PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

“Give me your tired”

I have then in sight,

the elderly pushing the elote car,

the lady picking out tomatoes on the fields,

sweating due to the rays of the flame sphere on top,

factory workers working more than full time,

only to get tossed when the job seems to slows down,

the tired you have,



“your poor…”

human kind resting in abandon homes,

searching for food in waste baskets,

searching for a bitten piece of bread,

but there minds see a great juicy steak,

ones living with rodents as there neighbors,

diseases as guest,

downtown LA is where you can find them,

drugs are the only mirage of light they have,

the poor you have



“your huddled mass yearning to breath free…”

yet even marks they say would be place on me,

my ideas are concealed with your lies,

the great speakers,

oh my god a terrible accident they must have,

we want to breath free,

but our minds are concealed,  

the eager for free thought you have,



“ the wretched refuse of your teeming sore”

for what cause,

to have more slaves doing your work,

while in the office you stay resting talking on the phone,

we produce much for the land,

we dont even get an attention of health,

work but no pay,

in dollars at times is not the only way,



“stand these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me..”

what was once our ancestors home,

been invaded by a crime, mask with a destiny,

homeless we have become,

but we are not tossed to you,

in your land we a re born,



“ I lift my lamb beside the golden door”

golden door no more,

open jail cells are meant,

suffering in our own native land,

heavens gates are sealed,

your arm now blocks the door,

but in theory the flames on your lamp would faded away,

our people would be welcome home

-che