I'm currently taking some Ethnic studies courses at Citrus College in addition to studying real estate. One of my projects was to write a poem so I want to share it with you all here on the blog. One of my last scholarship recipients wrote a really nice poem and you can read and find that post here.
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I have always enjoyed writing but I'm not 100% grammatically or punctually correct most of the time. Regardless, I enjoy writing every once in a while because I believe its a good way to express myself. Anyways, here's my poem I wrote titled "A Chicano Story".
It’s not easy to express oneself in this culture.
You risk being viewed weak or machismo.
All thoughts based on doubt and fear of standing out.
Above all else, culturally, It’s not right to speak out.
If you do speak out you often find yourself in trouble,
With law or your family.
They keep your voice subtle.
Art is our weapon.
Poetic paintings from our minds eye.
Our thoughts and dreams that seem hard to materially find.
Because of the empty promises of the American dream,
Dreams many of us will watch burst at the seam.
America works for some,
But it can’t work for all.
It starts with “we the people..”,
Not all the people, not all.
A classist racist society
We think we are different,
but like Rome,
will we ever fall?
Some families use it to their advantage,
Flaunting their strong Spanish decent.
Hiding away their “weak indigenous”
To live a life of American content.
"Don’t speak Spanish now.”
“That’s not the American way.”
“You better act right and work hard.”
Is what the white folks will say.
Honorary whites, acting right,
in an effort to fit in.
Working as police or gov workers
But still the darkest white ones within,
This system that was never meant for anyone
But the top white elite families.
We believe the proletariat is gone?
No, they call us lower, middle, upper class families.
Coming from the bottom they watch
As you live the greatest game you can play.
While they set you up for failure
And make laws to keep you where they want you to stay.
Generations of incarcerations.
Finding pride and respect in these chains.
Earning stripes by doing work.
The divide and conquer tactic pertains.
How did we get here?
Where are you from?
You don’t ask that question,
If you’re not prepared for what’s to come.
I remember the brown mans hate
Filling the blood in my pre-adolescent veins.
A strong resistant heart,
Since the treaty of Guadalupe.
They call themselves OG’s
But not for the reasons you think.
Warrior nations turned into
exiles that are left to conquer the streets.
Too white to be brown,
And too brown to be white.
Spanish is a European language.
Don’t tell me speaking English makes me white.