Best Immigrant Poems | Poetry

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New Immigrant Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Immigrant poems are below this new poems list.

Immigrant With Seniority by Ritz, P L
An Immigrant Hymn- my story against Trump by Saheb, Ritu
Everyone is an immigrant by nnoli, richard
IMMIGRANT by tran, hien
hey immigrant by schropp, jason
Story of an Illegal Immigrant by Ben, Su
IMMIGRANT GIRL by Bdosa, Vee
Immigrant Song by Rivenbark, A.E.
Underage Immigrant Crisis 2 by Carrillo, Lucilla
Underage Immigrant Crisis by Carrillo, Lucilla
Eyes of An Immigrant by Aalto, Kaela
Immigrant by Quinn, Bob
The Immigrant by Of Verses, Scribbler
Don't call me immigrant: for audrey williams-sapp by Shango, L'nass
Immigrant by Toro, Jorge
Immigrant Birdsong by Goff, James Marshall
Immigrant by Lowrey, Logan
Prayer Of An Immigrant by Santiago, Ernesto P.

View all new Immigrant Poems

The Best Immigrant Poems

 
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Rant

This town, this Silk Road
 had no toll to pay,
but now urban paralysis assaults
 its village precincts.
Industry and monolith malls
 rise from its clefts; eco-wilderness
morphs into multiplex cinemas;
 mini golf and carparks -
the 20th Century gold fields!

A new rush of debit credit
 borrow sorrow where
the mortgage belt go to covet,
 to con themselves -
live beyond their means! Here
 the sweatshops of Asia are legitimised
and exploitation of trafficked 
 slave, child, immigrant 
and asylum seeker is for sale;

here the suffering of others 
 is repackaged, bulk sold,
discounted - a great lie perpetrated 
 on human aspiration!
Seven billion sins for a spoil
 and a ransom in higher  
income streams of consciousness; 
 while our mills, our plants,
our factories are graveyards.

Now warehouses fill with IKEA;
 pizza ovens; microwaves;
big screen TVs; nouveau riche kitsch!
 Genetically modified
superfoods in quick fix cryogel 
 nuked in flavour enhancers;
sweeteners; emulsifiers; palm oil;
 and sodium nitrate for
poison addicts of convenience -
 
a fill that knows no limits;
 where saints of haute 
cuture bow down before the anorexic 
 altar of the Fatted Calf,
to the offerings of culture spin.
 Already the subliminal 
wave is a tsunami, and we a ship
 of fools on the rising tide  
blown on a contrary wind!

I fear my quiet desperation -
 the cold ironies of fate...
what once was will never be again!
 I fear the blitzkrieg;
billboards; razzle dazzle;
 the Drive Thrus of Americana; 
vandals of corporate graffiti;
 that uglified futuristic 
aesthetic of urban ubiquity;

high towers of critical mass;
 death of community.
I fear the currency of naked ideology;
 where usury is the ends
that justifies the means! The gulf
 between old and new;
real and fake; where ravenous
 jackals and wolves feed on
the carcass of idyll idealism!

I fear the whores of dystopia; 
 pimps and moneylenders;
oracles of the grand evangelical sell
 who reap our confessions!
I fear lepers walking its streets;
 human languish and loss;
mad scientologists at my gate
 and the cults of hysteria 
dividing God from Godless. 
 
So what now of my chimera?
 What of my anti-hero
anachronisms? One day I must leave
 but today I write my rant.
Listen! This town, this pastoral
 lay has become to my 
ear an echo dumb of sound -
 to my youth's wistful eye
a place and past of no return. 


               -----------




          September 1994


Copyright © Keith Trestrail | Year Posted 2014

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UNSELFISH LOVE

I was blessed to know a woman in my life
Who faced hard times, struggle, and strife.
A Chinese immigrant, she came from a poor town
Lost her husband, was kept from her daughter, but not kept down.

She had three other children who were born here
Getting them a better life was her biggest fear.
She had to fend for herself and them alone you see,
Speaking little of the language in this foreign country.

But, she had always lived a determined life
So she fought back...with a fork and a knife.
She opened a restaurant in a small community
Where her gracious manner made her friends instantly.

Her children would grow up in town with new friends
The restaurant she opened was the mean to her ends.
She worked very hard...sometimes eighteen hours a day
She never complained because that was her way.

Her life's expectations knew more successes sublime
The restaurant grew...one egg roll at a time.
She once told me of the anxiety she felt at the money she'd spent...
Laughing said, "My uncle said sell 2 qts of Chop Suey/Day...you've got the rent."

She was a woman who chose kindness as she felt had to her been shown
To people far and near her generosity was known.
She was thankful that she had the opportunity
To give back with love rather than animosity.

I first met her over some 30 years back
She struck me from the that moment as a person who had the knack
To make others feel at home though strangers they be
She certainly did, because she did it to me.

I still remember her caring for me...it was shown
Once caught in a blizzard, she opened her home.
So often was there a path to this woman's door
Though she stood, less than 5 foot 4.

Her heart was as big and wonderful as one would want
An earthly angel, she was heaven sent.
Though her health began to wane later in life
She never gave in to that world of strife.

Her eyesight began to fail and it was difficult for her to see
But that didn't stop her or her generosity.
She loved people and filled everyone with cheer
Ever thankful that she had had a life here.

Though she is gone I'll never forget her face
Or her love of life, devotion to family, and unstoppable pace.
To me I'll ever be thankful to have had the joy
Of calling her "Ma" ... ONE IN A MILLION~was Connie Moy!

1st Place Winner - "One in a Million" Poetry Contest



Copyright © Daniel Cwiak | Year Posted 2010




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The Pied Piper from New York City - Part Two

The Pied Piper from New York City – Part Two

This is quite despicable and very inappropriate for someone holding the 
“Highest Office in Our Land.” The Pied Piper hides his treachery by
Wrapping himself in the glory of the “Stars and Stripes.” Talk about
True shame! He should look in the mirror!  

The “Forgotten Man” who represents those who fell prey to the inflated
Promises and mindless propaganda of The Pied Piper, should not at all
Be surprised later when they suddenly discover—they’ve been “had,” 
That is,
Sadly, forgotten by their Pied Piper,
Replete with his famous Trademark Attributes: 
Thin-skin, 
Clay-feet, 
Twitter-thumbs and
A shrill-accusatory voice.

The Pied Piper, as new-style politician, is also mired in some other
key controversies with his family that are worth mentioning.

Since coming to Washington, DC and ascending to the White House
on January 20, 2017:

The Pied Piper and his family have viewed the nation’s capital and
the people’s house as,

“Luscious Juicy Plums—Ripe for the Picking!”

And, the Pied Piper’s various plans and actions since his ascension
to the presidency are certainly not done necessarily in favor of the
American people—if at all!

Characteristically, he enjoys playing to people’s “Fears,” rather
than taking the higher road that any good leader would do, by
appealing to the “Better Angels of Their Nature.” For sure, an 
Abraham Lincoln, he’s not, nor shall he ever be!    

Indeed, the Piped Piper has done some very naughty things,
among others, already to his credit and ignominy:

His poorly-conceived and implemented Muslim travel ban.

Playing “Chicken” with the U.S. Congress on the state and 
quality of American healthcare.

Using the White House as his own personal ATM machine.

Becoming the “Patron Saint of Nepotism” with the inclusion
of select family members on his staff. (What’s wrong with a
little nepotism, eh?)

Engulfed in multiple business conflicts of interest, both foreign
and domestic.

Revelations of potential collusion with Russia and Russian
surrogates to interfere with the 2016 presidential election.

Blatant violations of the Emoluments Clause of the U.S.
Constitution.

And he’s just now quashed executive branch protection of the 
DACA Dreamer Immigrant Program. 

All these very naughty things are: tragic, thoughtless, sad, stupid,
and grossly reprehensible!

With all this, I now rest my case!

Yet, I would like to encourage everyone to reflect for a
critical moment on “The Fragile Nature of Democracy.”
 
“Democracy,” itself, has been viewed and likened to:
“That Most Precious Fabergé Egg.”

We all must devoutly cherish this most precious Fabergé Egg
called “Democracy.”

And protect it always from the unscrupulous actions of the
Pied Pipers of the World!

For us to do otherwise—would be unforgivable! 

Need I say more?

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 7, 2017 (Political Verse)


Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2017

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Tiptoe

Tiptoe, tiptoe, what they say is not what they say it is . . . 

Cameras rolling, take one, action! 
“How stupid can you be? You’re fired!”    
He told a judge quite candidly. 

In take two, from his office on Fifth Avenue,  
He tweeted,  “Nobody has more respect 
For women than I do.” 

On take three 
During a press conference, 
“We’ll blow terrorist Al-Baghdadi 
Out of existence.” 

Then he stood, saluted the flag, and 
Ordered General “Mad Dog” to protect the land. 

Tiptoe, tiptoe, what they say is not what they say it is . . .

They say Doomsday is coming, 
Polar caps are melting,  
An asteroid just missed us today  
Iranians want a bomb 
To explode in Armageddon, 
And North Korea tested 
A long-range missile yesterday. 

Both sides are wrong... 

Beware, or pay dearly, 
To the victor belongs the spoils, 
For in the land of the free and 
Home of the braves, 
A new boss man's in town

Fake news on display...bad men raining down 

Tiptoe, tiptoe, what they say is not what they say it is . . .

The boss is riding, guns ablaze, shooting at the sun, 
Stirring up flames all across America, Russia,  and China— 
The whole world’s wondering, who's this character? 

Wake up and smell the coffee! 

Republicans say, 
“He's the forty-fifth  President today,
Top dog in Washington,
Who can activate the nuclear bomb.” 

With the greatest memory around...

He says America will be great again 
Then placed a ban on Muslims coming in.  
He made it clear to Peña Nieto, 
Bad hombres must go, 
That a wall on the border 
Will stop the illegal immigrant flow 

Tiptoe, tiptoe, what they say is not what they say it is…


Copyright © Arturo Michael | Year Posted 2017

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Winter's End

A robin's song is heard nearby, so faint and sweet is the sound. Showing now it’s winter’s end. For the baby birds will flap their wings and cry to their mothers. The wild mare will gallop to her secret place and lay in the green fields again to bring a new life to her band. A snow leopard creeps along the craggy mountains a white owl flies silently back to her den. But on the breeze a change is felt, Blowing now on past. Showing forth a hint of thaw, upon this winter cast. Every day the sun does shine with just a bit more heat. The air seems just a bit fresher, with every breath more sweet. Green needles sprouting A rebellion taking place Against snowy ground Winter's end comes with soggy streets and green saplings of young love and renewed friendships. Immigrant season, empty hands looking for work, finding promise in pockets of dust, bringing back the birds, competitive as pretty sisters bickering in birdsong, speaking of seeds. Spring, wetting itself, wipes muddy feet at the door then passes through without notice. As the sun warms the sidewalks, The sandy beach and our soul. Green sprouts everywhere, in a brightness of different shades. Gone are red cheeks, cold icy lips, Layered clothing and frosty fingertips.
+++ January 18, 2015 Form : Free Verse (Epic)


Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2015

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I Want To Love You

I want to feel you like a petal feels the wind I want to touch you like dewdrops touch my skin I want to hold you like moon shadows hold a star I want to tickle you like the flutter of a butterfly tickles my heart from fields afar I want to lay my head upon your lap like a child lays his head upon the lap of a sterile mother in her fertile dream I want to miss you like an immigrant misses his home-land The land which deceived his opportunities yet embraced his early footsteps Poured his first tear in a stream I want to think of you,ardently I want to seek for you,secretly In the same way those paramour's enchanting eyes seek and wander for his flamboyant mistress I want to live dying to have you like a hero dies in battlefield dying to capture his daughter's smile knowing that the last glimpse of her is a worn out sanguined picture I want to find you in the same way my faith finds God Without seeing,without knowing With all doubts,questions and mysteries With all that I was,with all that I am and all I ever will be I want to love you


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2014

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11-9-2016

11-9-2016

On Election night, twentysixteen
I saw a strange and surreal scene
I looked cross the great harbor at Lady Liberty that night
And I knew right away, something wasn’t right
I saw Lady Liberty and she was crying
Because the America she loved, now was dying

She once welcomed millions to this golden shore
But now they ‘re not welcome here anymore
I thought of Ellis Island, where they once came through the doors
Millions of feet crossing the Great Hall’s floors

They brought their hopes, they brought their dreams 
They brought their plans, they brought their schemes
They brought their laughter, they brought their tears
They brought their love and they brought their fears

They came with their families or came alone
Some names we know, but most unknown

They joined the huddled masses already here
The marginalized, the forgotten, the second-class tier
The wretched refuse that made this land great
Yet met with derision, scorn and hate

the First Peoples of this Mother Earth
forced off the land of their ancestors birth
forced to flee, run and hide
one step ahead of the Genocide

those that suffered from old Jim Crow
pleading for rights, met with a NO
When they were polite and asked with a Please
They were met with a Noose thrown over the trees

Many worked hard and were met with success
Their children grew up to be America’s best
Many here now forget where they came
Their immigrant ancestor, can’t remember the name
Can’t remember the ancestor that came here by boat
Can’t remember the issues or the last vote

Once we were great but that’s in the past
Don’t blame us that it didn’t last
Our country is changing from sea to sea
Too many people not like me

The only way is to take it back
go out and stop them, go on the attack
The others are the people that caused our pain
Push them all out,  again we will gain

So he vowed an America, that’s once again great
To get there, he said, America must hate
Hate those others that are not like us
Put them again on the back of the bus
America first! and thats not all
protect ourselves, lets build a wall
We can bring back the greatness of a past day
All we have to do is chant U-S-A

The lamp beside the golden door
Doesn’t seem so bright anymore

It sounds so simple, but it’s really so Grand
An idea we once used to build this land
E Pluribus Unum, Out of Many, One
An idea that that’s Sinking with the Setting Sun

By John Gordon









Copyright © John Gordon | Year Posted 2016

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For the Girl with the Brand New Toothbrush

 The Girl with the Brand New Toothbrush

    [ame="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fF6X4jwBnOc"]YouTube[/ame]


    For the girl with the brand new toothbrush
    Waiting on a one night stand
    We didn’t have to tell the Truth much
    Didn’t make many plans
    Got right down to the good stuff
    Fulfilled exchanged demands
    Till the next day at constant play of bouncing batter ram

    For the girl with the Colgate toothbrush
    The one I’ll never use again
    No one had to introduce us
    I never had to meet your friends
    Never got ugly and ruthless
    Never threw you out again
    One time one day wonderful lay
    So glad I’ve been your man

    #in away at her newness
    Working a wiggle in
    Willy was well made to do this
    willing do it again
    Wasn’t constrained by rudeness
    wasn’t ever worried bout them
    But like a werewolf Willy went wild with the moon just whaling at a womb till ten

    This song goes out to the toothbrush
    A hard body put in her bin
    Only an angel’d do thus
    serendipity sin
    Rampant replicant, Rembrant
    Pant participant now
    Insignificant remnant
    of magnificent meow

    (Well spent sycophant content
    “What a wonderful! WOW”
    Wham went impotent, wham went
    Whamin through that some how)
    Dawn sent immigrant intent
    Brushing our teeth and chow
    Last philanderant indent
    On MAGNIFICENT MEeeeeOW 



Copyright © Dan Short | Year Posted 2016

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The Devil & The Kennedys (Part One)

An Irish Catholic immigrant,
a prideful man was he,
his ego out-weighed his bankbook,
and he hated poverty.

He fathered many children,
and most of them were sons,
the eldest son, Joe Jr.,
was always number one.

Piously he prayed for wealth,
but never worked a day,
and Satan waited patiently
for the words he knew he'd say.

He spent more time at his Irish pub,
as his malignant bitterness grew,
cursing God, cursing life,
cursing all he knew.

And, yes, those words did pass his lips,
and, lo, he did appear,
but he looked like a gentleman,
his smile seemed so sincere.


Copyright © Danielle White | Year Posted 2009

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An Immigrants Position

I came first but you did not write me in history
You made me mute, invisible, estranged
From my own heredity and great memory
With the slivering tongue arranged 
Upon my brain. You brought me back, later
Across the wet desert of the Atlantic 
From coffle to cotton, without choice in the matter
So I would believe I was a lunatic.

For only lunatics have no sense of place or name
Make roads they cannot walk, make garments
That cannot cover the stereotypes of shame.
I proved genius in better moral arguments
Did not let me take your life for all your cruelty.
Here is one more for your book, from islands
To continents I made them all the same
 You left them blood and gold from your hands
Dripping, I followed you with a different name

Look again, who is the immigrant? Who do you fool?
Let me not deny your stealth, this separation
Of the vine from the root, by dividing you rule
But before you set us at variance, a suggestion
What is the DNA of all your wealth, the legacy
Of pirates and slaves? There is no beggar's hand
Here, just agents to recoup with undue courtesy
The treasures stolen from love and native land


Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2009

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Eyes of An Immigrant

The musty, foul smelling
Boat rocks
The room is dim
And silent
Everyone is waiting 
For the shores of Ellis Island
They hope to have a new life
Start over in America
The room awakens
When the captain yells
"Land ahead"
Everyone cheers
I see the gleaming copper Statue of Liberty
I can smell the fresh salty air
My heart is filled with optimism
My dreams are so close to coming true
But the same cannot be said for others
Some are sent back for illness
Or not enough money
Or no ride
They send you back
To that hopeless land
Back on the dim boat
Where dreams once lived but now are lost
Yet others are let through
To the country of America
Where a better life awaits
Filled with hope
In the land of opportunity
I smile a happy smile
I am almost there


Copyright © Kaela Aalto | Year Posted 2013

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AMERICAN SOLDIER RISE

A FOREIGNER ASKED THIS QUESTION OF ME
“WHERE CAN I IN U.S. FIND SOLDIER TO SEE?”
HIS ENGLISH WAS BROKEN, BUT CLEARLY RECEIVED
YET, HOW COULD I BEST EXPLAIN WHAT I BELIEVED
THE ANSWER I GAVE TO THIS QUESTIONABLE TASK
SURPRISED HIM ACCORDING TO WHAT HE HAD ASKED
I SAID, “AN AMERICAN SOLDIER WAS MORE….
THAN SOMEONE ENLISTED OR SENT OFF TO SHORE”
“AN AMERICAN SOLDIER HAS MORE TO BE SEEN….
THAN A MAN OR A WOMAN IN CAMOUFLAGE GREEN”
HIS QUESTION HAD MADE ME LOOK DEEPER WITHIN 
BECOMING AWARE OF HOW BLESSED I HAD BEEN
I POINTED MY FINGER AROUND SO HE’D SEE
THAT ALL THOSE AROUND US WE’RE SOLDIERS TO ME
INCLUDING THAT SMALL CHILD NEXT DOOR PLAYING BALL
THAT PERSON SALUTING THE FLAG STANDING TALL
THAT FATHER AND SON OUTSIDE PLAYING TOGETHER
THAT MOTHER AND DAUGHTER EMBRACING EACH OTHER
THAT DOCTOR OR NURSE SHOWING CARE TO THE ILL
THAT ELDERLY VETERAN-QUIET AND STILL
THAT CASE WORKER HELPING THOSE WITH SPECIAL NEEDS
THAT MINISTER PRAYING FOR ALL TO BELIEVE
THAT BANKER AND POSTMAN WHO WORKS ALL DAY LONG
THAT ARTIST AND SINGER WHO PAINTS US A SONG
THAT SINGLE MOM DOING THE BEST THAT SHE COULD
THAT TEEN WHO CONTINUES TO LIVE LIKE HE SHOULD
THAT AMERICAN IMMIGRANT LEGALLY HERE
THAT MAN IN HIS WHEELCHAIR YEAR AFTER YEAR
THAT PROTESTER MARCHING AND SHOUTING HIS VIEWS
THAT SPOKESPERSON GIVING THE SIX O’CLOCK NEWS
THAT CHRISTIAN WHO’S KNEELING AND PRAYING ALONE
THAT MOTHER OR WIFE WORKING DAILY AT HOME
THAT WOMAN WITH CANCER IS ALSO A FIGHTER
THAT WIDOW WHO CLINGS TO HER MEMORIES TIGHTER
THAT MERCHANT THAT SELLS US OUR FOOD AND OUR OIL
THAT CHILD BEING BORN ON AMERICAN SOIL
THEY ALL ARE AMERICANS DOING THEIR PART
AND IN SOME SMALL WAY THEY ARE SOLDIERS AT HEART
I ENDED MY TALK BECAUSE HOW HE WAS STARING
AS IF WITH CONFUSION AT WHAT I WAS SHARING
HE THEN, IN HIS CUSTOM, STOOD STRAIGHT WHILE HE NODDED
LOOKED AT ME AND QUIETLY-SOFTLY APPLAUDED
I THEN SHED A TEAR WHEN HE SPOKE THIS TO ME
“AN AMERICAN SOLDIER IN YOU I CAN SEE”
HE WALKED AWAY AND APPEARED TO HAVE FOUND CLOSURE
WHILE I STOOD THERE PRAISING GOD FOR THE REAL SOLDIER
THAT REAL ONES NOW SERVING RIGHT HERE AND ABROAD
I STAND AND SALUTE YOU AND LOUDLY APPLAUD
TO THOSE WHO ARE SERVING AND THOSE WHO HAVE DIED
FOR THOSE WHO ONCE SERVED AND REMEMBER WITH PRIDE
THE STRUGGLES OF WAR TO KEEP FREEDOM WON’T CEASE
FOR FREEDOM EXIST WHILE YOU FIGHT TO BRING PEACE
BECAUSE OF YOUR SACRIFICE GIVEN EACH DAY
I’M ABLE TO LIVE IN THIS GREAT U.S.A

THE RED, WHITE AND BLUE IS WHAT SHINES IN YOUR EYES
AMERICAN SOLDIER...RISE



Copyright © gregory boyer | Year Posted 2013

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IMMIGRANT GIRL

       IMMIGRANT GIRL
Remembering this night of our last touch,
when nothing is between us we should know,
in love with loving you, and just how much
I wonder where in time do such nights go?

Forbidden like a box all sealed up tight,
or like the burning Zeus refused to share
with mortals such as we, and on this night,
Pandora's box is opened everywhere,

you are, this night, my first and only love
and always shall remain this part of me,
created from the earth and waters of
our night when Aphrodite let it to be.

       And I am more than blessed for loving you
          illegal though you are, it's what l do.
©ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet


Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2014

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The Melting Pot- a soup pot of giants-w

    


The United States is a vast country of immigrants
Each immigrant adds an ingredient and a flavor
“A melting pot”, visualizing a soup pot of giants
Each and every culture has some fine gifts to offer.

Immigration began in 1607 with Jamestown colony
Immigrants arriving called themselves pilgrims here
Where they could practice their own religion freely
Each and every culture has some fine gifts to offer. 

Self-reliance of New England in the north and in Boston
Almost for two centuries an economic-cultural centre
And south “southern drawl” the most colorful region 
Each and every culture has some fine gifts to offer.

The West, the last frontier, the move Westward impact
To find new opportunity, to live a new life in a way better
The Great Lakes Region, an auto industry stacked in fact
Each and every culture has some fine gifts to offer.


Now shifting toward multiculturalism, not assimilation
The old “melting pot” replaced by “salad bowl” metaphor 
Or still new “mosaic” not blending immigrant population
Each and every culture has some fine gifts to offer.

===================================

Dr. Ram Mehta

Eighth Place win 

Contest: America the melting pot for freedom by Dane Ann


Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2011

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Underage Immigrant Crisis

Underage Immigrant Crisis Part 1 We are having a big problem here in Texas, by the border. It is turning into a dilemma. A lot of underage children are coming into the United states, from El Salvador, Honduras and Guatemala. These immigrants are only kids. They are running away from poverty, gangs and their lives being threaten. They come here to reunite with parents, or relatives that already live here. At one time President Obama said that any child that reached American soil, would not be sent back to their native Country. I think that people confused his words. He never said for them to send them by the thousands. Now it seems that their own families are sending them, or paying the coyotes big money to bring them here. Last year 24.000 children cross over. This year they expect 90.000. What can we do? This is a big problem. In their journey to get here - these children encounter a lot of dangers. Some get raped, some get killed and some are taken by the Cartels and forced to work for them. Still some get here, but without an ear, or some fingers missing. They do that so their relatives can pay more money to save their lives. These kids come to the Texas Valley, than they bring them to Houston. From here they take them to California, where they are not wanted. I think we should be more human with them, by that I mean - maybe we should let them stay with their families that are here already and help the ones that have no one. What do you think?
To be continued: 07/11/2014 By Lucilla M. Carrillo


Copyright © Lucilla Carrillo | Year Posted 2014

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HAPPY VOTING - WELCOME TO THE UK IMMIGRATION ASYLUM

HAPPY VOTING - WELCOME TO THE UK 
IMMIGRATION ASYLUM


There are poor people in
the UK and their plight is
always ignored,
The government don't
want to know - but they
invite others on board.
The lunatics of the asylum
are in the government,
Making a bloody mess
and a total argument.

The UK has poor people - 
yet they are all penalised,
Maybe because of their
culture, as they are so 
despised.
The UK is now FULL - and
we cannot take anymore,
We should copy Australia - 
and show immigrants the
door!

We always cater for the
foreigner - and help is
what they get.
Giving them all sanctuary - 
and offering them a
cigarette!
Our UK government really
has the money.
But they give it all to the
invaders - even if they're
phony!

Come on in! You are so
welcome! To little Britain's
shores.
Whatever our own people
get - you can also call it
yours!
The EU is so corrupt - and
the members are on the
fiddle,
Scratching each others 
bottoms - with a dame in
the middle!

Voting now for a better
life - but we've heard all
this before.
Every time it's polling day - 
it is a bloody bore!
There is no one to trust - 
in the crowded little
Britain,
But if you are an immigrant - 
you will be truly smitten!

And even if you lose your
seat - and become a down 
and out.
You can always get a plum
job - earning lots of clout!
There is no end to the perks
of the office, especially in the
Whitehall Office.
Then if you are voted out - 
China is on the surface!

The joys of being an MP - or
a councillor in the UK.
The perks are bloody endless,
everything's okay!
Even if you are an MP, and
married to a transgender,
Just keep it to yourself - or
sing: 'Love Me Tender!'

But we should now say; 
'NO!' And not take any more.
Please pull up the drawbridge
and kick them out the door.
We are way too soft - but 
the money's always plenty.
But if you are a "WHITE" UK
resident - you will NOT get
a bloody penny.


((HAPPY VOTING!!!!))


BY
DARRYL ASHTON


Copyright © Darryl Ashton | Year Posted 2016

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Do or die migration

           
       do or die migration 
Every one see that sea
From North Africa 
Close to Europe 

Every one see that sea 
Close to Australia 

Ever one see the little boat
Jam parked like a can of sadden 
Full of people called immigrant 
Where are they from ????????

Do or die migration 
Let see if we know this people 
Just like a reality tale 
In some places 
Are set of people living like 
They got no help nor care
Like a hell on earth 
This people have a government 
This people have leaders 
Hello does this ring a bell
Yet the fire of poverty keep 
Burning 
So frustration drive them to 
The little boat jam park of sadden
Where and what is this place 
Called ????????

Do or die migration 
Let see if we know this place
This place this immigrant comes from
In some parts of this world 
An empire show the power from 
Above 
In trying to create their identity 
They devalue human 
Devour innocent souls 
The survivor now try's to migrate 
Rushing to the little boat
Jam park like a sadden 
What part of the world are they 
From ????????

Do or die migration 
I know every big shark 
Will love to live in this 
Part if the sea
Where day by day 
Night by night 
Souls drawn while 
On a journey of survival
On a run to safety 
What can make a human 
Take this risk 
Leaves me with a ???????
Question mark  
Note
With a humble heart I dedicate this 
Poem to the souls lost on the sea while trying to migrate to the land of safety mostly to my lost friend from Nigeria  wale tunde!




Copyright © richard nnoli | Year Posted 2015

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IMMIGRANTS

There has been such a backlash against immigrants
that I decided I would put out a thought.  
Do we remember the immigrants
Who for our country fought?

Starting with our revolution
when this country was born in 1776.
There were immigrants who fought by our side
Von Steuben, Kosciuszko, and Pulaski were among the mix.

What have they done since then you ask,
to keep our country great ?
There are those who battled oppression with us
even up to the present date.
 
I do not know of particulars in 1812
or even in WW I.
But if immigrants didn't fight for us
They joined the 'Melting Pot' that eventually made us one.

WW II is another chapter
of immigrant oppression we let go awry.
How long could we have fought that war
Had the Nisei not gone to Italy?

I have had great kindness in my life
by two different immigrant cultures shown.
One was Puerto Rican;  the other Chinese 
who accepted me as one of their own.

It was more than kindness.
It was a true caring and love in their way.
One gave me the confidence to move ahead in life
The other became my family.

Without the strength of these diverse immigrants in my life
I don't know where I might have gone.
I would certainly not be here writing
but somewhere else...lost and alone.

So when I hear people loudly rail
about an "Immigrant Crisis of State",
Remember, We all came from roots elsewhere
This is what makes our country Great!






Copyright © Dan Cwiak | Year Posted 2015

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Immigrant Song

We came to this glacial paradise
Frigid and arid, the weather's nice
Much like our Motherland
And so we made it ours box of sand
As it made us its slaves
We tamed each other in shallow graves
Free from starvation, 
No need for a proclamation

Chorus
We don't own the land, We don't own the sea
Don't need money, don't need greed
So take my hand, a family we'll be
On solid ground, we'll plant our seed

We came to this rock
Steadfast and strong as an ox
Free from the judgement
Or any negative sentiment
We'll feast under suspicion as we please
Breeding contempt and bringing disease
Like rabbits!
And we made this land, and we shackled mules
And its inhabitants we took as their fools

Chorus 

We were hauled to their farms
Steady suppers and whipping charms
How dare we suggest we're human
Rights are granted, but not to "vermin"
You're free to enjoy starvation, 
You'll have to beg us for a proclamation

Chorus 

We came to this deserted strand
Branded traitors to our clan
And labelled usurpers to the old tribes
When to their customs we don't subscribe
Watch in growing dismay
When a nation once united begins to fray

 Chorus 2X
--------------------
Food for thought.


Copyright © A.E. Rivenbark | Year Posted 2014

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Beginning of the Downfall

I was a senior in high school and I still remember
That Friday afternoon in late November
Early dismissal after saying a prayer
Disbelief and sadness filling the air

He was a man with vision and a silver tongue
He was the type of leader who inspired the young
A political wisdom in spite of his youth
They appointed a commission to suppress the truth

A Russian immigrant would be accused of the crime
They had him shot to give the cover up more time
Witnesses died mysteriously over the next five years
Media controls what the nation hears

Too many questions still unanswered today
With government involvement they all got away
The story on every radio and television station
Watching the beginning of the downfall of a nation.

   In my heart, I believe Lee Harvey Oswald, Jack Ruby
And the American people were all victims of a cover up
By our own government. God Bless JFK.


Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2011

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Sarah Marie Johnson

Sarah Johnson is, and will always be a cold, heartless murderer. She has no empathy for what she did to both of her own parents, Diane and Alan Johnson. Her friends and family can't even believe that a sweet girl would kill both of her own parents over some guy. They knew that Sarah wasn't supposed to get into this so-called "serious relationship" with this guy named Bruno Santos. The illegal immigrant was three years older than her, especially when he is still known for having a criminal history. It's sad to hear that Mr. and Mrs. Johnson had to die that soon. The entire Johnson family had their lives ahead of them. Sarah Johnson is a heartless liar, an assassin, and on top of all that, she has no soul. The girl was afraid that both of her parents would go to the police and have her so-called "boyfriend" arrested and charged for statutory rape, so Miss Johnson killed them. Now, that was a cowardly move. The reason why Sarah Johnson had killed both of her own parents (mother and father) is because for one, they were going to send him straight to jail for dating a then-sixteen-year-old and they grounded her for life, as in, "indefinitely." Everybody, including her brother, knows that Sarah has no heart and no soul. But in the end, I guess society is better off with Sarah Marie Johnson in prison for the rest of her life. And as far as the citizens of Bellevue, Idaho, her family and her high school friends are concerned, prison is where she belongs. She wasn't abused by both of her parents, but I still can't believe she killed them in cold blood. Now that's what everybody's talking about: a cold, calculates sociopath with no remorse for what she did and had felt no empathy. Sarah Johnson will always be remembered as a bad woman with a selfish ego. And if all types of homicides (matricide, fratricide, and/or parricide) continue to increase, there's no telling what bad thing might happen next.


Copyright © Brashard Bursey | Year Posted 2011

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dr tweddle and dr friend of alberta hospital edmonton

you may not have been the doctors who did nerve damage to my face
but you had the worst time seeing this my way
god gave me a divine right as a man to function
which means achieving an erection

never seen me in a better mental state?
fat and covered in rashes wiping my snot into the couch as i lay on the floor

wasn't supposed to be in your hell hole

lets see you go through what i went through and not have a nervous breakdown

grandpa in a coma
grandma crippled
three of my friends rumored to be murdered
so i went insane? had a nervous breakdown?
didnt understand my obsessive compulsive disorder
which you diagnosed
3 or 4 times every two months

ive been schitsophrenic
schitso effective mood disorder
manic bi polar
depressed

and as graham wyse sat there in that cell for four years without seeing daylight
without you ever letting him even use a toilet
i kept thinking to myself
i am going to kill you one day you sick f$%cks
as the rumors circulated of certain patients beeing touched in perverted ways
the people who have been there their whole lives like arthur butler
just to die
like andrew who shouldn't even be there
watching an old man forced to walk around with a broken foot

and that christmas eve when i spelled tidalwave on the scrabble board
while they were eating the readers digest
and singing b i n g o
you wouldn't let me go until you made me cry

hey sorry for being victomised for caring about the people in my life that had been struck by 
tragedy, and not being able to handle having that much on my plate when i was young

this has gone on forever
the fire trucks that have stalked me
seeing the police at their worst
tased outside my previous place of employment because some immigrant F$%KAS$ CALLED 
THE COPS BECAUSE THE MACHINE ATE MY LAUNDRY CARD 

scrambling from place to place for years now
no power
no heat
a constant fight to hook up a phone
the letters that never make it anywhere
eating a box of cheerios a handful a day because someone frauded my account

end up in some beiseker concentration camp
to grow a lump on my jaw
and bleed from my bowels
cry so hard im screaming from the pain in my testicles
to call 911 daily to argue over the name of the particular veign in my leg that is causing me 
pain
to end up back in some hell hole mental institute where they have given me nerve damage

some day some where we will meet again
your date with destiny
my cold plate fro you to eat
revenge


Copyright © Troy Jeremy Nelson | Year Posted 2010

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Not in the Job Description

A hive of activity, twenty four hours,
The centre was where they controlled,
All the technicians, in all of our vans,
Delivering the service we sold.

But in the small hours, those there at night,
Would tell a strange story to all.
About a small woman who looked very sad,
And seemed to walk right through the wall.

This came quite a problem, for staff working there
Refused to be present alone.
Although the late shift would need only one,
Nobody would work on their own.

Their manager called me, for I was her boss,
And said this needs sorting today.
She knew I had knowledge of things of this sort,
And asked me to chase it away.

Now can you imagine, the rules I would break,
If I had agreed to this task.
A senior manager leading his staff,
In a séance, is that what you ask?

But somehow this problem seemed deeper to me,
A poor soul adrift with no light.
Although staff were frightened and that was quite bad,
The woman was tied to her plight.

I gathered my team from the centre right there,
And met at my home late that night.
A manager, supervisor, controller as well.
With for some others, we’d try to do right.

Though none of the people who worked in this place,
Had walked on this pathway before.
Almost as soon as we dimmed down the lights,
The voice from my ‘manager’ swore.

She’d gone in full trance and as plain as could be,
Was the lady who shared her workplace.
But t’was me she resented, she saw me a threat,
For she thought I’d no right to her space.

A very long evening, but I’ll tell you most,
Of the things that took place there that night.
This lady was wandering and bound to the earth,
After having a terrible fight.
 
An immigrant woman, from somewhere in the east,
Had been brought by her spouse to this land.
He’d beat her and kick her, and keep her in fear,
When his drinking was guiding his hand.

Than one day in torment, she’d suddenly snapped,
And run a steel blade through his heart.
Then buried his body in our building’s vaults,
But could then never make a fresh start.

So even when passing, she carried her guilt,
And was shackled by this to her home.
It now was our duty to help her get free,
Or eternity she’d have to roam.

But alas as I open my mouth to begin,
My brother’s face changed and ‘he’ swore.
”You murderess bitch, you’ll pay for your sin”
Then he rose up to “murder the whore”.

Now though I have travelled this pathway before,
I think you’ll agree on that night.
The last thing I wanted was two people there,
In séance beginning a fight!

Thank heaven my spirit can stand on it’s own,
For I sent this madman whence he came.
And when ‘she’ stopped shaking from meeting her man,
We finally got back to the game.

Convincing this lady, that she’d really died,
Then took up the most of the night.
But very soon after, with one of her friends,
We helped show her the way to the ‘light’.

The control room now happy, they’ve only one ghost,
And nobody wants him to go.
He’s a cheerful chappie they meet with a smile,
And he stays in the shop down below.

For three of the staff it has altered their lives,
Though they knew that her ghost they had seen.
They thought she was evil and wanted them dead,
But now know, she was walking in dream.

These three never ‘shopped me’ for playing my role,
Though at times, when alone late at night.
I’m sure they all wonder what fun there’d have been,
If I hadn’t broke up a good fight!

Ivor G Davies


Copyright © Ivor Davies | Year Posted 2015

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Underage Immigrant Crisis 2

Underage Immigrant Crisis 2 The problem keeps getting bigger everyday. It seems to me that it is everyone's problem. There are a lot of horror stories that are told by the kids that do make it here. Some never make it and their parents don't know what happened to them. A couple from Dallas paid a coyote $ 7.000 for one daughter and then another one to bring them here. They have not seen them yet. Other kids say that they go hungry for days until some of the people throw them food when they are on top of the train called ( La Bestia ) meaning ( The Beast ) They call it that because a lot of people have been killed, falling off, or trying to get on it. Sometimes they get to a place in Mexico that is run by a priest and there they get food and can stay a couple of days, than continue on their journey. This run by donations, but they are running out of food. They just had a meeting with the president of Honduras and he said that these kids should not go back, that the United States should help. What can we do? Mexico said that because of two derailments that happened in one week on ( La Bestia ) with more than 1.000 passengers - now no immigrants will be allowed in that train. The president is now asking Congress for $ 3 billion to combat this problem. I don't know if it will work, but I think that if we all pitch in a dollar, or whatever we can - it would help a lot...
07/12/2014 By Lucilla M.carrillo Note: I Just think that this concerns us all. Have you got any Ideas? Kids are kids, no matter where they come from.


Copyright © Lucilla Carrillo | Year Posted 2014

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The Lincoln County War

Billy the Kid was living an honest life as a ranch hand.
He was employed by John Tunstall, an immigrant Englishman.
Mr Tunstall gave Billy his own horse, rifle and full saddle gear.
When he presented them to the Kid, Billy held back his tears.
"What's wrong son?" Mr Tunstall asked Billy outright.
The Kid responded, "No one has ever given me anything ever in my life."
It appeared that Billy was finally going to live a good life for sure,
until the competition murdered Mr Tunstall, which sparked The Lincoln County War.


Copyright © SillyBilly theKidster | Year Posted 2013