classroom crush

My classes are intoxicated
with thoughts of you
can't hear the teacher
cause i'm dreaming
about what we could do
not in terms sexual things
(although those aren't ruled out :)
but just the questions
I heard you ask
I heard me ask
in my head
and stifle my heart
to say
does this have to matter
what she says
yet she is judge

My classes are drunk
with standards
i don't want to jump
when she says how high
i'd rather sink
in my chair
as my mind knows
how oppressive she is
she weighs us with
guilt about truths
on what is right
what is wrong
just sink me
til i'm invisible
in her game
and if possible,
you'd be the other one
invisible too.

I hope you don't mind
that i'm spending my time
thinking of you
and the possibilities
of our thoughts.

one among many

tell me all you can do
is tell the authorities
but who are the authorities
but people who run the game
that hurts people for pay
for order
for progress.

they have rules in which
questions i have
poke at their
hypocrisies
and they have no answer.

but this is the law
this is the path of justice
i don't like their game
i would fall down the cracks
just to tear down their walls
with my nails

the emperor has no clothes on
cause he's been fucking us this whole time

dream about apo*

in my dream
i was talking to my grandma
she was worried
(now realize
my grandma has passed
to the other side).
But i heard her
worries.
i looked across the street
and saw my grandpa
(now realize
my grandpa died
when I was 'round 2).
and i looked close
to see if it was him
under the hat
sitting across the street
he waved and said hello
and send me a thought message
for my grandma
whereever she feels safe
he is there.
i told grandma.
she leaned back.

there was a phoenix
at the moment
i was telling
the bird was flitting
its wings.
then
when she leaned
the bird fell flat
on the ground

the phoenix
is a bird that rises
from the ashes.
maybe my grandma
was roaming the house
worried 'bout somethin
but i hope
she heard grandpa's message
and went to other realm.

*ilocano for grandma

to my teacher: never silenced

my umbilical
severed
cut my tongue
bashed my brain
took them out
when the bullet
insane
them workers of the man
numb the pain
so cut out the wound
that piece of pain
that spoke truth
in the school
reminding youth
that their pain
is not out of the blue
but truth
we feel
cause we
spiritual
beings
connected to all things
near and far
and them laborers for the man
want to act like we caught
in little boxes
musuem objects
they charge at
the door of the house
they take entrance fees
in order to show
our tricks
our feats

my wounded teachers
dared to speak
in straight jackets
of academics
and they cried
when they lectured
tongue of ancestors
brothers and sisters
continents away
waiting that she
will connect our fire here
to connect their fires there
and burn down
the house
of the man

cutting free

I am tired of their dream
tired to putting my body
to work in their machine
tired of their lies
they try to push behind
ear drums thumping
to heart beats bumping
PTSD running through
my veins
cause their words
return back to the logic
of carcasses as profit
and they hide behind
their books and degreed looks
pretend what they have to say
is something cause its lots
of specks on a page
but just blah blah blah
something that don't mean shit
except they have their name
written on some electronic space
gated with authenticated sign in log ins
locked in knowledge
don't ask me to review your paper
i don't understand what you mean
when you talk about helping systems
to improve military machines
to crack the code of movements
speaking up on electronic space
you think you can track us
but our knowledge cannot be reclaimed
cause you stand on stilts of shame
cannot even touch the ground
cause so long you've erased
any sense of faith
of freedom