"undocumented" poems
I used to feel ashamed to be put in the category of:
Illegal, immigrant, undocumented,
Or simply not a U.S Citizen
I’ve been oppressed and rejected from:
Jobs, schools and programs,
Because I’m not a red-blooded American
But through God I learned that I should
Be proud of who I am and what country I come from
And that makes me free
Because I still have choices
I still have options
As long as I try, I can smile
As long as I have God
My life is worthwhile
Because I’m His child
I can’t contain myself any more
I’m tired of being broke and poor
I’m going to get that full ride
Into a 4 year college
I’m going to get that steady job security with:
A steady paycheck, that’s re-locatable and it’s fun
I’m tired of lying, hiding, and scamming
To get into organizations, staffing agencies and jobs
That would help my life be healthier
I dislike the fact that you have to
Get married to get a green card
I hate using a fake social security number
Or tax ID on applications that ask for it
I don’t like making up excuses about
Why I don’t qualify for financial aid or unemployment
But I’m going to man up and keep moving forward
It doesn’t matter how much:
Pain, anxiety, frustration, bad attitudes,
Disappointment, confusion, heart break
Or put downs I get in life
I’ll keep fighting the good fight with all my heart
And I’m going to be honest even if hurts me
Because I still have choices
I still have options
As long as I try, I can smile
As long as I have my God,
My life is worthwhile
Because I am His child
By Shannon Pollard
© December 2012
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 9:57 PM UTC
Your Messiah is not Christ
my Karma is not your dogma
Their AntiChrist is not the Mahdi
His avatar is not yet manifest
Our Dajjal is not their 12th Imam
Your Brahman is not my Elohim
The Atman is not the God-Man
Your God-Man is Luciferian
Our Lucifer is not their Allah
The Djinn are undocumented
some angels fell
Allah is not Ras Tafari
Their Zion is Babylon
Jerusalem is Egypt or *****
Their Angels are ascended Masters
Our Master is your ascended Savior
My Savior is your accuser
Their God is no Savior
His unction is Satanic
The war is spiritual
The Spirit is not obvious
My anointing is carnal
their anointing is moronic
our doctrine is angelic
Your rejection was predestined
our acceptance is divine
Our depravity is documented,
your sanctity is illusory
their power is diabolic
their light is darkness
Their leader is ungodly
Our God is unseemly
His Truth is offensive
The bitter is not sweet
the sweet is unworldly
the world is not heavenly.
Trinity in seven spirits, yet God is One…
Revel in the uncertainty. Have some holy fun
fitting more angels on the pin-head, dancing
before they fall. Rebellion is always entrancing
until the current postmodern theology
hooks up with psycho-sexual linguistic pathology.
Don’t accept my apology
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 8:57 PM UTC
The wind blows this way,
Silence of the night keeps me sane.
The truth, I sit and ponder
As my life beats away.
Too many moments forgotten in pain,
Undocumented, unwanted,
Shelved in some corner
No one to care.
Listening to the wind blow
Rustling leaves and banging windows.
This mind of mine has wandered too far.
The world, I shunned
The people I left.
Maybe another soul,
Who'd love to join me
As I walk this realm
Unchained and free.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 3:17 AM UTC
I’ve reflected a lot about desperation.
We as undocumented students
who have such high expectations of ourselves have this desperate
desire that quite frankly strips our ambitions of malice and of hidden
agendas.
We will be lucky if we are able to take the next step in our
precarious/ uncertain paths.
Therefore, our intentions have to remain
as genuine (and thus more pure; more powerful) since we are at the
mercy of those who help us continue to crawl along to our dreams.
That
hunger, that desperation, that desire and how it has pushed us, has
propelled us to the point where we have shed tears, and perhaps blood;
and as a result we have showcased a sincere and humble brilliance and
authority in our ability to thrive and succeed where it is virtually
impossible.
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 12:06 AM UTC
Habitually smoking your gear
Drowning your natural drive of energy
So soon, a year becomes a week which lasts towards a
day.
Trying to reach a high you had in your teens
Sitting there watching your life go by
Until you're ******** by marijuana poisoning
According to your friends you don't
Have any
Straight people industrialise their circles
And despatch you into a corner
Where they keep the addicts, tortured and isolated
Within the buzz they experienced a decade
Ago.
Paying a fifty or more on something
That causes you loss of memory and an idle psyche
If you are not going to credit your ****
People will look beyond you
Even when they need you.
You are elsewhere in the invisible car-crash.
The relief of escape
the brave gunja smoking cool Mr Frosty
The idea of talking to someone like you
Has really lost me. He hides his snide profile, behind a ******
I just have a smoke now and then.
It depresses me just enough to be depressed.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 2:40 PM UTC
submerged in a life with no todays
a submarine dive in dank water
a muck and a murk that can’t be shaken
awakening to a déjà vu
unviewed in an era or two or ten or when or
then but not now and never next
electrical fences building themselves
unyielding as we scale
flailingly failingly toward
a date and time and place indeterminable
subliminal signposts spray-painted by
anarchists railing against awareness
obscuring and obfuscating
translating into languages undocumented
concocted from alien metals and foreign shrieks
weaknesses in the armor show like
rusting bruises on the intangible
cruising through an imaginable maze
while memory like a rabid wolf bays
submerged in a life with no todays
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 4:53 PM UTC
6/21/2018
The night is alive with possibility
The suspense is killing me
Lightning strikes a pose
And thunder comes to me
deeply
Seeping through atmosphere
Home is here
Home is where a gaze holds you safe and a shoulder keeps you steadfast
Cognitive dissonance
I cannot live with this policy ripping through my arteries, this image won’t stop coming to me
A 9-months old baby
In an orange jumpsuit
In a cage in a city
Unclaimed, unwritten, undocumented, unforgiven for the sins of colonialism
Unforgivable
Where were you when ****** branded the Jews?
Then you are accountable too
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 10:39 PM UTC
The Afghan army insisted things
Were more secure in 2013
But they had to close down the schools
One man said the Taliban threatened to attack the schools
Now the men fight with Soviet era weapons
The American troop levels reduced
In one village
The people can farm and work freely
Because of patrols by the Afghan police and
The police took over the patrols after the Americans left
The police report what is going on to the military
The people want clinics and schools
To be built
The army leaves day to day security
In the hands of the National Police
The Police Chief says
They have gained the trust of the local people
And they discuss how to punish the warlords
May God be with the national army and police force
May they protect the people and keep them safe
Some Afghans
Living in Pakistan
Were forced to return to Afghanistan
After a school was attacked in Peshwar, Pakistan
The Afghans suspect
That local officials are taking advantage
Of the situation
To expel unwanted refugees
More than 33,000 undocumented Afghans returned from Afghanistan
In the first six weeks of 2015
Even some registered refugees
Have been driven out of Pakistan
Many returning Afghan families have nowhere to go
In Jalalabad, the closest big city
On the Afghan side of Torkham
Families pitched tents along a canal
Lacking any other resource
Their children pulled turnips from a nearby field
The most reliable source of food
One woman is worried
How her children will fare
They no nothing of the country
And what it is like
Their is great mineral wealth in that country
Perhaps that is the main reason why
The U.S. has plans to stay there
For an extended period
I doubt life for the Afghan will ever get better
Or be more secure
The Taliban are there to stay
33% of people live below the poverty line
I doubt that figure will ever improve either
Even if the country prospers from their mineral deposits
The common man won't benefit
Well, that's just how the cookie crumbles
In Afghanistan
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 10:52 AM UTC
I realize
I have real eyes
That see real lies—
~Nearsighted
(rule of law)
~Farsighted
(rule of lies)
~The "ayes" have it
(hidden agenda)
~The "ayes" have it
(secret addenda)
~The "ayes" have it
(hate crimes)
~The "ayes" have it
(critical times)
~Undocumented truth
(entombed)
~Unmitigated lies
(exhumed)
I realize
I have real eyes
That see real lies—
~As the world cries
Dec 13, 2019
Dec 13, 2019 at 5:06 PM UTC
Herr Stimmung—purblind—moves in corporeal time.
Think how many, by now, have escape the world's memory.
Think, how all his wandering is only thought. Having once tried to
live in the quasi-stupor of sensation, now he picks his way through
areas of spilth, seeking the least among infinite evils.
His hope: intermittent.
To a person so little conscious, what would it mean to die? Though
he feels, true enough, death's wither-clench. Thinking always of
something permanent, watching the while how everything goes on
changing.
He has seen where Speed is buried. Eyes exorbitant.
He has the tension of male and female: active, divided. Anger and
lust. What he eats tastes exactly like real food.
He would search out interphenomena, if he could decipher the
interstices. The broken line. Immediate havoc. Circular heaven.
Square earth. He cries world world, and there is no world.
He claims superiority over the other animals, being the only one
who can talk, the only one to have doubts.
Herr Stimmung knows a whale is big. Its skeleton might shelter a
dozen men.
Not existing, not subsisting—insisting. Not object, not subject—
eject. (He works within opposed systems, every one of them opposed
to system.)
"Fillette"—in confusion he addresses himself—"n'allez pas au bois
seulette."
He knows who is allowed to wear what kinds of beads. He knows
how fruit trees are inherited. All his self-objects lie in the inoperative
past.
Herr Stimmung springs from a long undocumented ancestry.
He has a special attitude towards terror.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 12:25 AM UTC
i stand with my sisters --
hijab-wearing, undocumented
black, brown, beautiful, brilliant;
women who love women;
women who have the right
to answer to their names,
instead of a “sugar” or “honey” or “baby”
yelled by a stranger on a street corner;
terrific trans women;
women, who must have the right
to decide what should happen
to their own
bodies
i stand with my brothers --
men who love men
and men who are afraid to say that they do;
Muslim men, Latino men,
feminist men, trans men;
and those who are neither men or women,
non-binary friends of all shapes and sizes
and colors and creeds;
every person who has never felt
like they belonged
and i stand with my people --
the people of America.
we know deep in our hearts
that hate is not the answer;
and so we march on
and fight on
and force our voices out into the universe
and it is not futile,
it is not for nothing,
it will never be for nothing.
for those who believe
to love is the most important thing we'll ever do:
i stand with you.
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 5:52 PM UTC
Scares even the
Moonlight away—
His only friend
The artificial
Eight-pronged
Sun of street lamps
Marking "X"
His position.
I'm quite sure he's
Undocumented—
Perhaps a new age
Nightcrawler only,
Not powerful at all.
I can see
His hands—
How they yearn
To clutch something more
Than the cigarettes
And the rosaries
That line his left and right
Ring fingers—
Shapeshift and
Solidify—
Take heart.
Behind him is
The old Senate,
To be converted to
A museum—
His name swallowed up
By the hollow grandeur
Of a once great Nation's
Emptied stronghold.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
Your trumpists whoop and shout "hooray"
You talked a lot but talk is cheap
It's your inauguration day
and now you've promises to keep
You must ***** that border wall
or did you change that to a fence?
So wide, so deep and very tall
or were your promises nonsense?
And as for Clinton - Lock her up?
Or did you change your mind?
"Conflicting interests" you once said.
Such crimes in you they'd never find!
Will you deport each and every
undocumented immigrant?
When did you start backpedalling
from that initial angry rant?
And then there are the Muslim folk,
such a convenient bogeyman.
Will they all have to register
while you drop bombs on their homeland?
You said outsourcing steals jobs.
Let tariffs ease that trouble.
But how'll you soothe the working poor
when Walmart's prices double?
But know this, Donald, you have friends
to help with troubleshootin'.
Will you get cosy in that bed
with your dear comrade Putin?
The swamp you promised you would drain,
did it improve or worsen?
How will your bootlick billionaires
assist the average person?
And may we see at long, long last,
your tax returns today?
The ones you promised to release
but changed your mind along the way.
How will you handle, Mr. Trump,
these questions you must face?
The pressure's on you starting now
Lets hope you don't fall in disgrace.
So many promises you made
up to Inauguration day
But please don't keep them - they're so wrong
and such a price we all would pay.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 8:23 PM UTC
The Seneca knew it as Tsyoneshíyo
which meant beautiful valley
(or so I’ve been told)
I knew it as home
which meant that the smell of cow ****
in fields adjacent
grew into something comforting;
a kind escape from urban life
I missed the other story,
the one told by undocumented
field hands and farmhouses
fallen into ruin
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 8:23 PM UTC
It was a scam, a sham
The flimmiest of flams
There was more pork there
Than a Christmas ham.
It’s nothing but a racket
Stuff it all into a big packet
And put into a time capture
Leave it until the rapture
Where it can’t hurt anybody
Then, fix yourself a hot toddy
And laugh about how shoddy
Future folks will think we are.
They won’t be wrong by far.
They’ll marvel at how many
Candidates worth a penny,
Or less, showed up to run
Like the whole thing was fun
And better than a TV show.
How could they tumble for
Not that good of a governor
Didn’t know what lips are for
Or what to say on the floor
Yet some wanted her to run?
What fun the press had with
Filling up the internet bandwidth
With screeching permutations
Of tired old KKK reiterations
Of the wonderful Aryan nation
The South advocated before
We had us a big-ass ugly war.
It’s like they didn’t know they lost
And were prepared to pay the cost
To do it all over again, not just men
But women too, who shouldn’t do
Because they were not part of
The government to be started up.
It was rather Alice In Wonderland,
The fuzzy details of their whole plan.
Certain things were carved in stone.
Some should go back to an age of stone
And forever leave the real people alone.
Because they’d shout out now and then
That this world was meant for white men
To run and control and own. Nothing tribal.
They said it was written in their Bible
Which was obvious they never really read
Or they would know what it really said
About helping the poor, the halt and lame.
They went on doing harm in the name
Of the King of Passion and Rescue
Saying that was the wrong thing to do.
They insisted they could do what pleases
And it should have nothing to do with Jesus.
It’s all about who is rich and who is not
And who doesn’t need what they have got:
All the good land and the mineral rights.
The rest can just stay up nights working
Two jobs, maybe three, they didn’t care.
Those pundits had to start somewhere.
Let those dishwashers and caddies
Go get their own filthy rich daddies
To leave them accounts full of millions
So they could hire undocumented millions
To build their dynasties of marble and gold.
Really, folks. This story never gets old.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 5:05 PM UTC
***re·li·gion /riˈlijən/ noun
1. the belief in and worship of a superhuman controlling power, esp. a personal God or gods.***
i grew up with no god or religion
never have i meet someone
that wanted to shove a belief
down my throat like hot iron
and told me if i believed
i would be saved
i spent life boundless
by your gods
but found myself roped
dragged in by this undocumented
goddless belief of true love
and soul mates
i spend my days praying
to this undisclosed nonbeing
hoping that one day i will find
this thing they call true love
that will sooth this heartache
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 5:00 AM UTC
You find yourself walking home at 4:00am
On a walk to find yourself
When you find out what time it is
My creative side
Lights me up
Like street lights
Show the sidewalks
What direction
To move in
Do blue skies, rise awaken, or open
This stroll is taking its toll
On my shoes,
On my knees,
And on my soul.
All alone, this open space is my microphone
And I say
Out loud
To myself
After every masterpiece
Of wisdom, love and sorrow
“How the **** am I going to remember that tomorrow”
Recited and
Instantaneously
forgotten
I have to borrow a line
From E. E Cummings
“Nobody fails all the time”
And from late night walking
I’m now running’
Back to whatever bottle
Subject manner
Heartbreak
And street corner
That decided that my unrecorded, undocumented, untouched,
And unwritten
Work
Goes witnessed
This is not exit music
This is a prelude
Pertaining to
The definition
Of wealth
These are the things you learn
When you go walking to find yourself
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 6:22 PM UTC
The mind is a scary place.
Undocumented, ever changing, always going.
My biggest fear is The Thought of life-changing magnitude, will slip through the cracks of distraction.
The key to happiness,
lost in the lock.
The wave of change,
shadowed by the sea.
The perfect words,
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 6:45 PM UTC
E-mail sent from Heaven
Written on gold and silver stone
Contents
My people have gone astray
to each his or her own way.
My Brethren is texting all over the land.
the lambs and sheep continues to be
slaughter by man.
As the undocumented skilled workers
watered the neighbor lawn
while the master of the home video tape ****
neglecting his family in his home land
My creation has disappointed me tremendously
evil overpowered the good in man
therefore, no ending to this horror across the lands.
The popping sound of the firecrackers,
or was it the sound of DSM thirty four
rose to the heaven
the arch Angel sound the sirens
Man down, man down,
as the scream echoes in the airwaves,
another mother son lay dying
due to street violence,
Black on black crime
white and black catastrophe.
an frequents outbursts in society
by idle hands of a youth insanity.
The window are eyes ,
as it quickly closes its curtain
to a life uncertain.
so
its fades into a slumber.
building fear into the heart of the citizens.
Suffer the fool gladly
that he or she might see
the destruction of their ways.
CEASE FIRE ON STREET VIOLENCE.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 4:53 PM 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
Venus Ramey Murphy,
(September 26, 1924 – June 17, 2017)
American beauty pageant contestant &
activist; Venus won the Miss America
competition in Atlantic City,
New Jersey | | | |
on September 9, 1944;
Born in Ashland, Kentucky,
Venus left Kentucky to work
for the war effort in
Washington, DC, & there won
the Miss District of Columbia pageant,
& then onto Miss America in 1944;
Venus Ramey
was the first Miss America
to be photographed in color
& the first red-haired to win the title
I started listening to AM Christian
radio b/c it's funny; but on one side
of the dial is Rush Limbaugh & on
the other is Pravda in Russian; a
little further up the dial, I can hear
the latest on the record number of
undocumented transgenders running
for public office; I never thought I'd
miss dumb blondes & ****** but
happily married gay couples are the
reason a bloviating ignoramus like
Limbaugh is on the radio in the first
place;
|
[I'm not
the sort to gawk at penises, but even
that would be a marked improvement
over watching Rush Limbaugh] | [I
don't watch Christian TV b/c it's too
calculatedly stupid, as if anyone still
believed in backwoods hucksterism]
or the visible, risible conundrum of
an over-the-hill beauty queen; what
does one do after being crowned one
of the most beautiful women on earth;
Jesus, **** or homosexuality [ ]
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 3:38 PM UTC
Once affirmation became deformation
aspirations turned into desperation
aspirations turned into exasperation
existence undocumented persistence expired
acumen undocumented the pittance expired
normal life forms a life
but nightmare world lights the world
dream journals adjourn dreams
through fantastic fantasies
of affirmation and affinity
or affirmation reaching infinity
so affirmation is gained at the expense of others
and affirmation is what we expect from others
but the affirmation comes at the cost of the abdication
of a firm nation inducing affirmation
selling being right
who's wrong is who's left
behind the hugfest in social unrest
the hugs infect becoming a test
to affirm what others choose
affirmation signaling their virtues
and if one doesn't affirm they'll sit and burn
which will affirm affirmation.
Please tell me I'm right.
Oct 8, 2022
Oct 8, 2022 at 10:02 PM UTC
Undocumented and subtle,
They separated so slowly over these last couple years.
Creating barriers between themselves without making any sudden, noticeable movements.
Sleeping with a whole floor between their pillows,
Sitting at the kitchen table with more space between their chairs than the amount of words they exchange,
Not ever attempting to finish each other's sentences, not caring that the other doesn't totally understand.
For better or for worst.
This is neither, so can they be over?
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC