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| Absolutely no portions of the artwork on this page may be used, reproduced, or copied in any way without expressed, written permission from the artist. Failure to comply will result in legal action. All artwork, prose, and poetry (unless otherwise noted) is copyright © 2007 Jorge Gonzalez. |
| THE MANY SHADES OF JORGE GONZALEZ POETRY |
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| ''Clampdown, Pt. 2'' Written by George Gonzalez Go on now, hit me Come hit me again for wearing his crucifix around my wrists Cut everything down to nothing My rights as an immigrant of this foreign land Will be defeated with the cries of a many helpless Iraqi children Set aside my hopes and dreams to Christ’s valiant prince of the north Once stood to snap at injustice, now a false acoustic guitar without any reason or rhyme A slave to a clampdown payable to the color of my sex Disgraced by an heir who tears down my arts’ every propose of being Told to lay down his head in shame for the skin of my religion Welcome to the No-Revolution Land of Inequality A shelter put together by the barons and monsters of my mind A jail guarded by the people I befriend and the family that I love to death A corridor evil and threatening for my restless body to lay deep inside I think I’m tired, tired again Not much to look forward to anymore I try, and I try as I might, but I don’t think I want to continue Everyone’s got me in a chokehold that I can’t seem to get out of anymore It makes me tired, oh so very tired Come on now, hit me Stripped sick of my individuality for twelve shades of happiness that rarely get seen Taken everything good men worked so hard for to keep Can’t create the rebellion that was once dreamt of because I no longer have a voice Dissected and no longer able to speak of Armstrong’s dawning It is enough for a man of virtue to go completely insane For good reason, the godsend of our Mexican dream, Carlos Diaz, will overthrow my brother Forced to kneel before an already beautiful pastor of just and praise He will take my lover and family to pewter doors and golden homes of liberal-less atmospheres With new love to find, and new treasures to be seen An inglorious disgrace such as me would have never given them that opportunity Alone in my cubical of judge and jury Every move made will be noted, filed, and used against me in the court of fraud Can’t speak of rebellion, can’t preach against her Nazi regime and its policies So there I go, left without my lover and my parents without trying to fight for them You see, I think I’m tired again Not so much to look forward to anymore I try, and I try as I seem, but I don’t think I want to continue Everyone’s got me in a chokehold that I might never to get out of It makes me so tired, oh so very tired Keep hitting me, I don’t care Ridiculed and banished by loved ones for the cowardly act on my part Could rain blame me? Could pain honestly blame me for my actions? Like an abused child, being hit repeatedly by a senseless bureaucrat Beginning to lose the will to fight for my honesty Once had a voice to let the world crumble, but now all I have is just empty, dry, depression Ask again and again; could pain blame me? Could the rain truthfully blame me for my actions? Can’t begin to imagine the purposelessness I feel in all my trials What’s one to do, in a time of desperation and turmoil? Lost everything that made me who I am Don’t deserve to be loved any longer, let alone cared for Let authority of corrupt men and women blindfold what I stand for I will regretfully begin to die in my own blood and piss For I work for the ministry of world renowned heroes, who only care for themselves That’s why I think I’m tired, tired again Not much to look forward to I try, and I try as I might, but I don’t think I want to continue anymore Everyone’s got me in a chokehold that I can’t seem to get out of It makes me very tired, oh so very tired Keep going, hit me some more Because I’m working for the Clampdown The No-Revolution Land of the Disenfranchised A desert cage where I have been chained to An ode to the one I was taught to love A nation where I no longer take a stance No longer have an opinion No longer stand for anything A country where I no longer believe No longer fight for truth and honesty No longer have the right to an idea or work of art An acceptance to the uninspired This marks the conclusion of drawing my nightmares And the start of painting everybody else’s hopes and dreams Poem © George Gonzalez |
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