البـــــوابـــة
Ignorance and poverty are landlords.
Half naked women celebrates gossip
All day long. They are housewives.
Some send their children to school,
Others do because others do.
Their husbands are strongmen, struggling against
All odds, they provide the daily bread.
The children help the neighborhoods’ free-girls,
Their laundries must be clean to sell the flowery meat.
Little innocence,
They watch and learn the destructive trade.
The prostitutes parade the street with their sagged breasts
Tucked tantalizingly in their tidy revealing iron bras,
Tempting, tormenting,
They are vulgar in their manners.
Their welcoming faces betray banners of
Frustrated existence.
Where I live
Behind my dwell are marijuana merchants.
Evening and early mornings,
Youths gather to smoke away sorrows of
Bad economy.
When the free girls meet the youths at the equilibrium
Point of smoking revelry, the fling becomes for kind.
The men in black uniform make their random raids but,
Tomorrow, everybody goes free.
The economy is bad, the police is our friend.
For the prostitutes, if they pay in cash or kind,
I cannot tell. Between the police and the youths,
They are arbiters.
Where I live.
In front of my dwell lived some Young men from
Hell.
The landlord cannot throw them out, they were above the law but,
Jungle justice is above them. They were caught in active duty.
Their guns are enough exhibits, the mob need no witnesses.
The kingpin was a friend to the police but, the
Police is our friend?
Where I live.
Children learn the trade. The
Free girls and the boys from hell convive every evening,
They initiate the kids into the destructive life of
Marijuana, banditry and prostitution.
Half naked women celebrates gossip
All day long. They are housewives.
Some send their children to school,
Others do because others do.
Their husbands are strongmen, struggling against
All odds, they provide the daily bread.
The children help the neighborhoods’ free-girls,
Their laundries must be clean to sell the flowery meat.
Little innocence,
They watch and learn the destructive trade.
The prostitutes parade the street with their sagged breasts
Tucked tantalizingly in their tidy revealing iron bras,
Tempting, tormenting,
They are vulgar in their manners.
Their welcoming faces betray banners of
Frustrated existence.
Where I live
Behind my dwell are marijuana merchants.
Evening and early mornings,
Youths gather to smoke away sorrows of
Bad economy.
When the free girls meet the youths at the equilibrium
Point of smoking revelry, the fling becomes for kind.
The men in black uniform make their random raids but,
Tomorrow, everybody goes free.
The economy is bad, the police is our friend.
For the prostitutes, if they pay in cash or kind,
I cannot tell. Between the police and the youths,
They are arbiters.
Where I live.
In front of my dwell lived some Young men from
Hell.
The landlord cannot throw them out, they were above the law but,
Jungle justice is above them. They were caught in active duty.
Their guns are enough exhibits, the mob need no witnesses.
The kingpin was a friend to the police but, the
Police is our friend?
Where I live.
Children learn the trade. The
Free girls and the boys from hell convive every evening,
They initiate the kids into the destructive life of
Marijuana, banditry and prostitution.
