I’m from the plains and the lake,
to the street where we knew one another.
I’m from the walks in the park
the boiling heat and the chilling cold.
I’m from fox news sundays and baseball in the yard
I’m from the NFL sundays and the MLB mondays,
My dad yelling at the TV “Are you stupid?!”
I’m from the summer reunions.
The stories of Pepe’s training and Momo’s cop days
And Momo yelling ¡CADA DE WAY VATO!
I’m from tamales on christmas
and the taco tuesdays
and Wendy’s wednesdays.
I am from many places around the globe,
but these are the things make up my home.
List poem
Uneven eyes, with the right slightly higher than the left.
A lazy right eye, that lets the eyelid droop down.
A black pen, fairly used, clipped firmly inside my shirt.
My shirt, White as the whiteboard no traces of just to be found.
My watch, a black watch purely electronic with a green interior and buttons.
Hands, Wide and strong yet with wounds never fully healed.
Cargo shorts that hold in one pocket a midnight black wallet in
the other holds a unused thumb drive.
My legs are long and strong, but covered with memories of the past.
Socks plain and white, not much to see.
Yet shoes, old as may seem, are still young, but have seen the miles
only can be seen by dedication.
Myself, a man of many words yet all encrypted with their own meaning,
each one a story with many to be told.
A lazy right eye, that lets the eyelid droop down.
A black pen, fairly used, clipped firmly inside my shirt.
My shirt, White as the whiteboard no traces of just to be found.
My watch, a black watch purely electronic with a green interior and buttons.
Hands, Wide and strong yet with wounds never fully healed.
Cargo shorts that hold in one pocket a midnight black wallet in
the other holds a unused thumb drive.
My legs are long and strong, but covered with memories of the past.
Socks plain and white, not much to see.
Yet shoes, old as may seem, are still young, but have seen the miles
only can be seen by dedication.
Myself, a man of many words yet all encrypted with their own meaning,
each one a story with many to be told.
Personal Identity
Personal identity is worth fighting for because it is what we are made of. What makes us human is our experiences. That is why people say, 'No two people are alike.' It's because no two people have the exact same experiences. Every one is different. That's what adds color to life. Without variety and differences the world is black and white. Because of our differences and memories we all learn different lessons, we all bring something new to the table. If that personal identity is striped from us then we are empty inside. If we don't fight for originality then we would be robots, not humans. We would be born to die without our identitys. Our identity shapes us. It determines our friends, our careers, and our lives in general. It is our creativity, it is our lessons and morals, it is our values. That is why personal identity is worth fighting for. It is worth the effort because creativity and values are worth fighting for. And most importantly, our friends and family are worth fighting for. That is why personal identity is worth fighting for.
