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Jami Samson May 2014
Brood of the journey,
Offspring of adventure;
Cradled in a crib
Of boat rides and bus drives,
Rocked in time with teenage nursery rhymes,
A million miles per hundred hour,
Marking dashed lines
Across the Philippine map
From Region IV-A
To Region V,
For four summer daysprings
And five summer nightfalls.
My umbilical cord recoiled in loops,
Through the roller coaster road,
Under the waterfall expressways,
Bumper-to-bumper with the hills,
Baby on board;
Pulled in my diesel pushcart,
Back to the womb of my motherland
And into the water that once broke
To give me my own air.
But I haven't breathed better until
Now that I swim again in her salty seasac.
How I have long starved my feet
Of her creamy sand
Which the skin between my toes
Suckle like breastmilk.
How short it has taken
For her colors to change
From seagreen in the dawn,
To aquamarine by ripe daylight,
To turquoise in the afternoon,
And to teal blue by dusk,
Upon having me in her arms.
I was as happy as a clam
When a welcome party was thrown
By the fish residence
And I was reunited
With my crustacean playmates
And their echinoderm pals.
During my stay,
I had the whistles of the sea breeze
As my morning wake-up call,
And by night
The sky is my ceiling,
Decorated with star glitters
And one would fall everytime
To turn off my night light
While the waves would splash
A cool blanket on me.
I would go on treasure hunts
To find the lost seashells;
Raiding coast-to-coast of the boundary,
Declaring tug-of-war,
Jumping in with both feet
And holding my breath,
Fighting the careless Captain Current
And his crew of buccaneers
Attacking in foams and spumes,
And I was unwavering,
Unflagging,
Yanking the *****
To victory.
With Merleau-Ponty,
To be free is to be situated;
But with these marlins,
It is dancing on the ocean floor.
Take it from the jellyfishes
Who just go with the flow
And follow the tide
Whether if it meant
Being washed ashore
Or sinking in the deep,
As long as their tentacles
Are free.
One day I visited
The underwater kingdoms;
Parts of Atlantis
Dispersed into an archipelago.
The Coral Cave,
Land of the soft and stony;
There lives the family
Of jelly-prickled corals
Who are all slimes and tickles,
Among their relatives,
The rose reefs,
Who are red as petals
But rough as thorns.
The Boulder Territory,
A colossal chamber castle
Filled with all the bathroom stones
To scrub your feet with,
But which upon being rushed in
By the cavalry of billows,
One would bruise themself
On the cliff floors
For fear of the enemy,
The barracuda;
Patroling the dark areas
Of the vicinity,
Lying in wait
For its next victim.
In the neighboring island
Just beyond the shoreline,
Is the Seaweed Seabed;
The base plantation
Of the seagrapes,
Natively Philippine Caviar,
Which are saltwater explosives
In the mouth
That come in bunches
Of crunchy, jelly green beads.
Last but not the least,
The Pebble Desert;
A torrid terrain
Of dunes and dunes of pebbles
Pink, peach, and pearl,
Cool in the eyes
As pastel *****
But hot in the feet
As burning coals.
Sometimes we create
The most beautiful things
To be mirrors of ourselves
Modeled from our brokenness
To cast back
A better image of us
In one piece
And be looked at
As something worth loving
If not something perfect,
And God must have been
Truly in smithereens
As to put together
A whole world of a looking glass
Reflecting His divine entirety
For us, His fallible caretakers
To see Him as someone
Worthy of our love,
Aside from perfect.
And I know that
He knows me too well
To know that
What I really mean to say
Is 'I love you'
When I would rather
Simplicity speak for beauty
And let majesty be mystic,
Than bother forcing
Some not-quite words
To fit His creation.
Sadly,
Even the starfish,
The child of the ocean
And the sky,
A blending of two worlds,
Yet still goes out on a limb
To be a part of a third one,
Can't stay too long
Where it doesn't belong,
And we all have to
Go back at some point
To the place
We just couldn't call home
Because we're always looking
For somewhere else.
But I have come to find
That home is not really where,
But who you're with.
So I shall never have to worry
For the Earth is three-fourths water
And the body is fifty percent of it;
The ocean and I
Will always share
The same whole.
#52. May.23.14
Raphael Uzor May 2014
She said she was Ibo
And spoke with a fake accent
Wanna’s and gonna’s
Littered her speech
Not a trace of Igbo, in her exotic accent.

She smirked boldly
As I answered my phone
Greeting my friend natively
In a lavish of deep expressions
So deep, only Ndi Igbo can share.

With a ****** passport
She spoke better than most Britons
She was born in her village
Yet all she knows is “bia”
She thinks she’s cool, I think she’s lost!

The whole point of wooing her
An “mgbe-eke” from the east
Was so we could regularly, take a break
From all formalities and English
And bask in mother tongues…

I might as well be yoked
With a foreign damsel
For the whole purpose of looking within
Is defeated if your tongue is white
And we can only commune in “oyibo”

Call me tribalistic
Call me uncivilized
Call me superficial if you will
But what you call vernacular
The same is my root. I am proudly Igbo!


© Raphael Uzor
Its Igbo NOT Ibo.
Bia means come (in Igbo)
Ndi Igbo means Igbo people
Mgbe-eke means village girl (literally)
Oyibo means English (can also mean white, as in white person)
Alex Smith Oct 2018
I remember when I was
Self-conscious.
Sure, I still have my struggles-
Little negative thoughts navigate
Through nothingness natively out of
My mouth.
But, sometimes I like to think
I am the greatest.
Sometimes, I like what I do.
Through and through,
I try to keep this thought true,
Take something I learned and
Share it with you.
I feel new,
Just sometimes.
As if I am not who I was back then.
As if depression never took me,
And if social anxiety
Was a construct of pseudoscience.
Sometimes I feel stronger,
As if I can take on the world;
By my own hero,
And save the ones I love.
Sometimes, I feel the sunshine
And the weight lift from my shoulder.
The older
I get, the longer it stays.
I am getting better,
Or maybe I was never
Ill in the first place.
I can do things
Other cannot,
But also learn from those same people.
I can grow as me-
Stop the burning and cutting
And constant lonely late night crying.
I am free to be balanced
And to be me
And happy.
Sometimes, just sometimes,
I get a glimpse of the time if those moments
Became my everytime.
And then I smile, and breathe
Just breathe.
And continue to think of myself
As broken, but still beautiful
Victoria Feb 2021
I am a native woman
It runs in my veins, my skin, my bite
Barefoot to twine and leaves drizzle down
As I walk tirelessly through poison brush
To the lonesome crystal waterfalls, white stones
I contemplate my dagger, entering my being
Do you see now my flesh? My blood? My teeth?
What more must I prove? I would ask
But no, I am a woman
Natively
Ken Pepiton Jul 2019
outside my window is a dragon fly,
but
it was
briefly
a true UFO

of a species genera imagine-
natively named by an
old story teller, a

fellow fallen, once-wing-ed one.

I imagine,
at first motion sensed,
I see a hawks sillohuette, a mile away,

but, no,
motion detector detects motion
incompatible with known
hawkish believable moves,

yet, moves, I saw.

I saw movement, abrupt, sharp, fast
smooth
still
outside my window was a dragon fly,

starring straight at me, saying nothing,
making me think,

For a mortal moment, you saw a  true UFO
Fishing
Beaver Meadow Oct 2023
At Volta Lake
we've left the stench
of human love
on breeze and bench
(me and my sweet
sour saucy *****)

where faces up
the mountain man
who's natively
American,
and not, in fact,
an Indian.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2022
autobahn limbo:
lima bravo 5 5 5...
Harvard ha 6...


i woke up in a benevolent mood...
i rarely give money to paupers... only yesterday...
or the day before that: yesterday
i arrived at Romford at 12am from Putney
Bridge... sort of exhausted from dealing
with coworkers: i still don't understand
the tactic Emma is employing giving me
the ***** looks... then again flirting
with me... some... ******* underlying mental
health issues...
what is it with these women
my own age? i'm supposed to be the one
that's ****** up... but i look around...
**** me: what a bleak horizon...
almost as flat and boring as:
"adventure" in Belgium...
          ******* Swedish pop songs...
exported into the anglophone "hemisphere"...
maybe it was worthwhile that i was
a hermit throughout my 20s...
   coming back out, to meet people aged 35....
i'm of the "constipation": you what?!
o.k., o.k. i've had my fun in the brothels
but this is just getting silly...
#metoo...
                 you what?!
               i must have been living in an alternative
ulterior dimension...
   it's called the English articles procession...
i don't think i'm THE devil... just A devil...
one of many....
        so i i woke up in a benevolent mood...
two paupers... i cycled hangover feeling feverish
and like a **** thrown out onto a beach
to sun-bathe...
             you what?!
          yeah... felt like just that:
i don't need no hallucinogenic drugs...
when i get dementia... when i get dementia..
and there she was... a Roma-esque beauty...
i asked her... you want anything?
oh... just a Dr. Pepper... walked in... got my whiskey
and Pepsi... right... Dr. Pepper...
but it costs me £1.75... is she vegetarian?
why did i ask myself? well...
there's a meal deal... £3 for a drink... a "meal"
and a snack... for i bought a chicken bacon Caesar wrap...
Maltesers...
     as i walked out... in my mind: swerving...
ice-skating... asked her... are you vegetarian?
she said no... well then... here you go...
and all it cost me £3... for a god-bless-you...
good feeling... Charlie Dickens style good feeling...
honestly... if i had more... i'd freely give it up...
i just don't need it...
   i own enough... to be honest... i actually own
too much...
    but i can't be collective in the case of ownership...
selective...
what's that biblical quote:
ask... and it will be given?!
   no?
           minutes later i was buying a bottle
of cider and getting some cash-back...
another pauper... professional... faking it?
whatever... i wish i had children that i could
be defensive about... then again: no...
want anything? oh yeah... just some chocolate...
only yesterday the Royle family were munching on
some Crunchy chocolate bars...
so i bought him that... and told him while
giving it to him: the best choc-ah-bloc you'll
ever eat...
                     days like this... who needs to compete
with other men for status or women...
i feel like... skidding... feel like a diarrhoea...
but at the same time... hell... i just fed someone...
and she has one of those plump... Roma...
squish... smiles... you just want to bite them...
tease them a little... she reminds me of Priy'ah..
         that's how i love ***... it's the longing...
it's the forgetfulness that sometimes sprouts...
you remember all the tender parts of the body...
the soft parts surrounding the collar-bone...
   the funny parts of elbows and knees...
          the altar of a woman's thighs and...
       oh... oh... all that's in the inner crevices of her
works...
                      no... don't mention her hands...
i've tried... i can pick up a basketball with one hand...
obviously my phallus looks tiny in my own
hands:
funny... all those guys... taking ****-picks
just after having *******... oh no... they're not
taking them prior...
      women's hands are the most ******...
technically... to get some "whereabouts"
i'd have to... cut off my pinky...
i'd be left with 4 fingers...
            such cute little geisha blooms of bone...
i look: i want to eat... those hands up...
esp. if the woman in "question" isn't white...
   copper-neck... camel-jockey...
             ivory: Kenyan... plump buttered up
silver in the moonlight...
              right... i'm gearing up...
                     need to manifest an increase of stamina...
if my ******* "girlfriend" is texting me...
the time's right...
i've earned enough money in the past month...
time to revisit her...
         no more high 3 on the throne of thrones...
****... ****... *******: sure...
but no *******...
            better prep up... after all... if i'm going to
spend £120 for an hour's worth...

so she sends me a message asking whether i'm
alright: more like: have you forgotten about me?
of course i haven't...
but let's be honest: i don't *** to becoming boring...
something married people get bored of...
mind you: i don't want to have too much of it:
just in case i have to turn to role-play...
kinks... latex... glory-holes fetishes...
can we keep it kosher: the sort of ******* that
translates as: i really missed you?!
oh my god... she looks even better in daylight without
any make-up... what a gorgeous Turkish cougar
of a woman...

                         i'm pretty sure the women i work with
don't know anything about my brothel antics...
which is good... because... why would i want
them to know?
  
the German: Hessen... fans from Frankfurt didn't
disappoint... they came like all German people
come: like a horde...
  their fanaticism is more admirable than that
of the English football supporters...
i walked past them... they gave me the eye...
the sort of: giving me the eye of: oh look!
ein von uns...
                     one of us!
              
   funny that... in German 1 is also A...
a indefinite article... but also... an anzahl...
       number...

sure... obviously i was giving breaks to Muslims
breaking their fast... but with the Germans 'ere...
it felt like the good old times...
when Lyon fans visited... eh... zee Fwech...
it's not the same... but when the Germans come...
from the federation that isn't Saxony...
from the Hessen land... or elsewhere...
ever heard of the Anglo-Bavarians?! me neither...

i feel... at home... in Europe...
even today i was working with this guy... nervous as hell...
Finland? it really was a one word question...
no, no... close though... he replied...
Lithuania... i'll let him know some other shift we'll
do together...

czołem bracie!
            čołem bratku!
kaktos brolis!
          i.e. hey brother...
   kaktos: using the forehead to greet someone...

even in this poly-ethnic England that's
more London than England...
i felt... finally! pagaliau! schließlich!
at home in the right sort of cold...
i just needed the Germans to come to England
and behave like Icelanders...
hoo! hoo! clapping in unison...

why would i hate the Germans?!
           all the other ethnicities that are not associate
with Europe suddenly fizzled out of my
"concern"... Ramadam my ***...
                      i started talking to his... oh... this is a coy
one... ginger... beauty... has a flimsy blonde mustache...
freckles... light ginger hair...
i seriously don't mind...
she was really ******* reserved about me...
i could see it in her eyes...
finally i pulled her off... we started chatting...
her kids are studying Spanish...
they want to give it up... but i tell her: don't let them!
if they learn it, acquire it...
that's all the South American potential...
or tell them to learn German... after all:
English and German are cousins... the grammar is
pretty much the same... how you order words
in a sentence...

i just picked up... alles güt?!
ar du haben eine güt цeit?!

      i just wanted this woman know... a little bit of something
about myself... like...
i do have interests in foreign languages...
if she wanted to ******* with me to Poland...
i could speak for her... very "fluently":
well... natively...
         but what sort of woman would ever follow
Roxette day-dream?!
   i think i must have chewed that chewing gum
until my jaw felt sore...

remind me... why am i here? per se?!
if i'm not here for the fame... i must be here...
trying to make a conquest within the confiens of mythology...
i must be spelling it out... one person at a time...
to one person at a time...
  i'm not here for fame... i see it now...
fame associated with mortality... with the living..
no... no... i'm here for something more rarer...
i'm looking for acknowledgement after i am dead...
i want that: very much so...
i want to become famous... posthumously...

           it's a long project... es ist ein weit projekt...
fair enough: in English:
a pair... an antenna...
that N... which is shoved between vowels...
but... in Deutsche...
ein... eine...         that added vowel...
how does that work? i'm yet to speak
to someone who might erzählen (zu mich)...
i see a load of Germans... ooh! ooh!
fancy that!
         they're congregating...
no Zeppelins then?!
    
   wohl! nein Spaß wenn Deutsche
    do nicht kommen mit irgendein Zeppelins...

kommen! kommen!
lassen mich sehen du!  

but i can't really explain how it feels when seeing
these continental folk congregate:

   was inbrunst! was... lebengewalt!
i was truly standing there: pitch-side...
gobsmacked... ich war verblüfft...
         i sort of wanted to join them... i was itching
to go among them and chant their Frankfurters'
chants...
    well... because in England: diversity is our
strenght...
                    vielfalt ist unser stärke...

i was sort of reminded of the time when Europe
entertained those Nomads that spoke some
Hebrew... later mingled Hebrew with Deutsche
and out popped a ******* child that was Yiddish...

everyone comes here... this great continental funnel...
this bottle neck... they come... mingle...
and then they later leave...
   while those that remain and have always remained
are stuck by being struck with the sentence:
what the **** just happened?!

maybe that's my "problem": i see ethnicity before
i see race... like with this Lithuanian guy...
i seriously thought he was Finnish...
he sort of reminded me of looking like the lead
singer from the band HIM... Ville Valo

i did mention it to a coworker... oh look...
        der große schwarm!
maybe i should put more effort into this tongue...
no disrespect to the English language
but... German sounds softer...
English harsher...
   a bit like the inverse of: Russian sounds soft
while ****** sounds harsh...
it just sounds like... home...
          
       ein herц... ein wirbeln von luft...
              mund von der wald...

it's these conjunctions, the German definite articles...
hypothetically there's that for der
there's the for die
   there's that for das...
          i mean: there's der for that
there's die for the
   there's das for that...
    
                          you seriously cannot not be envious
when you see Germans en masse... spirited
with a commonality: for a bienenstockgeist
(hive-mind)...
                            i was struck with: neid... envy...
i wish i could belong like that...
within an in-group...
                       scheiße!  aber suchen bei mich!
i'm stuck with the ******* circus of the world...
alles zungen kam zu Loon'dune...

          seeing them like that... i find the hyped-stress
on individualism in the Anglo-Sphere slightly...
putting it mildly... debilitating...
all i wanted to do was go among the Hessen
and start chanting alles mit uns!
or alles von uns!

                i mean: how can i belong in a society that's
fixated on a global agenda... that eternal project
of monotheism... it's... seltsam... weird...
after the fiasco of the Turm von Babel... you'd think...
the opposite ought to be true...
the evil urges of the demiurge point in the other
direction...

                  but once more we've come together
as a "species" and once more we're trying to work
together... obviously the writings of Moses are
primarily metaphorischindikatoren:
you can't read them literally... anyone who reads
them literally has no poetic-sensibility...
no imagination... just like the flood did happen...
well... given the ice age and the melting of the ice...
sure... it did... mind you: we were drawing dragons
before we discovered dinosaur bones...
giant fire breathing lizards... fire being the representation
of what happened to these giant lizards...
supposedly a meteor struck the earth...
boom... imagine if that meteor struck the moon
and destroyed it... no tides... no water... blah blah...

i.e. i was never a big fan of Bill Hicks' humour...
or H'american humour in general,
unless it's by a black guy... i'm all into all that race
baiting... but me? something along the lines
of Eddie Izzard... Lee Evans...
                           maybe i'm just exhausting this sitting
that i've spread over two days...
     it has become such a collage and i'm starting to
smell a little like cologne... rye cologne...
or is that wheat? the main ingredient in whiskey?

well... that happens... at first reading
Human all too Human didn't present itself as spectacular...
but on second reading... wow!
probably his best work! it all makes sense now...
esp. since i'm reading it in English rather than ******...
too much of the teenage rebelliousness
goes into reaching for Nietzsche...
    i guess the best gateway to understanding him
is by reading some Heidegger...

ich bin einfach: begeistert mit Deutschedenken!
i am simply: enthralled with German thinking...
you couldn't: you wouldn't say as much
about about English thought...
          i just can't stomach it... it's too pragmatic...
it's too easily bound to problem solving...
it's hardly inquisitive...
it's a shepherd's mentality...
   keep everything organised... categorically proof...
phonetically, though? a ******* minefield...
loopholes of spaghetti everywhere...
   back "home" you never hear of the condition
that's dyslexia... you did hear of...
literate or illiterate... but there was no middle
ground... of dyslexia... i.e. / e.g. dyslexic:
good with numbers... **** with letters...
           katakana? or Chinese ideograms?!

(ich) sehen,
               hören,
                      wittern,
                           schmecken,
                                         fühlen...

aber! aber! da ist ein sechste! "sinn"...
   the totality of which translates itself into written
language... gedanke!
     or rather: denken! thinking!
strange... i can think about my liver...
but my liver doesn't think about me...
i can think about my brain... but my brain doesn't
think about me...

it's... deshalb a sense!
you think i'll learn Deutsche proper if i smuggle
in some German wörter:
from time zu zeit?! well... i'll have to remember:
bring in the Cyrillic TSA: ц -
  because i'm pretty sure i've just spotted an
exception on pronunciation...
it's not цoo... but it's most certainly цeit...
it's "actually" zoo... i'm itching to put an umlaut
on that U of ZU...

      i'm ageing... chances of me learning a third
language proper are impossible...
i can only dream about it...
         i'm already entrenched with the language
i was born with and the language i'm writing in...

but i simply can't stop admiring the Germans...
unlike the English... i too have had my share of grief
"borrowed" from these people...
but seeing them congregate like that...
easily swayed... you can't simply stop... mouth agape:
ehrfurcht!

                ich wunsch ich war ein unter du... alles von du!
i was clearly born in the wrong tribe...
i clearly was moved to the wrong tribe...

loch in der borden!
     wolken in der himmel!
                    bäume in der wald!

you could really arm these fellas up... and march them
into suicide missions and they'd be like:
fair enough...
          i guess that's what Leningrad must have
been like...
              
i can't exactly love my native tongue...
the noblemen of my camp sort of became lazy...
disrespectful to themselves...
and their people...
                              **** them: it's that easy...
i pledge no allegiance to either England or Poland...
i'm a three thinker...
as long as the Latin script is employed...
i tried the Greek i tried the Katakana and the Cyrillic...
i became cross-eyed...

well... not with the Greek...
    Cyrillic was always... paupers' Greek for me...
how Greeks destroyed the Glagoliic script...
it was so beautiful... almost... no... it was almost!
no... it wasn't Arabic... it was Glagolitic...
it was itself in how it was crafted...
nothing is going to come across as practical as
Latin: though: that's already known...
since Latin was the only language employed in
creating the internet... no?!

i do feel sorry for the natives though...
    for me... i'm "going elsewhere"... i'm always going elsewhere...
i'm not going back "home"...
Haiti?! Kenya with the ivory beauties...
Turkey... i'm definitely going to Turkey
to pick up Khedra that ol' raven haired witch...
the best **** in all of... whatever...
    i'm not staying in England: at least my mind
isn't... and my body is not returning to Poland...
i'm ******* off... i want to entertain a Turkish harem
of thirsty women...
   i want to "return" to the Mamluks of Egypt...
i want to be in the ranks of the Janissaries...
                          you know... in cultures where masculinity
is celebrated: not simply shunned...
in my mind i'm already there...
to hell with dating single mums...
raising someone else's children...
if i were a prospect for a Cesar... being a foster parent...
perhaps... otherwise? too expensive...
    
i'm clearly not doing this ****...
culture's all awry...
             it's such a cryng shane though....
       how un-available women have become...
                well... people have lived through worse...
and still managed to: tragen an!
                              
geringste von ihr kümmernis      

                            leben kurz: leben liebend!
das ist alles!
                        live short: live loving.
(alternatively titled eldest daughter despises us)

Eden (beloved eldest daughter) icy
flat tone of voice spoke volumes,
when she talked with the missus and me
courtesy cellular telecommunications key
December twenty seventh
two thousand nineteen
unwavering listless dull verbalization see
I subsequently told spouse, she
thy super smart self reliant progeny

fending for herself approximately
last half dozen years exhibits je
ne sais quois profound loathing
predicated growing up dirt poor free
quint lee lamenting deprivations re:
guarding legal tender adequate specie
i.e. money - at least compared to every
MainLine millionaire flush with dee -

suppose able income, and oft times
lovingly, pleasantly, unexpectedly...
receiving largasse gift horse courtesy
zayda (my father), who art not yet
in heaven sprung monetary help, ye
this second born and only son did
profusely think him (papa) lee
ving voice messages on his landline,
and tracfone, plus wrote heartfelt poem,

similar acknowledgement modus operandi,
when said offspring
became twenty three
years old - five days ago, nonetheless thee
admirable, dependable, honorable... née
holds Matthew Scott (namely he),
who helped beget
darling feels angry,

and doth plainly exhibits contempt
(you) dear reader guessed correctly
towards sorrowful dada,
where inescapable thralldom
doth invisibly chain
(think ghost of Marley)
apologetic sir, whose
precious kinder, I

will unwaveringly cherish
forever love and revere
despite up paul ling
destitution, grinding linkedin penury,
and red hot poker faced
anger, yes... dismay
prevails how unforgiving
once (Benny sent) baby,

inside joke, I attest neigh
scent "star student,"
now grown young woman,
no longer - figuratively
wrapped around yours
truly her finger
father who fell short, natively cree
hated abhorrent within re

cent mammary, ***** (hers)
harboring scathing unmasked vee
hum mint, blistering, rancorous,
seething, volcanic withering...
no matter disgusting revulsion
toward aging mommy
and repentant daddy,
I LOVE YE EDEN + SHANA!

— The End —