HOME | DD

Description

POEM: ADDRESSING AN INSANE HYPOCRISY

For far too long,

in tales now gone,

Mexicans came to this land,

with tools and passion in their hand.

They became useful in this land of the eagle,

being humble and never craving what's regal.

For countless years they toiled and hustled,

with hard working backs, trim and muscled,

and always ignoring the taunting tussle.

Of people calling them filthy aliens,

dirty wet backs, barely considered mammalians.

They strived and waited for work-pass and papers,

but were only given the red-tape and vapors.

Even when they served in the Marines,

they STILL got deported like broken latrines.

And still Mexicans remained grateful,

of this land of freedom and never stood hateful.

So why now do they WELCOME some OTHERS,

as if they were expecting mothers?

They're not called aliens, but refugees,

bused into hotels from land and sea.

They vacate schools and public places,

just to comfort these ungrateful faces.

Instead of children and women made poor,

these guests are tattooed drunkards and more.

With an average age from fifteen to thirty,

there's no doubt the city is playing this dirty!

These are NOT helpless women or children in need,

but uprooted criminals planting their seed.

When has there ever been such welcome to just one type of people,

even clearing the churches, their rooms, and their steeple?

To make room for these toughened strangers,

without ever considering the many harsh dangers?

They are even given work passes and food,

yet still they act raunchy, ungrateful, and rude!

Is it fair to treat them with such gingerly care,

giving them free transport, housing, and fare?

While our Mexican brothers still work the fields,

never complaining about unfair wages or yields?

This is NOT a poem of hate,

but instead, a poem of fate.

One that highlights the clear hypocrisy,

of our ever-dwindling corrupt democracy.

-- Warlock Dark Riddle

Description

POEM: ADDRESSING AN INSANE HYPOCRISY

For far too long,

in tales now gone,

Mexicans came to this land,

with tools and passion in their hand.

They became useful in this land of the eagle,

being humble and never craving what's regal.

For countless years they toiled and hustled,

with hard working backs, trim and muscled,

and always ignoring the taunting tussle.

Of people calling them filthy aliens,

dirty wet backs, barely considered mammalians.

They strived and waited for work-pass and papers,

but were only given the red-tape and vapors.

Even when they served in the Marines,

they STILL got deported like broken latrines.

And still Mexicans remained grateful,

of this land of freedom and never stood hateful.

So why now do they WELCOME some OTHERS,

as if they were expecting mothers?

They're not called aliens, but refugees,

bused into hotels from land and sea.

They vacate schools and public places,

just to comfort these ungrateful faces.

Instead of children and women made poor,

these guests are tattooed drunkards and more.

With an average age from fifteen to thirty,

there's no doubt the city is playing this dirty!

These are NOT helpless women or children in need,

but uprooted criminals planting their seed.

When has there ever been such welcome to just one type of people,

even clearing the churches, their rooms, and their steeple?

To make room for these toughened strangers,

without ever considering the many harsh dangers?

They are even given work passes and food,

yet still they act raunchy, ungrateful, and rude!

Is it fair to treat them with such gingerly care,

giving them free transport, housing, and fare?

While our Mexican brothers still work the fields,

never complaining about unfair wages or yields?

This is NOT a poem of hate,

but instead, a poem of fate.

One that highlights the clear hypocrisy,

of our ever-dwindling corrupt democracy.

-- Warlock Dark Riddle