When I Think of Being Mortal

The questions never end, and the answers may or may not come.
Life has no chronological order, no right time, no musts.
We are vessels with no certain destination, except one.
We are not invincible, we are not special, we are just a specie;
We are specks in time, merely emotional mortals.
And sometimes we act more stupid than we care to admit.
We were not born to shine, we were born to live and then die.
This sounds gloomy, I must say, and you must think,
But if you standstill and think about it, it is not.
I don’t have to worry about meeting anyone standards.
And I can say fuck you to the standards society dictates.
I can do some of the things I love while I’m breathing.
I can do what is best for me, as long as I don’t purposely hurt others.
I can live life as it comes, while it comes, without thinking:
Damn, how exhausting it is to live forever

B. Meza 09/02/2017

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God and the Devil

And when you ask me, 
What do you believe in? 
I’ll answer, I believe in you. 
Because you are human, 
You have goodness and have hate. 
The human kills and hurts. 
The human cares and nurtures. 
The human can easily betray, 
But the human can be faithful. 
Hungry faces dirty clothes, 
I have seen kids begging for food. 
I have seen strangers help strangers, 
And I have seen family turn away. 
I have seen friends kissing the cheek 
Of the person they secretly hate. 
I have seen people help others 
With pure hearts and no need for recognition. 
I have seen God and the Devil. 
They both live on earth.

B. Meza (C) 8/4/17

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The Reservation of Proudness

I’m not proud of the color of my skin,
I did nothing to get it, it happened by nature.
But I love my shade, my color is beautiful.
I’m not proud of my culture,
But I love some of the things from it.
I can’t be proud of my country,
I did not choose to be born there.
But I am grateful of the place where I was born.
I can’t be proud of something I didn’t built,
I can’t be proud of something I didn’t choose.
To be proud of your race, your color, your country
Is to be proud of separation based on country, color, or race.
But to love your skin, your culture, your country,
Is to acknowledge our differences,
Is to understand that we can all love who we are,
Without lessening the human value of others.
It means you can tell your neighbor,
I love you and the color of your skin, as much as I love mine.
And I love that we are different,
And perhaps, one day, we will love or respect our differences.

B. Meza ©7/4/17

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Storm

I have nothing to say; I have no words.

I have nothing left, here passed the storm.

It left destruction; no hope was left behind.

And what’s there left but to feel helpless.

 

The grey clouds filled the sky; they won.

And for the very first time, I feel alone.

My strongest pillar has succumbed to the wind.

She lays there lost, she is dead alive.

 

We both wonder when will the storm pass.

She is already seeing the end of her life.

But how to help her fight if she has given up.

It did not pass; the storm is still here.

B. Meza ©5/31/17

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The Abyss of the Eyes

Hands that touch like the ocean caressing the sand.

Lips that get lost  like the sun in the horizon.

Bodies that move like the brush in  the canvas.

Hearts that beat like drums in the Caribbean.

Souls that get lost in the abyss of the eyes.

Lovers that meet and decide to  walk together.

Lovers that meet and decide to walk away.

B. Meza (c) 4/14/17

 

 

 

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Look at Me

Look at me in the eyes,
This is me, unapologetically raw,
My red lips, wild hair, soft skin.
Look at me in the eyes,
This is me, unapologetically raw,
My soft smile, erogenous ears,
Look at me in the eyes.
This is me, unapologetically raw,
My wild mind, abrupt emotions.
This is me, unapologetically raw,
The sway of my hips seducing your feet.
This is me, open like a cut bleeding out.
This is me, unapologetically raw,
Two round  breasts protecting my heart.
Look at me in the eyes, tell me what you see?
Because this is me, unapologetic, real, naked,
Whether you like it or not.

B. Meza © 3/19/2017

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La Mujer que Eres Tu

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My mother, mi madre

Una mujer pequeña pero fuerte,

Que eh visto llorar y reír.

Mujer sencilla y humilde,

Que no pide mucho para ser feliz.

Mujer que entregas tu vida

Para ver tus hijas sonreír.

Gracias por mi existencia,

Y gracias por tu existir.

Pues de ti eh aprendido

Las cosas más importantes de la vida.

Yo no soy perfecta y tampoco tú,

Pero tú eres la madre perfecta para mí,

Pues sin ti, no sé qué sería de mí.

B. Meza © 3/28/17

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