Gladys Garcia

Just like any other writer I suppose, I try to come up with something that carries a sense of art. Art formed in words, the strongest visual I suppose. Like anybody else, I am from a quaint city in southern California, my city being Riverside. Though I live in the poorer section of the city, it accommodates my perspective and I as well. The broken houses, rugged streets, and graffiti walls have their places in my writing. They spark anarchist dreams and vagabond thoughts to change the world.

I grew up in a Mexican community most of my life, so I am in tune with the roots of my culture than most would be with their heritage, so that kind of thing plays a role in my poetry, as in social struggle in my part of town. Since I am only 14 years old, I have done things that have distinguished me from the rest of the teenagers. I am very involved in my poetry, and creative projects. My writing is an extension of self and a vessel for the universe. It has helped me find my own identity, which is a difficult thing to establish for a teenager, I am sure anybody can relate to that sort of transition. Punk rock music has been a very heavy influence on me, especially Anarcho-Punk. The thrashing guitars, 3-chord songs, and lyrics shouted or screamed, done for their input to manifest it self. As having punk rock a part of my life, I am a fan of “oi”. I fight for Anti-Fascist “oi”, especially since people’s perception of it is that it is racist. I try to show that that is a farce due to media manipulation and stupid far-right bands. Sometimes I find it difficult to keep going on because the rest of the world still wants to listen to bullshit, but I find hope in that I am one voice more to alert the world.

Often I try to stay vocal about having a conscience for this world, especially about the horrors of the U.S government. Through my writing I vocalize all the stupidity that they do to manipulate us like images of false beauty, sexism, misogyny, a confectioned view of government, all of these farces done in the sake of money. As well as that, I write about environmentalism and animals. I like to help save the environment and its pre-existing inhabitants from the corruption of humans. That is what I stay vocal about since the dawn of my consciousness.

FUR-TRIM JACKET

For once I need to write this out…

Feelings and pledges not to wear fur, my vegetarianism, it brings ridicule

A poor rabbit’s carcass brought to my feet

When solely I express not to wear someone else’s skin

You could of asked what I liked, what eye desired

But no, bring me infernal bloody murder to exhibit

They may not be as advanced, but they have enough sense to know what pain is

Go with the motion, with the routine of things

I detest your ignorance, your ignorance of me

You know I exist, but still you think thoughts don’t

Stop trying to put me in a bloody mold, a mold used 7 times before

I want to be in a place where you do not kill your brethren creatures for consumption

That green pasture with the blue skies and clouds with cotton texture

That represented peace still faraway

My eyes look toward a sorrowful sky

The sun ulcerous, cancerous, red from human emissions

The exhaust from poor people being drained of blood

Squeezing out already empty pockets

Want to get away from the grand scheme of things

Go so far away…

So far away, my existence is unknown of

FIRE IN A FEMME HEART

looking down at primary, urbanized person wondering

wondering when we can go back before life wasn’t an asylum

before it wasn’t referred as an institution

instead of being a cautious fuck

living life routinely, while nature lives in unmeditated events

living in crap suburbia gives an industrialized output

surviving on Earth gives a pure perspective

why do we construct things we never truly want, while the things we hunger for are never assembled?

things rich in beauty are destroyed while ego-driven communities take their place

why does this femme often feel alone in this population?

they feel like the only active dreamer, heart aching for progress

looking down at primary, my eyes search for another pair to watch

continuing natural search in an asphalt jungle

where might he be?


LIGHT’S OUT

I need light to nourish the fusions in my head

without it, I am aimless like the rest

hands losing capability to project these creative pleas

the words vanishing into thin vapor

while tormenting thoughts mock

like seeing is believing

so the feeling is menacing

source that makes vision straight

staring at it with 3-D spex

sense it with 4-D visibility

which isn’t hereditary

still prevailing because darkness is to eerie

makes one go fearing

phobia of loss of seeing ‘

dreading to be engulfed in black

to me, just means nothing to work with

no scary monsters come out at night

only your hallucinations, that abstract your vision

making your sight misguide you

when the 3rd-eye is inefficient it seems

caught up with reality, ignoring the possibility to transcend it

go further beyond plasticity