Diana Cazadora Quetzpaliindatzlan Rumbos

Portrait by Diana Cazadora Quetzapaliinditaztlan Rumbos

Im a real suave soul with a real cool way.
I am simple in all my surround.
I dont like trash.
I dont understand tge drive in others to malenit and to store it.
Hoarding is an toxic adventure.
Try to avoid it. Its as simple as seeing the twisted beauty in plastic..
With this a good morning is here once more.
Im ma gun a enjoy it.
Yall do the same.

That Well Spoken,English Language, Is Gonna Kill Us. Diana Lucas--joe

Photo Credit: Self Portrait of Diana Cazadora Cueztpaliinditaztlan Rumbos

Orphaned of our mother tongue.
Wailing in the desert.
Marching all about.
And the flag,flying.
You speak english so well.
Did you go to college?
You're not from here huh?
Where did you go to school?
Babel bastard hurting
Calling us the aliens
The confederate rag falls
And the sheets go up
The police are trained to sniff us.
Bull Connor reincarnated.
That well spoken english language is gonna kill us.
Speak right or go back to mexico.
Ha ha ha ha
You're not an indian
Wheres your tribal id
Your blood quantity
We burned Cuauhtemoc feet
Because he refused to speak
Speak well
Speak right

I am jealous. Diana Lucas--joe

Yet my sweet jealousy is disciplined these days.
I am no longer pairing an evening to pass out with..through that intoxicating drink and this jealousy, of mine.
I am no longer loving bad people.
I am jealous in every possible good form and way.
I am jealous of distance.
I can not make it shorter..
I am jealous of the sense of touch when I can not make it come hither.
I am jealous of my ovaries for producing so much fun..for someone else.

IN A TIME WHEN THEY WANT TO KILL LOVE. diana Lucas--joe

                                                      Self Portrait by the Author

Nobody hardly goes out to find someone to have and to hold anymore.
They do not look for something to share no more.
They want to kill love.
They want love,dead and gone.
They are turning into cruel disconnected ones.
They do not care to love at first, nothing.
Children being born to people that do not make them for love.
Children born into conversations with ultra sounds.
Ultra sounds that project the image of the gender they bring.
Unborn celebrated through screens.
Everybody watching the orgy.
They are killing love.
The innocence of love.
The foundation is crumbling and falling away.
Children draw with pixels images of animals they will never meet.
Images of houses and buildings where they can get lost in.
They are killing love.
No need to hug them.
They have fast speed.
They are learning to kill love.

That some will eat dog. by diana-Lucas joe

That some will eat dog.
That some eat chocolate covered ants.
Oh and that some will never be happy.
Born with a penis.
Wanting to have been born with a vagina.
Wanting a vagina and a penis.
Wanting a penis in the vagina.
A vagina for sale.
Selling vagina.
Recreating the vagina in a laboratory in 3-D.
Wanting to be Kim Kardashian and everything.
That wanting of every parfum from Paris to Bombay.
That not being ever satisfied.
That wanting to be married to a cop.
Wanting to be a cop.
Wanting to be cops.
Wanting.
Wanting security because some how they are more and more and more removed from all of it.
Bottle it.
Build it.
Druve up tru it.
Medicine man hurry up!
Medicine woman full of shit.
Look how they are born now.
Born into confusion and turmoil.
Pray for your penis.
Pray the vagina is good.
Pray for the quiet of a newborn sleeping.
Undisturbed.
Uneducated innocence.
Unlike 

My Father's Peyote Diana Lucas--joe

I am the warrioress my father placed me to become, when he tightened securely my medicine bundles onto my sash.
When he fought alongside his comrades for this flag.
Freedom was a name for the strawberry, in my hand.
The farmworker little girl that could pick all the crops the white man pointed to.
All his crops except her peoples Hikuri.
I have to eat peyote now, through the registry.
Through the lottery and the innocent unknowing invitation of my relatives.

I AM THE POET THAT WAS. diana Lucas--joe

I am the poet that was potentially yours in an other time.
I am.
The sister you hate.
I am the poet you might have already buried and do so much miss.
The poet that has another name on her grave marker.
The poet you wished had never passed from this world.
I am the poet in the fields, far away from Azucar De Matamoros,Puebla.
The underdocumented poet, that runs naked at night, through the forests.
I am the poet that composed songs in a different tongue.
In a different genre.
The poet you fell in love with the moons light.
The poet that rode on the 101 next to you from the Oregon State line to Oakland..and then the earth shook.

C'mon Lets Go: Diana Cazadora Cueztpallinditaztlan Rumbos

It rained so spectacularly
I am left in awe again at laws of nature
It says c'mon lets go
No stopping it
It has no time for skittish fools.
That think only of themselves.
The lightning people strike.
The thunder beings stomp.
The earth reacts with growth
And finally the rain to wash 
away the weird.

Sretch.

Diana Cazadora Cueztpallinditaztlan Rumbos

: ☆ How Spirit Brings The Rain In Her Jingle Dress. Diana Lucas--joe

Its all wonderfilled now, even in this morning..the fantastic lightning storms made for an energy to help us especially me to move on to the next moon phase where momma is vested by all the elements now and shes with the all,and with the everything and the beautiful everywhere, in spirit.

That thunder shook every tree limb and every blade of grass..it woke me up at three-ish in the morning and I heard my mother whisper into my heart "you wanted rain baby here it is"..

I love you momma.

MEXICAN AND AMERICAN MOTHERS DAY AND THE FINAL AMALGAMATION Diana Lucas--joe

A great time is here

Thats why it snowed

Thats why the sky is great

Mark the Gregorian calendar

And the great Tonalamatl

Do not wonder too much anymore

It is the women winning

The grinder sings

The river rock sweats

Oh mother you went to mictlan

To bring the correct time

So that I should no longer wander

Mexican Mothers and the big border

American sisters got big

No more

How Heavy Does It Get? Diana Lucas--joe

I ask, because I had never lost mom before.

Because she told us this day would come and she said be ready.

She did not say it was this heavy.

Heavy to where it makes my head hang low.

To where I just want to suddenly fight for everything that makes no sense to the earth.

Like litter bugs and haters of trees.

I want to tell everyone to leave the clouds alone..don't make them ever go away.

I want the rain pure,because mom is part of it.

How heavy is this?

Its heavy because its the weight of the universe on my shoulders.

Its The rainbow bending me.

Its Spring forever.

How Heavy Does It Get?

Diana Lucas--joe

I ask, because I had never lost mom before.

Because she told us this day would come and she said be ready.

She did not say it was this heavy.

Heavy to where it makes my head hang low.

To where I just want to suddenly fight for everything that makes no sense to the earth.

Like litter bugs and haters of trees.

I want to tell everyone to leave the clouds alone..don't make them ever go away.

I want the rain pure,because mom is part of it.

How heavy is this?

Its heavy because its the weight of the universe on my shoulders.

Its The rainbow bending me.

Its Spring forever.

Oh! That Mama Died Before That Great Calendar Date. MOTHERS DAY DIANA LUCAS--JOE

I do not celebrate the holidays.

No I am not A Jehova Witness or

A Mormon or A plain and just Dumb.

None of that.

I just felt a long while back that love was every day.

Each morning when one awakens is a celebration.

Light candles!

Thank someone.

Hug a lot when possible.

Smile.

Announce the achievements!

Announce the deep seen gratitude.

Make amends with your soul first.

The universe begins to speak to you if you feel different.

If you recover from addiction thank your mother every chance you get.

If you have learned all that she wanted urgently for you to practice and you do practice it all..be humble!

Give thanks

Clean House

Help others.

Thank you mami.

THE POEM FOR MOMMA DIANA LUCAS--joe

That story that made you cry everytime you told it.
The one about how you got orphaned at age seven.
You saw your own mother die.
And how you missed her ever since.
How you quickly were borrowed out and became a servant for wicked relatives.
Who treated you bad.
Who made you a servant to their fair daughter( bastard bitch..i added this)..
And how your surviving father had become an alcoholic..
It hurt him you said, that his wife your mother, was gone.
So he took a new partner in the bottle forever.
Ay mi Chevo.
Eusebio Paz Bernal.
This poem is for you mami.
You deserve it.
You are precious hembra.
Oro molido.
Oro mio.
Oro del universo.
Adornate de oro mi reina.
Mi reina.
I like it now how I love that you became the light.
You became the four directions.
You are all the fires.
And now the earth again.
Momma how its all just and beautiful the way you always said it was.
You saw peace where there was torment.
You saw hope where there was uncertainty.
You said no coman ancias.
Do not despair.
Do not become impatient.
Be patient ay mas tiempo que vida.
You kept time like an elder should.
You showed me that indian way.
Pura india.
A secret between me and you.
All those lies they said..ha thats all they know how to do.
The liars.
You were the teacher of my lifeways.
I was so old when I detached because wasicu ways press hard and they make us seperate.
Now, we get the competition of who loved you more and who was there by you longest?!
Who gave you more, and who took less?
If they only knew those things never mattered to you.
Haha
"Lets laugh about nothing!"
"Vaamos mi Diana,ay que reirnos por nada!"
This poem goes on forever.
Its in the river until someone stops it from going on.
Tu sabes jefa.

What The Border Wall Did To Me by diana lucas-joe

when that border wall was proposed to come to our ancient corridors it made a

reaction in me that has not gone away

that reaction is negative

its an allergy

festering

blisterous

puss

oozes

swelling

irritating

agitation

restlessness

causes insanity

I demand payment starting from the planning departments

to the contractors

to the builders to the supporters of it.

I am forever infected from its placement

it was placed without permission from my ancients

disrespectful robot

horrible tragic bastard

The Color Of Grassroots *in barrio observation by Diana Lucas-joe

it was earth like
blended like that
just right

some brown with leche in it
some canela cinnamon
some rustled barb wire
red pennies

some like the maranito ginger
from El Buen Gusto bakery
and then me
negra de africa cafe

almost black
child of the slaves
delivered from a basket
left in the alley

thats what the color
of barrio
looks 
like

THE COLOR OF GRASSROOTS *in barrio observation by Diana Lucas-joe

it was earth like
blended like that
just right

some brown with leche in it
some canela cinnamon
some rustled barb wire
red pennies

some like the maranito ginger
from El Buen Gusto bakery
and then me
negra de africa cafe

almost black
child of the slaves
delivered from a basket
left in the alley

thats what the color
of barrio
looks 
like