Moet Jose

by

i.
House music at every bar
This simple knowledge puts you above my time
My years are years to you

 He spoke of his craft in a way
That assured me it kept him alive
For our crafts are one in the same

 Avoiding the uncomfortable chill
That a spring in the city would bring
Fate tapped me on the shoulder
And told me I was on the right path

 Souls have been reuniting recently
Destiny is simply teasing me
My past is ceasing to exist
ii.
Musicians, artists, and lovers of the song
Lovers of the drum we were, 1927
1927 when my father was born
Along with the sound of the conga

 My father must have had these same nights
Where people laughed not judged
That was their protocol
They were forced, to live

 The music played throughout La Oriente
The dialects went unrecognized
Words were insignificant
To the music seeping into the fresh soil
iii.
these rosaries could tell you stories
they deceive the yellow walls in my room
that were once white
they deceive the masses that come to visit
this juvenile delinquent
my four walls plastered with these juvenile images
Nickelodeon’s playground
i.
The bricks were calmly rusting
Unlike most nights, Brooklyn
Did not reign

 The Bronx was back to regain respect
Straying away from our mediocre science projects
Where we live as lab rats

 Away from the tight Auschwitz
Train cars they pack us so tightly in
7500 or more vinyl’s
Some with color, some with pictures

 But you continue to doubt your ability
Quitting is the option I don’t present
The Phonocator presents:
ii.
Sprouting love like American pollen
Universal carrier of A dream
Beauty is defined by relativity
I am so many miles away

 The closer we got
The stronger away we pushed
We felt land on our feet
Sensations were not mutual

 Glares slicing our pride
We’ve stepped into our burial ground
Repugnant vibes called promises
On lands they called promising
iii.
these suitcases could tell you stories
of cool Cuban nights and Colombian breakfasts
Barranquilla’s waters are inviting this gringa
America has erased my culture
self-hatred instilled into my people
they feed us and we feed off them
a system working effectively