"deported" poems
Nothing hurts more than rejection
A mother throws away her new born baby
Nothing hurts more than rejection
A wife abused and beaten daily
Nothing hurts more than rejection
A father told he is not allowed
to see his child
Paying child support, while his role as a father is deported, any mistakes he is reported
Nothing hurts more than rejection
A girl told she is not pretty enough to be loved
Comforted by insecurity, abused physically and mentally, wounded emotionally
Nothing hurts more than rejection
A boyfriend proposes to his girlfriend while she walks away leaving him on one knee
Left to face his pain and agony
Nothing hurts more than rejection
A lover sees his lover fall in love with another lover, when he knows that should of been his lover, heart broken as he knows it’s all over
Nothing hurts more than rejection
A mother told she will never be a mother
Because her womb won’t let her
All she wanted was one son and one daughter
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 9:37 AM UTC
No, no, I haven’t been doing this myself,
but I live in Cambodia,
and 2 guys and a girl were deported recently
for riding around on a motorbike in the ****
in broad daylight. Actually, you see,
naively or deliberately,
they rode right past a police station.
Now that must have been a sight for sore eyes.
So the police set out in hot pursuit,
rubbing their sore eyes, or whatever they rub,
maybe their truncheons, eh?
And when the perps were pulled over,
the cops didn’t fall about with hilarity
when these riders said quite calmly
that they were going to pick up their laundry.
Truly! They were backpackers! As if that explained it.
But publicly, the cops said nope,
these perps are obscene to be seen like this
and they violate Khmer customs and culture.
The cops even took pictures of this outrageous obscenity.
Indeed. The riders' rapture of being bare assed
and naked and **** free is not for Cambodia.
Certainly not at this juncture.
So their capture resulted in them being deported,
never to show hide nor hair in the country again.
Just goes to show...
But you can get away with ****** here,
particularly shooting union leaders or critics or protestors,
or you can throw a grenade into the opposition,
and **** a few right there. Those killers go free.
It's probably dangerous to speak openly,
but I don't think these guys read poetry.
They're probably busy oiling their artillery,
and even rocket launchers, as the PM
threatened to use against the opposition recently.
Seriously.
They're on the lookout for dissenters here.
Oh yes. And bare ***** Obviously.
So watch you **** in Cambodia,
especially if it's bare on a bike.
And ssshhh! Watch out for your mouth.
You need to cover your mouth up properly, too.
Mike T Minehan
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 5:01 AM UTC
Yes, I was in Thailand prison for many several months for visa overstay
Then deported, my plans were thwarted to teach school to help dek dek (Thai word for children)
What the hell heck?
Why the penalty? I'm not the enemy!
The weird thing I saw was the nicest guys were in prison camp too, what bad did they do?
All the inmates were good to each other; an odd array of global brothers
It was fun to play bamboo broom guitar like I was the jail house rock star
"Play some more rock-n-roll for us!" they would shout.
Felt young, no mirror to see my wild un-flattered looks
Wrote my best songs on empty pages in old tattered books
The Thai warden was nice to me, gave me coconut cookies for free
(He had no front teeth!)
I made each man jump and work out... Kids age 16 to amputee
All cheered for my creativity...
The day I was released, they all rushed to cry to say our farewells and goodbyes
I had more fun in Thailand prison then now that I am back in USA, funny huh?
Camaraderie is a true commodity!
God bless Thai children who told me they loved me, while USA kids throw rocks at me!
True story
D. Clare
I love Bangkok #1
Am Dop Nueng!
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 9:56 PM UTC
**She’s not the sort that bares her soul
With tales of pain
With tales of woe
She contains the pain
She keeps it tight
It haunts her
Each and every night
She walks the walk
She talks the talk
She sometimes even has those thoughts
But …
What about me?
I’m
Trapped inside a prism
That floats inside her brain
Cuckolded as a passenger
Why can't I drive this train?
Is it fear that holds me back?
Will fear dictate
She stays on track
I think
And think …
And think …
And think …
I sit here in the darkness
Watching through her eyes
Yearning for the moment
To be released from this disguise
You think that you all know her
Enchanted by her scent
Anyone would think
From the heavens she was sent
But ..
What about me?
No-one hears my voice
Because I’m weak and timid
I therefore
Have No Choice
Can’t you hear me screaming?
Boxed inside this cage
Suppression’s a necessity
When you can’t release the rage
I know she is my keeper
I know she keeps us safe from harm
I know she saved us being
Deported
to
The Funny Farm
But…
That was so very long ago
I now need
To smell the air
I need to taste the tulips
I need the wind to blow my hair
I need to drink fresh coffee
Eat doughnuts on the Pier
Indulge in Marmite sandwiches
Eradicate this fear
Please …**
*There, there little sweetie
Come rest your sleepy head
You’ve gotten overtired
I’ll tuck you up in bed
Your time will come, my sweet
But really not quite now
For you
would need to comprehend
The who, why, what & how
We made a pact
Remember …
In the summer of ‘79
That I will now protect you
From that wicked evil swine
There, there little sweetie
Let me wipe away those tears
I want to see you happy
I can internalize your fears
Little sweetie
Let me see the joy upon your face
Can you feel the love
I give
In this oh so warm embrace
Don’t worry little sweetie
I understand your pain
That is why
It is me
That will always drive this train
I will never ever desert you
I will always keep you safe from harm
This is why
It is
YOU
That always keeps her charms*
**You’re right
I’m kind of sleepy
You’re right
I need to rest my head
You’re right
I’m over tired
Please tuck me up in bed …**
Oct 6, 2010
Oct 6, 2010 at 6:38 AM UTC
Alice is being put back into the basket
The last thing she saw were pelican wings
She’s being shipped off to Africa, Alaska, Antarctica
Where all her ideas won’t mean a thing
Barrel of monkeys, household deities
Ballerina idol figurines
Empty harvest, ashen dreams
Scapegoat of all mystery
Send her to Babylon, Venus, New York
Build her a temple for the deported
Cause she’ll never be destroyed
Just atrociously unemployed
While everyone back home
On their counterfeit thrones
Saturate the seventh day
Plagiarizing her decay
So keep the lid on tight
Say your prayers as you fight
Off chaotic thoughts
And warnings made in tears
As Alice is being put back into the basket
We continue bobbing for apples
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 8:52 PM UTC
Miss Nisa impetuous young lady!
In Bangkok I met her at OTOP She was impetuous
I loved her
She spit on me
I love her
Anyway!
Her dad was fantastic her mom was so nice to me...
Her uncle tried to **** me with a bash to my bleedy head.
I ran down the street to go hospital
Then deported to Japan
What the ****
...did I do wrong?
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 4:16 PM UTC
I.
I breathed in each toxic
story of relatives
departed or deported
that left you with nothing
but gerbera daisies
next to gravestones.
II.
I tried to diffuse
my scholarly ambitions,
to fill in the blanks
on your applications,
to change your histology
to help you evolve.
III.
My body rejected you.
My alveoli ached
to be free and breathe.
My chordae tendinae
were pulled too taut
and tore.
IV.
I caved into myself
with no other choice
but to detoxify.
*November 13, 2014
10:27:16 PM*
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
We headed south that night
Right down the highway towards our new life
Sunny Olde California here we come
Everyone wants to be in Cali
Me, I don't understand why
The sun's too hot
It's so crowded
Too many famous people
What's so great about California?
Why does everyone want so badly to move to Cali?
But now I understand why we left
Why we left our comfortably modern house in Vancouver
Vancouver had everything we needed
All the love and support we needed
Everything we needed was there in our small little town
But now we are moving to Sacramento
One thousand four hundred and thirty seven kilometers
Fourteen hours of driving
I finally understood why she did it all
She was taking us away from him
So he wouldn't hurt us anymore
When the court date came
We all had to testify
I wasn't sure what I was testifying against
But somehow I answered and answered til I broke down
After my endless crying
They gave up on me
I wasn't fit to testify she'd say
But I understand why
I was too young to understand but now I do
He came in all sunshine and lollipops
We all thought he was going to stay
Stay forever and never leave
He left in handcuffs and bruises
We never saw him again
Until my mother dragged us all down to the jailhouse
He was leaving...for good
The apologize really didn't matter to me
See I didn't understand, but now I do
I understand why everyone wants to be in Cali
You become like an ant
You are invisible
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 2:18 PM UTC
In a place created
By the hands of the minoritized regiment
"Immigrant"
has somehow become a bad word
an insult
a curse
Immigrant, arrogant, delicate
Dedicated to the saving of our lives
The protection of our wives
and children, the fear in their eyes
It's evident your estimate's incorrect
A guestimate on its hind legs
You scared?
Hesitant, eloquent, sentiment
The settlement you created and forced us in
Reminiscent of that place where we've been
Pushing against discrimination because of the color of our skin
And you teach your kin
Such words of sin
Look down your noses at us, you and your tie pin
Tryna get signed in
Bring mine in
Eyes cryin.
Blue skies and
Bold lyin.
You didn't give us time
You didn't let us find
your way, tryna get in line
Tryna stay, I'm
just tryna
just tryna
From Mexico, China
to Puerto Rico, Brazil,
Drinkin my Jamaican ***
From Hindustan, Kazakhstan
to Bolivia, Thailand, rock the wrong drum.
Liberia, Ethiopia to London.
We all came or were tryna come.
You deported us, afforded, and so we sat
ignored, deplored.
Unsure of any light
so we fight for what's downright
ours and tonight, We bring our standards to new heights
It'll be tight, and we'll bite.
And we'll stand on our toes
So everybody knows
We stood for our rights.
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 12:12 PM UTC
They call you "woman"
Though you probably are just shy
You are only about fourteen
When a nation is sewn into your womb
The white men, they will call you exotic
Call your brothers savages
As they pin you to a tree
And colonize the nest below your belly
They will imperialize your body
Annex your ******
Because they can
They are above you, after all
Yet you are still looking ahead
So eloquent while under attack
Why is **** suddenly beautiful
When it is a weapon of war?
Why do we normalize
The abuse of women with brown skin?
Not pain, just literature
So darling, I am so sorry
For what my brothers, for what my ancestors
Did to you
I am so sorry that the war on your body
Is why I am standing on your homeland
Though the skin of my relatives was not on American soil
Until two hundred years later
My blood was never shed on that dirt
Anyone who came here after you
Has hands covered in red
Flash forward three hundred years
These white men whose forefathers
Made a throne for their heirs inside of you
Are accusing other brown-skinned people
Of being terrorists
Of being rapists
Did we really forget that quickly?
They will wage war for my body
Because it lacks pigment
But they will ignore
That they are the ones committing the crime.
Every time a brown person is deported
Every time we vote for someone
Who spews bile when they speak
Every time we accuse immigrants
Of advancing our **** problem
We are slicing your children from your insides
Marvelous woman
Each nation you birthed is under attack
Every time we attack another nation
Our hands are covered in red.
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 10:09 PM UTC
The ancient tacoma grainery,
Stands in a corner of its own now.
Tne dark tunnell still has leggs when
she lets go.
The dock street rail yard fills up the city like a
loaf of hotnsteamy bread.
Farther down our ambitious tycoon
Stacks up condos, wheat pancakes,
Is his breakfast of choice.
They demolished the old elks club.
Which sprung across the street
like a walmart super store.
Blue and yellow is workers vest
perks and all. Their members still
grase for golfballs off the ten million dollar tees.
There isnt much enjoyment, they'd rather drink.
Last month my two foot clarks walked through the sliding dorrs hospitality.
Wanting to see the high mountain of sucess,
I looked for organic oats.
My minds to random.
I inch up to the screen and see the faces of migrant workers,
Hang like meat.
After six months in america half the under employed,
Are giving up.
Deported with their children.
My hope still goes out to the college students.
And their first morgage of inflamatory dough.
They all buy up every job still hoping for change.
No marrijuana in public,
Get away while the officers turn their backs,
With their guns to pepper a face.
In the taxing store.
Im afraid we smoked heavilly.
Love to the workers,
Love to their vests.
Everythings devoliping to quick.
My new bike slices by cars of ritz crackers.
Everthings been built to last.
There nothing left to buil on,
Only a few vacent lots that wait for tresspassers.
One man dives through a trash can and isnt scared.
He picks out a hamburger bun and eats his lunch.
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 4:34 AM UTC
Winter night whispers.
Complaining jealous mistress,
Soon to be deported!
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 1:37 PM UTC
Jose Escobar, 31
Deported: 2 March, from Houston, Texas
Jose Escobar, from El Salvador,
has a son, Walter, & a wife
Rose Marie Ascencio-Escobar,
a U.S. citizen,
now home alone
in South Houston,
Jose Escobar moved to the US legally
from El Salvador with his mother
when he was 15,
and both qualified
for protected status.
His mother erred in filing
renewal paperwork when he
was still a teenager,
his protected status lapsed.
Mr Escobar spent years trying to
sort out his status and received
a stay of deportation
from a judge in 2012.
But with Trump
the deportation process
started up again
& he was detained
at his check-in with Ice
& flown to San Salvador.
His family is devastated.
"I'm begging President Donald Trump to look
into my case and see if my husband is really
destroying America,"
his wife told reporters.
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 11:39 PM UTC
I feel like Christian Bale
in that one movie
"Am I... the American ******
the emic and etic personas
collapse in pantomime
like how the Donald destroyed democracy and civil rights for four years.
I feel like the average citizen
who has no choice but to vote
so that I don't get deported once again
Mar 6, 2022
Mar 6, 2022 at 6:56 PM UTC
The national pride is nullified by the constant buzz of shores
being broken down and beaten with patrol boats
scouring the waves for lame boats carrying
malnourished passengers to a land of plenty.
With searchlights and stern rugged faces
blue uniformed and well fed, border patrol
scout out the weary travellers braving the high seas
and sharks to find a safe heaven in some hidden cove.
Pest control is serious business. Unlucky to be caught
and housed in centres with rationed food and worn clothes
herded into bare camps, often deported back
to home turf, the pest control cycle continues.
Take heed. A nation is built on pests., working hard, saving
every cent, running against the clock, against government agencies, starved and poor, defeated in justice, welfare,
community, papers, education and livelihood, slinking through
alleyways of paper networks, low paid, often beaten and bruised
packed in housing crates, stacked storeys high, nation building
begins at the journeys first step away from regimes too busy amassing wealth and wonder for themselves.
Nation builders are the pests you want. The pests you spend your money to keep away from your own backyard
for a vote for safety.
Pin up a country that did not grow without these
masses of refuge pests?
Not one.
Author Notes
Migrants are nation builders. Check it out.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 2:53 AM UTC
Planetary landings, not always that great
picking up a monster, no, not as freight
Not sure if it was breakfast, maybe it was brunch
Kane didn't like the grub, his gut the creature lunch
As it silently slides, through all the duct work
hard for them to tell, if it has a toothy smirk
Slinking in the halls, taking a stealthy walk
a sneaky little *** drooling as it stalks
The robot tried to **** our heroine, with delinquent ****
corporation ditched them, shares to be forsworn
Ash headless, finally spilling all the beans
weapons and research, by any way, any means
No hope of rescue, so far out in deep space
Captain Dallas missing, gone without a trace
Ripley oozing tension, trying to escape
crew is dead, or absent, or in an unknown state
Thank engineers and builders, for airlocks on the ship
blasted from the hatch, deported, on it's illegal Alien trip
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 2:09 PM UTC
Haunted ghosts host our waking hours
during sleep they transport us to places
indescribable by human words.
The ghosts lean on door posts
watching us, remembering their corporeal selves
Wanting to be warm blooded again.
Orchid scented air announce their presence
Morbid thoughts clog our senses
Do we remember them?
Do we want to remember them?
They are dead, long departed
Long deported off this realm.
Halted thoughts gloat at our minds
How those haunted ghosts once chortled,
fondled, and dawdled along.
Long dead; these ghosts are haunted
Not by us the living,
but the memories of them we bring.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 7:55 PM UTC
Dorothy Gale, all freckled and pale
Was asleep in her gingham print nighty
When a ****** great twister enveloped the vista
And blew like the good lord almighty
It ripped up the grass and it took out the glass
As it lifted the house from position
And a blow to the head from the post of her bed
Put young Dorothy out of commission
She awoke with a fright as she fell from a height
Landing squarely on somebody's gran
She emerged from indoors to a round of applause
And her journey had surely began
The people of Aus (because that's where she was)
Gave her hazy but helpful directions
She should hastily wander the road over yonder
To reach Tony before the elections
So she took to the road from her former abode
In her quest to get back to her folk
She aquired some mates, all in similar straits
Or the **** of a practical joke
A man made of straw was quite hard to ignore
With a lion quite lacking in guts
And a fella whose skin was constructed from tin
Held together with rivets and nuts
Such adventures they had, though I think you'll be glad
That I've cut to the crux of the rhyme
Where a meeting was set, their request would be met
To meet Tony in ten minutes time
They arrived and were greeted, quite comfortably seated
It was then Mr Abbott appeared
He regretted to say, to their growing dismay
That their wishes had not all been cleared
"As I haven't a heart" he was heard to impart
"then the tin man is leaving with jack"
"And I'm gutless as well" he was careful to tell
"So the lion can hurry on back"
"And I've also no brain, so it's no once again"
"But young lady, your problems are sorted"
"You'll be locked up off shore for a month, maybe four
"And by christmas, we'll have you deported"
By Ben the Poet
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
I go out for coffee
with my best
friend every
evening
And see the thorns come out of
I people In ways I wouldn't expect.
D One woman moves away from us. One
R boy calls her a terrorist. One man threate
I ns to have her deported Even though she w
N as born in New Jersey. America the free....?
K I drink coffee with my parents in the morning, My
C Dad's daily dose of poisons called Fox and Friends
O Hannity The O'reilly Factor Cause my ears to bleed.
F They say that while not all Muslims are terrorists All ter
F rorists are Muslim. They use religion as a scapegoat
E What they don't know isThese radicals do the exact
E same thing. I drink coffee by myself in the afterno
on. Somewhere, during that time Personality Ru
pert Murdoch blames all Muslims for terrorism.
He says they all must take responsibility for t
his "cancer". Then must I, as a Christian, tak
e responsibility for the KKK? Must I, as a
member of your religion, Rupert, take
responsibility for your ignorance? I
stand in solidarity with these Mus
lims who would never rip a hair
off my head or a bone from m
y body. We can do without
people like you, who mak
my coffee taste bitter.
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
Punching before the sun comes up, 9 hours on an assembly line. Feet that ache from standing up all day. Two kids and a wife to feed. Thirty years in one spot, going through a hundred pairs of shoes. Then your job is deported instead of those who took it from you, now what do you do? Up a power pole in the wind and freezing rain, keeping the lights on so children stay warm and dry. Union blue runs through your blood, until your job gets outsourced too. Things that made America great, make it great no more. Most who built the country have went from blue collar to being poor. American pride has been forgotten, for real hard work is to a rich mans shame. Sometimes you just want to forget the title, and find another working name.
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 7:23 PM UTC
I wish you would get deported .
I curse the east European country that produced such a fine specimen of god like features
Coupled with a Zeus complex .
And all the series of unfortunate events that lead you too my small town eyes .
My guts haven't unraveled for days and I have forgotten what eating for enjoyment is as it all turns to ashes in my mouth .
Grief is a my white knuckled steering wheel , uncontrolled sobbing in traffic .
It is "our" dog barking at me to remember to breathe .
It is my mothers kisses on my hands because I cannot turn my head to meet her blue eyes cause they are the same color of yours .
For every cigarette I light I hope you light two
Because I'm drinking this poison but trying to **** you.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
The Ataman of the Cossacks
Or the "Father of the horsemen"
I imagine him to be a good man
Proud of his heritage
And leader of his people
The wealthier Cossacks
Fought for the White army
Some of the poorer ones
Fought for the Red army
During the Russian Civil War
Their territory was divided up
They were viewed
As a potential threat
To the new regime
During 1919 and 1920
The Bolshevik regime
Killed of deported
300,000 to 500.000 Cossacks
During World War II
Most fought for the Soviet Union
While others sought to
Settle old scores
By collaborating with the Germans
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 1:44 PM UTC