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Fa Be O  Aug 2013
Tired.
Fa Be O Aug 2013
There is

the bitter taste of the last cigarette

on the roof of my mouth,

a sourness on my tongue

and i try to remember the last time i felt like this.

or rather…

the last time I DIDN’T.

seems like as time goes on, every day becomes a struggle,

and some days more than others.

I want everyone to be my friend,

but i wonder where this inferiority complex comes from?

it paralyzes me and i do not want to speak.

meeting people, seeing my ideas put into words

by other lips and others’ gestures,

and yes I agree,

but ******* you make me so tired.

no, i do not need your hugs,

and no i do not need your validation.

and hell no i do not need your apathetic agreement

because like hell you would understand,

like hell you would know that

you can’t bleach this brown skin of

all the slurs and all the stigma,

that you can’t flat iron out the

ethnic tangles of my afro-something hair,

that you can’t even guess,

cause even i don’t know,

even we don’t know,

if i’m black or native or forcibly half white,

if i’m 10% this or 50% that,

like I have to be broken down

into numbers and percentages

cause I just can’t be whole again,

cause we just can’t be whole again.



They took everything,

they came and took everything

*******,

and yes God ****** us,

your ****** God ****** us,

you came and you traded

our generosity, our good faith, our sustenance,

you took all of that

and gave us biblical ******* about a God,

some overbearing, vengeful Lord

that didn’t even love you,

oh God, and we were the savages?

You came and you stripped us naked,

took off layer after layer of dignity and prosperity,

we gave you firm hugs of solidarity,

and you groped our ******* like they were worthless,

we gave you kisses of peace,

and you rammed your tongues down our throats,

demanding we choked into silence,

and we were supposed to thank you.

You came and you ***** our land,

our mothers, sisters, and daughters

and we were supposed to be compliant.

we were supposed to be quiet,

and we were supposed to be content,

happy to fill our wombs

with children who would later struggle

with the realization that the reason the color of their skin

was neither yours nor mine,

that it was neither milky white nor toasted earth,

was because my people had been ****** by yours,

figuratively, literally but most significantly, forcibly

generation after generation,

subjugation after subjugation

for 400 ******* years.



And here I am.

400 years later and I don’t know who I am.

They say I could be Chicana,

or Mexicana,

I could be Mexico Americana,

I could be Latina,

or even, god-forbid,

Hispana.

I could be but what does that even mean?

what does Mexican mean?

a land where the majority of the people

descend from the great people of indigenous America,

or the great people of Africana roots,

or these chaotically beautiful blends

that result in the sweetest of dark coffee- soft caramel of spectrums,

still say “indio" like an insult,

still say “*****" like an insult,

still say “prieto" like an insult.

still say, “baby girl, get out the sun,

what you tryin to get darker for?"

still say, “hell no we ain’t african!"

like that would be a bad thing.



and ******* it i am ******* tired.
David Barr Dec 2013
It is incumbent upon us to interpret various environments in this multi-dimensional tapestry of holistic landscapes, where celestial ecosystems abound with pulsating organisms of diversity.
So, let us translate our literary concepts in silence, as we traverse cross-cultural vistas of universality.
As indigenous beings reach beyond the sparse and pompous settlements of our ******* city towers; there is something incomprehensible which transcends our ambling walk through this urban pasture, as the train departs from the classical platform of El Chorro.
I am mesmerised by linguistic creativity, as she echoes throughout distant galaxies of enriched and unspoken mystical vocabularies.
As empirical verification is not possible, I must beseech thee: Where are the connoisseurs of this poetic dimension?
Cassius Moon  Jun 2022
Spectrums
Cassius Moon Jun 2022
When your voice is drowning in an endless sea of chatter, and your life has been reduced to ash and sorrow -
in your darkest hour, in your blackened thoughts, at the end of the spectrum, there lies the tipping point;
the plunge into darkness or the ascent into light.
Alisha  Jul 2013
you
Alisha Jul 2013
you
Stumbling into a perpetual state of exhaustion,
I rub my eyes from which fatigue is metaphorically spilling
and I stumble into a galaxy of captivating swirls
and bizarre colour collisions.
A whole new universe of irregular shapes
and rotatory walls.
A majestic planet
consisting of only unfamiliar colour spectrums.
Nice colour spectrums,
but unfamiliar colour spectrums.

And that
is how I feel
when I am with you.
Xander Duncan Dec 2014
Let’s get something straight
I’m not
Or at least, that’s a situation in question
But that’s not what I’m here for, you see
The acronym LGBT has a terrific little tail that everyone tends to trip over
And the conversations that transpire when I attempt to try the closet door
Leave me frequently swept under the rug
Maybe I’m just a little lost in translation
But they should know that identity is not orientation
And it can be tricky to articulate, so I don’t mind the extra explanation
But I’m telling you there’s a tipping point where you can’t expect me to take it
To tally up the talks I’ve had tearing apart the phrase
“So, genderfluid is like another word for bisexual, then, right?”
Because there’s already this his-and-hers internal tug-of-war
So tying in other types of ignorance just gets tiring at times
And trying again and trying again and again to get the point across
Leads me down a tangled train of thought that runs off the tracks in unclear tangents
Because conversations transition without the intended amendments
Because these transcripts would transcend the usual transfer of data
Into transgressions and obsessions with more than I’m able to
Confirm or confer without temperamental reactions
Feeling entirely translucent overlooking their infractions
Wondering why more words aren’t composed in a way that allows them
To be transposed to neutrality or at least farther from
Specific definitions testing how gendered things can get
Wondering why I don’t make any sense yet
[Breathe]
Let me be perfectly queer
The acronym LGBT has a tetrad attraction detailing at least part of this
Just a trifle of understanding if you’re looking to comprehend it
And if you don’t care to learn then don’t bother to ask
But take some time from your day and I’ll try to make it fast
Go ahead and interrogate, I don’t mind all that much
Whatever trips your trigger, as long as it’s not pointed at us
I can’t speak on behalf of every transgender teen
But if you don’t know a word, I can tell you what I mean
I can text you a trillion terms to absorb
Or trim down the lesson to the basics if you’re bored
But don’t tell me that pronouns are a hassle to learn
When they catch in the throats of those just waiting their turn
To stop hiding their tears and be treated the same
Teaching one person at a time until the world hears their true name
Don’t expect trophies, but I’ll give you my thanks
Don’t tease us about the clothes that make our spines and souls ache
I want to wear this letter T like a cross from my neck
Saying the prefix trans- means across and I like it like that
Traversing the spectrums and binaries all mixed
Transcontinental, transatlantic, transfixed
By the beauty in boys and the glamour in girls
But mostly the neithers and boths in this world
Don’t tell me it’s a transient, temporary tale
Or that I’m totally enamored with getting off the most followed trail
I’m taking back traumas and tense muscles and taunts
Until tentative trespassers give us what we want
A presence, a voice, and all human rights
It shouldn’t be a privilege to feel safe at night
Don’t tiptoe around troubles, just stand with us here
Add a voice until we trumpet our triumphs and cheers
Take my hand, hear my voice
Listen, learn something new
Because LGBT has a cross and
Cross my heart
I’m with you
poetryaccident Sep 2018
I’ll protect the innocent
even while I may proclaim
my deep regard for who they are
controversy may be exclaimed
guiltless stated for my friends
this word is used at its most broad
when all children of the divine
deserve their refuge from abuse

even while I seek to proclaim
my admiration for their grit
stepping outside confining realms
leading the way for this questing one
on the shoulders of the perverse
this is how the public may respond
declaring wisdom I don’t share
when I see threads of commonality

in my heart I know we are the same
seeking power in our own way
being true to ourselves
while expressing how we live
humanity searching for a voice
I’ll add mine to the chorus
admitting that I’ve fallen far
while ascending to the heights

spectrums ranged in pursuit
my honest nature at last found
though at first I wrongly thought
I was alone when I was not
the free spirits led the way
I wish my voice could exclaim
and still I hold back my breath
protecting innocent like myself.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180909.
The poem “Protecting Innocent” is about my inability to properly attribute my praise and respect to the free spirits of the world.  Society always has some sort of box that it wants people to live in, and when the boxes are breached, the reaction is one of judgmental attack.
What if I told you, Jesus came to abolish religion?

What if I told you getting you to vote republican, really wasn’t his mission?

Because republican doesn’t automatically mean Christian,
And just because you call some people blind, doesn’t automatically give you vision.

If religion is so great, why has it started so many wars?
Why does it build huge churches, but fails to feed the poor?

Tells single moms God doesn’t love them if they’ve ever been divorced

Yet God in the Old Testament actually calls the religious people ******

Religion preaches grace, but another thing they practice,
Tend to ridicule Gods people, they did it to John the Baptist,

Cant fix their problems, so they try to mask it,
Not realizing that’s just like sprayin perfume on a casket

Because the problem with religion is that it never gets to the core,
It’s just behavior modification, like a long list of chores.

Let’s dress up the outside, make things look nice and neat,
Its funny that’s what they do to mummies, while the corpse rots underneath,

Now I ain’t judging I’m just saying be careful of putting on a fake look,
Because there’s a problem if people only know that you’re a Christian by that little section on your facebook

In every other aspect of life you know that logics unworthy
Its like saying you play for the lakers just because you bought a jersey

But see I played this game too; no one seemed to be on to me,
I was acting like church kid, while addicted to *******.

I’d go to church on Sunday, but on saturday getting faded,
Acting as if I was simply created to have *** and get wasted.

Spend my whole life putting on this façade of neatness,
But now that I know Jesus, I boast in my weakness.

If grace is water, then the church should be an ocean,
Cuz its not a museum for good people, it’s a hospital for the broken

I no longer have to hide my failures I don’t have to hide my sin,
Because my salvation doesn’t depend on me, it depends on him.

because when I was Gods enemy and certainly not a fan,
God looked down on me and said, “I want that man!”

Which is so different from religious people, and why Jesus called em fools
Don’t you see hes so much better than just following some rules?

Now let me clarify, I love the church, I love the bible, and I believe in sin
But my question, is if Jesus were here today, would your church let Him in?

Remember He was called a drunkard and a glutton by  “religious men”
The Son of God not supported self-righteousness, not now, not then.

Now back to the topic, one thing I think is vital to mention,
How Jesus and religion are on opposite spectrums,
One is the work of God one is a man made invention,
One is the cure and one is the infection.
Because Religion says do, Jesus says done.
Religion says slave, Jesus says son,
Religion puts you in shackles but Jesus sets you free.
Religion makes you blind, but Jesus lets you see.

This is what makes religion and Jesus two different clans,
Religion is man searching for God, but Christianity is God searching for man.

Which is why salvation is freely mine, forgiveness is my own,
Not based on my efforts, but Christ’s obedience alone.

Because he took the crown of thorns, and blood that dripped down his face
He took what we all deserved, that’s why we call it grace.

While being murdered he yelled “father forgive them, they know not what they do”,
Because when he was dangling on that cross, he was thinking of you

He paid for all your sin, and then buried it in the tomb,
Which is why im kneeling at the cross now saying come on there’s room

So know I hate religion, in fact I literally resent it,
Because when Jesus cried It is finished, I believe He meant it.
Kalesh Kurup Apr 2016
"Will you wait for me?" He asked
Hesitantly, she: "How long?"
Hope and doubt intense, he: "for 60 years",
"Don't be a stupid, no one wait for anyone, that long": She
"But you said we are the soul mates,
The only key that fitted the lock"
She was long gone; into a dot,
Midst the temple lamps, round the sanctum

***

Hurried, she sent the message of the night and switched off the phone
"Love you; Miss you, my battery dying; Will text you tomorrow"
Amar replied "Me too darling, missing you and love you crazily"
Akbar replied "Hug me close and sleep tight honey, dream only me"
Adil replied "Take care my love, good night and sweet dreams"
Antony was angry, "Why don't you keep the phone charged?  Good night"; he was the hubby!
And the stupid opened the door, hugged her in
And whispered "come in, my soul mate
The only key that fitted the lock"

*

"Take me for a ride; I want to be a carefree pillion today,
Floating away with you..."
Holding him tight, legs across, she let her hair loose
“Fly the bumps, I want to fall all over you” she held him tightly
From the pillion of the bike, she longed to see all spectrums of life
"Faster you stupid, I don't want to spend a lifetime as a pillion"
Then one day, she climbed the hills, for good.
He wandered the plains for long
Within their own, they kept a grudge to themselves
For, not letting the lock and key to know
They only fitted each other

**

“I take you to be my wedded wife
For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer”
“I take you to be my wedded husband
For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer”
Until the God sets us apart
Honey turned the first leaf on- ‘Money!’
“My money is my money, and
Your Money is our money, Stupid!”
Then it was all about I, me and mine
Lock never knew there was a Key
And the Key went from the fights to flights and a final freeze
Mark Jul 2018
If reached beside the pearly cradled rose
therein a rattling joy; o' stillborn child.
What uttered mine - unsaid angelic prose,
should passing lay my husk and essence wild?

Awaiting yonder womb were tepid wings;
inflamed with bonding warmth of kinship love,
like softly feathered pads and rocking swings
then ardent glows, as seen and known above.

The wailing babe is music sung and sought,
for more a sleepless dusk - had since apart.
For eyes which never opened wide were wrought
and taken here and strolled in golden cart.

Should words in amber fail and infant pine,
behold the spectrums soul, the same as mine.
electra  Jul 2017
Electra
electra Jul 2017
Electra,
You dance in lavender colored spectrums,
Causing trouble with your lover,
Playing cops and robbers.
He asks her, "Babe, you wanna?",
"Let's get high on marajuana.".
So you both drive through the desert,
The place that has become your home treasure.
Be careful with the boys your mother told you to stay away from,
Because the evil in him is what you've now become.

Love twisted minded devils,
Turning the world into blindsided rebels.
Don't hide your gun,
Because you know the fun has just begun.

Electra,
You're still dancing in lavender spectrums,
But you're running out of time,
The boys in blue have declared wartime.
Summertime is ending,
The thrill of the desert may seem never-ending,
But surrender your gun,
Before they chase you toward the sun.
You should of listened to what your mother said,
Cause now, you're about to end up dead.

Love twisted minded devils,
Turning the world into blindsided rebels.
Don't hide your gun,
Because you know the fun has just begun.

Electra,
Now you cry in red colored spectrums,
Alone in the desert.
Maybe you remain unhurt,
But your heart bleeds for him.
He's somewhere in the dim,
Screaming your name locked in an empty cell,
Now you're stuck in a never ending carousel.

Love twisted minded devils,
Turning the world into blindsided rebels.
Don't hide your gun,
Because you know the fun has just begun.
This poem goes along with another poem I wrote which is callled Electric. It's not necessary to read electric but it's a good background/introduction to everything.
Astral May 2015
In the grey fog that surrounds the space, ominous sounds buzz and hum, sending the spine in a frenzy

But I see color, bright and ravishing, dripping from the petals of an orchid

You are an orchid in the fog, showing colors of amazement, giving my world so many spectrums of wonderment
electra  Jul 2017
Heath
electra Jul 2017
You're a mystery Heath.
What's that love you hide underneath?
It seems that you're chasing love again,
Spilling it like brand new champagne.
You watch her dance in lavender spectrums.
You must of fell hard for Electra,
Cause now, you roam the desert,
Killing for nothing but treasure.

A never-ending love ride,
It's almost like you can feel the high tides.
Oh, how she's such a bliss,
Such a babe to share a kiss.

Can you feel your heart on fire?
Every inch of her is your desire.
Pour that love into the drain,
Before the blood begins to stain.
She now cries in red colored spectrums,
And you're somewhere faraway from Electra.
Run, here comes the boys in blue,
Sacrifice yourself before they get her too.

A never-ending love ride,
It's almost like you can feel the high tides.
Oh, how she's such a bliss,
Such a babe to share a kiss.

The desert is miles away,
And you've been locked in jail for days.
Yet, there's no sign of Electra,
Could she be distracted by the spectrums?
What has this become?
Is there still more to overcome?

A never-ending love ride,
It's almost like you can feel the high tides.
Oh, how she's such a bliss,
Such a babe to share a kiss.
This is the third series to Electric. To have a deeper understanding of this poem you can read my poem Electric, which is published on here, and then you can check out the second one called Electra.

— The End —