You Got Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

You Got



You talk about...
YOUR country.
YOUR democracy.
And YOUR entitled life.
With freedoms to pursue,
Whatever it is...
To like or dislike.
Heard to vocalize,
A doing of wrong or right.
Declaring this to be,
YOUR way of life.
Viewed as you see fit.
Unrestricted limits.
Doing as you as choose.
Done to pass judgement.
Or excuse that to do to refuse.
And still,
Claim blame to place...
On others to disgrace.
Whomever or wherever,
They may live to be.

As if...
I am a temporary visitor.
As if...
I am the one,
Touring on a foreign shore.
And you have been instructed,
To ensure I am made jealous.
Envious of you.
Until you and others decide,
I should limit my appearances.
Or at least attempt,
An accepted disguise.

You.
And not me.
Brag about what it is...
You got.

You.
And not me,
Is the one who says...
All the things you can do.
Nonstop.
From one opportunity.
To another.
With doors to open.
Allowing this to create.
And everyday you say,
How you value your faith...
To pray.
With a maintaining,
Of YOUR beliefs.
Politically and religiously.
Although...
Hypocritical you can be.
That...
You have proven.
And it shown to me.

However...
Before your ancestors arrived.
I have been right here.
What you have,
In indisputable abundance.
Is audacity.
That YOU got,
In abundance.
Without hint or clue,
Of humility to use.

'Whoa.
Hold up,
On that untrained...
High horse you ride.
You need to get off.
And explain to me,
Exactly what you are saying.'

It's like this...
Delusions to have them,
Maybe the only thing you own.

'I have deeds on land,
My ancestors purchased.'

Stolen!
To then claim ownership.
Theft to steal,
Is no different...
Than plagiarism.
Or taking away,
What someone else creates...
To legitimize a patent for it.

'Okay!
But answer this...
Are you native born?
A Mexican?
With Aztec Indian heritage?
A pioneering African,
Assisting the Chinese.
The ones who first mapped,
And navigated the seas? '

Yes!
They were my ancestors.

'Prove it! '

Look at me.
I am more of a mongrel,
Than you are.
That I don't have to prove.
That history,
Is reflected all over my face.

'Oh yeah?
But where are your 'papers? ''

My ancestors made and used,
Homemade pipes!

'WHAT? '

When weed was then,
Grown naturally.

'Huh? '

Organically grown.
Before chemicals created,
Sickened the minds...
Of all the people.

'I don't understand you.'

For centuries,
You haven't attempted it!

'What are we talking about? '

You!
Has that ever changed?

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