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Salvador Agron
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Birth: 1943
Death: 1986

World entered on April 24th of 1943
Into a home divided by
Religious fanaticism, alcoholism,
Spiritualism, male chauvinism
And the broken marriage of two poor working people
Who were many times out of work
Into el Asilo de los Pobres
In Mayaguez, Puerto Rico
Nuns and shelter of the poor
Attempts at infantile institutionalization
Resisted by bed wetting
Food snatching, tantrums
And doubt of religious instruction.
Humiliated and abused
Into arrabales and shanty houses
Curly haired barefoot boy
With dirty hands and face
Listening to ecstasy
Of father and stepmother
Through a cardboard wall
Sleeping half awake
In an unwashed canvas hammock
Watching candles aflame to stone idols
Sanctified by the church as saints
Into a plane hitting air pockets
All the way to New York
Frightened half to death like a runaway
From a colony become an undefined commonwealth
Of the Free Associated State of Puerto Rico
And I, a Puerto Rican
Now a "little white spic"
With a dark uncle and Indian grandmother.
Into a roach-infested apartment
In front of the Daily News building
Watching from a window
Americans with cars and money
Passing by while bums roamed the streets
Watching listening learning
A foreign language by ear and memory;
Mimicking American talk in bars
Americans laughing at me
Enjoying themselves and giving me nickels and dimes
My early hustle
Into public school
Sleeping in the back seat
Trying in moments of wakefulness
To remember a little something
Words like Oxygen food sex money
Naked and poor
Hungry
Fainting and banging my head against the wall
Saying: "estupido! estupido!"
Making the teacher worry and the others laugh
Into a Pentecostal church
In Vigilias
Drinking coffee and eating crackers
Listening to gospel songs
Looking at people jump around
Speaking in strange tongues
Saying: "sazy zaca suzza su foo la roo!"
Still trying to understand
The holy and angelic tongues reminding
Of my English mimicry.
Hearing sermons on the burning hell
Of fire and brimstone
Reserved for dummies like me
Falling asleep in a back seat
And pissing all over the floor
While Christians prayed for my cure
Into a hospital called Bellevue
With boils all over by body
Which the doctors could not define;
Sick unto death and saved only
By my faithful praying mother
Anointing me with oil
Then into Bellevue again
For falling from a fourth floor window
While playing Superman
Jumping from a fire escape thinking I could fly.
In the hospital probed by psychiatrists
Labeled "problem child"
Refusing to eat my green peas
Arguing with the nurse
Flinging peas on the floor
Bed covered with a fishing net
Reach out with razor blade in hand
Cutting the net
Going to a window
Threatening to jump out
Thinking I could fly
Like the little angels of heaven
And like Superman on television
Into the neighbor's apartment
Through the fire escape window
Stealing a flashlight and seven dollars
Jewelry and other things
Leaving a cigar in his mouth
While he slept his drunkenness away
Stripped by a fanatical preacher stepfather
And whipped with a belt till blue
Left alone and naked
Taken to children's court
And signed away to Wiltwyck
School for problem and troubled children
Upstate and away from home
Mixing and integrating
Learning crime
Watching and enjoying homosexual acts
Beaten, abused and anglonized
In name and education
Escaping
A wild runaway child
In fear and dread trembling
Confused and then set loose
Into gangs and school brawls
Hating whites as those of other cultures
Are taught to do by the American way of life
Yet having white friends
Black and Puerto Rican brothers
Catholics and Protestants
Confused like me
Trying to survive in a hostile land
Learning to fight in order to live
In the cruel American world
Dancing to Lord Price, Presley, The Platters, The Teenagers
Drinking wine and smoking pot
The unprescribed medicine for pain
Jitterbugging my way to Puerto Rico again
Into the island and into Mayaguez
Land and town of my birth
Living in squalor
Without feeling the pain in me;
Seeing a stepmother hang while a rope from my hammock
Squeezed her troubled soul out of this world
Indifferent to pain and poverty
Smiling at those Puerto Ricans who kept the watch
All night long over her dead body
Shedding their funeral tears and praying
So that her soul might rest in peace
My father scolded me for not believing
In disembodied spirits
While he drank bottled spirits to ease his pain
Trouble all around
My girl calling me a hoodlum
Smacking my face in public
And I, drunk over puppy love
Getting into a fight
Trying to cut another boy's neck
When he threw bottles at me
Arrested and sent away again,
Into the industrial school in Mayaguez
With bars on the windows
Forced to work
Refusing, resisting
Loving Puerto Ricans
But hating institutions
Hating tough guys
Because I wanted to be tough and rough
Beat up again by administrators
Refusing helping hands
Cursing gentle voices
Becoming hard and strong
Slowly becoming a person
Alienated from all but myself
Escaping again and again
Till escaping at last
Not willing to be criminalized
Nor penalized nor institutionalized
Like a runaway slave
In flight for my life
Into New York again
Joining the Mau Maus at Fort Green
Stabbing, drinking, schooling
Fooling, rolling desperate and angry
At something or someone
Without direction
Stealing a car and put on probation
Never reporting and always on the run
Facing the cruel world
Un macho at last
With leather jacket, brass knuckles
Chain
Knife
Gun and all
Gang fighter and street rumbler
Rebel in an unknown cause
Run out of Brooklyn by white boys,
Learning to hate in generalized terms
Anglos, Blacks, Ricans
And all those who needed my hate-
Half devil, half saint
Part this and part that
With a little spice and a little nice
But never complete
Into a playground with a gang
Bearing a knife that I never used
And wearing a cape to look sinister and cruel
Taking the blame for what I did not do
Wanting to strike back at a cruel society
Losing my soul in infamy
Fading into a bloody night away from the world or reality
Seeking importance and immortality
Trapped by a legal system which believed the story
Of a wild and crazy child
Which sensationalized crime in newspapers and the movies and TV
Never looking at the truth
Believing the lies of a sixteen year old
With the mind of a twelve year child
A system ready to kill a mentally disturbed child
In the electric chair
To take public revenge and appease public uproar
Into a prison
A mental hospital,
Strip cells and beatings
The Caped Crusader went innocent of mind
For eighteen years he struggled
For life, liberty and dignity
Educating himself and rehabilitating himself
Revolutionizing his mind and body
In spite for dehumanizing
Concrete steel and iron penal systems
Redirecting his hate intelligently
Changing souls and conditions around him
Struggling for life
Into Fishkill the revolutionary went
With fist and book
With pen and need to reveal,
With courage for sacrifice
To protest those injustices that persist
Capeman
Dracula
Call me what you please
I work and fight for the poor
I must continue like this until you understand
That someday I will return
To pick up the struggle where I went wrong
Into the streets
Better and ready I come
Ready for struggle and liberation
Through power and love
Freedom belongs to the strong 
 
Burial:
Cremated, Other.
Specifically: Location of burial unknown
 
Created by: VoodooQueen
Record added: Aug 13, 2012
Find A Grave Memorial# 95298032
Salvador Agron
Added by: VoodooQueen
 
 
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- Jackie Howard
 Added: Nov. 14, 2012
Hola Sal!! I first learned about you in 1997. Your story is amazing!! Not many people who go into the prison system at a young age totally rehabilitate the way that you did. Very very impressive! Congradulations!
- VoodooQueen
 Added: Sep. 19, 2012
 
 
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