There's this little thing who was born in the sewer
Her name, they all say, is Society
Pretends she's all that, but she's really nothing newer
They say she never once spoke the truth.

Society likes to pick in the brains of young girls
Likes to meanly whisper in their ears,
"You're fat, you're worthless, you're the ugliest there is!"
What good does that do? It brings them to tears.

Society likes to mess with the minds of young boys
Likes to torment them by teasing,
"You're skinny, you cry, you aren't manly enough!"
Society makes sure it sure isn't pleasing.

Society likes to mess with the minds of in-betweens or not-at-alls
Likes to belittle, judge, and taunt
"Why can't you be normal? No one likes you!"
It goes on and on. Society likes to daunt.

Society herself doesn't have a care in the world
She never thought once about anyone's feelings
All day she picks at everyone she can find
All night she waits for them to wake, on their ceilings.

The light of illumination has reached me,
now it’s consuming my entire being,
without the use of water and apples, Monks
nor priests, earthly dogma nor it’s man-made
Philosophy. I will spit on anything earthly,
my vengeance and bitterness of earth shall
be known. At points of evil rapture in dark
Times, earths shame will be naked while
feeling it’s shame. As the Beast will speak
with all tongues, calling upon it’s hidden
Protectors, veiled as secret societies, shall
come forth. Fire breathes and evil filled hate.
Fools and those easy to dismiss will view
upon this as crazy and something to ignore,
they’re pillars of this world, for this world
and caused the world's problems. Bringing in
the rapture they have.
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Quit acting like
the centuries afterward will praise you.
right now you held up a clerk with a pocket knife
And will be another useless cog in the system.

That's if your lucky.
If you outrun the five-oh
and brushed up on your parkour enough to jump 10 feet to the next building roof.

That's if the shingles don't crumble under you once your weight impacts the roof.

That's if your bandana doesn't fall off and the five-oh identifies you because you and your dad were pulled over by them yesterday because he was speeding.

That's if your significant other isn't dumped by you because you know she's ******* that Black guy for his money and clothes.

That's if you can go through another semester scraping by.

That's if your not reported for bullying because you made fun of the kid who didn't wear name brand clothes but looked like a rich Jew anyway.

That's if your trap EP gets plenty of playbacks on Soundcloud. In reality it's just you moaning into the great void as it is drenched in auto-tune.

(ahh yaaaah yuhh yuh yuh yuh yuuuu yuuu tuuu get the strap oooOooOOoO)

That's if your codeine doesn't run out and you go into brain-damaging withdrawal.

That's if you don't engrave your fist into someone's skull because he noticed you limping to class after that cramp you had.

That's if you just seek affection from yourself when this *****-*** world ***** itself as you are caught in it's way.

A thunder strike carving like it's
Laid visibly on her bare face
Given to her by her race
On a sunny Beautiful day
Forever to be and there to stay.

A stigma of reference
Without any offence,

A significant Identification
That requires no introduction.

Iya mosura,
A woman of story
In the course of history.

Iya mosura,
Our proud okola
That commands a noticeable awareness
Because of the culture of her lineage
That she wears as an image.

Iya monsura,
A beauty of her graceful tribe's delight,
A flawless woman of much worth,
A woman undoubtedly with nature's touch.

     ©Nathaniel Stella

I pay great homage to my Africa
The continent of several million cultures
Roots of the Dreadlocks of Jamaica
Jambo Africa, land of the vultures
Akwaba to the Eden of Black people
Ancient Africa mother of humanity,
The world still feed at your diseased table
Oh, Africa, custodian of nature's bounty.

Mama Ebony, you've forever represented since the creation
Thy cornerstones are planted on top of Pharaoh's tomb
Oh Timbuktu, the cradle of ancient education,
Blessed is thy beautiful dark womb.
Lined with fertile dark mineral soil
Eternal volt of the Ashanti gold
Adorned with gems, smeared with oil
Yet not half of your story has been told
Volcanos fuels silently off your gas
Land of Akana, the guidance of the sun
Your Pyramid stands where it once was
Watching time and age having some fun.

IvanBrookspoetry

Life goes on, on the minds of dying men,
when they use their lips to speak truth, as
flickers of their own reality go over their
mind and whimper, despite who’s in their
final moment of this life.

Nina Simone, occupying ears singing about bed and dressers.
Sparsely populated
young couple
Interrupted by saying amusements.
Only two stops
I know where to get off

I knew to mind the gap
I'm a responsible citizen
Voter with a valid railcard
Only two stops
Purchased a ticket
Only two stops
I can not throw up in that time

I can not clear my system of over-priced beer
A niche in the market
Exploited in the name of money Making let's just raise them
let's charge extortionate rates for an autoimmune disease

Paying to support a normal drinking culture embedded into the narrative
Growing by in the western world Listening to Nina Simone
Only one stop now you'd never know what life would be like

Without loud pop charts entertaining a few leaving the others yearning the return of ABBA when times were simpler and people cared about Eurovision and illegal music was your own

“Tickets please”
He seems awfully jolly for a late night ****-shift on Arriva Trains Wales
Who's making him work and why's he So ******* happy about it
Real extra effort! Soul sapping in my opinion
Last stop gotta get off.

I often ask myself why I spend so much time learning another language
Why do I obsess and stress over something by my own will?
What do I have to gain, why do I want to teach and translate this foreign tongue?

Yet every night I force new words into my mind
And it makes me feel so calm and distracted
All my fears and concerns fade away as I take this information into my brain
I see nothing but beauty in every character I write so much so that I often write in the wrong alphabet
To me it's the most perfect and beautiful script
It's like riding a bike for the first time everytime I translate in my mind
The culture and language has found its way into my heart

I've fallen in love with the language like you do a person
Slowly, then all at once
Without understanding at first but slowly uncoiling the wonderful beauty before my eyes
I've found my passion and my saviour all at once
There is power in words which spawn from language
Every new term I learn makes me feel just that much stronger
Enough to feel invincible

Silence exists, it exists in gatherings
of essence that form an absolute, salvation
exists elsewhere for most, higher power
inside, own gods and self produced
wisdom, definities do settles in terms of
people, today cannot always yearn of
yesterday wants, for no crystal ball for the
future, truth is a matter for death and personal
identity belongs inside, in various ways and
conflicting wars, torn apart, yet in poetry
culture is where I comfort, until by chance I
find a lover. Than everything I want just becomes
a drench of romance and their attention.
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