100 TPC-zine San Antonio, TX. USA

by Viktoria Valenzuela

Dear Beautifuls, this day again, we're not gonna need the 45 either as our own ancestors guide us.

Diana, a medicine woman friend, tells how we make it through the day, a year gone by a year of clap backs and trash talk on both sides the turd said.

One side bludgeoned blue the other side blue in the face lying I am looking to find the scab I've a cut too deep but... I suppose It is not illegal to punch nazis!

It is not illegal to punch nazis.

My teacher says, it is not illegal to punch a domestic terrorist, a filthy KKK/Nazi-blooded-terrorist right in his ugly alt-RIGHT offensive ass-face. ~Chingasos a toda la madre!

“I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter: So help me God.”

by Marisol Cortez

DEDICATION: FOR THE ONES WHO STAYED TILL THE END The ones who stayed till the end did not want to go to any parks on any developer's approved list.

The ones who stayed till the end did not want to post to Craigslist five thousand dollar homes into which they had poured fifteen thousand in repairs, inside which they'd rebuilt lives once wrecked by violence, domestic or state or both.

The ones who stayed all the way till the end did so because they saw what happened when their neighbors left on someone else's terms, someone else's timeline, someone else's I know what's best someone else's for your own good: for the good of the city for the good of the tax base and they said—no, sorry: not good enough.

The ones who stayed believed in the rightness and the goodness of what they wanted and what their children deserved: they wouldn't settle. They dreamed of keeping their homes or

buying a home, of buying land where they could move together in this land where rights are founded on removal.

The ones who stayed until the end were the bravest because they had no choice: there was nothing, no help for women without papers women without English who were mothers of young children.

The ones who could left early, before the rats came, the break-ins the machines chewing up the empty trailers with mouths gaping, not even stopping when the kids walked past on their way home from school.

The ones with the least had no choice but to stay in furious tones naming the raw deal they'd gotten and how it wasn't enough.

In the end what they got was nothing near what they needed but they never stopped insisting on their right to it.

They fought and stayed

till the end, abandoned and failed in the end by the city, the developers, the organizations, even the lawyer, even us, everyone supposedly trying to help, confounded by these women who refused to take the deal and get out— didn't they understand what a good deal they were getting?

Weren't they grateful, didn't they know they were entitled to nothing, these mujeres desagradecidas who were not about to leave before they were ready or to move where they didn't want to go to begin with?

The ones who stayed till the end were nonpersons in the eyes of the state, with no rights to land or even survival, much less any pursuit of happiness: which was why they insisted in the name of their full humanity that in fact they deserved the world for what had been done to them and their children.

by Louise Taylor

BOQUILLAS CANYON

Come with me to a land of rock and cactus Wilderness where a river meanders and mountains touch the sky There is beauty here created by those conditioned to thrive in arid lands Ancient rock paintings witness to long ago artists where the Rio Grande traverses Boquillas Canyon An arbitrary boundary which their descendants wade to visit friends and relatives How will a stark wall fit into this landscape?

Where will it go?

Through the middle of the shallow Rio Grande or high above the deep Boquillas?

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by Rod Carlos Stryker

DONE +Are we done footing the bill, then have said feet shoved in our mouths if we object or protest treatment no better than sheep to slaughter by privileged owners who count coins and bet on the 99% never standing up for inalienable human rights?

Are we done...folding, caving to those who put us out in the dead of winter careless, shameless in their actions that effect thousands just for the bottom line?

Are we done...kneeling, bowing to allow for wealth-clad shoes to stand on sore shoulders, trod on stooped backs scarred by the whip, hate, and indifference?

Are we done…?

(continued: The Struggle is to Regain Our Humanity)

rise up / the struggle is to regain our humanity this feels just like the 60’s again when young people rose up and shattered the complacency of a nation resting on it’s laurels it’s conspicuous consumption it’s empty warehouses of lost love believing in god but not knowing god was already here fully manifested the virgin the saints and all the angels already here no need to wait any longer let’s do this thing in the name of the thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven give us this day is the prayer we pray supplicate adorate meditate don’t obfuscate the issues this is you too hello can you hear me i wrote this down on my iphone i don’t know why cause i just wanted to get it right right on write down down’s syndrome autism vaccination procrastination defeated nation irascible conjugation of israelis looking for the promised land at the edge of the desert sand ideas born on the edge of the stratosphere where we can look down and view our hemisphere and all the lovely life here making plans and procreating take two sets of genres and merge them together fresh ideas and new insights ride your bike fill your brain with oxygenationed air i wrote this on a cool wet day on a mission from god a message of hope it appeared to me in the clouds as i rode by hey look we’ve made a mess down here admit it it’s not too late to clean it up or at least we can try any smart species would do that homo sapiens hey the neanderthals are gone didn’t make it homo erectus too fell down couldn’t get up hey homo sapiens how smart are you ??

By Dolores Moreno-Valles

CHICANX RISE Indigenous American, Mexicana, even European Let’s gain our education Drop the weapons of destruction And Rise Chicanx rise Throw away the drugs Break the chains of domestic violence Wipe the spit from our face Chicanx rise Believe that you’re somebody Grow your wings and fly on your own Walk down the street with you head high Clean the blood from our elbows and knees Love ourselves again Chicanx rise Have faith and hope that tomorrow is a new day to make things right again The strength remains in our hearts and our souls in the fibers of our being Now it’s the time for us to rise to our feet again Clean the tears from our cheeks Let our voices be heard because that can’t be taken away No more jealousy, no more competition, Empower each other Tell a stranger she looks gorgeous Stop being a foot solider in the prison yards Chicanx rise.

by Rohn Bayer

THE STRUGGLE IS TO REGAIN OUR HUMANITY

we live on a planet it’s a round ball we’re suspended in empty endless cold dark space we belong to the human race embrace

the struggle is to regain our humanity this feels just like the 60’s again when the young people rose up and took back their power hell no we won’t go was our chant as the military machine scooped up our comrades in arms and shipped them overseas to fight a war in the jungles of a foreign country some of you might remember oh we brought the house down gandhi did it in india martin luther king muhammed ali spoke truth to power and would not answer to his slave name google it it’s on youtube the revolution will be televised from the drone shots of standing rock to the purple mountains majesty cell phones are already posting facebookian exploding you tubian glowing networks of communication are flowing and sending electrical impulses from among the branches of our great nation like minded co-evolving human beings of all creation with mother earth and father sky farther out the outer space and god watching over us like a theatre piece or something us poor humans down there acting out their drama their passion play their glory their death wish to die and be reborn again perhaps in a heavenly realm where all desires are exactly and easily met kinda like the ancient people who lived here among us around the springs our ancestors back when the garden was our home not our hobby but we destroyed that to build houses and cars and weapons to destroy others who did not believe in destroying like we destroyed / now we‘re tired we elected donald trump how lame is that ?? and everything is going to be great again everything except for that one small dark splotch on our window of opportunity mortality who invited you in i wanted to live forever i guess or maybe not maybe that would be too boring / you have to die but first you have to live

by Darrell Pitman

I'M SO TIRED OF MARVIN GAYE ♫Mother-mother, there’s too many of you crying.

Brother-brother-brother, there’s far too many of you dying.♫ i am so tired of Marvin … pleading with us to answer his question, ♫What’s going on? Going on? What’s going on?♫ almost half a century has passed since he wrote those lyrics of pain, injustice and the desolation of love. since he wrote lyrics that implored us to love and show a desire to … understand. i am so tired of Marvin. he is still trying to teach by reminding us there is no need to escalate. i am tired of hearing him pray for us to realize we need communication over the desecration … of life. but now … today …with every psychopath who massacres flesh and innocence we pull out Marvin, dust him off and say … “Sing.” now … today … with every racist explosion that eviscerates hearts, hope and the humanity of my hue or every time “Big Blue” blows out birthday candles because the frosting is the wrong color, somebody always says, “listen to this. Marvin’s lyrics are so poignant. still as true today, as they were forty-five years ago.” and i cry …… because Marvin’s words are still true … today as they were forty-five years ago. i am so tired of hearing him sing, ♫There’s too many of you dying.♫ nothing has changed.

Marvin didn’t write that song -to- be an anthem for mothers waving the white flag … in grief. he didn’t write that song -to- supplant mourning. he didn’t write that song -to-wrap around the voiceless, like a winding sheet. he didn’t write that song - for lady liberty, to lament the callousness of a people who once welcomed, “your huddled masses” with an open heart. no.

Marvin asked the question, in the hope we would question ourselves, then answer with our … humanity. he sang that song with the hope we would find the answer and teach our children. so that someday our grandchildren might not look out at our society and ask, “What is going on?” he wrote that song, so there would be … no need for that song. but Marvin is still singing and i am just so tired of it. ♫What’s going on? Going on? What’s going on♫

by Don Mathis

FIGHTING FOR PEACE

What can one do to fight for peace?

Get out in the street, march with your feet.

What can you do if you oppose war?

Lay down your weapon and fight no more.

And if your politician is filled with hate, vote for the other candidate.

For we really do have a choice if we speak out and raise our voice.

The sword will fall before the pen if we stand together with a friend.

Fornicating for chastity is like drinking for sobriety.

But fighting for peace is what we must do if we want life to continue.

Viktoria Valenzuela * Christopher Rooster" Martinez * Carlos Stryker

by Johnathan-David Jones

I had a dream where we boasted about our progress even though we weren’t going anywhere!

I HAD A DREAM I had a dream. But this dream was nothing like the one of Dr. Martin Luther King…

But the worst part about this dream…Was waking up and realizing it was reality.

But we will live to love, because we’re loved…I have a vision, that this will be our reality.

Where we won’t live for the profit. The politics. The position. Or even our own morality.

I have a vision.

Where we will love one another…Without needing any permission.

I HAVE A VISION!

IN THIS VISION, people will wage war on the injustice of their thoughts. And start a revolution in their hearts. Grab love’s hand and allow their lives to begin to march.

I have a vision where no dreams will be spared! Where racism becomes rare, and little boys and girls could see their fullest potential just because they had someone that cared.

I have a vision! Where people would come together and fight. For no other reason than it simply being what’s right!

I have a vision, where the oppressors are judged, and the oppressed are delivered. Where the lives lost will always be remembered.

I have a vision, where people are judged by who they are and not by their decisions. Where leaders would rise not because they sought any prize, but because they became servants. A vision where people would love and live on purpose.

One where people were not more or less just because they’re different.

However with the dream I was also given a vision!

I had a dream where, people would fight over petty matters. Where people would kill over differences in opinion as if each other’s lives don’t matter.

I had a dream where sons and daughters cursed their parents. Where fathers and mothers would deny their children the love they needed no matter how apparent it was that they need it.

I had a dream…A bad dream…Where little black boys were stripped of their childhood. Where kids were afraid to play cops and robbers, because they were afraid the cops were out to rob them from their hoods for good.

I had a dream…Where sisters were never shown proper love and affection. Where their fathers weren’t around to give any protection. So they go out and have sex without protection, and lower their standards just to save themselves from rejection.

I had a dream, where mothers fought to keep their children off of the streets, but in the home fought to give their children something to eat. A dream where just because of one tragic scene we judge millions of citizens just because they come from overseas.

I had a dream! Where pastors would use the same words that Jesus used to bring change to people’s hearts, to bring change to their pockets. Where so called saints would pretend they were without sin. Lie to God and friends in their faces then turn around and do it again.

I had a dream! Where politicians didn’t have time to help a broken nation aim towards perfection because they were so busy preparing for the next election.

Where cities were smothered under crime and poverty…And would have to put their trust in their communities because the “Powers that be” wouldn’t serve them with honesty.

I had a dream where convenience made people lazy. Where cyber-bullying drove some people crazy…Where racism was expressed daily…And seeing a mass of people fight for justice made other people angry.

In the dream it was a crime to be black…And if somebody was killed, before asking if everyone was ok people would ask, for the facts.

I had a dream where no words were spared. Homeless people roamed the streets and nobody even cared. Where so many people wanted profit and so few people wanted to share.