Political

SPEAK ENGLISH

Folder: 
TEACHING POEMS



I am sick and tired of going into stores and dealing with people who do not speak English.  I know they are hired so they can be paid less.  Who knows if they are even here in the country legally?  So, they are breaking the law and the stores are too.  If you are going to do that, at least put the people who do not speak English where they will not interact with customers.  I cannot understand them.  See, they can not understand me.  This is America.  We speak English in this country.  If I was in their country, I would, and they would, expect me to speak their language.

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9/11

Folder: 
THE WAR ON TERROR

  

                Maybe they will know.

               Or, will learn of it, as they grow.

               after or before,

             nobody must ignore

            a day infamy

           A day remembered for life,

            husbands wives

              Teachers must teach.  Everybody they must reach.

             Everybody must know.

           Will this happen again?  The answer needs to be no.

                    

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THE CIA

Folder: 
TEACHING POEMS



     It has a lot of mystique.

            Nobody can ever say that they are in it.

          Nobody ever believes them, anyway.

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SOLDIERS

Folder: 
THE WAR ON TERROR



                            They fight.

                     All day, they find their way.

                 all night, they don't know if it is right.

         A long night, see it will be, until the day.

        In a foreign land, a war that they do not understand.

       Halfway around the world.  

Sometimes, they feel they're lost and will never be found.

       A story trying to be told.

      Their country, they are there to serve.  

Sometimes, they see things, that unnerve.

                          

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WAR BIRD

Folder: 
THE WAR ON TERROR



                                              

                         On a carrier deck she sits.

                 Out in the middle of the ocean or a sea.

              She'll get involved in a commotion.

  You'll see her in a war or fight, wether it is day or night.

                                The USA.

            See, she's there to protect you and me.

She's ready to fly.  She's ready to soar.  

She's ready to roar.  

        She's there.  The other side, an intent to scare.

  She's a powerful hawk.  You can see it in the way she talks.

                                      She's ready to strike.  No, the enemy her will not like.            

She's got her rockets, missiles and guns.  

Any confrontation will be quickly done.

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AND THEN I WORK UP

Folder: 
TEACHING POEMS



          Last night,

   I dreamed I was talking to President Obama.

   We talked about Chicago Metra.

    To my home, I invited him to go.

   He would meet all my friends.

   A party with no end.

    And then, I work up.

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Washington Sly

Set upon the podium, devouring the mic

Washington Sly, hands approaching sky

And he is outraged, he shall speak

To contenders he shall shriek

Of whys and woes, worries and whores

Such biting things such men adore

Past mistakes and flaws and faults

Of inconvenience, where it stops

Crowds of bitter, wo and man

Will descend while holding hands

And they'll agree to just lash out

To chase away a sense of doubt

As they sway he'll turn and say

"I'll lead the way!" and so he may

And as they sway they'll chant away

That this is their own new found day

Mr. Government, Washington Sly

Indulging in his own spare time

Will roll a cigarette, breathing slow

And draw himself within doors closed

He thinks of the desert, glare in his eye

Remembering something, passing it by

He draws a conclusion, says not a word

And leans back so cozy with head to the hearth

His name is well-noticed, beneath every roof

People will question and ask for more proof

He'll conduct surveys, investigate trash

Masses to clamor with what he demands

And all will be certain, when we anoint

When the world as a collective just misses the point.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Vote for Sly!

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MEAT

Folder: 
TEACHING POEMS



       I see with my eye.

      It does make me cry.

     That some animal had to die.

      Spirit sent to the sky.



       Somebody could eat,

   an animal we now called meet.

    Somebody will think it a treat.

      

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Marionetas de Cartón

Folder: 
Pensamientos

Estancado en trabalenguas
de mentiras y de engaños,
como pasan ya los años,
sin perdón, ni dando treguas.

Marionetas de cartón
de teatro oriental,
pues actuando como tal,
nos presentan a un bufón.

Patriotismo, Democracia!
Donde empiezo, donde busco?
A Dios mío, yo me ofusco,
y ya esto no da gracia.

Socialista, Comunista?
Qué carajo es todo eso.
Me lo vendes con un beso,
no me pongas en tu lista.

Realidad Americana,
de tendencias egoístas,
Y tal vez hasta fascistas,
No te metas en mi cama!!

Lucha que no es tarde!
El futuro está vigente,
la verdad ya está ardiente!
Se astuto!!

mantente pendiente!

 

  ©Rolando Matias

 (ConClaveNamaMusic, 
   BMI 2010)

 

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