calpurnia mockingbird

Aug 2014

Juneau

Rebirth

The public should be wiser,
our wealth controlled by misers.
Breed more sheep for the pasture,
bow down before the master.

When it comes to worldly knowledge,
you don't need to go to college.
Scare tactics promote the system,
tie us down in neo-serfdom.

An age in great need of regression,
back before the planets oppression.
We all get weaker by the hour,
lets rise up and take back the power.

So let us tear up all the concrete,
we will once again sow the Earth.
Rip the ruling class from their seat,
chaos will bring us our rebirth.

April 8, 2012
Eighth

Aug 2014

Louise

I Lost My Inner Poet

I lost my inner poet
apparently she was last seen
just staring idly into space

She was sitting with her notebook,
gently pondering
in a quiet, tucked away place

I could only see the back of her
she wouldn't turn around
I so wanted to see her face

She was always so quiet
and very often reflective
working at her own steady pace

Not only am I left without poetry
I am also lost for words
she may have taken them all
along with my grace

The search will continue
maybe until the end of my days
as I fear she's left no trace

This was something I wrote last year. I hope I don't ever lose my inner poet lol

Aug 2014

Wardell Lee Freeman

I am NOT gay

I tend to get stares... Looks... The occasional "are you gay?" With a quizzical look of disgust.
Well, to answer your question, no, I am not gay.
In a society built around judgment and stilted above common sense,
Being gay would mean that I'd have to find women utterly disgusting, flick my wrists, speak with funny and awkward inflections, right?
Do you think I speak with funny and awkward inflections?
Good! Because I'm so not gay.
Being gay would mean that I love to shop, well I hate it!
My fashion sense does not exceed that of a box of colorful crayola crayons melting away in the blistering Las Vegas sun because you see, I don't live in San Francisco, or New York,
or anywhere "gay" people live.
I am not gay.
Being gay would mean that I am immoral but I can assure you, moralistically speaking, that morals are what keep me routinely from listening to Lady Gaga, who I've heard, despite her catholic upbringing, is a devout devil worshiper and I sure as hell don't worship Satan!
Oh no, I am not gay.
My father once told me, in his manliest tone that if I ever became sweet
or my tank profusely filled with sugar
that he'd disown me and rid me of his home.
However last time I checked,
I don't have a tank
and one lick of my tanned brown skin would reveal that I am in fact quite salty!
Salty, as defined by Urban Dictionary, means to be ******.
Bitter. Angry.
Well father, there aint nothing sweet about my wrath.
I'm infuriated.
I'm angry not because I'm not able to fulfill the holistic criterion society has built in order to be gay,
No, I am more upset that there is actually a set of rules dictating whether or not someone is gay.
Now listen to me when I tell you,
I am not gay
I am not gay because I have yet to inject myself of substances with an unsterile needle for all purposes of getting high.
No, I have yet to discover my last ****** partner was diagnosed with *** and that I may very well have the virus.
No, I have yet to interiorly decorate my bedroom with the warm crimson fluid that is my blood because some punk at school thought it was cute to label me a queer.
I have yet to be gay because being gay in today's society means I am reckless. I am promiscuous. I am a *******.
Well, guess what society,
I am not gay.
I am, in fact, a man, who is not your personal show dog for your fashion approval that you can tote around in some cute Gucci bag.
I am a man, who can still appreciate the beautiful magnificence that is a curve when he sees one no matter the person's gender.
I am a man who, despite what you may be expecting,
is a man who, no matter how hard you try to box me in a confined image,
is a man who, will fight to freely be in love with who he wants to be in love with,
who is a man who is not gay
but a man who loves men.
I am not gay.
..

Totally gay.

#gay #lgbt #lgbtq

Aug 2014

nova

poetry isn't for anyone

**** it.
poetry isn't for you,
it isn't for anyone.
why show the world
your wounds?
keep it all wrapped up
under a knit blanket, i suppose.
fight your demons alone;
a war in your own mind.
don't let anyone see
the scars, not on your wrist,
but in your thoughts.
stay silent, stay quiet.
maybe you'll get through it.
hide it inside, hidden
by fake smiles and fake friends.
move on with your music
and a whole new reality.
the world is a dangerous place;
people don't understand
and people don't know.
don't show your marks,
pull down your sleeves.

no,
poetry isn't for anyone.

i wrote this a while back, and i actually kinda like it

#poetry

Aug 2014

Poetic T

Lonely Death

I have no body,
I wish not be alone,
I want to touch
To feel love.
Hold them close
Feel there soul next to mine,
But I am death,
I am cursed to be alone,
I see those that I fall in love from a far
For years I watch
My breath chills them to the bone,
But the only touch I give
Is the touch of death,
To take them from their mortal coil
For a moment there is more than deaths touch,
They know I wish them no harm,
Feeling the warmth of our souls
Before they are drawn to
Darkness,
Or
Light,
Then out of reach, out of love
I am lonely once more,
My voyage through the ages
Life,
&
Death,
I have loved and then lost,
I only get to show my feelings
Once I touch them dead,
With my soul warm,
Imprisoned in this rib cage of bone.

calpurnia mockingbird Jul 2014

Rearview mirror

We are nothing that matters,
created in mystery
while slowly dissolving to dust.
Pretentions and delusions our comfort as reality bites with it's point filed teeth.

We are not made of stars, nor moondust, we are products of all that has gone before and the destruction of all that is yet to be.

I yearn to see this life through a rearview mirror, it's withered form a speck on the far horizon, for the hurt to stop as this knife in my back plunges further into my sickened depths, severing my spine from all it holds dear.

I yearn for silence, for these thoughts to stop spewing from my acid tongue, burning my unkissed lips with a million wasted words while attempting to say only one.

Minutes turn into months, decades of meaningless days and miniscule triumphs.

The stage is set, my role is uncast but the curtain never falls, I stumble wildly through blind utterances, dreaming darkly, while anxiously awaiting the applause that will herald my passing.

This is not living.

Jul 2014

Nebulous the Poet

Shunning Silence (to Defeat Violence)

Guns are everywhere in sight
Muzzles, fire and fright.
Blood running through sewers
like flooded rivers in mid-May,
when it should be running through veins.
Slain bodies once filled with life
are now filled with undeserved death.
Pain seeps through the eyes
of brutalized victims as they weep.

A mother pleads to God
with hopes He will breath life
back into her daughter's lungs
as a child stands over the rotting
bodies of bystanders,
and waves at the flies
Unrest fills the air
while fire's are burning under water
Tragedy burns the face down to a tear,
Could Hell get any hotter?

Mirages mirror terror,
Silence in broken mirrors.
It may seem that voices don't exist
in places like this,
And that a difference lies off
in the distance;
out of reach, unattainable.
But they do.
A blind man's eyes become
his hands and his ears
when he needs to see,
While the mute lack a voice,
they still find a way to say,
"Hope is never all lost."

They need to know they are not alone.
Battles are being fought all over this world.
War, famine, sexism, racism.
A fight between mother and father.
Grief for the loss a lover.
We can all relate,
in one way or another.
Ignore ignorance, become informed.
Silence does not defeat violence,
nor is strength needed to beat it.
Courage and a heart
are needed to defeat it,
along with the will to believe
it can be defeated.

Throwing punches with fingerless fists
and broken spirits can seem useless,
but more has been done
with less.

Remember, a voice with something to say
is harder to forget
than a voice
that is
silent.

Inspired by/ a tribute for the victims in the Middle East. A poem that speaks on speaking up when everyone else is silent.