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Roland Mar 6
What we’d give to leave
This Stockholm Syndrome nation of broken dreams
This third world ******* sinkhole where two oceans meet
This wonderland of green set ablaze by greed

What we’d give to live
In exile from a home vacant and evicted
In soil that’s ripe with purpose and full of pride
In a country where to be is not to die.

This is our plea, our cross to bear, and it weighs heavy on our backs and hearts, ever crushing at our minds and thoughts. Till death do us part, my five-star home.
Roland Jan 26
What we’d give to leave

This Stockholm Syndrome nation of broken dreams

This empty patch of land where two oceans meet

This rancid pile of garbage covered with silk

What we’d give to live

In exile from a home vacant and evicted

In soil that’s ripe with purpose and full of pride

In a country where to be isn’t a death sentence.

This is our plea, our cross to bear, and it weighs heavy on our backs
and hearts, ever crushing at our minds and thoughts. Till death do us part, my five-star home.
ConnectHook Jan 2019
Illegal aliens,
Holy and blameless
Invade from planet dysfunction
Land at our border
From their galaxy of failed Latin states:
Narco-thugocracies
Feudal kleptocracies
Where the girls get knocked up at 15
And illiterate drunks get macheted
on saturday night
Then go to Mass in the morning
as litter blows
through graveyards.

They will enrich us
with their diversity.
Que significa "honduras" en inglés?
Traveler Dec 2018
Come on everybody
Heed my words
We're all going to get
Our deserves
Change in the weather
It's getting cold
Human suffering
Is a bleeding soul
Open the boarders
Let them in!
Please, I beg you
We can't afford
Anymore sins...
There is a tear in my eye
Everyone deserves
To live as good as you and I


Traveler Tim

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o_l4Ab5FRwM
Talking Back Nov 2018
Honduras,
I stand with you
Even when my country covers her ears
I hear your cries

She remains complacent in her ways
Yet I shall help her recall
The Refugee Act of 1980

As you cross through frigid rivers
And walk through dense forest
With your families trailing behind you
Your hope blazes ahead of your journey
And I can see it,
The helping hand that we once swore to give

And as you continue your march to the border
While they rush to close your entry
I only wish that they could see it too.
ConnectHook Oct 2018
Human shields
Mothers go first
Honduran fields
The plan rehearsed
Fake refugees
Who storm the gates
More borders, please
Trump hesitates . . .
WE ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE TO PROVIDE SOCIAL SERVICES FOR THE ENTIRE LATIN WORLD AND MEXICO STAY IN YOUR OWN COUNTRIES AND IMPROVE THEM READ A BOOK GET EDUCATED STOP DANCING SO MUCH AND HAVING BABIES AT AGE FIFTEEN DONT EXPECT GRINGOS TO TAKE CARE OF YOU TIME TO PUSH FOR REFORMATION AND REVIVAL IN YOUR OWN DYSFUNCTIONAL COUNTRIES A CELL IS DEFINED BY ITS BOUNDARIES AND GOD ALMIGHTY ORDAINED THE NATION STATE SO DOWN WITH YOUR MOB MENTALITY
Lesly Jan 2015
Son las 9:10 pm. Estoy acostada, pensando. Extraño mi família. Extraño a mi primo. El fue como un hermano para mi. Recuerdo cuando me sentía triste y me agarraba de la mano. Me decía que todo iba estar bien.

Extraño a mi abuela. Quisiera ir a buscar su tumba y dejarle flores. Quisiera verla pero no puedo. Se que ella esta cuidando a mis hermanos. Se que esta feliz y libre de todo dolor.

Quisiera estar en mí país. Sea como sea siempre sera mi tierra. La amo. La extraño. Extraño el calor. Extraño las playas. Cuando me acostaba en la hamaca de mi tío solo para ver las estrellas desde el techo de su casa. Ah, que lindura.

Recuerdo un muchacho que deje. Nos quedamos en volvernos a ver pero murió tan joven. No lo volví a ver. Me quedé con la frase "te volvere a ver pronto. En la próxima te invito a cenar o algo..pero que nos veremos nos veremos eso si." Eso fue lo último que le dije.

Pero no se cuando me iré. No se cuando, pero me iré para siempre.
Lesly Jan 2015
Recuerdo exactamente como si fuese ayer. Recuerdo cuando en los veranos mi padre se iba a jugar al campo de futbol y nos llevaba a mi hermana y yo. Andaba un overol estilo chor morado con flores amarillas al lado y teñís negros. Suena como estilo feo y raro pero yo desde peque me vestía diferente. Pero se veía bien. Vale. Miraba a mi papa jugar el futbol como si fuese campeón jajá. Cuando el era joven de 18 anos le había dicho que si quería jugar futbol profesional. Pero mi padre decidió que no. No se porque no tomo esa oportunidad? Estuvo buena.. pero años después se caso con mi mama y nacimos nosotros. Mi hermana gemela, yo y mis dos hermanos.

Las Malta Goya's fueron esas bebidas que me encantaba tomar en esos días súper calientes. Al principio no me gustaba mucho. Wakala dije yo! pero no se como explicar este sentimiento pero mi cuerpo deseaba mas. Ahora que tengo 18 anos los sigo bebiendo. Wow. El que lea esto debería de probar Malta Goya. Cuando lo buscas en Google dice que es cerveza sin alcohol. jeje ;)
Jenny Oct 2011
My feet
hit the street
eyes down
cast on the ground
trying not to be distracted
by the soldier with a gun on the corner
now I reacted.

Turning my head in circles to the burning sky,
the noises of confusing cars wrestle by.
I hope I can safely cross
for I was warned
there is chance of a loss.

While Tegucigalpa taxis fight for a ride,
I patiently wait for an ebbing tide.
My feet again hit the pavement,
as I wonder what a flower vendor's words meant.

I made it to the other side,
but my time I cannot bide.
For before the first bell rings,
in front of a classroom I will be standing.
Summer 2008 about Student teaching in Tegucigalpa Honduras Fall 2007

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