Poetry: Noa Noa

Bocafloja

2782(ANGELOUX / Creative Commons)

Noa Noa* (See translation below.)

9 a 5
6 por semana
salud se rompe cual porcelana grita el subordinado: ¡basta!
comprando a plazos escalones en la casta

Miel en hojuelas para esta autoflagelación rutinaria
¡Muerto!
Muerto que respira en pos de ser liberto.

Consume el miedo e inmoviliza cualquier posibilidad de fuga.
Lo miro caminando, espalda rota;
es un abuso ese costal de culpas.

Gracias occidente por la bendición autodestructiva y el pavor a lo obscuro;
por el empoderamiento del exterminio a través del
verbo;
por enseñarme a venerar al vikingo con su espada en mi garganta
y ¡sigo muerto!
Muerto que respira en pos de ser liberto.

Bienvenidos al inframundo.
Este es el carnaval grotesco de la AK 47
despolitizada,
sólo en pro del oro, el exceso, la obesidad, el poder
de rezo a Malverde,

y esa glamurización del bandido huevudo que habla en balas mientras descansa sus espuelas en los finos tapetes del palacio de gobierno.

Suelta el tiro y a correr en este pueblo que este pueblo ya no es tuyo;
está acorazado en un bunker invisible esquivando a la muerte con sangre,
acariciándola con savia cada mañana.

Y dile al cabrón de Juárez que la paz y el respeto suenan como ingenuas alegorías al romance, luego préndele fuego al Noa Noa pa’ resurgir sanos en este drama.

Y aquí,
aquí sí hay muertos;
muertos que hoy vigilan las fronteras del luto y del silencio.

Yo me negué a morir,
pego un brinco y me reinvento.

Porque tan sólo soy un muerto que respira en pos de ser liberto.

*

9 to 5
6 days a week
health chips like porcelain a subordinate yells: Enough!
buying his class mobility on layaway

Put honey on hojuelas to treat this routine self—
flagellation
Corpse!
A breathing corpse pretending to be free.

He swallows his fear and loses all hope of escaping looks
when he walks, back broken
this sack of guilt is a burden.

Thank you Occident for the self destructive blessings
and fear of the
dark
for the power to kill with verbs
for teaching me to worship the Viking with his
sword at my throat
I am still a corpse.
A breathing corpse pretending to be free.

Welcome to the underworld,
a grotesque carnival, home of the depoliticized AK 47,
we favor gold, excess, obesity, the ability to pray
to Malverde

glamorization of the grown “bad boy” who talks about bullets
while resting his spurs on fine government palace rugs.

Jump out of the comic strip and run from this community to that one,
you won’t find yours
this in an invisible bunker is dodging death with blood
slathering himself with fresh blood, every morning.

And tell Benito Juarez that peace and respect sound like
Naïve metaphors for romance
later, to bring something healthy to the situation, he set Noa Noa nightclub on fire.

Here,
yes there are corpses here
corpses who watch the borders in silence and mourning.

I refuse to accept death,
I jump and reinvent myself.
Because I am no more than a breathing corpse pretending to be
free.

 


 

*Noa Noa is a nightclub in the border city of Ciudad Juárez.

 


 

Bocafloja is a poet, hip-hop and spoken word artist, and social communicator, from Mexico City. He is now one of the most-revered icons of the hip-hop scene in Mexico, critically addressing topics such as institutionalized racism, social and political oppression, mental slavery, and colonialism. Bocafloja has performed in festivals, clubs, and cultural centers in more than 10 countries worldwide and has shared the stage with some of the most important and influential artists in the international hip-hop scene.

 


 

Read the rest of NACLA's 2014 Summer Issue: "Reimagining Drug Policy in the Americas"

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