Don’t Drop The Taco
By Juan Manuel Pérez
Whatever you do, don’t drop the taco
Because the Mexicans are watching you
And they don’t take too kindly to your blind
Disrespect for their food or their culture
Whatever you do, don’t drop the taco
Even if you’re questioned by the police
And you know they are about to make you
Get down to the ground, make love to the dirt
Whatever you do, don’t drop the taco
Even when you’re tagging that stupid wall
Writing how Trump can suck your you know what
While you’re getting high on those spray can fumes
Whatever you do, don’t drop the taco
Even when stopped at border checkpoint
One hand on the wheel, other on the prize
Wanting to show them that they’re number one
Whatever you do, don’t drop the taco
Even if your girl wants to hold your hand
But you can’t even hold up your own pants
With family packs of tacos in each arm
So always remember, no matter what
Whether the devil is after your butt
Or you’re making love to your step-sister
Whatever you do, don’t drop the taco
Tell Me What?
By Juan Manuel Pérez
Did I tell you? So, I didn’t tell you.
That Mejico is never going to
Pay for that racist, xenophobic wall
In no kind of way nor in cold, green cash
Did I tell you? So, I didn’t tell you.
That lush, healthy fields don’t harvest themselves
Who’s going to pay better wages to
Those who don’t want field jobs in the first place?
Did I tell you? So, I didn’t tell you.
That these kooky ideas by rich men
Are simply that and only spread fear to
Other rich men who can’t see blue from sky
Did I tell you? So, I didn’t tell you.
Most things bothering you are just made up
Letter To The Editor Of UFO Quarterly
By Juan Manuel Pérez
I’ve never seen a real flying saucer
up close except in the photos of your
magazine. Those pictures are pretty dang
clear and so realistic. Nor have I
ever seen aliens walking about
(unless you’re counting those dang Mexicans).
Nor have I ever been abducted by
aliens (unless you count my cousins).
Nor have I ever been taken on a
spaceship or to any strange place to be
examined and probed (well, unless you count…
never mind about that). But I did see
one of THEM become president… So,
Just wanted to let you know just in case…
Wash Me Outside
(a Fibonacci poem)
By Juan Manuel Pérez
a
coin
laundry:
where you wash
the filth, stink, and blood
from that used to destroy others
Prophet Of Problems
(a Fibonacci poem)
By Juan Manuel Pérez
Trump
says,
“things might
get ugly
from here on out” till
the end of this democracy.
Juan Manuel Pérez, born and raised around the onion fields of La Pryor, Texas, is the author of many full poetry collections, poetry chapbooks, and poetry workshop workbooks. The award-wining poet is also the 2011-2012 Poet Laureate for the San Antonio Poets Association, El Chupacabra Poet Laureate (for lifetime), the 2005 People’s Comic Book Newsletter Award Winner For Best Comic Book Poetry, and the 31st Annual Southwest Texas Junior College Creative Arts Contest Over-All Literary Award Winner (Poetry & Prose) in 2012. Juan is a 10-year Navy Corpsman/Marine Medic with combat experience in the First Gulf War (1990-1991: Desert Storm with the 2nd Marine Division/2nd FFSG) and part of the Special Purpose Marine Air Ground Task Force, United States Marine Corps Relief After Hurricane Andrew during the 1992 Hurricane Andrew Relief Operation in Homestead, Florida. Currently, the author worships his Creator, teaches history, writes poetry, and chases chupacabras by the Texas Gulf Coast in Corpus Christi, Texas.
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