Where are you from?
I’m from a beautiful and dangerous city:
A “suffering paradise,”
poor on the surface
rich underneath.
a place where assassins
cry for their mothers
and the food is home made.
I’m from that corner where a kid
pointed a gun at my stomach.
I’m from the tropical rainforest
where they captured a monkey
to give me on my fifteenth birthday.
Screaming, screaming, screaming
Without aesthetic discourses.
I am not from Paris, London
or New York.
I am from Caracas,
that corner
without discourses
a gun
screaming:
painting.
Blanca Haddad, Venezuela
The Social Poet 