Calaveras for Día de los Muertos
Calaveras (literally, sugar skulls,) are traditional satirical Mexican poems published on and around the Day of the Dead (Día de los Muertos). The celebration of the day of the dead predates the independence of the countries in North America. Something native here, this idea of the dead living amongst the human. B-waaaaaahhh. Below you can read a calaveras in Spanish about Donald Trump, everyone’s favorite meerkat. Feel free to add your calaveras here!
The Calaca of a Vaquera
(The Skeleton of the Cowgirl)
Not a tequila swilling,
sombrero wearing,
bandolier brandishing,
pistol-poppin dama,
but something pre-Columbian,
both creator and destroyer.
A molcajete grinding,
horseback riding Calaca.
Hot the pepper,
cool the salt,
when she licks the dust
from your bones.
Maria Garcia Teutsch
Deserted toothed head
Nothingness of a night
Inconstant heart
furious cry
pond mirror
empty suit
staggers drunk
Millipede facets
aborted theater jokes
weave the web that strangles you
hanged from lap times
ants eye pie
an infinite fall
a blind race
the eye on the star
by: Jean-Noël Chazelle
Calavera for Thelonious Monk
Play asymmetrical swing
with hands
hep to the jive.
Cherubim don’t let fly
Maybe Bird and Dizzy
Can take it high.
River Atwood Tabor
Calavera for Kauai
The ancients speak through Pele’s children,
scarlet roosters who reprimand pushy Nene geese,
chase tiny mourning doves into hibiscus groves.
The jagged silhouette of a sleeping giant
lifts volcanic hills, sprouts ghostly plumeria.
Steep Na Pali coastline protects royal bones.
Kauai sneezes silver rain,
scatters battalions of wandering banyan.
Poetry spills from belligerent clouds.
Jennifer Lagier-Fellguth
Below you can read a calavera in Spanish with a loose English translation. It’s from here. It’s making fun of that pro-choice, tree hugger we all know and love, (that’s also a joke, remember when we wrote stuff and made fun of each other?) yeah, that’s a calavera.
Donald Trump te lo aseguro
Le dijo la calavera
Que no vas a hacer el muro
Porque una hirviente caldera
Rebosante de cianuro
En el infierno te espera.
Y por lo tanto, te auguro,
Que todo buen mexicano
Predecirá tu futuro
Que allá en un lugar lejano
Por tu discurso tan duro
Se te va a podrir el: anillo periférico.
Donald Trump I assure you
He told the skull
You will not make the wall
Because a seething cauldron
Brimming with cyanide
In hell awaits.
And therefore, I predict,
Every good Mexican
It will predict your future
That there in a faraway place
For your speech so hard
You’re going to rot on: beltway.
Calavera for Kauai
The ancients speak through Pele’s children,
scarlet roosters who reprimand pushy Nene geese,
chase tiny mourning doves into hibiscus groves.
The jagged silhouette of a sleeping giant
lifts volcanic hills, sprouts ghostly plumeria.
Steep Na Pali coastline protects royal bones.
Kauai sneezes silver rain,
scatters battalions of wandering banyan.
Poetry spills from belligerent clouds.
Frat boys out on the town
Feeling real fraternal
Only it’s 10 AM this time around
They stumbled into a tea shop
They thought it was bar
They took their t-shirts off and flirted with the scene
Colleen was so offended
That she hit Chet with her car
Old pal was just a boy
When he figured out that breasts are not toys
Now Chet has been laid to rest
Escorted by the cops
His brothers wearing their Sunday best
(Tank tops and flip flops)
La muerte ha llegado
Jesus Contreras
estaba muy desesperado
buscaba a Juan Castro
La muerte quiere tomarse
Una tequila con limon
Fue al trabajo de Juan para buscarlo
pero nadien estaba en el fil
Ya es costumbre de la muerte
De el trabajo ir a tomar
Dicen que busca a Juan
Porque es el mejor del lugar
No logro encontrar a Juan
La muerte esta enojado
Pobre de la muerte
quedo con ganas de una tequila con limon
The Deadly Heels
Ariana Grande sang at her concert
To satisfy her eager fans.
And her body, she tended to overexert,
Which would lead to her collapse.
With thousands of fans beneath her feet,
She walked in high-heels with great conceit.
She sang high notes with her powerful voice
And wasn’t concerned about her risky choice.
While performing her demanding song,
She twisted her foot and came crashing strong.
So each year, en el Dia de los Muertos,
Her fans bring flowers to her grave and take pretty photos.
Title: Fumando
In corners, in public,
Inhaling hells fumes
Not caring that they bring doom.
Al fumar estas jugando con tu vida
El cigarllo te dana tu salud
Thinking its fun,
Until the damage is done.
Know that it can be an addiction
Cigarrillos electronicos incluido
Tambien tiene nicotina
Don’t be ignorant towards the possibility
Las personas que estan fumado
-Y. Rivera
El Dia De Los Muertos se acerca
Y Vicente Fernandez
Un famosa mariachi Mexicano reconocido
Todo Latino sabe quién es Vicente Fernandez
Pero Últimamente no canta porque ha perdido
La guitarra,
En vez de cantar él pide que le pongan la película de COCO de Disney.
Nock!Nock! Sonó la puerta adivina quien era
La muerte había llegado, y buscaba a Vicente Fernandez
Porque extrañaba su música.
Ahí es cuando el famoso Mariachi Mexicano
sin pensar recogió otra guitarra que tenía a su lado
Y sin pensar empezó a cantar, “you are just un poco loco”(Un Poco Loco From Coco).
El Vino
Fancy as she is sweet follows
Measurement not seen
Negro, Rosado, and Blanco she comes.
As for she tumbles you over to fall in love
For she makes you see a bello laced black cloth.
Your eyes follow such as your feet dragging as well towards it
Meanwhile soñando of a beautiful woman you follow la muerte.
Such scary moment blinds you with this vino.
Las Flores
“Flowers for the death”,
That what my mother would say,
She kept repeating in her death bed,
“why give me flowers once I’m gone, if in life I got none.”
She had only one arrangement in her room that time a day ago,
While her casket a couple days later was showered with them
They cursed out their mom
when she made them do chores,
they told her it felt like the end of the world.
Maybe it was,
or maybe it wasn’t,
But all they knew is that right as they had started,
their poor old mother
had slipped on the floor
and then kicked the bucket.
There purple falda flying in the air
colorful ribbons beckoning your attention,
Gritos louder than the streets bustling by.
The steps that their feet mark demand your attention.
Earrings so gold only the sun can rival them.
A dancer who speaks with their feet in lue of their words
They have gone now, resting in piece
zapateando con la muerte
entre files de cempazuchitl
Tomando tequila con Amelia Hernández
entre los cantos de Antonio Aguilar
El bailarín se muere
pero sus paso dejan eco los corazones que toco