"citizenship" poems
I hate Science
I hate Technology
Neither Am I Orthodox
Nor I am Fool
I am not a *****
But still I choose to hate
Science and Technology
Both gave us many things
I remember, there was a time
I worshipped both of them
They produced machines for us
They produced robots for us
Machines started building
Homes, Bridges and Flyovers
Machines helped us in
Food and Cloth Production
Milk and Silk Production
And Blah Blah Blah Blah
They made our life easier
They made our life safer
They provided better security
They provided better tools
They made our life longer
They made our life smarter
They gave us rays of hope
They promised much more
They promised more Freedom
They Promised Leisure Time
They promised better Environment
They promised clean Air, Water, Soil
They Promised Harmony and Peace
They Promised Equality for All
Both Science and Technology
Progressed exponentially day by day
But something went wrong
Someone captured them
Hijacked them and misused
By applying their ***** minds
We still have Machines and Robots
We still have Logic and Skills
But where is Freedom and Peace?
Where is the clean Environment?
Where is clean Water, Air and Soil?
Where is the promised Leisure Time?
Now we also have Nuclear Bombs
We have weapons of mass ******
We have smart tools for our Extinction
We have weapons of mass Destructions
Robots are being transformed
From Robots to Human Beings
Humans are being transformed
From Human Beings to Machines
Yes Slavery is back in the Game
Machines have enslaved Humans
Robots have been granted
Citizenship and Civil Rights
Machines have been made ready
Ready to wage war against humans
The question is who is the culprit?
Is it Science and Technology?
No. Not at all. I know this very well
But I still hate Science and Technology
The real culprits are the hungry Capitalists
Who captured, hijacked and misused
Science and the Technology for their greed
Though they have all the things they need
Science and the Technology easily surrendered
and allowed themselves to be used for their greed
This is why I Hate Science and Technology
I also hate Capitalism and Capitalists too
But I have a big question for Myself. I still doubt -
"Can I really live without Science and Technology"
Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 8:02 AM UTC
i sit at the library computer.
across the room TUTOR JOHN prepares
his lessons for the free CITIZENSHIP CLASSES he conducts
for the punjabis, mexicans hmungs and others seeking
to pass the immigration service citizenship test.
he is a great man.
it is not surprising to say that he likes me and is my friend
as i am his friend
why is that?
in the simplicity the seed forms itself into
viable human forms and human beings
this we all know
yes we do
Jul 16, 2010
Jul 16, 2010 at 12:54 PM UTC
There is a city that only I inhabit, and there is one in you, too
but that must mean houses are there
or a hotel one may stay during a visit. I guess it depends
on who you ask, if they believe in an everlasting love big enough
to fill the whole metropolis inside a person.
I did not know until I met you that cavities within me
could welcome a second resident and he would stay staring at
these organs without
thinking they look unnatural, like paintings x-rays EKG screens.
I am sorry for explaining this to everyone but I am just
so happy that my heartbeat sounds like
a ticking clock to you – we hold bodies that tell their own time.
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 1:54 AM UTC
The scattered words disturb the silence.
I prefer written pages with my left hand,
But it is trembling too much to write slowly
I miss him, his calm hands giving juicy oranges.
Shattered glass falls in slow motion,
Screams in the apartment,
Just the neighbor next door.
Another struggle,
Another soundless fracture
From the outside,
It’s not visible
What really hurts.
I have my refuge.
My piano and fingertips
Strike the rhythm,
Racing to speak in time.
What I want to repeat to myself
It isn’t lush or gentle,
Only barren,
like thoughts hung on a dry twig.
I trace figure eights,
Locked in a simple shape.
I stare and cannot fathom
The logic of a cold two plus two.
A thought-form circles
Around the blue planet.
Something pointing,
With its mercury finger.
It speaks in an unknown dialect
It shows the place to live
And huge fluorescent deserts.
The clouds’ minds —
A piece of earth
Soaked in different
Kinds of screams.
This is my blind chance.
I was born here.
In my mother’s paradise garden
Spinning in dawn’s glow.
Sometimes I just write
To ease personal and common guilt.
I hear tattooed numbers,
Granting citizenship of the lower caste.
And here,
The fresh scent of good life in the morning.
Blackbirds and thrushes fell silent.
My mother knows how to speak to them,
I know how to speak with trees.
Everything pulses,
On this small piece of earth,
Giving shelter to creatures
And stones no one throws.
I am here in a place I can happily bear,
Without cold speculation.
I can still dive into metaphors,
This is my greatest luxury,
The gift after so many disturbing lives.
It would be better to create a world
With only diverse breathing gardens.
I don’t need too much for living,
A naked soul is enough for me.
So, I am sitting in this landscape
And I peacefully hope
That my daughter will remember me tenderly
As I remember him, my father
And all who passed away.
The simplest thing is
The presence of every human being
It's like a celluloid film strip
Left behind the broken ribs
In the left ventricle of the heart
That never lies, never cheats me.
Sep 3, 2025
Sep 3, 2025 at 3:13 PM UTC
My life has never been a clear path,
In fact, I doubt there was a path in the first place.
I had to climb over trees, go through thorns, topple tyrants,
Swim upstream, and fight through storms.
For me, giving up is a safe passage way,
But on Earth, there is no safe place.
Every point in on my path that was clear,
I knew it wouldn't last,
Every eye of the hurricane I had,
I knew it wouldn’t last.
But I kept moving,
But I know I’m not alone.
I know this place isn't my home,
Nor anyplace on this Earth,
But I move on.
I do not belong on this blue, terrestrial ball,
Nor my citizenship belong to any country,
But I move on.
I know I am always being watched over,
Whether in valleys full of darkness,
Or the mountains that touch the sky.
He is, was, and forever will always be,
And he will always be there for me.
No shadow can cover his love,
Nor cloud darken his compassion.
He keeps my path straight,
And my feet upright.
He is my light in the mist,
My vision in stormy places.
Day to day, I strive to be like him,
But I fall short.
But do I give up, and take the easy way out?
No.
My journey isn't over, though.
I still have mountains to climb and valleys to cross.
All the while, I’m looking above, dreaming of a place
Where suffering will end, tears will be dried,
we will be healed and be with him, in glory.
My life has never been a clear path,
In fact, I doubt there was a path in the first place.
But I know my goal.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
Talk-show queen
Oprah Winfrey with her entourage
is going to Australia
and it’s timely now for a quick Colbert Report
on the state of the colony of Australia
Colony?
Yes, that’s right
Australia is still a British colony -
How else do you explain it?
as the Head of Government in Australia
is still the British Monarchy
and her Majesty, the Queen of Great Britain,
has her representative
a Governor-General in Australia;
and the Aussie national media faithfully reports
that Prince Philip is a God in some remote island
and the TV stations broadcast visions of
which British Prince kissed which of their latest fancy
And so, Oprah, welcome to the Colony
Ah, yes, and the Chinese migrants coming in
are surprised to learn of Australia’s status
at citizenship ceremonies
and the young man explains to his grandma:
“Oh, Foreign Devil still control Australia;
sad, Chairman Mao did not Liberate Australia.”
And Indian migrants, much to their disappointment
are heard to remark:
“Oh no – does this mean we still have
to go through another fight for freedom as in 1947?”
But then they are consoled by the fact
that a Gandhi only comes once in 200 years
so we can all still get on with our lives
and the nation will continue
to eat burgers and enjoy barbecues and hop like kangaroos
until such things may happen…
Ah well, dear talk-show Queen Oprah Winfrey
and her entourage
this ends our report on the sovereign nation down under:
Happy Stay in Her British Majesty’s Colony
Sep 23, 2010
Sep 23, 2010 at 12:16 PM UTC
A blanket of darkness caressed the street
Of people asleep with misguided feet
With hollow hearts devoid of light
They couldn’t see which way was right.
They flirted with death quite comfortably
Acquired great knowledge yet remained empty.
Nothingness stopped them from venturing out
They couldn’t see past their realm of doubt.
One girl arose and examined her soul
Unlike the others, her heart was made whole
Her citizenship was not of that street
Her home was beautiful, bright, and complete.
She was an ambassador from her homeland
Spreading its light with the book in her hand
Whenever she went to a cold, dark place
Her heart’s luminescence would radiate.
Attracted to her light, many gathered to see
What made this girl so loving and free.
As she read her book it opened their eyes
Many chose truth over superficial lies.
This book from her homeland was about her King
Who created beauty from every broken thing.
If the people came to Him, He would heal their hearts
And mend together all their fragmented parts.
Many said it was nice, but couldn’t be true
Others said it was myth, something construed.
Yet some believed, and received new life
Escaping the blanket of darkness that night.
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
"every heart, every heart, to love must come, but like a refugee."
Be wary, little, pretty one:
If you wander too far for love,
you may lose your citizenship
in the country of your own life.
Be sure of the direction you take.
Leave yourself a trail of breadcrumbs.
You may need to find your way back
to the safety of your own sanctuary.
The world already has too many refugees.
You do not want to become one more.
~mce
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 3:24 PM UTC
*This is a poem for Rachel Corrie. I am not religious, and a far cry from spiritual, but I refuse to imagine Rachel Corrie insentient and six feet under, slowly amalgamating with the soil encasing her. Before her death, Rachel Corrie said “I still really want to dance around to Pat Benatar and have boyfriends and make comics for my co-workers. But I also want this to stop.” In the words of contemporary Palestinian poet Suheir Hammad “God has a better imagination than all of us combined” in either God's words or my own, I will not imagine in/on the same ground in/on which I maybe soon will be and more words from Suheir “What do I tell young people about non-violence when they can see for themselves how even orange bright and megaphone loud and cameras and US citizenship will not stop your ****** what do I tell young people/anyone even myself about “non-violence” when every single thing I've seen presenting itself/perhaps even masquerading as “non-violence” has been in my face and /rude/harsh/unavoidable and most of all, violent? I do not believe in God and humanity is pushing it's luck, but I believe in Rachel Corrie. This is for Rachel;*
I should study a she-wolf's prose
she wanted to write about death
but life would frequently
weasel and wheedle it's way in
there’s an overhanging image
a smaller
yet
infinitely larger
organism
continuously broached
by each word
I only want to study
a caterpillar’s motion
backward/forward /onward
across arms/legs
of this deer/dear
[her] surname/
[my] given name/
separated by [semi/totally] circular VOWels
***** blond hair
dirtied by dust /
rubble /
rhyme /reason/
whatever/ in compliance
with a rep/RESENT/ative democracy
several shades lighter
literally
figuratively
whiter
than she
need no permission
pat benatar
would/should croon
to your moves
every
boy and girl friend
i will/may/have/had
should be yours
entomo/insecto/[social] phobias
I never would’ve said so
I never
would’ve/
could’ve
told the caterpillar
to go
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 8:41 PM UTC
I am
Independent, strong, me
I care about being free, and the love of my friends.
Loyalty is important to me
Citizenship is important to me
Love is important to me
Don't forget the ones you've loved
Fighting is bad, but it makes us stronger down the road
I take too much for granted
Dream as if you'll live forever
Life is too short for regrets
I am.
Jan 28, 2010
Jan 28, 2010 at 3:20 PM UTC
They’re recruiting me
MI6
And the CIA
Land sakes alive
Dual citizenship
No hindrance to me
Helps to have a major in Slavic languages
And an Oxford degree
How they latched on to me
I don’t really know
That Dad worked at
Arlington might have put them in the know
Interesting life choices being offered
Investment banking has its rewards
That’s on the table
I’m inclined to VC
I could have a capital time
Avoid DC and endless bureaucracy
See the world
It’s nice to be wanted
I feel like the girl everyone wants to dance with
I’m still at the prom
I’ll ask my parents
I know they’ll have thoughts
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 10:55 AM UTC
Like many other Christians,
I’m living here on Earth temporarily;
ask to see my “spiritual green card” -
For my citizenship is with Christ’s eternity.
Being a stranger in a foreign land
makes me a heavenly ambassador,
serving a lifelong assignment
on a Godly pilgrimage as His sojourner.
Earth is not my final home -
For I strive to overcome temptations of Earth;
found in my identity with Christ
is the true measure of my worth.
For those who are unsure,
The Bible is my eternal passport
that provides my credentials
until I’m present in Heaven’s court.
Author Notes:
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2010, All rights reserved.
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 6:03 AM UTC
i am my grandmother’s small and plump tears
when she thinks of her pueblo.
i am my mother’s broken english
as she greets the cashier.
i am my sister’s abandoned dreams,
her acceptance letter is etched into my palm.
i am my brother’s path to citizenship
along with all the photographic evidence.
i am my brother in law’s laughter
when he speaks to the nephew he has never met.
i am the ever constant fear
of being denied a home.
i am the secrets carried on backs
through miles and miles of desert.
i am the pan dulce on sunday mornings.
i am the mole and carnitas at birthday parties.
i am the thick hair on arms.
i am the first bite of a burger king hamburger
after years of poverty.
i am the first item of clothing bought at a kmart
after years of patching up old clothes.
so how dare you think less of me?
you do not know what i carry.
all this pain.
all this joy.
all this strength.
i am chicana.
the bridge between two worlds.
i will not be burned down.
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 4:22 PM UTC
To which would you prefer?
To own a citizenship in the Earth
But lose your own soul?
Or to be a stranger of the World
Where you are persecuted due to your faith
But *not abandoned in Heaven?
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 8:52 AM UTC
a fair question, deserving of thought,
goodly soft care and hard consideration,
strangely, instantly and undeniable,
one worldly, word achieves **********
whether first or foremost,
après ma raison d'être,
cannot list, nor rank or certain state,
yet my heart repeats, nation, nation,
my understanding, instant and complete
worthy journey to self-fulfillment,
contentedly unhappy to be permanently,
one poem short on the one continuum,
the-road-trip to salvation,
my end, my finality / our self-acualization
aking pagtatapos, ang aking katotohanan
my einde, my realiteit
fen m 'yo, reyalite mwen
akhir saya, realiti saya
ma fin, ma réalité
M
write of the ifs of a man's life,
and come aboutface to conclusions,
instant and long in the making,
there are willing ears on this globe,
welcoming me open armed, opened lipped,
knowing firstly this open-eyed greeting,
welcome poet, tell us
for we are one nation, everywhere invisible,
indivisible with liberty and justice inherent,
creation our common good, in fact it is our
lifelong wares and goods, letter by letter composing,
we sell for the price of free
This then single common currency,
our ouro, derivation of
languages multi and mellifluous here spoke,
this my/our nation where birthright and
citizenship ego-and-geo boundless,
my loves, continentally arrayed,
to whom I pledge until last breath
utter all, guttural devotion
when one of us creates,
good manifests, I care not
in what tongue,
for our tongues
intertwine and intertaste
this one flavor,
communitas,
meine gemeinschaft, meine gesellschaft
where spoken
goodness all the days of life,
it has goodly gotten me to you...
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 6:55 AM UTC
Subjugated by the
Not-so-loyal subjects:
Mind | Body | Spirit
Incongruencies
None knowing their place
Poor leadership
I'll bet I can mind my way to a better place
Better try
Plutocracy
So I grant citizenship
To my cunning and intellect
It works but
After a time vibrancy
Fades
So I call in Spirit
In the spirit of Theocracy
Spiritual matters prevail
But I've forgotten to eat
For two days
So I give Body
A seat at the table
Now we have a democracy
Or do we?
Remnants of the Plutocracy
Gave cunning a vote
So we reorganize
Into a meritocracy
< - - 3 pools - - >
Mind ~ Body ~ Spirit
3 votes
Something still isn't working
So I ruminate
Think
Pray
Chastise
And turn things upside
Down
A king should be subjugated
The best leadership
Is invisible
A
True leader
Follows
Their own path
I (the person) am ground
I am the intersect
I am the crossroads for
Mind ~ Body ~ Spirit
I am the King
And
I
Follow
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 10:37 PM UTC
The summer sun bears its noble course
Steadfast, strong, yet bound by destiny’s grip
The illumined orb is held by great force
To dim its bright light in citizenship
With the blossoming of seasonal flow
The fiery ball; its grandeur will go
The lively hum of nature’s varied life
Basking under a blanket of warm rays
Soon to feel the chill of autumn’s harsh strife
Human hope is a heap of wishful delays
Unhindered, seasonal methods spring change
Tree leaves switch to a new color range
We may complain that summer leaves too soon
But summer needs fall to sing its sweet tune
And accepting the path from light to dark
Allows the seasons to leave their strong mark
Aug 25, 2011
Aug 25, 2011 at 9:18 PM UTC
Mockery forcefully tiptoes her way beyond the barricades of fiction, and confronts populated dunes where ambiguous legs protrude.
Are you a prisoner in this proclaimed age of democracy?
The branches of the trees are still, as we avoid the precipice of calamity in the name of upright citizenship.
Therefore, walk with me along the crumbling castle walls and you will learn that there is a familial bond which lies beyond vain constructs of presumed superior architecture.
I know that it is an altered state of consciousness, so it is important to share your perspective because it is a prominent feature.
It is the memories of the living who are tortured by unspeakable possibilities.
Tickle me pink with choreography.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
dark storms rising
as electricity
crackles up my spine
in ascent of moonspell
as I trip through
my own wires
my inner sense
of flesh
reverberating
in waves of
magnetic fireworks
and suddenly
I am spinning
my fibers
all splayed out
for you to see
a cartographer
of emotion
mapping your veins
and arteries
and we hold citizenship
of a private inner land
a country
that we share
as we into light expand
my inner goddess in tune
with your
molecules and carbon
your cells rushing like
a river
into my estuary
in landscapes of longing
blissfully unaware
but for our souls'
secret language of
pumping blood and fire
from here, it's uncharted
but for the rhythms
of desire
invisible to the naked eye,
we exquisitely penetrate
the surface
descend into the
depths of bones
the most primal core
where lava licks
push spirit's will
straight up to the fore
and I am the spark in
your most opaque rage
ready
to give it up
in dust and magic
as pulmonary exhale
flows the blood
and we dissipate , slowly
into uninhibited flood
Take me apart,
dark love
pulverize my limits
fly with me
to the opposite
of loneliness
where
every
millisecond
breathes
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 12:15 AM UTC
I dressed up for a wedding that day.
We drove far to get there.
The wedding wasn't for me
But I felt like I was getting married
Because when you are free
I feel free.
They say preparing for a wedding is stressful
But you never had a crack in your smile.
I was born here
So by default I was already apart of the family
Kind of.
More like the sixth removed cousin that everyone forgot.
But I'm still a citizen
I get to eat some good toast at the table sometimes.
Yours was a bit burnt but you still ate it as if it was French toast.
You made me think I had pancakes and vanilla froyo everyday.
But when I truly feasted it was at your reception.
You said I do to America
Along with other brides and grooms.
And in that moment I felt full with love that tasted sweeter than that invisible vanilla froyo I never had.
I think we all were in love that day.
We were equally unequal with everyone in that room.
Maybe the one you married didn't actually love you in that moment
But I heard these arranged marriages are like boiling water
So perhaps it will grow over time.
I'm not sure but how could anyone not love you?
Congratulations on your citizenship mom
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 1:48 AM UTC
My parents left our homeland for me
More than five thousand, five hundred miles
To travel to a land ripe with opportunity
But at times the ripest fruit tended to spoil
However, they always counted God's blessings and moved on
My parents have endlessly toiled
With their younger son on the way
And four years of American experience
They strived at greater lengths each and every day
It is difficult to set aside one's own will
To tend to a family
To pay an immigration agency's bills
Yet they have done it, tried and true
Citizenship, I pray
Is coming soon
One day, I will properly honor them
Meanwhile,
This country will learn to accept others, but only with Him as its precious gem
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 2:51 AM UTC
the vastness of an empty soul
demystifies the Grand Canyon
and shrinks the universe
to microscopic molecules
barely able to manipulate energy
matter that doesn’t matter
madder than a hare in March
balance skewed
undue pressure
seasonal disfunction disorder
ordering medication
naturalization
seeking citizenship
in an isolation township
serving only self-pity
to the self-destructive –
squatting, gargoyle
surveyor on the job
soaking in the loathing
basking in the glow
caused by the discontent of others
opioid android locked in the void
unemployed
laughing at misery
in mercy centers
meticulously mimicking the miscreants
impersonating pain
seeking to blend –
ostracized miser in designer jeans
obscene in drag queen regalia
“whiskers from under his pancake make-up”
wake-up Godiva, locate the paraphernalia
mammalian musculature
hide the heart of a snake
as she slithers across the floor
searching for the perfect surfactant
….her scaly skin itches, uncomfortably
tearing my lip skin
in the din
of her poorly lit closet –
together in terror, the admission seems worth the cost
lost in the sweet melody
of sobbing children
and clattering dishes
shattered visions
misgivings
estrangement entangled with commitment
obligations
oblivion and orange peals
appealing to a higher power
unanswered questions hover inconsequential
adding to the ozone depletion
and altered climate
owning blame
for all the world and her problems
I sit with shoulders slumped –
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 12:23 PM UTC
There exists a mystical and quadruple representation of words, which is likened to a dictatorial Superstate, where translation is subject to that which is spoken, heard, written and read within the context of trans-national capitalism.
As we gaze from beyond the glow of the pulsating circumference, we can humbly acknowledge the ludicrous predicament of the many who are ruled by the few.
The parameters of this earthen citizenship may be somewhat characterized by embracing the perceived benefits of the system and a state of financially intoxicated anosognosia. However, as we traverse this metaphysical cataclysm where the majority votes of public arrangement diametrically oppose absolute law and that which is deemed to be reasonable; our compulsory co-operation self-regulates with a cardiovascular beat of semantic propaganda and monopolized dissention, where the relinquished rights of our revered forefathers have been re-written by coercive legislators in the name of socio-political equality.
The philosophy of meaning and political expression both buries into and removes her gorgeous face from the cuniform textures of Sahara catacombs, where we ****** relate and disengage from the **** with tyranny.
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 12:43 AM UTC