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SassyJ Mar 2016
The forested breeze blew eastwards. On each swing of the wind, the birds flew and fluttered. Each of their wings swaying to find a harmonious balance. The sweet melody of ethnic hymns from the native village rose above the trees. The sequenced output with equalised acapella became an anthem that ruled the forests.The gravelled path structured it's way between the trees right to the heart of the village.

The village elder sat outside the middle hut. His hut stood out from those encircling it. Humbled in stature but yet symbolically decorated with colourful redness of the roses. The beautiful scented ambience rose to fuel the air within and around. The door of the hut was formatted with sculptured inscriptions that had a covert meaning. A story line about the long historic lineage of leaders. The entrance of the doorway was guarded by two warriors. Each of them had a shield and spear, alert and portraying courage. Their bodies were bare ready to attack the enemy, their groins fully formed and covered with *****. The sight of the hut itself was magnificent...... it's aura radiant with an embodiment of hereditary and hierarchical authority.

As the village chief watched the birds sway and whistle, he sat on his antique stool. In the openness of the nature he appeared puzzled. As he shrugged his symbolic leopard hide on his back.... it swung side to side. Still in situ, but there was something about it's presence that nagged him. He touched it and then speedily moved his hand from it. He then raised his voice. "Amita!"

His voice echoed and roared penetrating all the homesteads. By the time the volume of the echo subsided he called out again "Amita, Amita, Amita!"

Amita came running and knelt at the feet of the Chief. She replied "Yes Chief Hashi. I am here for your service Sir!"

Amita was a 21 year old girl. She was wearing a straw skirt. Her arm was tattooed with a prominent artistic representation of a snake swinging from the tree. The shades of the red snake pictured on the hues of the green tree. This symbolised that she was a servant and lived at the Chief's Quarters. Amita had sacrificed her life as her lineage did to serve the Chief and his household. A dedication of servanthood to the Chief and him alone.

Amita bowed as she knelt, her bare ***** ***** and shadowing the Chief's feet. The chief looked at Amita as if hyptonised by the touch of her *******. He glared at her beauty, the outstanding womanhood she poised. After a long pose of silence the Chief responded, " Amita, can you fix my hide ensuring that it's attachments are secure"

There was a level of vulnerability that the chief showed Amita. He appeared to be humble, a denudation of authority, that very call of submission. There was evidently a reciprocal of roles as Amita raised her eyes from the ground to face the Chief. As their eyes met the Chief hastily paused and froze as if speechless. As he gathered his senses he was firmly able to look at Amita and said, " Can you join me inside my hut please?"

Amita remained kneeling as the Chief stood up from his stool. Chief Hashi steadily walked to the doorway of his hut. Pace after pace, stroll after stroll. As he walked by the doorway the warriors raised their spears to his presence. He was proudly ushered to his exquisite residence. He then  faced the warriors and asked them to leave guard. Chief Hashi requested, "Can you come back after two hours." As the guards walked away the Chief in his freedom danced around, hysterically moving his hands multi-directionally.

Chief Hashi opened the window to his hut. This was adjacent to where Amita was kneeling. In his vulnerability he whispered, "My child Amita, get up and join me inside my hut. The door is open and ajar.... always for you my queen."

Amita stood up from the kneeling position and run her way into Chief Hashi hut.
Inspired by
Mafikizolo ft Uhuru (Khona)..... Come and see that place....I don't know the full meaning of the song but love the vibe of it.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yhk52GlkhVA
the howto
             is a mighty force
             it tells us
                with authority
             how to
             best navigate the world
             appropriate to the occasion
            
             from love to cars to finances
             it guides us
                to the proper steps
            
             and yet
             it somehow fails
             to say  
             why
                if we follow the directions
             we feel like children
             rather than adults
            
             why
                when all wisdom
                has been eagerly applied
             we still don't know
     why
                 our hands and feet
                 are tied
Em Jan 2016
Your authority does not invalidate my opinion.*
My voice exists.
Chalsey Wilder Dec 2015
Parents act like they've never been children
Just like teachers act like they've never been students.
Hmmm...
Hyp Nov 2015
Atheists insist that this existence subsists of nothing but
The density, material we feel and see and measure. What they're
missin' is in between the lines hooks and sinkers they bit
On the end of false authority's string, wrapped around their finger
They linger and cling to the things they've been spoon fed
From the same spoon belief was taken, the same they dread
But all they've pinned down for sure is themselves inside their heads
Waging internal war, thinking their thoughts can conquer
But only divide themselves
Every victory a loss when the attacker is the target
No stopping to look at the pieces, just charging ahead and trying to forget
No theory or equation slowing their self-invasion. No algorithm to save em. No laboratory haven
And when there's nowhere left to run, turbulent wakes don't wait, mental obliteration leaves you wracked and craven
But perhaps in the deepest rubble, after the foundations crumble
A seed may sprout that can see them out, new and humble
Unblinded equally to all sources of deception
Perhaps they can make a new life, a new perception
To err is human...but when we err far enough to break
We can rebuild, be reborn...a whole new future make.
Very quickly written for an unhappy acquaintance.

Written partially from their viewpoint and partially from my own.

For those wondering, the bits about atheists being deceived aren't actually about religion, but about both spiritual concepts and accepted science. I myself am generally opposed to religion (except in cases where individuals truly lack an internal compass and need an external one) and I do not believe in the gods of any holy books.  I just wish that I in my youth - and many of today's atheists - were not so quick to accept anything with the word "science" attached to it as truth. It is very important to learn about the days of "tobacco science" - and to observe that this phenomenon has not died, but become a central advertisement model, used by numerous industries to promote products that are harmful to human health, the environment and life as we know it, while blatantly claiming otherwise.  
It is also important to understand that the process of peer review, while effective if it were as described, is corrupted by the same interests who wish to push for sales of their products rather than probe its health risks. Only the scientific method can show you what is true. Trusting anything other that is merely accepting an authority that very well may be false.

A decent part of the poem is not directly about atheism, but the mindset that often accompanies it; a mind so hyperactive that is has enslaved its host rather than functioning as the tool it was intended to be, while reacting to concepts that could be extremely helpful with disdain due to their spiritual nature, like meditation, energy work, and focused observation and active management of one's conscious mind.

As for the spiritual part, suffice to say that my experiences in life have led me to know that I was wrong to deny for decades the possibility of the kind of things that are generally called psychic, spiritual or extrasensory phenomena. For exploring this, your best tool is the same as before and always: the scientific method.

Remember. Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic...and magic is just science that we don't understand yet.

Here's to new frontiers.

(Sorry the notes ended up longer than the poem. lol)
Bharti Singh Sep 2015
Talentless with no position (Goon)
Talentless with position (Doom)
Talented with no position (Doom)
Talented with position (Boom)

Valuable is the caliber of a designee
Designation in itself is incompetent
Talented can exalt the lowest position
With talentless authority bears the brunt

Bharti
Miss Clofullia Aug 2015
as far back as I can remember I always wanted to be a poet,
just didn’t have the words for it.

**** Facebook people are out to get me
I can’t crack any of my “yo’ momma” jokes
I cannot land any ***** **** pictures on my friends’ walls..
and right now they’re tryin’ to ******’ make me change my name!
the alternative would be for me to scram,
but i am not a fast runner.

like a big fat wizard of wOrdZ King Kong, I’ll climb
office buildings, with a ******* each arm,
only to scream out: “Made it, Ma! Top of the world!”.
not sure why I needed to get here.
you all can see me, right?

life should be as Robert put it: “Better to be king for a night, than schmuck for a lifetime!”
I’m still waiting for that special night.
I think everyone should live like this! For that “one night”.
that would certainly make the commies smile.
they’d form a queue, hoping they’ll have another chance to a fresh night of
kingdomness.
*******!
I believe ****!

I hate to say this, but this race is getting to me.
I think I’m getting the fear.
yeah.. really! sometimes, I get the feeling that I’m gonna die right at the next curve,
and my fear pushes me to push the pedal to the metal.

you know what they say: “Death’s forty minutes away. I’ll be there in ten”.
or was it thirty?
never mind!.. I’ll be there in ten!

today, my space friend told me about the #FuckTheMan movement.
I found it to be very static..
despite the authority defying mumbo jumbo.
I told him that I’m gonna use it in one of my poems and
pretend that I’m smart.

I don’t think he believes (in) me anymore.
I’m lying right now.

Ha!
Derrick Feinman Jul 2015
Power corrupts so
If you're God's agent on Earth
We must demand proof.

Everybody lies
But why's it inscrutable
When one "speaks for God?"

Write a science book,
With facts unknown if you have
Omniscient source.

If not, go away!
Why believe you; not others?
There's motive to lie.
Meg Howell Apr 2015
With every pressing question
my heart seems to leap out of the confined bounds of my body
So many things to ask,
So little courage to ask them,
I now see why curiosity killed the cat
Someone once told me that life is too short to refrain from asking questions. That inspired me. It's time to live life a little bit more adventurous and stop worrying about the what-ifs. Be straightforward, ask questions, challenge the normals of society, stand out.
Brittany Wynn Mar 2015
We scuffed across the wide sidewalks, 3 AM *****
persuading us the dim-lit bridge wouldn’t fall away beneath
our curiosity to see the university’s emptiness, content
in August’s stagnancy. I tried to picture thousands of strangers
walking different paths to reach their point B,
but soon we stepped off yellow-toned brick and I saw hippies
laying on the ground outside a pub, smoking joints.
One woman with hip-length dreads, her face as wrinkled
as crumpled love letters hidden behind my dresser, pointed
and said, You’ll forget yourself some day.

Months later, I blinked awake in the tank as dawn crept
through my cell bars, quietly, like the disappointment on my birthdays
or Mom’s sighs when she browsed the mail for child support checks
never sent by my train-wreck, truck deck loving old man
who ****** me off when I mistook him for that self-righteous cop
hell-bent on teaching me a lesson of respect.
He had that patronizing presence, and it blinded me with magma
rage I felt in my arms, through my knuckles, right to his rib cage.
I still don’t remember the way back to that dingy pub.
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