Saturday, February 10, 2007

Re: [Aztlannet_News] Farmworker Poetry

Si... there are many poemas, libros and symphonies yet to be written. Keep writing Hermano Jose! All of us must reach deep within our souls, go back into our memorias and capture our varied historias as we come together and create!
~+Peta-de-Aztlan+

"Ernest M. Saenz" <zdproductions@yahoo.com> wrote:
I agree with you. We should always tell people what it was like growing up in a segregated society. Let the truth be known.
I remember picking grapes and melons in the summer time - it was a family occasion.
There is nothing like poverty, it has a way of bringing a family together, but is also very destructive to the whole community - a duality we have suffered for too long.


Jose Garza <aztatlxikano@yahoo.com> wrote:
Thankyou for your kind words. Yes, I wrote them over a period of time. They reflect real life because I come from the farmworker experience in this country, first in Texas and then up north in Michigan later. Even after my father found regular work in the steel factory of Detroit we could not make ends meet. So we ended up on summer vacation working the cherry crop. And we cannot allow ourselves to forget the history of our people. Right? Aztatl

----- Original Message ----
From: Jeanine Flores-Garcia <jmfloresgarcia@hotmail.com>
To: Aztlannet_News@yahoogroups.com
Sent: Tuesday, February 6, 2007 3:09:34 AM
Subject: RE: [Aztlannet_News] Farmworker Poetry

Jose did you write these??? The last one made me cry, what truth in your words and no one could put them together better. Very well done, and I know it came from your heart, and you have touched mine.
Muchas Gracias Hermano
Flores

Brazil montoya@nwlink.com,
Carlos Cansino TierraAmarilla rcansi@swcp.com,
carlos flores carlosmezcla@yahoo.com,
Carol Boss CarolBoss@kunm.org,
Cassandra Reid casreid@swcp.com,
"Peter S. Lopez de Aztlan" sacranative@yahoo.com, Renee Wolters RRWOLTERS@aol.com,
todos libre todoslibre@egroups.com,
Sandrea Gonzales Sandrea@unm.com,
Teresa Marquez andaluz@unm.edu,
tlacayaotzin@aol.com, tlacayaotzin@aol.com,
tochtli Califas tochtli@berkeley.edu
Subject: [Aztlannet_News] Farmworker Poetry
Date: Mon, 5 Feb 2007 15:15:55 -0800 (PST)

What follows are two poems that fit the times. Recent arrests and persecution of farmworkers, union leaders and other community activists is an attempt at intimidation and instilling fear into our efforts as concerned citizens, with the right to free expression of ideas and of gathering with like-minded people.
Fronters Nortenas Trilogy : excerpt
(for my parents, Jose Garcia Garza y Felicitas Leyba Garza)
Ay sweltering San Antonio vario tan lindo,
how fresh your memory remains deep en
nuestras luchas para sobreviver, warm
por rumbos conocidos donde vive la gente
trabajadora de ' La Lomita' que se llama
the southern-most colonia de nuestro pueblo
Mexicano Chicano, alli
where summer cicada, hummingbird and lizard
song movements stir the bright orange Marigold
plants, then vanish into an abandoned two room
wood and corrugated steel roof home near
obsolete railroad tracks, rattle snakes
and aging pecan orchards.
Dinasaur migrant worker routes
as ancient as Pachamama Herself.
Bewildered thoughts drink in the cathedral
prayer chatter of red skinned people massed
on the border between yesturday and today, in
open omnipresent fields, before the rising of the sun.
Hungry Crow people who weave the magic cloth
of culture for the day, drinking hot coffee, waiting
for the ceaseless walking to begin - row after endless
row of short hoe stooping
cutting
collecting
sweating
watching the wealthy land owners pause to wipe
red taco sauce from red stained hands, calling
for more work, more bodies, more taco sauce please.
Boy, I kid you not, these Mexicans sure can cook.
More brown and red bodies bodies please; from Texas,
Mexico, Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois
re-incarnated into yearly slave trips to summer vacation
resorts, never swimming in clear lakes or walking
the fragrant pine forests; ill afforded sand dune buggy rides
and cherry festivals, in lieu of television the recent invention.
Time is money is everyone must lend a working hand.
Traverse City,
Ludington,
Hart,
Shelby,
Muskegon,
Mears,
Monroe (home to maniac general George
Armstrong Custer), Michigan.
We worked them all.
?Te acuerdas de las piscas ese?
Daydreaming the collapsed american dream.
Cold morning open air showers,
carrying the days supply of water,
climbing ladders the entire day long.
Hopeful for better days, perhaps next year.
?Te acuerdas de tu gente compadre,
que todavia lucha?
c. Aztatl, 1982
Driving Through The Fog
Believe it or not
there is another poem
coming on, another poem
he says;
and the Farm Labor
Organizing Committee
is still fighting the grower,
and the union hall is emptied,
and the beer was good,
and the conjunto music was good,
and workers' concept theatre was good,
and your reading was good too.
and the farmworkers
still sleep in doubt,
and the doors remain
closed for them;
and my father whispers
low into my ear,
remember the hard times,
remember your family,
remember to write
well of them. And
believe it or not,
there is still another poem
coming on through the loss
of leaving the people
who do not have the time
to write poems;
another poem
coming on
he says,
and yet there is
another
coming on,
another poem . . .
c. Aztatl, 1988

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