Addressed to : St. Frida Kahlo

A letter to La xingona, maestra, tlacuila, revolucionaria. La Frida...




Dear Frida Kahlo,

Was it your intention to show the beauty of pain? Or was it subconscious secretion? Did tear dripping brush tips offer any relief of your sorrows?

I have so many questions and this letra was suppose to be one of pure admiration. I always wanted to tell you that I feel como un chango hanging in one of your creations. And when I see pictures of you, I feel like I'm looking at a picture of my Tia. Maybe because my Tia Joanne has one of your paintings hanging in her chante? Maybe because we are just kindred souls, or some shit like that?

I hope you don't mind my foul lengua. I don't think you will. I have this impression that you like to spit muchos chingas, cabron y des madre. Maybe this is the down-to-earth realness you blossom in your reality?

Frida, Frida. What more can I say but Tlazo (Love and thank-you con la energia creyendo en la corazon de nuestra madre tierrasita). I see a little of you in all women. And I see all women in You. Tlazo.

You teach me that heart-ache, sorrow, doubt and pain magnifies the joy of seeing the sun caressing my son's face for the first time.

And to use that energia... and paint. Paint it blue, paint it sangre rojo, Bruja Brown, Paloma Negra y lagrima gray. Tlazo.

My words have run dry but my feelings never cease to flow, como agua.

Tlazo to La Santa who didn't need no legs. Por que, she had wings to fly........

Con un Amor Revolucionaria,

Juaquin Murrieta

P.S. You wear a una-brow way better then la Salma Hayek.

La Stand-Up Comedia through el Ojo Rojo de Juaquin Murrieta

Fool being a Foo.

Gonzo Journalismo Out-loud.

Lluvia de flores.

Chistes y Cuentas : chuecos y derechos.

With one good eye como El Bato Esteban Jordan.

Shit talkin, shit.

Spiritual dissection in four directions.

Don't forget mi erection.

Microphone : the metaphoric cuerno de chivo.

The Stage : un soap-box cochinera.

Spotlight: a smokey len-yo, so you may see clearer.

Freak-shit, but much weirder.

Queer and here, just don't stand to near, bra.

A thought, tough as love.

My anti-drug?... sometimes.

Or is it thee drug?...A dopamine river slitherin on the brain-wave.

Electric Pop Circus.

Feenin for the laughter.

Surprised by the tears that skeet from a comiks face; hidin behind the cackles of inebriated eyes and ears.

Fear what you might say.

But, Fuck it.

Say it any-way.

Master of Ceremony?

No.

Practice the ceremony : Allwayz.

Take a piss.

Standin or sittin.

Pretend to limpia mano.

SHOWTIME is here.

Remember, we discussed fear.

Tu nombre.

YOUR name has been called.

The musika is playin.

all you can ask yourself ... Will the Raza breath my name in?

Xochime for CoCo "el CoCo" Cardenas

Judge, of Judges

You wanna know what the world looks like,

to me?

I 'am inches

From loneliness

that lies

Parallel

On Glass

mirrors.

But what you,

could not feel.

But what you,

could not see.

Was thee eruption

it lit off in me.

Cause suddenly

Conversation and acitvity

became the Euphoric Powder

That

Gave

Power

To A Voice

within

SPEAKING: With Vibrations

Emanating

world

take

over situations.

Caught,

in

a

Rhyme,

I

no

longer

see

peoples

faces

Their hearts?

Weightless.

Cause Dreams

of

Currency

and comfort

is

all thats needed

to induldge

this

trip.

But when I awake

Theres still that

cold solitude

that

sits...

in his cair

of

aquiessence

TORMENTING

the

SOUL

the

ESSENCE

His long nailed fingers

Choking

Away

at

every

thought

ACTION

and

EMOTION

He cackles

Through

bloody

nosed

con

fess

ion

.

.

.

Concentrated

on

long

white

l

e

g

s

Not

Chocolate

Cooperation

His memory lives on

smudge glass and

pipa residue.

He

She

We

Tu

Yo

El CoCo

Cardenas

Was the loneliness

I

created

so ...

I

wouldn't

Have

to

be

lonely

no

more.

Does that sound crazy to you?

Addressed to: St. Oscar Zeta Acosta

A letter to be delivered to El Zeta. Where ever he may be. Mictlan? Mexico? Sleeping in some parque in Eas Los?

But definitely breathing in our corazons, tlazo....

Dear Zeta,

I'm a Brown Buffalo. There is no way of getting out of it. This is my joy. I'm alive. Soy Cucaracha. This is something that cannot be taken. Not even I can fuck this up. I was on the edge of extinction and today was a good day to die.

But La Flor, that grew from my hand; in this moment. Let me know the sun was still up. There is still light to graze.

Con un Amor Revolucionario,

Juaquin Murrieta

Jalando la Tierra

.............:Warning: este poema is not to be consumed while consuming 7 Mares:.............

Jalando la Tierra

Walking bare-pata on your beach,



toward your agua.



From sand,



ssss, ay!



tutu,



to the touch.



Toward the moist ebb-n-flow,



of your, deepest below.



Runnin over your mountains .



Cruisin through your valle.



Preparando,



con mi shovel.



Slip,



in soil.



Tilt



earth



slow,



con carino.



Pause to feel your viento.



Catch a groove.



Inhale.



Movimiento.



Bring rain to your desert.



Melt your snow.



Drip with my warmth.


Finger tips to your playa.



Tastes como,



coconut and xocolate,



mango con chile,



sandia con sal.



Put up fronteras de inhibition.



And I'll step over them,



como La Raza.



And proceed to,



slip,



in soil.



and



Tilt



Earth



con huevos,



como tambor.



Movimiento.



Como caracol.



Till we erupt,



Popocatepetl y Iztacihuatl....

Xican@ Space Odyssey: aka Al Rato Putos: aka El Pinchi Exodous

Readers, this is an interactive bloga. There are links throughout the writing. Feel free to explore them as you read or go back and explore them after. I dunno? I don't wanna tell you what to do.

It is sometime in the near future. Laws have been set in motion to protect the American Homeland. You're freedom and sanity are at stake. Oh, and your jobs. I forgot about your jobs. And your beautifully domesticated wives and children. You pay your Taxes, yet you feel one-upped. Lied to. I know. I have a mortgage and a time share I haven't paid in months. While our lazy neighbors to the south consume our resources. No need to fear. The day of reckoning for those illegal bags of bones is upon us. No longer do we have to sit in Victoria's Secret as are wives are gawked at by gang-banging border hoppers. No. Victory is just beyond the horizon. And one man risks it all in his comfy radio station located some where in the Arizona Desert. That man is Lance Liberty for 101.3 Honest radio. Take it away Lance................

Ladies and Gentleman this is Lance Liberty on 101.3 Honest Radio. I interrupt this broadcast on your podcast and we hate to interrupt you during Real Housewives of New Jersey or disturb you in the middle of updating your Facebook status. But this just in:



Today January first in the most foul year of our lord two-thousand and eleven. Operation: "Put Those Illegals in the Croc Pot and Cook'em" a top secret venture witch put forth Bills SB1070 and HB2281; as well as inventing that thing us Anglos use, to put tamale dough in corn husks. Has been announced a success. Victory achieved!


Well, sort of.... It has been reported that late this morning; Mexicans vanished off the face of the earth. The leaders of La Razah left a note on the door of one of the prisons Governor Jan Brewer owns, I mean where Jan Brewer conducts prayer groups. The note reads as follows:

Dear. oh no....Oh, I see dear has been crossed out. OK. here we
go....


Gavachos,

Al rato putos. We are sick of your shit. We are on our way to the tenth planet, which you putos never found. Planeta Atlantico. No you are not welcome. Look what happened the last time we let you vavosos spend the night.



You want us out of the country? You want us out of the schools?, orale. Let see how you do without all this sabor, this fuego, these brown hands to pick the food ya'll eat. Buena suerte, vergas.



Oh, and as a token of our appreciation we left you the following items: un short handle hoe, some of them crop dusting pesticedes, blankets from 1492, a chingo of paintings of a white Jesus, a copy of George Lopez's Tall Dark and Chicano (so you can still see us laughin at your ass), a mop, a broom, some diapers and some puto named John Ward.



Any way. We left in a giant Ranfla shaped como un Azteka templo, ese. So we out bitches. Oh yeah and our homies are coming with us: los negros, los chinos, los jotos, los sand vatos even the indios (red dot and feather), homie. So with out further to do, we out. Ay te wacho......



P.S. We left you a can of "chinga tu madre right there on the counter. why don't you help yourself ". Blood in Blood out. Yeah, I quote screenplays, homie. Y que?............

Now the government has its best linguistics people analyzing this note to decipher some of the coded language within this message. When we receive that information we will update you as we receive it. But in the mean time; crack those bottles, it just got a whole lot brighter in here! And in honor of this event we will be playing God bless America back to back for twenty-four consecutive hours!

(Fanfare)



*3 hours later*


Wait a minute..... Uh huh, uh huh. This just in:


Ladies and Gentleman. Scientist are predicting massive ecological events due to the absence of all colored peoples in the environment : tornadoes! earthquakes! tidal waves! Bill O'reilly's candidatesy for the presidency! with Glenn Beck as his running mate! oh, my! It is being reported that:

With the Exodus of all races of color. The Kardashians have entered a state of comatose when it was announced, "the Brothas was gone".

Tragedy has struck the White House! Barack Obama has refused to join the migration out of the atmosphere, however Michelle Obama has decided to join La Raza in their journey. Mrs. Obama was quoted as saying, " Negro, please I'm takin me and my babies on that ship. keep the dog".... The Scandal!

White adolescents are jonseing from the lack of hip hop music. One youth who was arrested for burning down a Best Buy, was quoted as saying, " Yo muthafuckas, I need that Weezy Baby, yaayaa!"

Beautiful rich white babies asses are dripping in excrement, screaming and crying at the top of their lungs "Guadalupe! Guadalupe! Turn around! Turn around! to you're arms once again!"

The entire food industry has completely shut down. No supply! No cooks! No waiters! No people to clean up after good, decent, working, Americans! I didn't know Mexicans worked in every single restaurant in the country! Its Chaos!

But in Downtown Tucson, Arizona; a very intoxicated, Tom Horne Remains adamant that, and I Quote " This is the single greatest day in American History. I am going to push that a holiday be created to honor this event. We will call it, ADIOS MUCHACHOS! YEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Celebrating with Superintendent Horne is John Huppenthal ( also very inebriated) It seems Mr. Huppenthal is attempting to dance; but with all the colors of the world gone, there is no soul, no flavor, no grace, no finesse in existence. It appears Huppenthal is just doing the chicken dance over and over again... Someone please stop him. He just looks like a crazed person now.... Great! Tom Horne is now lying in his own vomit at the foot of a Pancho Villa statue, in Downtown Tucson . These are dark times, ladies and gentleman. What will the world do?..............






* 2 Hours later *


It is clear ladies and gentleman. I believe it was the Wizard of Oz; or was it God? That said "Ask and you shall receive". I don't think I like this colorless world any more. The vibes floating around reek of up-tight mediocrity. The food is bland. This isn't a carney asadah burito I'm eating. It's just cut up meat rolled in a flat piece of bread. This is far to much to bear. I think I may call it quits like Kurt Cobain and Hunter S. Thompson. (A gun can be heard cocking) I had a senorita once, her name was Carmen. I guess, I'll never see her again......... Listeners this is Lance Liberty, for 101.3 Honest Radio, signing off. Good luck and good night..............
!BANG! (A lone gunshot)



* The next day *



Ladies and Gentleman this is, a very pain ridden Lance liberty for 101.3 Honest radio. As I'm sure you all have heard, I shot my ear off ,in an attempted suicide, last night. And it seems for no apparent reason, because This just in:


Early this morning, another La Razah, letter was discovered, this time at the 4Th avenue jail in Downtown Phoenix, Arizona. It reads as such.:

Pendejos,

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh-sike! You vatos really thought that we was
gone, huh? Nel Pastel, we tied to este Xikanlandia se llama Aztlan,
Cemanauac. Soy Nican Tlaka; Muthafakah.



We're over here in Tent City with all the homies. We got this cochino here, you may of heard of him. His name is Sheriff Joe Ar-payaso. He's modeling some new pink chonies for us. We still can't decide on briefs or thongs; for all Ar-payaso's Neo-Nazi homeboys. Ni modo.



We are here to stay, gringos. Get use to it. La Raza's like that movie with that baby, who talks like that vato, Tone-Loc. " We don't die we multiply!... ". There I go quotin movies again, ese. Jajajah LOL LMAO and all that shit. Paz...................



P.S. We want our shit back.
But you can keep the White Jesus' and John Ward.



P.S.eSe. Bebe's Kid's, ESE! Thats what that movies called.
jejejeje.........

You heard it here folks, straight from the donkey's mouth. Drink up, I know I am. This is Lance Liberty signing off for 101.3 Honest Radio.................(Static)...................

Xochime for Barrio Hollywood

This is a Flashback poem. I wrote this in 2006.... I think. It is a love letter to a Barrio in West Side, La Tusa. This is one of the oldest Barrios in Tucson; I say, one of, cause other Barrios claim they are the oldest, and I don't wanna be spittin false facts and shit. Plus I don't wanna start any more pedo between Barrio HW and Barrio Anita. Ya dig?

Hollywood is where my homies are from, and they shared their Barrio with me. For that I will always be grateful.

So many memories, from Speedway to Saint Mary's and from Silverbell to the Santa Cruz. In this hood, I took pieces of many stories and put them in my pocket. From Tecatos gettin down at Zig Zag Park to children in blue and white uniforms, walking home together from the bus. From waiting in line for a blow job from La Angie to falling in love with my lady on St. Clair block.

These experiences added thickness to my skin como los patas of a pipa spinner, walkin around barefoot, on side walk, in a Arizona Summer. But left my heart tender como the Saguaro that grows in front of my Chantlaca Abie's Chante.

I wrote this poem with the intention that it be a little blanket to bring warmth for este Barrio. So that I may pay my respect to Mary Lopez, a wise and sometimes foul mouthed elder of the nieghborhood; who covered me with a blanket when I was passed out, from a night of des madre.

So specifically Abie, Ricky and Neto times is hard, homies. I know this. But we are role models to young ones now. Whether we embrace it or not. Its true. I love ya'll, man.

Barrio Hollywood this ones for you......

Xochime for Barrio Hollywood

Amor in the Dub,
I walk the streets,
greeted by Westside Love

Round the ditch
and under a tree.
Three vatos
give me,
a shake and a pound
while they down,
six packs of Miller's.
One guero, un viejo
y el flaco;
have ceremony,
under el arbol.

Hollywood dreams,
not of Califas
but Ariza.
Where in concrete caves,
lovers write their names:
A dedication from a homeboy to his baby girl.
This is the Love that constructs my world.

Just like un
hombre on Ontario street.
Who, from the bellows of his soul erupted a corrido,
so sweet, it carried the beat of my feet.
It is on these roads adorned with blue and gold.
That I find comfort from minds that remain froze,
on the notion that currency keeps the life force burnin.

They put themselves out!
Cause the warmth I've found,
sprouts from where the sun shines down,
on the people that live
laugh
loathe
and love.

On the brown side of town.

Injected with cold chemical drugs
yet still rising above,
masked medicines,
for lonely,
depressive,
states of mind.
States of being.

Alive, but unseen
are the offerings of Tonanzin.
Cause to Popoca

Mostly
Only
The
After

is a blessing and a healing,
a ceremonious feeling
falling over, dirt yards and ditches.

As we blow clouds of conversation.
Seeing our world through smoke and mirrors,
we share our lives.
Trying to hide.
But not denying that,
deep
dark
black
figure
One hand on the smoke,
the other clutching an obsidian trigger.

P.S. Don't put me down if I'm brown : Here what i say......

Fe

.:July 14th, 2010, 10:07 am:.

I see pelo and scalp

pushing through labia.

Voices scattered : Encouragement y instruction.

" Here comes another one hun- ready- Push! Push! Push! Push! Push! Push! Push! Push! Push!"

"Come on hun, you got it!"

"He's right there!"

Todo : Slow motion.

More voices as womb opens.

" Oh, my god!"

Numb, yo soy

Out comes a head.

Twisting.

A fist.

Spiraling out : Como Mixcoatl.

Ojos big and wide.

My heart fills.

Tears swell

a dam of emotions,

BURSTS

My eyes : Un rio.

I see him,

mi ijo!

Voices fade out.

As my heart drops.

"Oh, my god Licia, you did it!"

I'm in Love......

Just like that the universe welcomed him, my son, our son. As lavender as Night Time Johnson and Johnson lotion. Amor begot an evolution en mi alma. Espiritu spinning above mi cuerpo. Claro : El Pensamiento. A new father floating amongst flores. Then came the fear. Me and my lady knew there would be complications to some degree. We held him for a moment before they took him through the halls of the University Medical Center. I followed him all the way to the new born intensive care unit. There was a hot rain outside. Could we stand the heat?

.:February 2010:.

Sonogram appointments are critical to us. We've had two miscarriages in a year already. I do the math in my head; Bubi (my lady) has been pregnant a whole year, damn. Un ano deficil. Sadness in the loss of children that never reached fruition. Me drowning in alcohol, consoling myself with cocaine. The fighting and the make ups. Triumphs and break ups. Abuse :Emotional. Healing : Spiritual. Dark moments remembered, still livin in the embers.

Now she lays on the table. Cold Jelly hits her belly. She winces. While technology speaks in a numbing hum. Sonographer searches for life. A few clicks on the machine and a button pressed: BUM BUMP BUM BUMP BUM BUMP BUM BUMP! Corazon como drum, bro. A deep breath, Life in her womb, Bubi, smiles. "How does he look?", she says..... Our moment of happiness is short compared to those moments of sorrow...

After our appointment, we pull up to our casita. My dads in our drive way.
I haven't seen him in weeks. he's heard the news. " You know; these doctors are wrong all the time, man," he tells us, " You guys are gonna be alright, hes gonna be alright." my dad doesn't need to be around me all the time to see the hurt inside me. " Whatever happens don't think that no ones gonna love this baby, every ones gonna love this baby.", he said. I hear him, he may not think so, but I do. He gives us hugs and leaves us to our worry party.

As we lie in our bed; for a moment we feel that we've lost again. Bubi's tears drip slowly. She blames herself ; I feel it. As we discuss the options we have been given, by Dr. P..

Dr. P.,

short and chubby

pulls latex gloves

over bulky

gold rings.

Cold and to the point.

Hes colder when,

he trys to be warmer.

Dr P.- Due to the abnormalities we found in your baby. we wanted to provide you this consultation. So you can make a well informed decision. Now to be clear, the abnormalities we are speaking of, are: the cleft lip, possible cleft palate, thee abnormal distance between the eyes and of course the enlarged ventricles in the brain. Now, essentially there are three ways of dealing with this. One, we can terminate the pregnancy, now if we are deciding to go in this direction, we have legal guidelines in Arizona, in terms of weeks; to terminate a fetus. Now this varies among different doctors; some do not go beyond 20 weeks. however I wouldn't want to rush you. But in the state of Arizona we have up until twenty-two weeks. I have a partner in Phoenix whom I work with regularly and he goes right up to the twenty-four week mark. Now if we go beyond this date, and you decide to terminate, I have a friend in California who can legally perform this procedure at twenty-six weeks. That's one. Secondly you could give it up for adoption. There are people out there willing to take babies with abnormalities and disabilities, they do a great job, god bless'em. That's another option... Or you can keep the child. Again I don't want to rush you, take as much time as you need, just keep in mind if we do go with the first option, we do have certain time restraints.........

Tied together, not just literally, in each others arms, but for hating ourselves for lacking faith; en la vida, inside her. It hurt to even consider deleting life away, as if it were a word, to painful for publication. We considered it. We didn't want him to have a life he couldn't take control of. We didn't want him to be born just to die. We didn't want. we didn't want. We didn't want. But his heart. His heart beat, spoke his first words. El cora de mi ijo, dicen, "Que si, apa! Que si, mama! Si quera este Vida!". I want the struggle : I want the joy. I want to laugh : I want to cry. OK, papacito, OK. Momma loves you : Daddy loves you. We can't wait to meet you, papa....

.:Presente:.

Typing : Como much love. Holding back tears, its one in the morning, in the newborn intensive care unit of Phoenix Children's Hospital. My son sleeps peacefully : Recovering from his third surgery. He is a healthy, intelligent baby boy, with ganas by the pound. Me and Bubi are so proud of him. He truly is, Cehuaylo (covered in prayers), from family, friends, strangers, churches and homeboys with faith in the smoke, a thought on a rosary bead. Every day he opens his eyes and he crys, I'm so thankful for that. And amazed that just days after being born a human being can become a hero to so many. In Nochtin No Mekayotzin. To All My Relations. Tlazo.

Haiku Parra los Chi Chi's

My lady wakes up in puddles of leche de chi chi. That is the curse. The gift is that she's leaking some really good stuff. One of our nurses says its the best breast milk shes seen in twenty years, damn! Im very proud that her Chi chi's are como literature de Victor Villasenor : Rain of Gold. Another one of our nurses says, " That stuffs better than Snapple.", "Chingao", I say to myself; Thats the best stuff on earth... Any way heres my poema estilo Japon, un haiku parra mi ruka's chi chi's. AAJAY!

Haiku Parra Los Chi Chi's

Feeding malichi : Chupa leche de oro : frio... mas chi chi

Rukos y Rukas, coming to the stage.........

Readers, this is an interactive blog. There are links throughout the writing, feel free to explore them as you read or go back and enjoy them after. I dunno. I don't wanna tell you what to do. Tlazo.

.:Temescal:.

Anxious,

sippin a $5 Tecate.

Whaaat?

I know, pricey,but at this point, I don't give a fuck.

Imma bout to go on stage for my first time.

30 Comics and Im number three.

Shit, I wanted 15th, 11th even the last spot.

Anythang but one, two or three.

Its cool Homie.

Breathe.

Be chill.

This is what you been feenin for.

The stage, the mic, the light.

A crowd in shadows.

A Xikano with a story to share.

Like the grimey chuck taylors on your feet.

Or the logo on the Corazon de Aztlan, 14th annual youth retreat,

tee; you adorn: Quetzalcoatl in movimiento,

como un Cupid-Corazon.

Inteligently spiraling

over the chante where the peoples songs are sung...

Finish your beer,

wait.

Find a laugh where you can.

And get ready to take the stand.

Number two just finished his set.

Tame your demon; take another deep breath.

For your Pueblo; you must rep...

.:Peyotl:.

Whats going on? I am Juaquin Murrieta. Im tryin to Cumbia my way into the blogging world. I stand up cause thats whats in my heart. I do comedy cause..? I'll let you know when I figure it out.

Im born and raised in La Tusa, Arizona. Grew up in a little Yoeme Barrio, in South Tucson, on the lip of 12th Avenue. Which I have personally deemed, Barrio Matachine.

Growin up, I remember all the goofy things i did as a kid to try and get a laugh. Imitating my Gran Tata as he smacked his gums; cause he had no teeth, or impersonating John Leguizamo's Spic-O-Rama; Im sorry mama . Never thought almost twenty years later I'd be hunting for that same fruit.

I also never thought I'd be a father to my warrior, Itzli. Since the day he was born my heart has endured growing pains by the minute. I didn't believe my lady or my mom when they told my terco ass, " this baby is gonna put a change in your heart". I hate when they're right: yet I love it so much. Now, Im still in the honeymoon stage of being an, apa. But I'll tell you this, it has been what folks would call a "Baptism by Fire", and my cora has made up it's mind to embrace the journey of a lifetime.

Dear readers, I don't plan on bieng self-pity-ing (if that is a word), or boastful. But if at times I am, forgive me, cause I am human, and I feel we all need a-lil-a both at times. Good medicine in moderation, know what I mean?

So if you decide to read these posts let me say... Tlazo...ahead of time, I appreciate it, if you do. This is my song. It's dedicated to you...

.:La Danza:.

The MC tonight : Gringo.

Tells jokes through a Wyatt Earp Mustache : Alot of One and Two liners.

Laughs at his own jokes,

thats whats cool about him.

He gets to the mic,

and begins to recite....

(Applause)

MC- Alright folks,
that was the very funny,
Kevin William Lee.
Give him a hand!...

(More Applause)

Alriiiiight. I just want to remind you all that we got some great shows coming up here at thee Laffs Comedy Cafe .To make a reservation dial 323-funny thats 323-f-u-n-n-y
Our next comic is a first timer here,
so show him some love.
Juaquin!
Mur.. Murry eatah...?Murida...? Ok,Whatever?
Juaquin!

(Some applause)

.:Warriors Round:.

This Mother Fucker.
Alright, fuck
him.
Walk.
Turn your smooth on.
Ok.
Here we go.
Heart pound,
like a pow wow
drum.
On stage.
Grab the mic.
Speak Homie,
speak...

.:Cehuas:.

JM-Thank you, thank you.
THATS-UH, JUAQUIN MURRIETA.

To be continued....