"wetback" poems - Hello Poetry

Ruddy's was the place to be on Wednesday nights, cheap drinks, free hotdogs and the graceful presence of Times Square hookers late at night, what a wonderful scene, marines hookers and the best jazz juke box inn manhattan, rowdy and something almost always happened, better than life. I was a young man in a strange country, had my fists tested in FLA and Brooklyn for stupid prejudices on my behalf and others, words hurt only those who do not know their meaning and root. There was a black man sitting next to me, quiet and still, a true barfly, he turned and said; - you are not from round here- - no - I said -I am from Mexico - - you don't look Mexican, but let's go with it, I don't look African American either- - r you from the south?- -Georgia, as they call it - -well, I've worked in FLA and met some rednecks, Cubans, blacks, but almost no Chinese- -you mean yellow- -or ******* - or **** you know men, I prefer racism down south, over there the distinction is cut loose clear, we don't like each other, but here, men I tell you, you wannanother beer?- -sure men- -Girls just wanna **** you cause I'm black, you know, to be cool and **** -yeah, Jewish girls wanna **** white Gentiles, different reasons same goal- -I hear you, here it's all about being fashionable, but deep in the pit it's all fake as a 10 dollar coin- We kept at it until Beth started a fight with another ****** they were calling each other **** I've never heard.

0

Aug 28, 2014

Aug 28, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC

luis-mdahuar

Dialogue between a **** and a blackman.

Ruddy's was the place to be on Wednesday nights, cheap drinks, free hotdogs and the graceful presence of Times Square hookers late at night, what a wonderful scene, marines hookers and the best jazz juke box inn manhattan, rowdy and something almost always happened, better than life. I was a young man in a strange country, had my fists tested in FLA and Brooklyn for stupid prejudices on my behalf and others, words hurt only those who do not know their meaning and root. There was a black man sitting next to me, quiet and still, a true barfly, he turned and said; - you are not from round here- - no - I said -I am from Mexico - - you don't look Mexican, but let's go with it, I don't look African American either- - r you from the south?- -Georgia, as they call it - -well, I've worked in FLA and met some rednecks, Cubans, blacks, but almost no Chinese- -you mean yellow- -or ******* - or **** you know men, I prefer racism down south, over there the distinction is cut loose clear, we don't like each other, but here, men I tell you, you wannanother beer?- -sure men- -Girls just wanna **** you cause I'm black, you know, to be cool and **** -yeah, Jewish girls wanna **** white Gentiles, different reasons same goal- -I hear you, here it's all about being fashionable, but deep in the pit it's all fake as a 10 dollar coin- We kept at it until Beth started a fight with another ****** they were calling each other **** I've never heard.

15

He entered our classroom Quietly Something in his hand A slip of paper Assigning him to English 11b English words Thick in his mouth He whispered his name, Jaime Chavez Jimmy Changa! someone mocked, Had one of them for supper Nice to know you burrito boy. Jaime Chavez smiled, And remembered. He entered our classroom Quietly Something in his hand A book Shakespeare Carefully noted In Spanish and English Jimmy Changa Someone mocked Whatcha got there? A book? You don’t need them to cut my lawn. Jaime Chavez smiled, And remembered He entered our classroom Quietly Something in his hand An award Superior achievement English 11b Jimmy Changa Someone mocked You didn’t earn that, ******* ****** **** Jaime Chavez smiled And remembered. He entered our classroom Quietly Something in his hand Full scholarship Princeton University In English Literature And something else A bumper sticker "God Bless America," Which he carefully tacked to the bulletin board My name is not Jimmy Changa. My name, is Jaime Chavez And he smiled.

0

Apr 17, 2013

Apr 17, 2013 at 4:07 PM UTC

ellis-reyes

Jaime Chavez

He entered our classroom Quietly Something in his hand A slip of paper Assigning him to English 11b English words Thick in his mouth He whispered his name, Jaime Chavez Jimmy Changa! someone mocked, Had one of them for supper Nice to know you burrito boy. Jaime Chavez smiled, And remembered. He entered our classroom Quietly Something in his hand A book Shakespeare Carefully noted In Spanish and English Jimmy Changa Someone mocked Whatcha got there? A book? You don’t need them to cut my lawn. Jaime Chavez smiled, And remembered He entered our classroom Quietly Something in his hand An award Superior achievement English 11b Jimmy Changa Someone mocked You didn’t earn that, ******* ****** **** Jaime Chavez smiled And remembered. He entered our classroom Quietly Something in his hand Full scholarship Princeton University In English Literature And something else A bumper sticker "God Bless America," Which he carefully tacked to the bulletin board My name is not Jimmy Changa. My name, is Jaime Chavez And he smiled.

56

I am Mexican: Brown and forgotten inbetween, Brown like the dirt poor I am. Iv'e been in hard labor: I do what "they" don't want to anymore, I am the backbone of the working class. Iv'e been poor: I see no handouts under the pyramid scheme, I am the Latin prince of the ghetto. Iv'e been a hustler: Every penny earned off my back Makes dollars for "their" pockets. Iv'e been here: I am no ******* I am the American dream, Still I must show identification. I am Mexican: Brown and four generations deep American, I am still The immigrant face.

0

Dec 13, 2015

Dec 13, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC

dedpoet

Mexican - based on Langston Hughes *****

I am Mexican: Brown and forgotten inbetween, Brown like the dirt poor I am. Iv'e been in hard labor: I do what "they" don't want to anymore, I am the backbone of the working class. Iv'e been poor: I see no handouts under the pyramid scheme, I am the Latin prince of the ghetto. Iv'e been a hustler: Every penny earned off my back Makes dollars for "their" pockets. Iv'e been here: I am no ******* I am the American dream, Still I must show identification. I am Mexican: Brown and four generations deep American, I am still The immigrant face.

20

i walk through towns modern in architecture modern in travel modern in appearance but the words spoke were [trapped] that fell into the gutters of the nation ****** ******* cracker camel jockey **** ***** **** squaw c o l o r e d littered the lips of a unified nation that crumbled at its core the moon is attainable but minds are trapped in ignorant comfort too afraid to face the date their phones flashed for a world found, little has been learn

0

Sep 9, 2014

Sep 9, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC

dirtyhippy

Stagnant

i walk through towns modern in architecture modern in travel modern in appearance but the words spoke were [trapped] that fell into the gutters of the nation ****** ******* cracker camel jockey **** ***** **** squaw c o l o r e d littered the lips of a unified nation that crumbled at its core the moon is attainable but minds are trapped in ignorant comfort too afraid to face the date their phones flashed for a world found, little has been learn

22

Life is far from fair. He was born to this place, but his ancestors took it by foot. So long ago he can’t remember what being the immigrant felt like. Can’t remember the xenophobic slurs were placed in other people's tongues to whip the different out of him. This took place so long ago now he doesn't remember what blood spill looks like, can't remember his fist drawn back. He is the **** Italian immigrant, the fire crotch Irishman, the Gew the ******* and now the towel heads. He is everyone who has made himself at home hear afraid again, that a new immigration will take all the parts of their home he loves the most. Forgetting quickly he was the ones marching last time around. Refugee is so much more of a statement then immigrant. An immigrant is looking for a better future. A refugee is looking for any at all. They fleeing from war torn promises and bombs that fall from the skies like rain. My government fears ISIS, those towel heads, they all look the same to our fear filled eyes, so we through them to the wayside. My government does not speak for me, I would welcome every refugee.Anyone who has that common enemy, who wants to fix it with love and a new life, I open my eyes and my arms wide.I remember that I didn't belong here at first, that we were promised something more. I can't deny that to you and yours, I welcome you. Life's not fair, it’s clear to see, I am sorry that you are you and I am me. Difference only in where I was born, difference in this is already my home.I am sorry. Sorry that those with fear filled hearts have no room left to welcome you. That they are so worried about what pain might feel like that they can not feel sorrow for the pain you are already felt. I am sorry. To every middle eastern refugee that has been denied the right to live humanely… all I can do is be sorry.

0

Dec 5, 2015

Dec 5, 2015 at 4:44 PM UTC

Rage

My government does not speak for me. I would welcome every refugee.

Life is far from fair. He was born to this place, but his ancestors took it by foot. So long ago he can’t remember what being the immigrant felt like. Can’t remember the xenophobic slurs were placed in other people's tongues to whip the different out of him. This took place so long ago now he doesn't remember what blood spill looks like, can't remember his fist drawn back. He is the **** Italian immigrant, the fire crotch Irishman, the Gew the ******* and now the towel heads. He is everyone who has made himself at home hear afraid again, that a new immigration will take all the parts of their home he loves the most. Forgetting quickly he was the ones marching last time around. Refugee is so much more of a statement then immigrant. An immigrant is looking for a better future. A refugee is looking for any at all. They fleeing from war torn promises and bombs that fall from the skies like rain. My government fears ISIS, those towel heads, they all look the same to our fear filled eyes, so we through them to the wayside. My government does not speak for me, I would welcome every refugee.Anyone who has that common enemy, who wants to fix it with love and a new life, I open my eyes and my arms wide.I remember that I didn't belong here at first, that we were promised something more. I can't deny that to you and yours, I welcome you. Life's not fair, it’s clear to see, I am sorry that you are you and I am me. Difference only in where I was born, difference in this is already my home.I am sorry. Sorry that those with fear filled hearts have no room left to welcome you. That they are so worried about what pain might feel like that they can not feel sorrow for the pain you are already felt. I am sorry. To every middle eastern refugee that has been denied the right to live humanely… all I can do is be sorry.

1

Mi compadre Mi esse Mi frijolero My ******* My ****** My border jumping My tunnel digging My river swimming My orange picking My lawn mowing My house building My taco eating My Mexican Friend

0

Mar 7, 2016

Mar 7, 2016 at 6:09 PM UTC

bofin

Border jumping beans

Mi compadre Mi esse Mi frijolero My ******* My ****** My border jumping My tunnel digging My river swimming My orange picking My lawn mowing My house building My taco eating My Mexican Friend

13

(alternately titled: ah me go march'n home on derange) I'll play the devil's advocate, yet prepare a stance with pitchfork against misinterpreted faux attempt to describe, how whet d'ya column re: immigration officials coe vet patrol, police, and poison tranquil casa blanca where killer attack dogs fiendishly pin set ting sharp fangs at jugular vein of respectful, dutiful, and blissful (or at least prior to being sniffed out) innocent long time laborer on American soil now get ting Das Boot to their unfamiliar Motherland (despite living social as law abiding righteous folks) fret full, cuz unfairly punished, and cruelly deported, dispirited, doomed pained visage non verbally articulates at un war rented deportation you bet! with just a flick of the wrist and alien hated, pigheaded, and xenophobic ventriloquist bring back the Alien and Sedition Acts with a Trumpeting Latina, Hispanic, and for good measure Mulatto twist, where original writ (signed into law by President John Adams in 1798), historical footnote, aye cannot resist spooking (like a ghost), those *** pill born south of the border pooped and ****** in potties of this proud country, sans free and brave now frightfully get flushed out glad to feign dis guise as one among select Geronimo cadre we henchman lubricate wheels of injustice myst tuff hie hiding dark shadows (along the edge of night) thence paddy wagon comes to screeching halt nabbing an "illegal alien" name on hit list code word "bag dad" (biggest quarry) and score a win for Barren Trump Tah Mahal Incorporated impossible mission special ops sentry slithers as trained fearless to shackle ******* ranked big hest catch also including ***** prize, as you correctly guessed.

0

Mar 13, 2018

Mar 13, 2018 at 2:33 AM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

Roundup Time At The "FAKE" Not Okay Corral

(alternately titled: ah me go march'n home on derange) I'll play the devil's advocate, yet prepare a stance with pitchfork against misinterpreted faux attempt to describe, how whet d'ya column re: immigration officials coe vet patrol, police, and poison tranquil casa blanca where killer attack dogs fiendishly pin set ting sharp fangs at jugular vein of respectful, dutiful, and blissful (or at least prior to being sniffed out) innocent long time laborer on American soil now get ting Das Boot to their unfamiliar Motherland (despite living social as law abiding righteous folks) fret full, cuz unfairly punished, and cruelly deported, dispirited, doomed pained visage non verbally articulates at un war rented deportation you bet! with just a flick of the wrist and alien hated, pigheaded, and xenophobic ventriloquist bring back the Alien and Sedition Acts with a Trumpeting Latina, Hispanic, and for good measure Mulatto twist, where original writ (signed into law by President John Adams in 1798), historical footnote, aye cannot resist spooking (like a ghost), those *** pill born south of the border pooped and ****** in potties of this proud country, sans free and brave now frightfully get flushed out glad to feign dis guise as one among select Geronimo cadre we henchman lubricate wheels of injustice myst tuff hie hiding dark shadows (along the edge of night) thence paddy wagon comes to screeching halt nabbing an "illegal alien" name on hit list code word "bag dad" (biggest quarry) and score a win for Barren Trump Tah Mahal Incorporated impossible mission special ops sentry slithers as trained fearless to shackle ******* ranked big hest catch also including ***** prize, as you correctly guessed.

48

**** they may as well have started holding hands And making paper dolls together, The way they carried on Back in the neighborhood after push came to shove, Like none of it ever happened: All the times they spit on us, The constant **** and ******* and goya, The ass-kickings if we went one alley too far. Peace didn’t last; hell, it couldn’t It’s just the way things have to be, man. If I ever got in front of some parole board (Not that I’ll ever have that chance, As I ain’t goin’ anywhere unless they send me To Auburn or Attica for some change of pace) This is what I’d tell ‘em: You come home to your nice house In your tidy little sub-development After a day at Corning or IBM, And you find out that some punk Has ******* one of your daughters And stuck a shiv into her quarterback boyfriend, What are you gonna do if you find him Hiding in one of your neighbor’s rosebushes? Exactly. Save the taxpayers the expense of a trial. Musta been a year, maybe eighteen months ago, This bunch of goody-goody types, All social workers and sweet boys, Show up here to put on some **** play Where this guy’s uncle kills his dad And starts puttin’ the blocks to his mom, And for hours it’s nothing but yak, yak, yak. And I’m thinking Man, could you just ice the guy, already. Let me tell you, I’ve never seen ‘Nardo’s ghost (Let alone that ****** Polack’s one) But if he ever shows, It ain’t gonna be to accuse me of nothin’; No, he’d smile and shake my hand, Because I did what the code said you gotta do. Just what the code said.

0

Mar 13, 2018

Mar 13, 2018 at 3:12 PM UTC

wk-kortas

Chino Rots Inside

**** they may as well have started holding hands And making paper dolls together, The way they carried on Back in the neighborhood after push came to shove, Like none of it ever happened: All the times they spit on us, The constant **** and ******* and goya, The ass-kickings if we went one alley too far. Peace didn’t last; hell, it couldn’t It’s just the way things have to be, man. If I ever got in front of some parole board (Not that I’ll ever have that chance, As I ain’t goin’ anywhere unless they send me To Auburn or Attica for some change of pace) This is what I’d tell ‘em: You come home to your nice house In your tidy little sub-development After a day at Corning or IBM, And you find out that some punk Has ******* one of your daughters And stuck a shiv into her quarterback boyfriend, What are you gonna do if you find him Hiding in one of your neighbor’s rosebushes? Exactly. Save the taxpayers the expense of a trial. Musta been a year, maybe eighteen months ago, This bunch of goody-goody types, All social workers and sweet boys, Show up here to put on some **** play Where this guy’s uncle kills his dad And starts puttin’ the blocks to his mom, And for hours it’s nothing but yak, yak, yak. And I’m thinking Man, could you just ice the guy, already. Let me tell you, I’ve never seen ‘Nardo’s ghost (Let alone that ****** Polack’s one) But if he ever shows, It ain’t gonna be to accuse me of nothin’; No, he’d smile and shake my hand, Because I did what the code said you gotta do. Just what the code said.

39