No tengo cara de pendeja


Machismo
A disease injected to the minds of our men
A crown taken without permission
I won’t grant your wishes
I won’t cut my words in pieces and hand them to you with the face of a pendeja
¡Macho nada!
I bet you cannot say those things to the one que te pario
I bet you don’t know what love is
I bet you’ve only tested salt and lies, and now you pretend to give it back
Stay away from my women
Revalue and pray for yourself
I was going to offer you to go to la Luna, but even the moon, as dark and far as it is
It would never dishonor women as you did.

Freedom

 

Photo by Fernelis Lajara @Laj13

A collaboration with the Dominican writer and photographer, Joelle Santos @Azuquita.prieta.

She looks like home
Segura
Caliente
Full of emptiness
spaces and silence
She feels like home
She is home
Ella es freedom

– Nakedness

@azuquita.prieta

Yo a ella la he visto
walking with whatever the hell she wants
Always with her stomach full
loving the curves in her eyes
the same way she
values the corners of her breasts
Desnudez of the body and soul
she prefers
Sumisa no es
Intesidad carne de viva mujer
She is not dead inside in a body that’s alive
she is butter in the fly.

F.P. @Mujerconvoz_poetry

Amazon 

Photo by the artist Djilas Gomez @djilasgomez.

                                    

                                                                       

For Angy Abreu 

Hitting
was easier for you.
It is your superpower
to grow more cells
between your legs
and ego
but there’s an espacio vacío
on your tiny brain
Hitting, fuck! Golpear 
was easier for you
escupiendo words on her face
you opened up su piel like
a wanted envelope
there is nothing green inside – you thought
He opened up scars that never existed
too bad, the woman in her won’t take crap
too bad, the woman in her won’t shut up
she is the Amazon
wild and beautiful, but don’t tempt her
wild and deep
“don’t touch me”
She is not the false man made green venom
you waited on,
she’s worse…
a scar that won’t weep
it would just dry like the sticky side of the envelope
not like the organ in his pants
that will only oxide with time.

—F.P.

Speak up against domestic violence 🚫‼

White Sheets

 

Photo by Fernelis Lajara @laj13

 

“Cuando se escuchó el gemido agudo la sabana blanca
que estaba en un armario rojo
sumisa,
se liberó,
dejó crecer la selva,
bautizó sus hilos con estrellas,
fue libre/fue libre/fue libre.”

Venezuela

Hermanas, Dear Sisters

 

Photo by the author.

 

Names.
Wrapped around metaphors.
The sisters thought their names were simple.
Simplification. Miminalism. Bland. Easy to manuver, passing by the skylines of the city.

They arrived, here and there, and they found out two things. First, the devil doesn’t wear red. Secondly , that their names are noodles. I am taking about fideos baratos.

When they though they had one name,
those names expanded like noddles never returning to their original state.There is not such a thing as recyclable dominican nombres when you are out of the country. They will pronunce your name like they are eating a computer keyboard and you are the black ink of the printer…getting wasted by injustice or worse, they will say your name like they had put their brains in a lavadora just making weird sounds…mostly on purpose. There’s nothing in between.

They thought four letters name weren’t all that.
They thought people will make an effort.
They thought people will not try to rip their tongues out trying to say one “r.”

Sisters, dears sisters, hermanas,
let them mispronounce our nombres from our grandmothers which are passing from generation to generation in the mantel de la cocina. They don’t understand our hair or our skin, much less our historias.