art


I read all those books in school I had to read because I didn’t have a television until I was ten and when I finally got one it was a black and white piece of shit, but it worked. I got a color one at 14 and it was like Christmas everyday. We lived in a four wall shack. I never had a room of my own sometimes I had to share my room with bichotes, Pimps and Prostitutas so we could make rent that month, which was cool because times were hard, but at least we were making rent, ya know.

All I could do at night was read and when I heard the sirens I would get my pencils and draw all the places my mind wanted to go. In my drawings I think I have traveled further than anyone but most of the time my stomach growled louder than my wildest imaginings.

MG Hardie

They tried to silence us in the fields
we could no longer beat our drums.
They wanted to strangle us into silence
by gagging us with hate.
But the voices of the drums are not lost
They are the pulse of our history
The beat passionately in out hearts
They speak to us through
The Blues of Billie
The Horn of Miles
The Pen of Alex
The Tenacity of Malcolm
The Dream of Martin
The Hope of Obama
The Future of Me.
I hear the echoes of strength
I feel the vibrations of survival
No…
We will not be silenced
We will not be defeated
We will continue to search for our voice.

And I will beat my drum… will you?