My Id Poem by Chan Mongol

PMy ID
May 8 of 2009

My name is Chan Mongol;

To live and to let live is my call.

I am trying to be an ideal man;

A spokesman, a humanitarian.

So is my basic introduction;

I survive in worst situation.

I been using a pen, not a gun;

I am a polite, normal human.

I write parody, poem and folklore;

About nature, life, creator whom I adore.

Did you ask what my country is?

Did you enjoy and like to keep on tease?

Did you ask me what religion I practice?

Did you plan to separate and categorize? ?

Do you like to play that game, that race card?

To push me to disrespect and knock me too hard!

My physique is my land and my only identity;

My body with pulse and heart, my only country.

Outer me, my body and outer my existence;

Outer me, others give me influences from the
distance.

My core value is my character what my only religion is;

My personality, my manners are to live in peace.

In your data bank, you stored my soul, everything;

My private life, past, present, fate, Winter, spring.

You chained my feet with metallic bar;

You enjoy to be my owner, sire, slave master.

My identification was sacred, very personal;

To reveal or not to reveal was my optional.

Alas! Today, I can run but I cannot hide;

I cannot hide from your guards, guides, worldwide.

You can call me names, thats OK, alright;

You can tell me to get out of your sight.

Do you know what is the main thing?

That, I am as same as you are breathing!

I know you good, I know your type;

You are the meanest, ugliest, a real low life!

You are the pernicious and the jealous;

Therefore, you are scared of me, and nervous.

I have to express, I have to fight back;

I know that you have the hard evil neck!

Just be careful, what you do, what you say!

Without my expressions, you can't get away!

I am not just whom you think of me to see;

Those people and tribes are in me!

People of the North, White Horse, Yellow knife;

Amish, Mohawk, Cherokee, Chinese are my type.

With faces of those African-Chinese eyes;

I am with natives, aboriginals in various countries!

My comfort is also with Irish music band;

The nature, culture of that nicer land.

I am a human like a British, a German;

I am like a Chinese, Arab, Turk, like a Roman.

I am the history of the Persian and Hindustan;

I have ties with kahn, Mann, kowan, Khan.

I share the blood of my grandmother

Whose ancestors had the Sassanian empire.

My folks ha
had also had red hair and light skin;

So! Please! Don't dump me in a dustbin!

For African farmers, I have pity;

My soul, sympathy and solidarity!

My hair is black, straight and plain!

Many say if I am a native Hawaiian.

I respect all but hazardous are exceptions;

I try to find ways for peaceful protections.

I hold the plow in the country like Cambodia;

I grow rice in Philippines, Bengal, East India.

I enjoy the sweet smell of Harvest in the East-West;

Highways, mountains, low lands, all are my best.

Valleys, deltas, plains, deserts, jungles, trees;

Snow showers and rains in prairies.

I am not just what you are programmed to see;

Those people and First nations are in me.

People of Yellow knife, White Horse, Alaska;

Amish, Mohawk, Cherokee, Indiana.

When someone in that galley to die;

In a death line or a death row, I weep, I cry!

I feel myself as your good neighbor;

Bless all who want to breathe the air.

But I am a patient with so much pain;

I get hardships again and again!

Saddam and Qaddafi whom people tortured;

I am with those for whom cruel deaths occurred.

I never get pleasure on someone's misery;

When hunger, disease and death strike a family!

I am with victims in tribes of Buddha, Jesus;

Mohammad, Ram, First nations and Moses!

I enjoy the sweet smell of Harvest in the East-West;

Highlands, mountains, low lands all are my best.

Hills, valleys, deltas, plains, jungles, trees;

I enjoy snow showers and rains in prairies.

Did you ask me what my country is?

Did you enjoy and like to keep on tease?

Did you ask me what religion I practice?

Did you plan to separate and categorize? ?