This is America: Better know English
America was once the magnificent place
Where all immigrants wanted to escape
So they illegally come here, as illegal aliens
Hiding in the back of our American vans
Now our schools and jobs require multiple languages
When we’re the Americans, we’re supposed to speak English!
And we do and just because they don’t
Doesn’t mean their language is a demand we should know
Don’t come to America if you don’t know the language
I’m just being realistic, I’m not being racist
Don’t put up store signs if they’re not readable
You’re in America; English is the main language you should know
Then they’re pissed because people won’t help out their business
But their forgetting us Americans don’t speak their language
We don’t go to Mexico demanding English classes
So why should they own the right to demand us Spanish?
I love the language, and everything BUT
THIS IS AMERICA look our history up!
Then tell me if French should be required
Where in the hell in the time line is that desired?
I know this is the land of opportunity, land of the free
But we should be able to communicate as human beings
And if that’s just too hard no one said they had to stay here
They can go back where they came from and speak in harmony there
I’m just a full blood American, as so the rest of my family
And like others, our language should be the first they’re demanding
We're tired of going to our fastfood restaurants to eat
When the orderer of our order can't even speak
And buyers, don't buy our house
If you can't even pronounce our street out
I'm tired of security going through all our private equipment
I'm an American, Bitch, do I look like a terrorist?
Honestly, you can come here if you want to be
Since this is the best place of opportunity
And we don’t care if you speak 20 different languages and love them
But this is AMERICA, ENGLISH better be one of them!
poem by Sugar Bear
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
yes, what if God does not speak english at all?
you were not born yesterday
and probably heard it before
that if your God does not speak english
then he must not be God
of course, something arrogant
hangs in the air
of this effortless superiority that
'englishers'
'english-plongplangs'
clai m, which, of course, we
always oppose and dub
as prettry dumb silly
but anyhow, yes, we are asked again
what if?
what if, this God, does not really speak English?
well, of course, he is still God
and he must not have considered the english language
that important
and i agree, even if i speak it,
i still have this language
of my soul,
albeit, in english, for you,
who does not speak my own language,
yes, of course, for you to perhaps
understand,
but i like it though, this thought
that God does not speak
the english language, lest, he may sound
so englishly, oh well,
arrogant.....
dear God
do you really...not speak english?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Finglish
I am from Finland and i speak 'Finglish'!
Because i am learning the English language and,
It always infuses with my Finnish.
I am learning to keep me going but,
I do speak my English like 'Finglish'! !
And i always try to enforce the truth of my peace like,
The subconscious act from my mind to muse up things:
But i am unaware of your love.
Try to keep me informed on this love and,
Try to teach me the English language so that i cam be with you;
For the heavens and the earth do know how i do speak.
Keep me on the tracks of your love and teach me more!
For one day i will learn the English language very well;
And i will be ready to teach you my Finnish language as well.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who's To Blame
Oh Mother Ghana; Mother Ghana
What has happened to you?
What has happened to your culture?
They say we've fold arms against 'Vernacular' language
Instead opened arms wide to 'English' language
Oh Mother Ghana Mother Ghana
Why?
At school, we are taught the things we do not know
By the 'English' language
Why not 'Vernacular' language?
Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana
Where is your true identity as pure African?
Where is your pride as true Ghanaian?
Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana,
Day after day
When we put on the uniform as students
We are forbidden to speak 'Vernacular' language
Instead the 'English' language
Why Mother Ghana, why Mother Ghana?
When we speak 'Vernacular' language; your culture,
They say: 'Speak English' someone's culture!
When we speak 'English' that someone's culture
They say: 'Abrofosem; speak vernacular language' your culture!
Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana
Who's to blame?
'English or Vernacular language'
Oh Mother Ghana; Oh Mother Ghana.
poem by Francis Julian Zewu
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The Language That The Poor Wants To Speak
do you speak good English?
do you take pride in it and then use it to impress others
and swindle them
into a belief that they are inferior?
they have feelings too
of humiliation
which even in such a sad state
wish that their humiliation
speak good English still
they always think that English will give them
a good job
a better standing in the society
a flare of fashionable tongue
you make them cry
but still they want to speak that cry in English too
foolish!
but can you blame them?
you who hold that power and might
you who have taken all what they once had
and made them
worse within
themselves
despite which,
they still want to be like you
to speak like you
a god
how sad!
you have never known the language of love
the grammar of generosity
the syntax of sympathy
that language that good English
sometimes has forgotten
to utter
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You are afraid
To write in English is your burden
You fear the grammar of the white man
You are afraid of its intricacies
why?
because your heart is not?
don't mind it, you simply want to share with full respect
to use their language
you could have used your own and be smooth with its facilities
but you also want to be a part of this world
to think american to speak english
who know if
He finds your poem good
Enough if
He feels the beating in your heart that
There is a flow
Of gladness
In your own way of being a part of this humanity that
There is joy
In your outlook that
You have a certain projection
About love sickness death redemption life
who knows?
Honestly
Now go
Write the language where you are
At home
Write the meaning of your riddles
At your convenience
Do not be afraid of English or Indian
Strictures
do not be afraid to commit mistakes
do not be afraid to go to prison
You will speak your language
You will sing your own song
you have been in this prison
for how long?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whether I Was Feeling It or Not!
How are you today?
'Excellent.'
I wish I could say that.
'What language do you speak? '
I speak several.
English too, of course I do!
I guess I could...
Feel excellent like you.
But I am not feeling it!
Maybe one day I will.
'That is unfortunate.
You speak so many languages...
And you can not say it! '
Yeah...
But I'm not feeling it!
'Who said anything about 'feeling' it?
I am inviting it!
That's why I said it.
I want it to know it is welcomed.
And...
You didn't ask me how I 'feel'.
That is a different story,
I have chosen not to tell.'
Yeah...
But that is not being honest with yourself.
'I beg to differ!
I'm seeking happy endings.
I wish I could speak more than one language.
You wouldn't have to ask me 'how' I was then.
I'd float right by you!
Whether I was feeling it or not!
You would see it...and believe.
However,
I do know this...
Some folks need incentives,
Before they are convinced of anything! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Instead of this confusion, we need the unifying force of an official language, English, which is the language of success in America.
quote by Ernest Istook
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tongue-suicide is not only the choice of children. It is common among the infantile heads of state and power merchants whose evacuated language leaves them with no access to what is left of their human instincts for they speak only to those who obey, or in order to force obedience. The systematic looting of language can be recognized by the tendency of its users to forgo its nuanced, complex, mid-wifery properties for menace and subjugation. Oppressive language does more than represent violence; it is violence; does more than represent the limits of knowledge; it limits knowledge. Whether it is obscuring state language or the faux-language of mindless media; whether it is the proud but calcified language of the academy or the commodity driven language of science; whether it is the malign language of law-without-ethics, or language designed for the estrangement of minorities, hiding its racist plunder in its literary cheek — it must be rejected, altered and exposed. It is the language that drinks blood, laps vulnerabilities, tucks its fascist boots under crinolines of respectability and patriotism as it moves relentlessly toward the bottom line and the bottomed-out mind. Sexist language, racist language, theistic language — all are typical of the policing languages of mastery, and cannot, do not permit new knowledge or encourage the mutual exchange of ideas.
quote by Toni Morrison
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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“el Sueno De Un Imigrante”
I leave my family there
To follow my biggest dream
My biggest dream begins in America
To came here I had to pass
“La Frontera”
It’s what makes me different than
Them
To try to get what I want
My family still with me but in my
Heart
I still remember them and
The promise that I made on that
Rainy day
I’m not going to forget them
Now I’m here in America but they
Don’t want me here because I don’t
Speak their language
THE LANGUAGE
NOW IS MY PROBLEM
Problem
That I’m going to solve
Continue with my biggest
…..Dream…..
poem by Jose Navarro
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I think foreign countries really do like it when American artists sing in their language. And when you go over there and say, 'Hi, how are you?' in their language, they love it. It makes them feel like you're doing it just for them. We in America take so much for granted.
quote by Natalie Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Song Of 'save Me
A Lot of turmoils
in English language,
and the keep on saying
'Save the Queen! '
Long Live America!
they say that too, why?
Is America short lived?
In our Country we say 'Mabuhay! '
Oopps, Are we dying?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The promise of America is one immigration policy for all who seek to enter our shores, whether they come from Mexico, Haiti or Canada, there must be one set of rules for everybody. We cannot welcome those to come and then try and act as though any culture will not be respected or treated inferior. We cannot look at the Latino community and preach ""one language."" No one gave them an English test before they sent them to Iraq to fight for America.
quote by Al Sharpton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Language Of Love
I want your flesh and blood
And to feel your heart pumping hard
I want to tell my story to your eyes
I want to watch you react
To me baby
Maybe Im dreaming
I got to do something
We may be on the same planet
Living in different worlds
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devils playground
Hear the church bells ring
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
Shes my great obsession
And the girl likes me too
I think she has the wrong impression
She thinks I want to be friends
Maybe Im dreaming
I better do something
We might be on the same planet
But talk different tongues
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devils playground
Hear the church bells ring
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
She thinks I want to be friends
Maybe Im dreaming
I better do something
We may be on the same planet
Living in different worlds
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devils playground
Hear the church bells ring
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Language Of Love
I want your flesh and blood
And to feel your heart pumping hard
I want to tell my story to your eyes
I want to watch you react
To me baby
Maybe I'm dreaming
I got to do something
We may be on the same planet
Living in different worlds
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devil's playground
Hear the church bells ring
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
She's my great obsession
And the girl likes me too
I think she has the wrong impression
She thinks I want to be friends
Maybe I'm dreaming
I better do something
We might be on the same planet
But talk different tongues
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devil's playground
Hear the church bells ring
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
She thinks I want to be friends
Maybe I'm dreaming
I better do something
We may be on the same planet
Living in different worlds
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devil's playground
Hear the church bells ring
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Based Upon Their Ethnic Ties
If 'rules' of immigration,
Were applied many years ago...
To those who could not read or write,
Or speak the English language properly...
There would be fewer caucasians,
Irritated by productive aliens.
And even fewer still,
Igniting conflict over what rights they have.
Since many of them have risen to heights,
Of incompetence.
Based upon their ethnic ties!
Only the American Blacks,
Have been purposely disenfranchised.
And treated like extraterrestials 'allowed' to visit.
With limited assistance to sustain themselves.
If 'rules' of immigration,
Were applied many years ago...
To those who could not read or write,
Or speak the English language properly...
There would be fewer caucasians,
Irritated by productive aliens.
And even fewer still,
Igniting conflict over what rights they have.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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America
(Francis Scott Key)
Oh, say, can you see
By the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed
At the twilight's last gleaming
Whose broad stripes and bright stars
Through the perilous fight
O'er the ramparts we watched were so
Gallantly streaming?
America, America, America
America, America, America
And the rocket's red glare
The bombs bursting in air
Gave proof through the night
That our flag was still there
Oh, say, does that star
Spangled banner yet wave
Over the land of the free
And the home of the brave!
America, America, America
America, America, America
America, America, America
America, America, America
America, America, America
America, America
ooohhh
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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American Without Tears #2
December 1965 in caracas
When arnie laflem took a piece of the pie
When he packed up the casino chips, the iou and the abacus
And switched off the jukebox in a a fool such as i
He was a leg man who was open to offers
But he couldnt get her off his mind as he passed the tourist office
And as he entertained himself singing just like sammy davis junior
He toyed with her trip to miami
For money like that
He could have sweet talk in her ear
Now they dont speak any english
Just american without tears
It was an idea that he dangled on his knee
And nursed it like his coffee cup
When he couldnt find any other way
It always seemed to come to him
While the day was dipping down
And sun was like a lightbulb
Being swallowed by a clown
He took her for everything
He took her for his only one
He took her out of coventry and over to idaho
But the war wound that he carried home
Wasnt really visable
When bullets were forgotton
She lived dowdry, down, and miserable
And she seemed to be crying for year after year
And says, you dont speak any english
Just american between tears.
Honey she said to me will you turn down the radio.
You havent slept a wink since we came to havana
When youre gonna get the strength to go over to florida
All you ever listen to is the voice of america.
It was the story of a young english puppet
Who took up with a soldier boy
And thought she would profit.
Just like me she found out what true love is about
Anyway shes in new orleans it would never work out
Oh she seemed to be crying for year after year
Now you dont speak any english
Just american between tears.
Just american without tears.
For you seem to be crying year after year
Now you dont speak any english
Just american without tears.
Just american without tears.
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Roses
roses speaks of love in a languege known only too the heart.Colour speak of beauty in a language known only too the rainbow.Beauty speak of sunshine in a language only known too nature.My heart speak of you in a language only known too my love.
poem by Tijani Adebowale Destiny
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Tsonga, My Language, My Heritage
My Culture represent my roots
My traditions represent my Being
My Religion represent my Faith
My Language is my heritage
My TSONGA MY freedom
I'm jack of all trade master of all Languages.
I can speak all 11 South African language
I can speak my Language above freedom of speech
I'm proud TSONGA iam Tsonga that makes me Original
poem by Advice Molewa
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My Own Language
it is not as sweet as English
neither romantic as French
neither lyrical like Spanish
nor authoritative as Greek
nor mystical as Latin
nor progressive as Chinese
nor deep as German nor
friendly as Thai and
neighborly as Bahasa
but my own language
lies inside my heart and so
lovely still that i speak it
as musical as the language of my soul
as lyrical as the movement of my body
as heavenly as my God that speaks to me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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