What Makes Me Less Of An American

What makes me less of an American
because my skin is darker than yours.
I bleed the same as you do
when I'm hot sweat comes from my pores.
 
You told me I needed an education
so I graduated from every school.
Yet, now I'm faced with other excuses
making me feel more like a fool.
 
After struggling with corporate America
I set out to start a business of my own.
Yet you turned your back on me
barely even tossed me a bone.
 
I created jobs, more than paid my dues
and paid a hell of a lot of taxes
from my office not different than your
with computers, copiers, phones and faxes.
 
Even after thirty plus years
you barely seem to think I exist
but I remain a thorn in your side
with my determination as I persist.
 
What makes me less than an American
when do I earn the rest of my stripes?
What other excuses might I expect
to, as you say, stop me from my gripes.
 
Under other's names I've built your houses
helped build a prison with a lack of pride.
Yet, I am told I lack qualifications
as you set me and my company aside.
 
I've fought in your wars
as my brothers and sister did.
Still got the scars to show it
and I refuse to keep them hid.
 
While saying out loud
you can't find a qualified Black
even as the names, including mine,
get shuffled from the stack.
 
You bring in a young white boy
who can't cut a piece of wood straight.
Yet within a short period of time
he's got the keys to the gate.
 
What makes me less than an American
to be treated with so much disdain.
Tho I'm supposed to dance and smile
and not be allowed to show pain.
 
You grin in my face then turn your back
when I ask the question you know.
You're too busy to address my needs
and are always on the go.
 
You scream about "affirmative action"
yet you always use it for you;
telling me its not needed
there's plenty other things I can do.
 
When those with less determination than me
yell out and act against the grain
you stare in total disbelief
as if they are acting insane.
 
You hide behind a great ill
one which is no less than a lie
straining to be honest with your self
unable to look me in the eye.
 
What makes me less than an American
because my skin is darker than yours.
I find that same lie abundant
cross mountains from shore to shores.
 
Matters not how I act or what I do
your real vote remains the same.
You shut me out and close your eyes
and still often show disdain.
 
Seems to me my time served
these sixty odd years
should have by now given you pause
and relieved your long term fears.
 
Yet, my struggle goes on
I know nothing else to do 
but to keep on striving
to be an American like "YOU."
 
Del Cano 2005 Sept