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Ofelia Jun 18
Seems to me that our world has gone mad
We have forgotten the meaning of life and it makes me sad

Green yards and shining new cars are far more important
Than the lives of refugee seeking shelters, moving like torrent

Nature is forsaking us,  and with reasons
We have let ourselves go too far and have commited treasons

I can't see where it ends,  but can see how
Our planet will die, by our hand since it is allowed
Poetry Jun 16
When the sun rolls her eyes
A soft whisper reminds him
You’re home free once you lay inside

Barbed wires and lilac thieves
He's cloaked from head to toe
The Promised Land saws at his knees

Raising her head, she cries
Only not for stars or dreams
But to fill as though she is ten, not five

It’s the destination, not the journey they say
Preaching as though you don’t have soil to stay

Listening into the black and white picture screen
Ripples draped in red
They are not called she, he, only thing

Stripped of
Left less than animals

Tell me again why you believe this man covered in cloth
Is any less than the man who hides behind a rock
'A refugee is someone who has been forced to flee his or her country because of persecution, war or violence. A refugee has a well-founded fear of persecution for reasons of race, religion, nationality, political opinion or membership in a particular social group. Most likely, they cannot return home or are afraid to do so.'
Stephen Starr Apr 21
A blue boat
in the Mediterranean,
seven hundred balance,
broken, silent,
an unchosen arc,
rocking hearts dulled
by a slender chance
at survival.

Bitter dread grips
those not in boats,
greeted by the unexpected,
fumbling the knot of wrongdoing.
Surprised faces
bob in peaks and troughs.

between the
abandonment of hope
and the next breath
lies arrival.
A remembrance of
a buoyancy,
a slender space
of kindness,
holds all refugee stories
breathing freely
wave after wave.
Written in solidarity with those left homeless by war and threat of death.
Rick Warr Apr 20
i have good health
i have had a comfortable life
with middle class privilege
but i have known and seen
bullies in my class
making me stand against it always

they are leading the country now
and are demonstrably showing
brutal intransigent power
over those without citizen identity
because we participated in war
in their countries
so they have done nothing more
than seek a better life
and now they can’t go back

so many people compromised
by oil greed and power avarice
rendered without country
without wealth
without identity
without dignity
these people are no different
in human need

i have place
i have citizen identity
i have freedom
Jules AA Apr 4
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!" - Emma Lazarus, The New Colossus

In 2015 alone, over 500,000 people crossed the channels from Turkey. So in response, they brought back out the “Dublin Regulation,” but it was slightly different this time, this time they made a point of saying,
“******* for living in the place that we’ve bombed to kingdom come, the place that we’ve
destabilized to the point of catastrophe.”
I met a man who casually talked about things that everyone you know would appalled by, he was there. Talked about something that there was a whole failed movement about, because helping those in need goes as far as buying some posters and buttons.
Upon hearing the words,
“When I was 8, I was taken as a child soldier,”
Casually in conversation you begin realize how little the west gives a ****. These people are often stuck in crowded camps for over a year, because the EU would rather keep them in the land of PIGS(as they call it). Close to where they can get sent back with ease. Where they can keep the chaos of the world out of mind. They’re telling these people, innocents seeking safety,
“We don’t want you. Not in our clean cities, not in our homogeneous society.”
Just like the U.S., just like us. Drawing up falsified statistics and promoting otherization to feel at peace in our complacency. And seeing a child dying in the street, we look away. Not because we feel for the child, but to shield ourselves from the truth that this child is not the first or the last who died today. The melting *** is cooled now, it’s cracked like the Liberty Bell, its old contents poured out and filled with Miracle Whip and stale, cloudy water from plastic bottles left in the back of a Ford Taurus.
slightly inspired by "Left" by Nikky Finney
Teary eyes with heavy heart,
Moving towards a new land
A place where I will be called refugee
Which is far away from my home
For which my heart beat forever.

Other's can feel the same
But cannot match the pain
I am the one who is alien
Why this is happening
Greed for money and power
Change my heaven into fire

Leaving my motherland to other's land,
Do they accept me as their own
I dont know what will happen
But will keep praying, one day I will
be at my motherland
And the tag will become only a word.
It try to describe the pain, dificulty and thinking of a refugee.
Tony Tweedy Mar 15
I have spoken with young men,
who were forced to up and run.
Seen the wounds they carry,
from the barrel of someones gun.

I have Spoken with women,
women with tears in eyes that burn.
As they relate what was done,
because they wanted just to learn.

Ive seen teenage girls running,
in fear for their own lives.
Because someone has told them,
they must become someones wives.

I sat with the old men,
whose spirit would not yield.
And heard how rains of bombs,
were dropped upon their field.

I have heard the many stories,
of families torn apart.
Heard of those still missing,
and the pain in fragmented heart.

I've heard of persecutions,
because of the differing of views.
The scores of people disappeared,
without even making evening news.

I met with many others,
and watched and heard them pray.
Running in fear because for them,
it means death to live your life as ***.

I have talked with the children,
all facing life alone.
Parents not seen,
since the houses all got blown.

These most horrible of all things,
most of you will never see.
But someone needs to tell you
these are the lives lived for many a refugee.
So many stories.... be thankful of where you are born or live... I am.
This poem could have gone for pages more. I spoke with hundreds of asylum seekers over 13 years. edited 17th March 2019
Maaz Dec 2018
Stand on graves and cast out the helpless.
They arrive in waves to the illusion of hope.
A 'caravan' of people,
All begging for freedom,
But fear not,
They shall be murdered
for they are evil.

How can they expect asylum, safety & security,
from a land built on death?
Where those in power face no scrutiny.
Where an orange haired buffoon can thrive & prosper,
But mothers & fathers cannot afford a doctor.

Yet still these people come here seeking a better life and
how dare they do?
With hands calloused from hard work,
hearts filled with grief,
spirits filled with belief;
Don’t they know?

This is a land built out of the flesh of martyrs,
On a charter that helps oppress its own population,
A country that thrives off devastation.
A sociopathic society
I cough
And feel the sickness
And wonder
How many babies
From the same
But are not
Because of their
Or place
Of origin
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