american dream
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This is no dream to me
It was not my ancestors dream
It was not something we wanted to achieve
Kidnapping and capturing brought us here
Where we built on once sacred Native lands
The other day someone asks
“How is your family doing quarantine?”
I say
“My dad is an essential worker”
And what they don’t realize is that Papi has been an essential worker for 30 years now
I once believed in the American dream.
I believed in it because of its hope--
Its guarantee that if I worked hard enough I just might touch the fluorescent green light.
Im hurt and there nothing worse.
These kids take drugs and make love and are destined to become professional thugs but what do I know i'm a privileged white girl, a nice girl.
Working to support ourselves
living in safe neighborhoods
fighting to protect our rights
there's no way a dystopian society
shines bright
while all we do is cuss and fuss
let this be a warning
This transcendental sea
Stretched in miles destiny,
Precincts an outline of hope-
Moreover, anguish.
As all horizons seem to be
Dense in fate of sky and sea.
Ben Franklin
As he is known to the world,
Is brilliant,
Innovative,
Admired.
Americans used to know him that way too,
WE are the children of America
The children of those who traveled land and sea.
The children of those who plowed fields and picked trees.
im a self made man
said the stud in the
backlit
studio a small-screen personality of
the glorious yesterday leaned over
a curvy glossy desk and listened
with frank disinterest though he was very
America is a puzzle.
The people are the pieces.
Pieces that come in all shapes, sizes, and colors.
Each piece is made of wood
That comes from all over.
Mexico, Canada, Poland, Germany, Japan, China and India.
Land of the free and home of the brave.
We take the world's pitiful and their worst.
Freedom and happiness is all that we crave,
The poor, however, are forever cursed.
A woman
Long yellow dress
Blonde short curls
Red lipstick
And a smile that shines like the sun
Classic, vintage, timeless
A man
Nice colored shirt
Short brown hair
Determination,
It's the driving force that lies deep within my soul.
There is only one goal, success.
Two jobs and a full time student, overwhelmed with stress.
This poem from beginning to end
Is all of me, now and then.
My Past indescribable as it can be
Was not so sad you see.
Good Morning America!
Land of the free, home of the brave,
and the founder of the freedom that so many crave.
The stars in the sky, as bright as they gleam
I’m more than the stereotype that comes along with my skin color Yes I can speak English and no I will not say something in Spanish for your amusement No soy tu titere
Hitting a brick and cannot find my way.Financial issues is hitting a dead end.Teased to point that nothing in life matters.On the brick of light of life.
Where is my American Dream?Lost? Found? or Neither?
What is the American Dream?
Does it haunt the thoughts of our generation,
Like a nightmare before wake?
Or does it give a small glimpse of hope for the future,
And oppress the unfulfilled.
This is not about the country, This is about being undocumented.
We cross the border Without knowing our own destiny.
Some have luck, others die trying.
Some die in the desert, and others die in the train.
Let us go you, and I.
To the land of the free Where freedom sways in the quenched air Or so they say.
Dear Gatsby, When I look at you I see yellow, but mostly black. When the fireflies fly The ladies sway to and fro’. How long have you wondered? Through the big lights. The perilous carriage. Unlike the past we no longer adjourn the future.
I know I might not have been born in a Hispanic Country,
Did you know that there is a secret dimension right behind you? Right beside you?No. You didn't.
I don't know what kind of music you listen to you when you're alone
If you live in a white house with a picket fence and two parents in one home
Or if your friend made you laugh so hard at lunch water came out your nose
Because the American Dream is hardly a dream
Working two jobs, a nightmare it seems
Bills upon bills, taxes upon taxes,
Living middle class, far from the wealthy status.
I sold my soul for corporate goals
And a white picket fence.
Til that day there will be hell to pay
Though I can’t even make rent.
Is to be loved
Is to find your own joy
Or is it the old house
With a white picket fence?
Is it family
Or is it money?
The American Dream
Has changed—
So what is your limit?
To own land for oneself-
To speak up for oneself-
To work for oneself-
Are they stooping this low?
Denying themselves this pride and integrity?
Do they not value this venerable treasure?
In this great Melting Pot is there really room for more ingredients?
Careers
New Life
Education
They want it all
Seeking far and low
To become new creations
Carrying stress and pressure on behind
