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#8, The illegal alien topic.
Manuel Lovario scans the barrio with experience and, well, sorrow
The squalor's all over, and locals import the trash by the carload
Dust permeates the very gates to their makeshift home of twenty years
Sheet metal and some rivets, you'll find no water running here
A three legged dog hobbled by with a slight whimper for each steppin
Sadly, Manny shakes his head and thinks back to the winter of 47
Looking about the squalor he called their home he was fed up
Hearing of the riches in the north, he decided to just head up
Got to Tijuana to be stopped at the border by white men with guns
He left them spun at a run, got 5 miles before he was stopped by the sun
Near dehydration Manny lie prostrate and started prayin'.
It wasn't the Messiah that would ride up to finally save him
But the US border patrol, who sorta control the area rolled up
Manuel saw it as his savior, in a big white and gold truck
But before he knows what's happening, he's handcuffed
And stuffed in the back, taken back to the Mexicans rough
Life, farming a dustpan, it's a tough land to eke a living off of
Less than a year later he lost his whole crop to dust
And off of that land he again ventured, though this time literally
Sick of the endentured life, he tried again to escape, this time its by sea
Built out of old tires and palletes, you could hardly call it a boat
But it did the one thing Manny needed, it stayed afloat
At least in the calm water, but this ocean wouldn't stay pacific
a timid seaman, Manny got seasick, and couldn't hang with it
Over fifteen years he tried crossing ten times, always failing.
Returning to the poverty and dust was always dismaying.
Manuel is shaken from memories as a truck comes to a halt
His son steps out and crumbles in a chair in front of their house
"You're still putting in overtime I see" Manny says quietly
"Work is work." he replies then sits beside Manny silently
And he too gazes about the state they were still living in
"This is better you know." The son said "This is different."
"I tried for more than a decade to make it here." Manny replied
"And each time I was roundly, and soundly denied
Now, looking about this place you've managed to get us
So long after I decided to give up, and still we live thus."
The son looked back at Manny and knew what he was saying
"It's a different land father, though it seems the same."
"Work is work, but son, you must understand, that home is home
And I am not there now, But I will be soon, even if I go alone."
Manuel Lovario, scanned the Barrio with experience, and well sorrow
And left El Centro, and arrived home with no plans for tomorrow,
But he smiled at the dust bowl, because he was once again at home.
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"Those who know they are profound strive for clarity. Those who would like to seem profound strive for obscurity." -Nietzsche
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This isn't a place for people to improve. This is a support group, where everybody just pats each other on the back and give words of encouragement. -predicate on the poetry realm
Last edited by Anaphora; 04-15-2004 at 10:37 PM.
Reason: spelling
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04-12-2004, 08:54 PM
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