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Yesterday the wind blew Fourthousand Sixhundred and Fourty Five In a cardboard box We lie awake With our eyes sowed shut By strings that hang from above Like puppets we lie
Kind faces smiling, Nodding politely at words They don’t seem to understand, Show me pictures Showing the richness Of a faraway distant land, Multicoloured motor cars,
The Eye of The Storm grows bigger The Boricuas will suffer Maria looks like a Dahmer My family prays for a dollar The Eye of The Storm comes closer The Boricuas begin to suffer The world grows smaller
Surrounded by voices; I was a <murmur>. Fear had stolen my lips away, Locked them in a vault under the sea- Why? My mind was confused.
Doña Rivera, the one everybody comes to when They run into unresolved situations Was sold the Moon yesterday She was very happy cause the Salesman gave her a break
To whom it may concern: These green eyes Know more story than one From Bio Bay to blue bricked streets of Old San Juan
Their insulin can’t be insulated because refrigerators (and everything else) needs electricity, and US. But we aren’t helping. The diabetic (and everyone else) are suffering and will continue to. It’s been two years since I’ve seenYour Puer
Nowadays,When you think of Puerto Rico,You think of streets filled with tears slipping through the Mambo.Palms,Cold while holding hope as close as they can,
On Sunday mornings the slips of light that shine through
Arroz con habichuelas, las telenovelas. (Rice and beans, Hispanic soap operas) Dark skin is not equivalent to sin. Puerto Rican I am, I am Puerto Rican.
It’s like stepping on to another planet; into a dream. The sights, the smells, the tastes, the colors, the people, the stories. It’s a beautiful chaos, enticing you in with its exotic hand offering to hold yours.
¿No entiendes la locura de mi mente? La locura creada por esta sociedad, por toda esta gente. No entiendes el tumulto en mi corazón creada por locura, no tiene razón. Estoy desesperada. Estoy confundida.