tune out all the noise / and listen to the silence / the language of god
mind and heart aligned / anything seems possible / the way less obscure
I hunger for meat! / tho succulent game abounds / my quiver is bare
I am alone - me alone, I exist alone, I consume the crowd and the crowd becomes me without me there is no crowd without me - nothing no thing without me the thing, any thing is absent was never there had never existed I, alone, am and, alone, I exist
the last slice of bread / alone in the flaccid bag / unfit for the host
the morphine drips drops / drips drops so buena buena / so fucking buena
eyes down, collar up / shearing headwinds cut the pace / woe, I can’t turn back
An unprecedented number of undocumented Indian immigrants are crossing U.S. borders on foot, according to new data from U.S. Customs and Border Protection. What has been a years-long increase in migration has now developed into a dramatic spike.
From October 2022 to this September, the 2023 fiscal year, there were 96,917 Indians encountered — apprehended, expelled or denied entry — having entered the U.S. without papers. It marks a fivefold increase from the same period from 2019 to 2020, when there were just 19,883.What’s behind the rise in undocumented Indian immigrants crossing U.S. borders on foot, NBC News, November 14, 2023
Maybe it’s my First World (Are we still allowed to show regard for numbered worlds? Correct me if I’m wrong, but First World used to identify the United States and countries aligned with it, Second World identified the Soviet Union and countries aligned with it, and Third World identified countries not aligned with either the United States and the USSR. Of course, with the demise of the USSR, there was a Second World no more, and with ideological alignment no longer a factor as it once was, the Third World came to be a term that referred to non-industrialized, poverty-stricken countries; consequently, First World came to refer to the opposite. So… I guess writing it out like that has helped me to answer my own question: In this stressful day and age where sensibilities are quite frayed and sensitive, I would have to say the answer is… I guess the answer depends on the audience. I guess some would say hell no numbered worlds can no longer be regarded, you unwoke ogre! And I guess others would say hell yes they can, you fragile little snowflake! Anyway… call me what you will, be it an unwoke ogre or a fragile snowflake, just don’t call me late to dinner.) privilege, or just plain ignorance of the global plight of others (I haven’t been to a so-called Third World country since the Nineties), but it amazes me that so many people from around the world are still risking their lives to immigrate to these less than United States…
With all its division and dysfunction…
With all its mass killings and all the other forms of unimaginable violence that one could imagine…
With all its rascist, homophobic, anti-intellect trumper cultists frothing at the mouth to turn it into their narcissistic megolomaniacal cult leader’s autocratic utopia of hateful sweeping raids, giant camps and mass deportations.
I mean, how bad must it be in a country for someone to risk their and their family’s lives to emigrate from it by any means necessary to live in another country where more and more each day everyone’s life who lives here, be they here naturally born, naturalized, documented, undocumented, is at risk just by living here.
It seems no where is safe from the hate and violence.
Sheesh, just look at today’s news with the threat of violence in the Senate and an actual physical altercation in the House…
I mean, W.T.F., over.
I use to be proud of how many all over the globe wanted to come to this country to pursue the American Dream…
Americans by choice, not by chance…
Now I’m only saddened by it.
THE NEW COLOSSUS Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. "Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!" - Emma Lazarus
the journey is long / peril awaits every turn / alas, ‘tis the end
dawn succeeds the night / and birds sing for its glory / but for falling bombs