PO' Poets

Migrantes Indocumentados Seremos Parte del 99%?

Still no resound to be

from the night nor ground

the left nor right giving sound

no riotous revelry. . . . yet!

yet the blood does violently run

to its highest point from within the young

no longer quite with frustration

no longer thrilled by morbid caution

Once upon a time

I was a sin

& 3/5 of a person

Something to hide

Chorus

Not so long ago

Do I want to know if there is a bullet with my name on it?
Is there a man in a uniform with a destiny connected to me?
Will he put that bullet in a gun  and shoot me dead because
I raised my voice to ask why I am being confronted by him?
Will it matter to me that my face stares at a room full of art
resisting men like him, wearing uniforms like his, shooting
guns like his at random people like me?

Paper trail

Diploma, BA, 1040EZ

Led to SSI that is real

Might be broke at the end of the month

But busy like a bee

Don’t need a time card to punch

Traveled the world

Met my girl

Dollar is not what I need

Got my section eight condo

Dancing with Uncle Sam twisted feet in the Tango

On fix income gives me freedom

Got to do what I got to do

Creative paperwork

Doctor's note & proof of income

This is work

Crossing my t’s & dotting my i’s

Reading what’s between the lines

No, Jerry Lewis didn’t heal me

Finally living back in the island

Domain that birthed you,

All you did was

Share the gift of medicine

And comfort the sick.

The very thing you loathed most

And rose against on the daily

Found its way to you.

There was no way to predict

What barged through that front door.

POOR Press Authors will present @ City Lights Bookstore on Thursday, July 7th @ 7pm

Review by Jack Hirschman