The poem below is not mine. It was written by Juan Saez Burgos, a Puerto Rican by birth, a poet in spirit. I found it very prescient in light of dear president’s recent comments about PR being an island, coupled with the horrible response to the crisis there. We Americans have a history that is sometimes far from honorable.
Historic Tale in One Language Without a Moral Part I Once upon a time and twice are three and still is a small piece of the earth in the middle of the sea: that piece was filled with Indians naked like bronze under the sun. Winds passed and waves passed and in boats some whites arrived, and the Indians of bronze under the sun fought and fought and died, and the whites with beards under the sun killed and killed and conquered. Long live the Cross and long live the King full of blood because that is the law! From a larger, more people land, the whites brought some blacks naked, mahogany under the sun. They chained them, they branded them, they made them drink their sweat. For the King and for the Cross filled with hate they pray to Jesus. Part II Once upon a time and twice are three and still is, that same piece of earth in the middle of the sea; that piece is filled with people dressed and mixed under the sun. Struggles passed and wars passed and some blonds arrived in warships, and creoles dressed under the sun fought and fought; they surrendered, and the pink blonds under the sun killed and killed, they laughed. Long live Wall Street and Santa Claus "and obey bastards this is the law" From their larger, more people land the blonds brought some bases full full full with bombs under the sun; they put there soldiers and cannons and they did all this for "sport". For Santa Claus and for Wall Street "dirty spiks" march off to war.
And to think, we used to obsess about blow jobs and the denial thereof. Good times.