Immigrants
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They toil in fields
They mine the coal
They slave away to build forts
They put food on our table
While we eat and walk like kings
They bend on one knee
Fan our heads
Feed us our daily grapes
A young boy walks alone
with all he has in one little sack.
He is far far from home
but he cannot turn back...
He fled violence and instability
only to find a different hostility
From a very young age, a girl is told to hide away
Hide her feelings
Hide her opinion
Hide her intelligence
I never knew I would leave that day.
I never knew I'd be so far away.
It happened when I was a few years old.
During that time, I was pretty bold.
There’s this static noise
In every phone call
Getting harder to ignore
As the days go by
An unspoken truth:
There is a song that I was forced to hear
The voices were often lined with not love, but neither hate
This song is known far and near
This song was never recieved with much love, but neither hate
Historians agree that our ancestors lived in caves.
Sheltered under a rock, we adapted to walls,
a safety mechanism.
From caves to townhomes, we kept our walls,
built a fourth one,
shaded the windows,
They took our pastures of greener grass in exchange for bibles
Evictng us from our homes
Leaving us to wander
Pass our seas and into boats that can barely manage the breeze
Your choppy englishPaused, ashamed... you had to moveOnly frustration
There's many like youLived a life, started anewThe same homesick sighs
My mind was jumbled, like a puzzle piece trying to fit into a mold
that wasn’t shaped for me.
Trying to come up with the reason as to
why I couldn’t be both.
Hatred and brutality make up our personalities,
Endless wars and fighting brings nothing but insanity,
They explain it as fidelity, define it as loyalty,
But is killing your neighbors truly an act of audacity?
Full to the ceiling
Parents and children alike
Some get sick
Some get stuck
Harvesting tobacco
They were bought with guns
Full to the ceiling
Parents and children alike
Some are rich
Ofcourse America is in good shape... great shape even.
I saw him in a hoodie taking a jog one day..he was 6 ft, dark male... um looking suspicious though, so I made
Red, White and Blue the colors that once stood for truth.
But what are we teaching our youth?
The country that is proud to be called free and home of the brave.
But only brave if you learn to enslave?
At a time when unity is never been more necessary,
We put our trust and country into regressionary
Actions that will “Make America Great Again!”
But many left questioning,
“What if we are not white?”
America – home of the brave.
Neigh – home of the majority
Home of the security, the humility, the fidelity
Can anyone see the gravity?
The gravity of the situation at the tips of our fingers
When was the last time a young girl wasn’t dress-coded or sexualized just because it was 85 degrees outside?
When was the last time an immigrant earned enough money from one job to support their family?
Upon the guilded statue given to us by a true friend,
Rests a plague so very old by Emma Lazarus,
It states: "Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp," she cries,
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
All’ hail the Star-Spangled Banner,
A piece of cloth that’s hit the slammer,
This American Flag- freedom flying proud,
This tapestry of idealism, disavowed,
Where Red and Blue stripes should stream in solidarity,
America the free
But are we really free?
Striving to contain a positive image
Looking into the mirror
Not many like what they see
Remain a healthy mindset is what I strive to do
"Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free." -Statue of Liberty. New York. Independence Day, 1776.
Walls, rules.
All raised to keep out a refugee, an immigrant.
Obstacles, hoops.
I clutch the gun and remember my word is my weapon
I’m almost out of ammo
The ink is starting to run thin
I seal the envelope
And envelop in the pain
I’m forced to pick my poison, as I remember
Oh say can you see?
By the dawn’s early light
The big wall towering
Over us all upright
Whose broad bricks
And bright clay
America the great
where we care more about a kid’s GPA more than their mental health.
where we are driven by money and not dreams.
where the people are lied to, and believe every word.
A product of immigrants chasing the American Dream
Country full of racism and hate, it’s not all glamour and gleam
Witnessed dad beating on mom, can still hear her cry and scream
Mom was ready to move out with the kids
I once was told I was never to succeed,
Because of my skin color and the way that I breathe.
Although I am not privileged,
Nor do I have eyes deep as ocean blues,
I am human and I refuse to lose.
All I need is love
as trembles track through time.
Clairvoyant charisma creeps
between petite and elongated structures.
As if the trembles and clairvoyance
Yo escucho a los cuentos de mis padres y hermanos,
y una palabra se menciona siempre.
La palabra es el razón por mi nacimiento
Soy un cuidando legal de los Estados Unidos, pero…
As I ponder about the essence of beauty,
I take a look at my mother's hands, oh how rough they are, filled wiht hard work
The family next door just bought a vase.
Venetian glass, they tell us. Very fancy.
Took a lot of money and effort to get here.
It looks beautiful, sitting silently on the table.
Frowning upon the system,
we're all victims of the game,
even the white kids in the mountains, you know the children of Cindy and John McCain
I hope they're listening too, we're just modern day slaves,
If,
I had only awakened only to see the one
I have been so desperately and passionately
Been waiting to embrace,
To let known as it has always seen
Not as it has always been perceived
I was always taught to value education,
But how can I value something that generalizes students of color with biased limitations
And failure as the only expectation.
When he asked si celebro
Christmas, I responded
with a yes and a question.
"We don't do much no gifts
no commercialism not much
at all because there is
They tell my people to go back to their country
as if our nation's origin didn't come from immigrants.
We are a disjointed body,
crippled by their oppressive
strength;
they strive by walking
over us.
Our rights don't matter
until the november polls;
Waiting for the 41 home
I light a cigarette
and think of mother,
lovely little Audrey,
and my Gloria.
I picture them gathered
watching TV.
Together they must be
Why stay?
To get that better education
For what?
To be someone?
Who are you?
I'm you.
We live in world unlike other
were people treat us bad
youd like to see?
Approaching five revolutions around the star
O'er the great pond- I flew
To a promised land of health and wealth
A land of independence
A land of your founding fathers
But not mine
Struggling from a poor village,
many dreams of freedom and peace.
Im off to make an effort to this privallege
The day has come im on my way to succeed.
Days and nights of struggles and fear,
Our country is made of immigrants
So what sense does it make for us to not allow them to be in our presence.
They made us... Who we are, and what we represent
Their the reason for all our success.
They've enjoyed our waiting
They've indulged in lies
They've prolonged discussions
They've listened to our cries
I've lurked in the shadows too long
(poems go here)Ser Inmigrante Mexicano no es cosa del otro mundo
Significa trabajar tres veces más fuerte,
dormir con preocupaciones,
vivir con sueños,
Another way I dissapoint my father.
Shocker.
But I can't help it,
no matter what anybody thinks.
It's not my fault my father
decided not to use a condom.
It's not my fault
Up ahead, amid the dirt lies the fence.
Tall and wide, black and tied
it stands. It's forbidden, it's inhumane.
For it separates people,
and people's pain.
What. Is America?
Is it
the juxtaposition of pink toned flesh
against deep caramel skin?
Is it
the way his tresses twist and turn
whilst her strands lay straight and silky?
Did you know?
Did you know that right now, in this very second, there are people crossing?
This very second, people running, walking, stumbling, falling…
maybe never to get up again,
all the water, all the life,
My eyes open to the dimly lit interior of my parents' Ford Windstar.
I see my parents in the front seats.
They rest before the Sun brings the dawn of the new day and awakens my weary protectors.
My parents.
