No More....

No More

Millions displaced, millions just trying to get to work, to live their lives,

to set up their stores that have no walls, only broken bar stools and office chairs make up this kiosk.

Her bicycle is her car, it carries an enterprise and a family,

coffee thermoses full of cafe con leche and hot chocolate to fuel an ever growing city

Ten million plus Venezuelans, we say with a laugh. As if the suffering of people,

the corruption we all know exists and hate, but do nothing to combat is a joke.

Those who truly fight it become corrupted themselves, rebels, or shot dead.

The artists of the street, the merchants with carts and bicycle caravans, these are the only heroes we have.

I am guilty of it too though, I wear a tie that though fashionable chokes me,

shoes that bind my feet, and a belt that's way too tight for my waist.

All in the name of the all mighty peso. We all want to save and spend to get the life our families need,

the American dream, to finally have a piece of the pie. But in the name of true justice..

She may be blind, but we are blind, deaf, and dumb, we know nothing of nothing,

and then we become what we hate most...Puro Veneno

With our hands over our hearts, we salute a flag stained with the blood not of our forefathers,

but of true modern patriots, who just wanted to get to work and stop the cries of a hungry child.

Puro Veneno, we think of it as a slogan against the hogs in congress, fat on state salaries.

Puro Veneno, it's in our hearts each time we think only of ourselves...for me though...

No more.