’ll laugh hysterically Like I should

Delude myself out of misery

Because I love you and I need you

You need more than that hot air to feed you

Because I got it and you need it

You pick your path but I believe it

Stuck in lonely poetry

Sidelined by society

Picked, scuffed, and tossed around

I ask my mother what she found

In the eyes of the soul and sea

She still says she believes in me

When I am not quite sure myself

Obscure poetry

Lost in amphetamines

Not sure of the haze, losing in the haze,

Bodies entangled with their memories

Not just floating restlessly on the sea

Not working off route memory

Connecting far more

Are you a singer, because I write prose

Speak to me in poetry

Yet there is so much more you heart still needs to reveall

Hide in silence

Fear violence

Held on far too long

Transformar into my song

Prayed to god it was true

Now its just me and you

Chase loves into (space, race, place, mace, face,

compulsory

We are dying too heal

All the problems you just like to conceal

Yet there is so

You want to heal

Nothing or ordinary

Wound up in precarity

I open up lyrically

I want you psychospiritually

I touch more than just physically

But if you let yourself, It can be more than just something else

Than just light the flame

Foolishe hearts have only themselves to blame

But if I tell you all I want,

(what I mean internally,

I want to love but I have to let myself be

You should just run away

Time will tell when were ready and ok)

Language becomes undecipherable

Words define the principle

Where time never has its proper place

Progressing unrealiable

Faling into place

No longer speaking quietly

Fall asleep to the memories

That no longer hold a place

Where in my mind I hope to see

A dark and clouded face

Bodies frozen, where desire floats through the stages

At last I find some relief, settled into the pages

no one likes no surprises

No I don't think of you

But I remember of you

Appearing as a shadow in my dreams

Like feelings hidden under the seams

Leaking through into my consciousness

The sad and distant melodies carrying me back

To that provincial moment of happiness

Where only our joy mattered in pits of alienation

We burned along with the sorrowful and comical madness

And now I can only remember dark eyes behind thick glass

And no frame is enough, no moment can reignite

Playful flames, likes best friends, brown brothers, and girlfriends

Warm winds carrying weary souls into the stomachs of music

Poetry, drunken philosophies, fear, angst, and longing.

Nostalgia for a lover I never knew I loved.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u5CVsCnxyXg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t_qPTyy4itI

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OIdEseDMTBI

:-p

It isn't just a simple matter/ to have my heart beaten into batter
Can't act like it never happened. Like I never shared my poems and dreams with you and you said you loved them and that you loved me. You encouraged me to share my prose, but I always felt too shy and not ready to fully express what I was feeling. No hearts on my sleeve, no word or sign too cookie cutter, I wrote for you. I thought the rhythm of our words could sway together. I thought the narratives in our poems would complement each other. I thought your arms would save me from each dreadful working day, a refuge where I can float back to the land of comfort and imagined possibilities. Our coffee farm, our animals. Promises and trust. You yelling at me each time we drive because I was bad at directions. I had no one,I thought you were everything, ultimately enough. And yet, I still tried and pushed forward. Pressuring myself to become a greater woman, to define myself by money, resource, or power. But all you wanted was me powerless, gaining control through emotional manipulation. Digging into each moment we shared each other. I wanted to be like a catepillar and snuggle back into my cacoon that doesn't fit anymore. Digging back to where I don't belong


How many times did I ask you to clean the back porch? Now many mornings did I serve you coffee with eggs before work? How many times did I want to bring you back into bed and smother you with kisses and you couldn't understand why I loved you so much. I see your face freeze and eyes grow cold, catching yourself living a lie, a moment of complete disorientation. I believed your pretend happiness was mine. I thought our space is the ultimate bliss yet lies and mistrust destroyed it.all I wanted was a better world, but you took my heart out, controlled my mind and took apart my world. Circling your juvenile psychosis . Unable to find myself back on the path.swirling through deceit and misplaced affection and desire, reinvestment in building my soul back up.all I hope now is that these words, this REALity will find you well. 

De la Rosa, Vileana

Espanol 3B                                    La liberación desde forma

Ana Palomar

            Las poemas y los cuentos de Cristina Peri Rossi explora los temas feministas y políticas y los efectos de vivir durante tiempos de repressión político. Ella es una escritora Uruguaya que vivía y trabajaba en España desde la dictadura militar que empezó en el año 1972. Sus obras, cuentos, y poemas refleja los sentimos y las experiencias de este tiempo y donde ella explora y deconstruir la sexualidad, identidad, poder, y la sociedad (Schmidt-Cruz 145). En particular el cuento “La Rebelión de los Niños” y varios poemas hable sobre experencias traumáticos para explorar las possibilidades usar e arte y letras para formar narrativos alternativos. El cuento “La rebelión de los niños” y la poema “La pasión” refleja las temas de deplazamiento, trauma, y los efectos de un Estado represivo.

            En el cuento “La rebelión de los niños” el estado es una maquina de represión que controla todas las maneras y modos de información y expressión. El Estado se establece control por intervenir dentro la familia para formar civiles serviles y obidientes. El Estado funciona como un institución patrical que define y impone las propias leyes y las reglas sociales con fuerza. En este cuento, la narradora es una niña, una hija que es adoptada y seperado de su hermano mayor, por que el estado lo quitaron y lo ponio con otro familia para assimilarlo más con “normas sociales”. Por ejemplo, Rossi nota que el lenguaje como las reglas sociales son definidos y imponidos por los quien tienen poder y influencia y es como una proceso de asimilación (“like any other oppressed person, he had to accept the language of the fittest” Rossi). La jovencita narradora tambien nota que sus parientes adoptivos “had graciously volunteered to watch over us, re-educate us, teach us in accordance with the system, unbred us, keep us, and in a word, assimilate us into their society” ( Rossi 259).

            La exhibación de arte tambien funciona como una manera para socializar “las ovejas negras” quien son los hijos de los subservios por establecr la institución cultural (Schdmitt 154 ). Pero los objetos de arte que los niños producen se mina está lógico por que el objeto de arte que gane el premio se perece sencillo pero en realidad casuarse lo más destrución. El objeto que gano se parece como un sencillo fuente de agua pero arrojaba gasolina y prende fuego por todo el lado. Esté es irónico, por que el premio significa el historia y poder del estado que es responsible y cupable para la seperación de los niños y sus parientes biológicos[1]. Rossi insinue a pesar de los acciones del estado para eliminar la historia de resistencia, la nueva gernaración de jovenes mantenge sus sentimos políticos. A pesar de los acciones del estado para socializar los niños, ellos todovia encontrar otros maneras para expresar sus sentimentios y deseos contra el sistema.

            Rossi insinua que los niños mantengen el espiritu “subversivo” del generaciones anteriores y que los niños tiene mas capaz para minar la audoridad por su “imaginación, curiosidad, y energia” ( Schmidt-Cruz 150 ). El arte de los niños tambien simboliza la necesidad para formar otros lenguajes y modos de resistencía dentro la dominación y control del estado. Rossi   tambien propone que como el lenguaje, las reglas sociales y la conformidad son aprendidos y imponidos con (por) la fureza del estado y umas los niños todovia tienen el capaz para escapar la represión. En el ensanyo <<Structures of Repression in Cristina Peri Rossi’s “La rebelión de los ninos”>> el autor Cynthia Shmidt- Cruz propone que  (el discuro del regime es eligido con cuidado para representar sus opositores como enemigos de la familia y sociedad civil, insinuiendo que los ideas de ellos)  “The regime’s discourse is carefully chosen to depict its opponents as enemies of the family and civilized society in general, implying their ideas would lead to “la destruccion familiar, [el] aniquilameninto institucional y la corrupcion de la sociedad.” (107). Por eso, es importante que los jovenes despenderse de el control psicologia del estado para continuar la herencia de sus padres.

            La poema  “La Pasión” es sobre una experiencia traumática, escapando una situatción y dejando un disorden. Se nota el tono de dislocación en los frases “faltando un diente”, “papeles”, y “ropa” como todo eran cosas que dejaron en un revoltijo . Rossi escribio mucho de la situación virulenta en Uruguay, de la destrucción, y dejando todo para escapar una mala situación. El tono de esta poema es reflexivo, pensando de un evento que ya ha pasado y luchando por atender la situación. Como en la cuenta  La rebelión, la poema es sobre atender los eventos pasados, para entender que paso y localizar esos memorias como un parte del historia y concencia del la experiencia Uruguaya. Como una seperación de amantes, la poema describe los cosas y memorias perdidas después de un “derrume de un volcan” o un incidente trágico [2].

            Finalmente, Cristina Peri Rossi tambien escribía y exploraba las temas de sexualidad en sus cuentos y poemas, del amor prohibido dentro una pareja del mismo sexo y el control de la sexualidad que el estado y la sociedad se impone. Por so, podemos leer la poema <<La passión>> como descubriendo lo que pase cuando personas están persugidos por su identidad sexual o político. En esta manera, para Rossi, lo personal tambien es politico y que la liberación es liberación de sexualidad, intellectual, expressión, cuerpo, y  sentimos políticos.

           

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[1] “Next, ceremoniously-as if he were vesting in her the weight of the icons of former times preserved in the city thanks to the bravery and daring of soliders who with blood and fire had triumphed over the barbarian invaders, the enemies from within and without, over cunning, wicked, devastating conspiracies- he handed her a trophy, a symbol of propagation and conservation of the species, the triumph of good over evil, of order over chaos, of institutions over anarchy; and she, the winner, the repository of the future in whose lap the coming generations will seek warmth, protection, and sustenance, she, the visionary, the vestal to whom the future of the city and the keys to the kingdom were entrusted, received the bust of the nation’s Commander General, the hero of 1965 who crushed the uprising, saved the nation, the children, the youth, the adults and old people, the grandmothers and grandfathers and grandchildren, and who, in evidence of his infinite spirit of sacrifice, his love for the fatherland, gave up his private life and forwent his well deserved rest to thenceforth govern our proud nation, to worldwide-or is it universal? (I don't remember which)- acclaim. “( Rossi 269).

[2] LA PASIÓN

Salimos del amor
como de una catástrofe aérea
Habíamos perdido la ropa
los papeles
a mí me faltaba un diente
y a ti la noción del tiempo
¿Era un año largo como un siglo
o un siglo corto como un día?
Por los muebles
por la casa
despojos rotos:
vasos fotos libros deshojados
Éramos los sobrevivientes
de un derrumbe
de un volcán
de las aguas arrebatadas
y nos despedimos con la vaga sensación
de haber sobrevivido
aunque no sabíamos para qué.