"visa" poems
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Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
imagine an underground network of rapists preying
on tourist & local girls; having an agreement w/
the pimps & cops [same]; the tourist guides
leading the ladies of all types, mostly young,
stupid & white - blonde is better; local girls
hitting puberty, getting dragged into the den
at twelve get a choice, if they live; the dens filled
w/ liquor & drugs; partying a little or just jumping
her, dragging her to the open floor;
she wakes up naked, thankfully not dead, her
purse nearby; she goes to meet her new Desi
bf at the bazaar where he introduces her
to his friends; that night the same thing
happens; it happens for a week then a month,
then she helps the gang get other girls into it;
it goes on all summer, & on into another summer,
the winter filled w/ hot springs & expensive dates
on the paved side of the street; Bollywood stars
in American cars paying her **** who pays her
coyote who pays the cop to get her to Europe on a
tourist visa to work an exclusive Parisian Brothel
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 6:32 AM UTC
Freedom At Kannyakumari
“The destiny of India is molded in her class-rooms”
Kothari had no confusion; no vision on the fusion-
of the East and the West, as Swami Vivekananda’s vision,
“The comingling of the East and the West will dawn a new Era”.
As tissue culture, transplantation or cloning
we Indians imbibe the Western Culture;
or as G.M cotton or brinjals,or tomato
Indians are produced, transmuted
destroying the very indigenous genus for material growth.
Ayurveda is preserved not in Sanskrit but in English letters, now !
Followers of Lord Maccaulay as obedient servants,
by experiments,bring up Indians only in blood and colour-
in every other respects-Europeans
(using imperialist - capitalist media);
poor sycophants ,for a visa,
the Indians: now , turn to the West for light,
leaving the bright light under the Urn;
cry for a way of progress, safety and food;
and beg:once self reliant nations as cells of a body
No retrospection or introspection,
only putrefaction, hence , no resurrection.
On August 15th ,at Kannyakumari beach , beside me,
a bare body of a woman(my sister?) lay asleep;
I witnessed at the starry cold mid-night:
the surging sea spitting frothing snow
upon the black rocky *******
protruded, greasy, mossy. bare but fair ,
ever young at the feet of Bharat-matha.
Wet in the salty breeze , from the foul smell of death,
I walked and walked searching shelter,
but no room for a single son with meagre wealth.
The tourism net -workers with the thirst of mosquitoes
hummed around me with highly rented room offer-
source of tourism exploitation- I bargained,
till, morning red balloon rose up in the Eastern horizon
cleaving the vapours of the sea,
when , thousand tongues chanted Gayathri;
then , the locals thronged around the woman on the shore;
somebody among them, staring blear eyed
as the police jeep and the ambulance arrived , bewailed
“O! Gayathri, my darling, O! Gayathri…” Unsoothed.
The chanting and the yelling dissolved in the breeze
that passed by the Vivekananda rock, afar, south
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 3:50 AM UTC
Timbeck Tyu, Timbeck Tyu
Great City Timbeck Tyu
Coloured Walls Nicely Painted
Arts and Drawing Everywhere
Artifacts on every crossing
People's representatives feel like king
Magnificient buildings here and there
Bridges and flyover everywhere
Toll tax booth here and there
Statues standing everywhere
Banners hanging here and there
Hoardings, posters everywhere
Malls and Hotels here and there
Dance Bars and Casinos everywhere
Citizens always in Crisis
Struggling with poverty
Economical condition bad
Politicians has gone mad
Nationalism in Slogans
Here and there hooligans
Real nationalist are renamed
They are called anti-nationals
Corruption is on the peak
You need license to speak
Crowd imposes censorship
System respects the crowd
Mouse catches the Crow
Everything on the show
Real news not covered
Real issues are untouched
Fake news are implanted
Press and Media on sale
Laws are being twisted
Burden of proof shifted
Culprits are honoured
Innocents are hanged
Farmers are in debts
Their families are starving
They can't even pay their loans
Neither Principal nor interest
They either commit suicide
or land in jail for not paying loans
Hospital competing with hotels
Doctors busy in making money
Patients treatment is on Sale
Get cured only if you pay
Stray Animals on the rise
What you can do if you cry?
Black money in circulation
White money is called pollution
Rapes, Murders and theft on rise
Law and order is on the papers
Lawyers are with Politicians
Politicians are with Criminals
Criminals are with the Police
Police is with the Capitalists
Only the God is with the victims
That too only, if he really exists
Population almost exploding
Environment full of pollution
Fights and quarrels here and there
Religion and faith always on stake
Caste and Classes everywhere
Race and Religion everywhere
Common people struggling for food
Saints consuming wine and drugs
Rallies and protests uprising
The system has turned deaf
Goddess of law weeping and bleeding
Judges busy in process law and rules
Timbeck Tyu, Timbeck Tyu
Such a great city Timbeck Tyu
Have you liked Timbeck Tyu?
Want to live in Timbeck Tyu?
If you liked, Timbeck Tyu
Want to live in Timbeck Tyu
First apply for passport in your country
Then apply for visa from Timbeck Tyu
Hurry Up, Hurry Up, don't be late
Visa's are limited so take care
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 6:28 AM UTC
Caressing my face,
Bubbles rush to greet me
Tickling like a sweet spring sigh.
This is only the first.
I am still half
A visitor. Stuck in suspension
Between this world and mine.
Slowly I pass
Through the threshold.
My air-sick ears adjust
To the sounds of the sea.
I stare down
At the small colony
On the sea floor,
My landing gear is down.
Customs arrives.
A grey, French Angelfish
Of the most industrious kind.
But he isn’t obtrusive.
As he flits in and out
Checking my bubbles
Ensuring I am not bringing
Any more air than I should.
No doubt he will stay near
Most of my stay
I have finally arrived,
The coral city stretches before me.
I catch the current trolley
And it whisks me past
Rocky storefronts and coral motels.
Lobster shopkeeps
Rush out of dark
Stores and stand in the street
Giant claws raised
Toward me in supplication.
Beckoning me to come
And browse his wares
While a fish I don’t know
Is busy cleaning homes and stores.
They must’ve dropped out of the school
Which passes by
The pupils in matching uniforms
Of flashing silver and black.
Clown fish wave
To me from their Lawns
Of sea anemone
Before darting back inside.
Here is the kind of place
Where I could put down roots.
Live out an idyllic life
Living in a coral townhouse.
But for me to stay
Would be severely fatal.
I’m just a visitor
And my visa is about to expire.
I look back one more time
As my head breaks the surface.
The sun stings, I blink.
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 2:07 PM UTC
Composed
wandering the Commons, quietly listening
to the sounds of Childish Gambino
Confused
Looking for the sixteenth time for
An escape from the Pru
Sipping a glass of Sam Adams Boston Brick Red
at a corner of WHISKEY'S on Boylston
Stopped in at Ben & Jerry's on Park:
Bought a cone of ™
Paid for it with
my Bank of America® VISA® P L A T I N U M P L U S ®
Checked in on foursquare and
read the protest tweets on
my verizonwireless® hTC® ThunderBolt™
with Google:
@OccupyWallSt
#NYPD collapses on #Sanctuary and begins arresting clergy and occupiers
inside. #D17 #Re-Occupy #OWS
\_Retweeted by Occupy Boston
@HoraceBoothroyd
@OccupyWallSt Links to sanctuary/clergy violations?
Erst I wandered the sights
and thought of thoughts
Tweeted a picture of the “pro-corporate” march
Pictured Headlines:
Area Cop Arrests Area Man for Obeying Traffic Signal
"Didn't anybody tell him that's not how its done round here?"
Cell of Young Idealists with ties to
Low-Level Terrorist Organization Busted & Detained:
Found Plotting the Grassroots, Digitized, Non-Violent Overthrow of the Status Quo
Op-ed:
City upon a Hill: “Whose city?! Whose hill?!”
#SOPA #NDAA
#OCCUPYBOSTON
~D.B. Guy, 12/17/11
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 3:35 AM UTC
When Mother Teresa
Saw the Leaning Tower Of Pisa
She Knew that Julius Caesar
Would renew her visa.
Eating curried pizza
At a bar called Mitzvah
With ex-scrooge Ebenezer
And the Mona Lisa
All three did concur
That nothing defeats
Or beats her.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 7:30 AM UTC
remember...
when you were young,
very young,
recently untethered from
proximal parental strings...
that liberated freshman
rushing into a .... cave
of independent studies
and uninhibited sexuality...
that mulligan phase
of impulse and irrationality
and...yes...experimentation...
of wide-eyed science interns with
mother's cheeks, daddy's visa
and the best animal-testing lab
on the planet...
with live uncontrolled studies of sleep deprivation,
orgiastic tolerance, *** toxicity
and the effect of extreme jello-shooting
on graduation rates...
and, of course, the ultra-rad LUG/GUG philosophy,
the ultimate pregnancy-avoidance plan
guaranteed
or your STD back...
then you got a degree,
a real job,
and a surreal 5-figure
student loan balance...
or was it 6?
or maybe you just
dropped out
like
bill, steve or mark...
and started a revolution...
~ P
(7/21/2013)
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 3:59 PM UTC
If only we could fly like
those that tweet or hoot
without aid of jet or
parachute
For I sure don't like
wings that boom and roar
just so they can take off
and soar
Ah, to fly without petrol, diesel
or fuel
Oh, to halt that taloned midair
duel *
Birds they don't pollute
the air
nor need they any airline
fare
So if only I too could rise
and glide
and let the wind be my
sole guide
I'd be happy to fly all the
way to 'em' faraway stars
if I was assured I'd risk
no charring scars.
Flying without aviation
formalities
I could be sightseeing
many more cities
Ah I so wish to fly just
like a jay or jackdaw
Then I'd fly across all and
every border
For I'd know nor follow
no man-made law!
If only we needed no darned immigration pass or visa
We could have visited so many more touristy places
Say even the spectacular and popular pyramids of Giza
And we could have known different cultures and races
Ah, a stylish photo next to the leaning tower of Pisa
And return with exotica like a framed pic of the Mona Lisa
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 12:20 PM UTC
“and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.”
Walt Whitman
<>
having recently been on standby for a permanent-entry residency visa
to over & just beyond death’s door, Walt’s prescient prescription strikes my broken breastbone even harder much, than the persistent
periodic pains confirming the breaking and the healing
of this man’s mending of the human centric poetic *****
for this warped heart mine, now rejoicingly rejiggered with some threads and wires to deliver a new but fresh bloodied wisdom,
begs me, eggs me to torrent word streams, but Whitman’s wisdom cautions a new slowness, the wisdom of mortality’s hot breath urges careful consideration of every letter that my second chance, consignment shop flesh, eagerly embraces, to both prescribe and proscribe inside-insights tween the deafening sounds of eyelashes beating synchronized to the revived heart rates rapid renewal and
last second-chances….
torn tween minute torso sensations and the running silence of
a new battery’s internal rapid intervals, the silent timing gaps tween beats leaves-just-enough-space to ask over and over again,
from whence will come my richest fluency? (1)
at 300am, I lay carefully caressing and chewing well each transitory
thought, absent the former energetic ability to just spill,
though highly desired,
now requires, like me,
steady re-piecing together
the steady drumbeat of now-nearer-my-god-than-thee Titanic reflections
demands a slowing rapidity
this I thought before and now ken, even and ever better, that our primary endeavor shall always be the giving, the disbursement of the act of love…for therein lies the healing of each, and wet eyes,
make necessarily concluding this poem about nothing and everything
and I comprehend Walt’s dictum:
my very flesh is a poem,
every sensation a lyric,
every breath taken and returned to the atmosphere
so unconsciously
are my oldest
and newest
3:00 AM poetry companions
Aug 18, 2023
Aug 18, 2023 at 4:41 PM UTC
I have a life experience to share.
I don't know if you would care.
In the last unforgettable year,
I applied for FSW/Federal Skilled Worker
Immigration Program in Canada.
Unfortunately,
I've already reached the said quota.
I was denied for my dream visa.
Though I was qualified to apply,
I was refused for two simple reasons:
"No current employer and Ph.D. degree."
My self-esteem got very low,
I didn't know what to do
Because I have nothing to show
To my friends who kept asking me.
So it's time to break my silence.
I told them what happened
And they have felt sorry for me.
My wife has lost her self-confidence
But I told her to never give up
Even though I was hurting inside.
On this coming May 4, 2013,
CIC offices will accept FSW applications.
Though I've the necessary qualifications,
I don't know if I will ever apply again
Because I still have the unbearable pain.
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 12:16 PM UTC
Exiliado soy equilibrista
en virgen colina del planeta
Gran Cantante .
Con un verso de maldicion
rompo el candado de la historia .
La ley es alambrada,
calabozo,cuartel,
casa-celda, noche de prostituta,
alba del moribundo,
theoria del adepto pobre,
religiosos empastillados,
iglesia drogadicta.
Yo el amante del dia absoluto
no tengo Visa para la libertad .
Sep 27, 2011
Sep 27, 2011 at 6:04 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
I went down to the shopping mall
Since I saw one store I thought I should see them all
They said they except Visa and MasterCard and American Express
To use one or all or none that was the ultimate test
It would have been best to walk out with a full pocket book
But I thought I would just take a look because
I was Bored In the USA
yes Bored in the USA
Just for fun I thought I would try things on
especially those items with a sale sticker on
I rushed to one store than to the next
If I have to carry much more stuff I might break my neck
all because I lack self control when
I am Bored in the USA
I tried to resist shopping again
My friends and family said I spent too much
I thought my computer would be safe to touch
I saw an add for items from a favorite seller on EBay
I thought it was Ok just to look, one click is all it took
I now am Highest Bidder
because I was Bored in the USA
I did not really need it but like I said
I spent too much because
I was Bored in The USA
Bored In The USA
Bored In the USA
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 1:45 PM UTC
Wall, Wall, Walls, I love Walls
Let's build some more walls
Here wall, there wall
Everywhere wall wall
Existing walls are not enough
More walls are a necessity
Fools, I am not talking about walls of room
I Know, they are enough for you and me
Even if they are not, I don't care
House and homes are your private affairs
I do give regards to your freedom
I don't interfere with walls of your room
I am not going to shell out a penny
For your homes and rooms, honey
I have much more to think and do
I have to make much more walls
Walls on the open lands, walls on borders
It will save us from our enemies
It will save us from terrorist and drugs
Human traffickers too, only fear the walls
You morons, why don't you understand
It will save us from illegal immigrants
I mean the animals and birds of foreign lands
Entering in our country without proper visa
If you still feel, the walls are enough
Be assured, I will demolish them all
Then rebuild new magnificent walls
All walls will become a masterpiece.
We can opt for walls of iron and concrete
Even we can go for walls, made of pure steel
A new history of walls need to be written
Walls, walls everywhere, here wall, there wall
I will even try to build the wall between peoples
Wall between open hearts, Open minds
Wall between open thoughts and thinking
I vow to work for the walls, I love Walls
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 11:36 PM UTC
We've had my challenges which went quite well
We've had The Who's Awesome series which opened
a lot of eyes. For the record everyone who posts here
good, bad, liked or disliked is awesome.
But this time something different, something that's
really going to put you on the spot should you choose
to participate.
Just write 8 or 10 lines about another writer, why and what
you like about them.
The catch..... If your a man your chosen person has to be
a member of the opposite *** and visa versa.
This could be challenging.
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 4:17 PM UTC
Brushing off
not others
but my old self
my true calling
I found
how my past
did confound
in ignorance
and futility-
the next chapter
would just be:
no strife
nor contention
but life
stripped of
its artificialities
self-deception
lies
and false images-
why hang up
a mirror
(so well-kept
polished and precious)
yourself to admire?
discard
smash it
you aren't a little child!
ah, what dross
that needs to be separated
from the grain!
self and self-occupation
is the most grievous pain-
cast away your books
leave your study-room
remove your sun-glasses
sweep away the dust
with a self-made humble broom
forget your Visa or Master-Card
(do you really need such?)
a cup of coffee
or a piece of bread
it doesn't cost much--
throw away
your pack of ***
(smoking causes cancer
it's really bad)
don't get drunk
just because
you are sad
you are still alive
be glad-
ride your old bike
it's dusty in the shed
it will bring back readily
happy memories
of growing-up years
when life was never frets or tears
do without
your mobile phone
the Frankenstein that plagues
and would never leave you alone-
go out there--it's spring!
in the glorious green
flowers are bursting
more alluring and enticing
than a Renoir or Monet's painting
the birds are chanting
the trees are dancing
birds are at full-throated singing
gentle breezes are caressing
lovers at the quiet corner are kissing
old couples hand-in-hand
they are walking and talking
in the park as the sun is shining
children are one another chasing
while their mothers are watching
the world seems well and thriving
and nothing seems wanting--
there I am
by the tranquil stream
not thinking
not contemplating
not reminiscing
self-forgetting
an experience
life-transforming
in a half-dream
as though
in the cosmic scheme
of things
I have come
to my own being-
my awakening.
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 8:08 PM UTC
Like depression or exposure to ****
mid life crisis has permeated every age range,
unless I'm simply deranged
for it's that time of the night
and it's pouring down outside
giant rain drops hitting the glass window
and the roof
ruining the solitude
that I've started to embrace more and more
mainly because it's impossible to ignore
from the moment I wake up
and get back into bed
in between job hunting
comfort eating
procrastinating
facebook stalking
showering
whining
solitude is the one thing that has stayed all the way.
Whilst regretting life choices
doubting every decision
obsessing over Ex's
solitude is relentless
having made friends with unemployment
it has bottled the scent of the soon to expire visa
and rubbed it all over the clothes
in the suitcase
on the floor of the little box room
making everything smell of homelessness
bringing to life a far too familiar nightmare
a déjà vu
of all sixteen times addresses have been changed
in the last four years
but the worst is yet to come
as the next change could well be
to a postcode over 5000 miles away
where peers are getting married
having children
getting promoted
falling in love
whilst my social life
has conveniently been brought to a standstill
and having lost count
of all the Sunday masses missed
it is fair to presume
that all prayers would be dismissed
so what now
I'm only twenty four
with roughly three quarters of life left to go
and the only affirmation that can be made
is the years of solitude ahead
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 9:30 PM UTC
Into a bow, I folded
paper wakame
and ate it.
Intentionally.
Compulsive behaviors include :
Ingredients such as :
relativity ,
perspective
taught me how to turn
something flat
three-dimensional
and visa-versa.
The Unfamilliar, not-yet-integrated
uncertain if it could be capitalized on,
forms of existing
somehow gathered shame
exposure
sexuality
erasure
childhood memory
determination
in tasting.
I would like my appetite back
when you are finished evaluating
Above the water horizon,
where none of us can see,
everything is different.
:
I can't believe I keep forgetting.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 3:46 PM UTC
Everyone has a habit.
Mine is biting my nails until I start to taste my fingers.
Everyone has a habit.
Mine is falling in love to quickly, like a clumsy school girl who always falls into her crushes arms, just to be dropped
Everyone has a habit.
Mine is getting rejected like a credit card that has been maxed out.
Everyone has a habit.
Mine is always saying the wrong thing. When ever I talk to a girl I become my secret identity : loser boy! My one power is repelling women away quicker than the flash runs around a shopping mall with a Visa card .
Everyone has a habit.
Mine is brushing my hair until it almost looks like something that I could love, my hair is a chain that links me to my skin color, like a slave hooked to an auctioneers stage. So I try to brush away my skin like getting rid of thick curls will change my heritage.
Everyone has a habit.
I have this really ****** habit of never being happy. I always pick apart things and find some reason to hate myself. Im always to tall, to black, to stupid. I can't be happy for long because when I do I destroy myself like an evil villains plot when he presses the self destruct button because he's lost confidence in his plan.
My biggest habit is smoking cigarettes made of sadness, and allowing depression to infect the rest of my body like terminal cancer. I can't recall if I smoke a pack a day anymore, it's a part of my everyday life. With every meal, movie or social interaction, I need a drag of sadness. There's this girl though, her smile is a nicotine patch, her voice is a message from my dr saying "we've found a cure, for your depression."
Now i can put down the pack.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 3:44 AM UTC
All the world's a *********
And all the lads and ladettes mere defecators,
Gratifying oozing exits and entrances;
And one man perforce enacts too many roles,
His acts being seven deaths. D'abord, the baby,
******** and ******* on his mummy's frock.
Then, the errant truant with his rucksack
And pock-marked wanker's face, creeping like death
Foul-trouser'dly to school. Next a teenager,
Panting like mad dog, with an oozing pustule
Dripping oe'r his girlfriend's pubics. Then a hoodie,
Full of strange oaths, and dressed up like a freak,
Lacking in honour, decency, and up for aggro,
Seeking the respect of loathsome peers
Even on the street corner. And then the adult
With bulging beer belly, and ample burgers stuff'd,
With eyes dulled by unfulfilled promises,
Mortgaged to the hilt, and indebted to Visa,
And so he wastes his life. The sixth age dawns
Before he knows it, bald futility,
With ****** in pocket, five quid a pill,
His youthful hopes well fuck'd, the world too much
For his ignorance, and his vain butch rantings
Reverting soon to teenage curses, coughs
And tobacco'd wheezings. Last we see him,
Ending a pointless and useless existence,
Clutching to his piss-stained Zimmer frame,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans pension fund.
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 4:54 PM UTC
Color isn't often defined by its being
Its defined by its number one object
Yellow can't be but a gold ring
And grey can't be but a rock yet
Grass is green, and green are trees
And visa-versa can be applied to these
But you can't draw a picture with a tree or a ring
You draw it with your soul
So if you ask what color means
To tell you that is my goal
Color is your soul
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 11:28 AM UTC
"Don't work with the Americans."
"Don't help the Americans."
This is what some of the Afghan interpreters are saying
After their poor treatment by the United States government
The Afghan Interpreters are angry
And they have a right to be
After most U.S. troops have left
Some are stuck hiding in Kabul
The Taliban tell the local people
That they are infidels
The Taliban **** many interpreters
The Afghan Interpreters struggle
Only about 30% get their visa
Some only have enough money
To make it to Greece
They live together
Barely any money
No hot water
Persecuted by the local police
One interpreter saved the life of an American soldier
The soldier helped him put together his visa packet
His visa took three years!!!
This interpreter had fought with them for 7 years
Had saved the lives of five American soldiers
Had been the personal interpreter for 12 U.S. senators
One interpreter
Did not leave on a flight approved by the U.S.
He had to leave on the next flight
Because the Taliban was threatening to **** him
Thankfully the U.S. soldier
Had a place for him to stay
And could give him some money
The soldier promised him
He would help him get resettlement benefits
Even though the U.S. government stated
He was not eligible to receive his benefits
Because he did not arrive on a U.S. approved flight
The Vice Interviewer
Learns from the lawyers working for the interpreters
That there is a massive bureaucracy
The Department of Defense doesn't consider them veterans
The soldier tried to get a bill introduced
That would streamline the process
And increases the number of visas
To help the Afghan Interpreters
No legislation regarding immigration was introduced
Because of bickering among Republican members
The program ran out in September of 2014
So now thousands will be stuck in Afghanistan
One interpreter that was interviewed
Was stuck in Afghanistan
Working as a taxi driver
Fearing for his life
Many of the Taliban prisoners
Have been released
Now he fears for his life
He doesn't know what will happen
6,000 applicants
For 280 available visas
As of July 2014
May God bless the Afghan interpreter
Trying to live his life in peace
May God bless the Afghan people
It seems things never change for them
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC