A piece of history

 

Rap a tap

Rap a tap

Someone is knocking

Knocking on my door

My door in the middle

Of the night

Who can it be?

Cinco de Mayo

Is celebrated by people

Who don't care about others

They claim it is the day

Pueblo de los Angeles

Fought against the French

But it is said

The French refused

To storm the place,

Maybe it was the spiders

Maybe it was the women

They were in Mexico

And did not want to fight

It was 1824

The century of dissent

Nineteenth century

Saw many give up

The Americans 

Just did not want

King George

They preferred

General George

The rest of America

Decided to throw

Off the restraints

Of Europe

Ungrateful bastards!

Brazil was the first

As half breeds

They were not allowed

Into the European ranks

Spain the leader

Lost thier hold

With the loss of 

The Armada

They never got it back

Instead France 

Ruled the waters 

The Navy was more 

Important than foot soldiers

After all they might 

Decide not to fight

Anyways the French

Were the first into 

America 

Already had their claim

But then Mexico 

Became available

After the British

Took over the North

But their men 

Were unhappy and simply

Wanted to go home

To France

Or so they say

Pueblo outside

Of Mexico City

Was important

As a magazine of arms

And the first location

The first Imperial French

Lost his head that day

And so did our own

Knocking on the door

Made him get up

And walk around the place

Many of us can say

There are scary nights

In early May

Wondering if we are

Crazy or something

He must be locking up

The place and perhaps

Getting his family away

The news could not have

Made it to Baja

Which was never really

Owned by Mexico

Spanish or French

But they were that 

Very night

Knocking on his door

And when he answered....

He was found swinging

By the other locals

From the entrance beam

To the little property

By the bay

An innocent place

There is a cemetery

Full of innocent ones

The squatters don't know

Where to look

Nor why their blood

Runs thin on the night

Of the insurrectors

Already knowing

Of the defeat

No satellite phone

Nor wireless

Did they have the 

Long distance 

Telegram service

Available?

It is one of the

Last offices

On the went coast

Or was it planned

Ahead of time?

Morse code 

Was not invented

For another twenty years

So how did they know?

They hung him anyways

They were full of their own

Animosity

They wanted this land

For themselves

Despite the legal ownership

Just as the current squatters

Have gone to court and lost

But there they are

Knocking away

Wanting rent on your own

Land and property

And if you step away

For one minute

They are inside

To take anything

They know about

In its inner hidden place

Candy insists this is her place

And Jimmy has done

Everything he can to make

Us miserable 

Including killing my sister

And my great grandmother

And her daughter

And granddaughter

My own mother

Who lost her brains

To people such as Lisa and Tara

Who have no intentions

Of ever doing anything right...

Cinco de Mayo

Is all about Teresa 

And her little bastards

Death to the real owners

Never been a slave

But she just wants

To kill us with her hate

And has stolen 

Everything she can

And continues

To cry about her plight

Ever wonder

Why 

Mexicans 

Don't make their lives

Better?

It is them not us

That has caused

All the trouble

They wont tell

The authorities

When bad men arrive

With guns and drugs

They enjoy them

They want to be bad

Not good Catholics

They steal everything

They can including

Your medical reports

They just want us

To suffer because 

They are bad and wicked 

The Catholics church

Cant do anything about

A race that wants to rape

Fourteen year old girls

In their coming of age 

Ceremonies

And insist that children

Be blamed when their 

Is a baby born

To the fifteen year old

Instead of the five year old

Bad wicked women!

The French came back

Of course and had a second attempt

Over these people

Who turned on them again

And then on themselves

Civil war has nothing

On the amount of deaths

That occur every year

In Mexico

And tourists beware

The authorities

Can only act when

They know the eyes

Of their daughters

Will not be taken

Unlike my father

Who found me without

Eyeballs when I was still

Too young to harm

Any woman but a threat

Over my innocence

Communism knows

Nothing compared

To how these people

React to other peoples

Possessions

They take it all away

And after not allowing

People to reside

In their own habitations

They promise they will

Not kill

But in the end

The real owners

Are robbed

And raped

And die anyways

Awaiting their own deaths

Of course as the universe

Will come back for them

As well...

They just dont know it!

Well, one night

In this last year

I awoke

To knocking on my door

And it was not Jimmy

Who is not supposed

To be here at all

But someone else

Who is also not 

Supposed to be here

Someone from my past

He was lost and confused

Where was he

And how had he...

He had followed the old lines

And found me

Instead of my now dead mother

Could I help him out

We spent the night

Wandering around

With everything gone

That he remembered

In the end 

His people found him

And I awoke

As if in a dream

At the old hideaway

Once a church

Or a chateau

It was a hiding place

For travelers to find

Safe refuge

Until those wicked ones

Found a way 

Of making their religion

Communism 

Take over a former

Christian one of bible learners

Who now speak of nothing

Of how they are going

To inherit your property

After Armegeddon

As if they are going

To survive themselves

And we are not

Five generations

Of us in California

And we are not the first

But the ones who came

When we heard of the deaths

Of our own ....

A little bit of history

I found today

At the swap meet

Where I have not gone

Since my own younger 

Brother was attaacked

And carried off by the ones

He trusts because 

He was never told 

They were his enemies...

There she is a young girl

Reading a book

Painted by a poor man

This is a reproduction

Not an original

And not worth 

The twenty dollars

Its cardboard weathered

But it was once mine

A long time ago

Given as a present

For me to remain 

Young and innocenct

Instead i have become

One of the protectors

Willing to do what is necessary

To make sure one of us survives

Another generation

To make sure

The wicked do not take over

By the way honey

I saw my little gun

You laughed at me

About its size

You must have been right

I was willing to protect you

But there it sits 

Under lock and key

Inside the Palace

Downtown

Not inside the little villa

You handed over to me

I keep waking up

In this place

A hostage of society

No longer a Christian nation

Nor an honest generation

But thieves and liars

Teresa a prime example

By the way 

I am also called

Little Marie!

200 hundred years ago

A boat set sail

From Winters Haben

Towards freedom

And my Great grandmothers

Grandmother

Was on that ship

All these years later

We are still waiting

For our property

To be returned to us...