A JULY 4TH REFLECTION: 2025
It’s July fourth,
And the POTUS seeks
Elimination
Of immigration
In America,
Although his parents
Immigrated here:
Father coming from
Hilter’s Germany
Which id the womb
Of the fascistic type
Of politics of
The POTUS today,
In his bigoted
Power mongering
Issuing of laws
That are so unjust;
And forcing Congress
To pass likewise laws
To ensure making
This land great again,
In its mockery
Of independence
And justice for all,
In this so-called land
Of democracy,
Built on land severed
From indigenous
Free occupancy;
How strange this must be
Following Juneteenth
And for descendants
Of who this land was:
Hey, it’s July fourth,
Independence day
In America;
Have a blessful day
In celebrating
In divine wisdom
And its clear guidance
In making this land
Again, the land of
The free, with justice
And equality
For all who live here
In God’s onederful
Oneness of onement:-
A Horse and ale
The brewery had many horses to carry crates of beer
around to small shops, each horse and its driver was assigned a route
The horse I liked was shiny black and had been used for
funerals before
over the years, they got a bit broad hipped and stomach-heavy.
The horse knew the route and stopped outside the grocer`s and waited while
the driver unloaded crates of beer.
The horse sometimes had an ******** thinking of a favorite mare bit
strange animals only know one way and askew foreplay
The driver usually had a bottle of beer at each shop, and when
the round was done, he was in a merry mood and sometimes fell asleep. But the horse knew the way.
After unharnessing the beast, he brushed its coat, checked the hooves
for the horse, the highlight of the day, and gave it a big slice of bread.
So long ago, there had been a devastating war
Jews immigrated to Palestine
and got a piece of land they called Israel; we believed what the papers said
the persecuted people deserved a homeland, but we did not realize that it was.
A historic injustice had befallen the Palestine people and echo that will not
stop before the real Semites get their land back.
Written: June 10, 2024, For Eve Roper Contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1/ The eldest son of a family immigrated to the United States.
2/ I'm a bibliophile. I deem myself artistic, empathetic, and spiritual.
3/ I have one son, two daughters, and seven grandchildren.
4/ -I am an advocate for the aesthetic value of one's natural surroundings, spouse, offspring, and grandchildren.
-Dancing flowers, the sound of azure waters on the shore, and the sight of cascades crashing against coral cliffs.
5/ Devote myself to the principles of generosity and tolerance for all.
6/ Handling disrespect and inequity is a chore I'm wary of.
7/ I love traveling globally, especially on cruises, and learning about cultures, traditions, art forms, and history.
8/I am a resident of San Jose, a vibrant city in California.
9/My last name - Sotto.
*****
What a joy it is to hear my kid's laughter return.
Dancing and bustling around me, I long to churn.
The sight of vacant seats at meals makes me grieve.
Unless, when there are happy events to heave!
If a lighthouse could speak, oh the stories it would tell.
Every crack and crevice holds historic truths or tales.
What plane had visited its’ sky and waters; what lies beneath its sea.
Stories of the keeper’s life; smuggling's it’s seen.
Whose immigrated where; who’s died as their ship went down.
Who survived a sinking craft or whom was never found.
Who killed off all the dolphins and whales, in its vicinity.
Whether a ship sank as whole or was snapped in-two by a storm at sea.
Yes, if a lighthouse could only speak what stories it could tell;
Listen carefully anyway; It may cast a story spell.
4-21-2021
ALL YOURS (Apr 22) Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
Mass Immigration
Once upon a time, there was a mass emigration
from Northern Europe to America, caused by social injustice
and bitter poverty.
46%n of the population in Norway immigrated to the USA,
the immigrants settled mainly in places like Minnesota and
another northern state as farmers as the land was easy to come by.
Few of them came back to Norway, those who did were
to show off their wealth such as a big car,
having a car was beyond reach for ordinary people even up to
the ninety fifties.
No sane Scandinavian goes to America anymore, this because
politically the USA didn´t evolve but in many ways regressed
into boneheaded conservationism.
Yet for many, say, Latin America where people have suffered
under various dictatorships, North America still offers hope
of work and food on the table.
Every morning is a day of hope
Your eyes like a half blossomed flower
Swap between life and death
While waiting for the executioner's arrival
Just a lustful life
If a bottle of thirst is sought
Just a bunch of roasted sand
Sleepless nights of nightmares
A land where there is no room to flee
Silent death sightings anywhere
Blessed are the dead
Without thinking of today
Immigrated to sky Wings
The burning sun
The mortal self takes over
The land where religions rule
Man becomes a doll
Every step as someone else says
There is no life here anymore
Only the puppets of the machine age
Goddess of mercy faded away
A cruel slaughterhouse
Will there be a resurrection?
Lucy is not in the sky
like you were told.
Her feet or on the ground
holding a piece of coal.
The rocking horse people
took her diamond away
and smeared marshmallow pie
across her narrow face.
The marmalade sky’s
ozone has disintegrated,
from the fumes of cellophane
the flowers created.
The tangerine trees
turned to rust,
from newspaper taxis
exhaust pipe dust.
The girl with kaleidoscope eyes,
Immigrated to a safe haven.
Where She was detained
by border control mavens.
Last Names
by Edmund Siejka
Whenever I meet someone
At a party, a restaurant or in line at a store
And the conversation turns to last names
I respond politely
When they ask
What nationality is that?
The question strikes me as anachronistic
Like how old were you when you were born?
For some of us
The spelling and pronunciation
Of our last names can be challenging
Harboring a jumble of
Consonants and vowels
Without rules
But we need to remember
That each last name has a proud past
And each name has a future.
If rudely pressed for an explanation
I sometimes describe my last name as “American”
Clearly stating
That my great grandparents immigrated from Europe
Over a hundred fifty years ago
And we’ve been here ever since.
In this day of fluid identities
My answer seems somewhat vague and evasive
And occasionally met with arched eyebrows
From people I hardly know
But it stops them from asking additional questions
As I feel under no obligation to say more
After all
Didn’t we all come from somewhere else?
The history of my family is interesting to me
When looking at reasons of why some things I see
It seems the German side of the family were Protestant
And so couldn’t get on in the Catholic Germany rant
So they immigrated to South Australia
Then I look at the Irish side
Who were Catholic and so were on the slide
With the Protestant English in the power
For in Ireland they were on the outer
So they immigrated to South Australia
It would seem instead of praising god
And making the best of your lot
Your religion becomes a tool
To get what you want and make others a fool.
© Paul Warren Poetry
As a boy he read a lot of their stories.
At eleven he started to write two prose books
about them and he taught himself to swim their way.
At seventeen he walked alone for ten days
through the forests of Holy Cross Mountains
to bond himself with nature.
God saved him many times in his journeys.
After High School he studied theology
for two years in monastery to solve
metaphysical quests about existence,
then he immigrated to Native Americans’ land,
thinking he will meet them, but alas
their physical World was shattered.
Spiritually you are mighty people
of almighty God, creator of all,
who will recompense you for all suffering.
I know this apostle, he is acquainted with our God –
metaphysical poet he is.
A Horse and ale
The brewery had many horses to carry crates of beer
around to small shops and each horse and its driver was assigned a route
The horse I liked was shiny black it had been used for funerals before
but over the years got a bit broad hipped and stomach heavy.
The horse knew the route and stopped outside the grocer`s and waited while
the driver unloaded crates of beer.
The horse sometimes had an ******** thinking of a favourite mare a bit
strange animals only know one way and askew foreplay
The driver usually had a bottle of beer at each shop and when
the round was done he was in a merry mood and sometimes fell asleep but
the horse knew the way.
After unharnessing the beast, he brushed its coat checked the hooves and
for the horse, the highlight of the day, gave it a big slice of bread.
So long ago there had been a devastating war Jews immigrated to Palestine
and got a piece of land they called Israel, we believed what the papers said
the persecuted people deserved a homeland we did not reflect that it was.
A historic injustice had befallen the Palestine people and echo that will not
stop before the real Semites get their land back
“There is no life without death.”
Evolutionary indigenous
Nomads were Mongoloid.
Scavengers were Australoid and Caucasoid.
Barbarians were Congoid and Negroid.
We became civilized but within, nations were lost.
A great division of humankind characterized by our features, we are all a myth of the Mayans.
Genetically distinct we are formed as a species – humanity.
Nevertheless, famine plagues us.
War is born here, near, and far.
We are no more than the human race.
However, we have known discrimination because we immigrate.
God confused the languages to eliminate this type of hate.
A great nation form from this ideology and is named the United States [of America].
America has genes to produce olive, black, brown, and white offspring.
In the North, we stand.
The Racial Golden Rule states that we are rightfully given a separate place that provides racial freedom via racial separation and independence.
White people immigrated.
Black people were brought as slaves.
Via the natives, this eminent country - this eminent domain was made.
User Name: Verlena
Psuedonym: Oblivion Dark Sunshine
Motif: Racial Golden Rule
Waiting for a prickly path
at crossroads,
where desolation sits in
between words and flesh.
Hanging shells on windows
where light immigrated
to prophecies of Buddha.The
violence will never end.
Can you find some space
between the bullets ? Between
the contrasts lie the black
thoughts and sick arguments.
Through the comets who will shoot
bleeding flag ?
Satish Verma
The wind comes blowing through the wood,
And Winter comes a-calling.
The trees give up their last few leaves,
The first snow flakes start falling.
The open, barren branches,
Now look stark against grey skies.
The rose bush too is naked, bare,
It's beauty sacrificed,
To the quiet and the chill,
As Winter now takes hold,
And on the surface Nature sleeps,
Through Winter's biting cold.
Floating snow flakes drifting down,
Make me pull up my hood,
As torch in hand I brave the depths,
Of snow drifts through the wood.
Just half an hour ago it seems,
The path was pristine, clear,
And now the snow has got so deep,
It reaches to my rear.
It will be good to get back home,
But just plain had to mail a letter,
To tell the folks back home about,
This fine Canadian weather.
Never saw snow before in my life until we immigrated to Canada when I was 27yrs old.
I love it and it's a true miracle of God; but it's cold and wet and it's more fun to watch from a warm room than to be outside in it. (Smile)
On a cold, wintry Christmas night
bright light on a manger shone
to fall softly upon a mother mild
cradling her little baby child.
Three wise men followed the stars
to thy beckoning door, Bethlehem,
bringing frankincense and myrrhs
to pay homage to the king.
Thy name is music to mankind's ears
proclaiming forth freedom and hope,
sweet like a chorus by heaven's choir
vanishing darkness and fear.
Yet, two thousand years thereafter,
what became of thee, Bethlehem?
now enclosed within high fences,
inside your captive people keeping.
On those cruel barriers are graffiti
imploring "Make love, not walls";
as I weep for thee, O Bethlehem,
where has thy promise gone?
Note:
Bethlehem is a Palestinian-populated city in the West Bank, administered by
the Palestinian Authority. It is now mostly inhabited by Arab Muslims and many
Arab Christians have left the city and immigrated abroad due to the harsh living
conditions. The city is surrounded by high concrete walls and no one gets in or
out without clearance from the Israeli Army guarding its checkpoint.
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