History In My Eyes

Life is but a book
The writer is but a politician
History is repeated
Just like any other book
The difference
Is the writer
The politician behind the pen
The plot is always the same
Sometimes well outlined
Sometimes lazy pillars
Either way
They both collapse 
In the reader’s eyes
Either at the middle
Or the end
But it’s always the same.
I see sickness of the mind
In these troubling times
I’ve seen how people
Get greedy with opportunities
I’ve seen a lousy storyteller
Light the last firework
To incite violence
And distract
The local readers. 

A mere copycat
Trying to rewrite
History’s thorn past.
Lost souls
In flames
In despair
Segregated
Malnourished
Hunger of hatred
Is what he seeks
Filming second-rate movies
For the world to see
Idiocracy at its full. 

And yet
I can’t seem to understand
The ignorant
I still can’t understand
The greedy
Much less
The influence
Of a mere liar. 

Is it sweet
yet stupid whisper?
Is a movie maker
More important
Than a leader?
Is a barricaded coward better
Than peaceful confrontation? 

Wake up America!
Terrorism is within
Is covered in fur
Doesn’t matter the softness
It was still teared from the prey!
Don’t shut your eyes
Don’t cover your ears
Don’t be distracted by lies
Don’t lose yourself in the fog.
Don’t
Please just don’t…

Shut Eyes

By Rosalva Ruiz (SuperNova)

I guess I knew
But I shut my eyes
I’ve imagined every excuse
You could think of
But never the color
Never the heritage
Never the roots of it all.

Thinking back
There was a time
When I lived at a small town
I was but seven
And fascinated with magic
Funny enough
A family of five
Came into town.

They were witches
The grownups said
They might put a spell on ya
They said and with that
Voiced barriers were made.

But I wanted to learn magic
Due to circumstances
I wanted to cast a spell
And protect myself.
I wanted to be invisible
To the masked people.
So either I died trying
Or never be able to.

And yes
A magic spell was cast
“Friendship”
The most beautiful there was.
I learned so many things
But never magic.
Sometimes
I was invisible to some people
Since they thought
I was stained
Which didn’t really matter
Since I was having other
Much more troubling affairs
At that time.

I once asked them
Why is everyone saying
You all are witches and yet
You all don’t know any magic?
Antonio’s mom answered
With a pained smile
“Well, it just came to be that way.”
I couldn’t understand why
She answered that way.

In fact I couldn’t understand
How his dad was always
Looking for a job
He often was fired
After a week or two of getting hired.

He was a loving father
He never drank
I never saw him raise his voice
He could do just about anything.
In my eyes, he was such a good guy
I just couldn’t understand it.

After a year
They left town
I never saw them again.

I didn’t get it back then
They were having a hard time coping
Getting acknowledged despite their looks
They barely had money for food
Yet they always invited me
To whatever they had in the table.

Why was I so naive back then?
Why didn’t I see the injustice?
Why did I shut my eyes?