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Dorothy Apr 2014
Green peppers
Red peppers
Onions
and shallots
Get ready for some intense flavor to hit your pallets


A splash of vinegar
Salt
Chives
And garlic
Your tongue will dance for joy and actually seem to frolic

Epis
Sos Pwa
Rice
And baked chicken
The taste buds in your mouth wont know what hit them

Four hours later and I've enriched in my culture
I'm almost like a new woman
Because today I learned to cook food from my parents native nation
The time and effort was so very worth it
And now I feel a little bit more Haitian
Creole Translations:
Epis = herbs and spices
Sos Pwa Rouge = Red bean sauce puree
Austin Heath Apr 2014
I don’t think history is romantic.

I’m “American”; this means I’m unburdened

with having to be nationalistic or patriotic.

Don’t have to be prideful about hundreds of

years of ******* and mythology.

It means I might hate Bukowski,

but I find him way less repulsive

than Shakespeare. I had to stab a

pathetic sense of “spirituality”

[religion?] in a public place with prejudice,

to truly gain a sense of enlightenment in

pure hopelessness. Something like that.

I might be deaf to some other culture,

but I’m hearing megaphones in America.
Lelu Apr 2014
Photoshopped fantasy fictions
Misogynistic oppressive depictions
Unobtainable beauty
Fake imagery
This LIE is but violence and bigotry
Saint Ozz Apr 2014
Welcome the perpetually distracted
Fixated on a higher order so reality
Can fade to the background
Focus refocused reduced and qualified
They stand in line their micronized
Attentions satiated by the glowing orbs
They adore.
Modern culture we have all been behind these people at Starbucks...
Austin Heath Mar 2014
Square up, and form the norm.

Grab your partner and abuse them

psychologically without understanding

how or why you’re doing it.

Do si go to an institute or university.

Get a job and step to the right.

Dip into cold waters,

fall into a trap

with broken limbs.

Suffocate in desperation.

Somebody has turned the

lights out and is hiding

the sky.

Strings are the new chains.
Austin Heath Mar 2014
They lit a toothpick on fire to light a candle,

dropped it and lit the carpet on fire.

She was upstairs and faking it.

The guys next door were cooking crack

for the sons of senators. Americans.

I am in front of  a 21st century typewriter

and I understand that this life is the

flavor of water. I wish they’d just ****

me already and get it over with.

I’m in a land where strange customs prevail.

I’m home. I’m almost alone. I can’t taste it.

It’s over now though. The past makes sense.

The coffee is cold, the hope is gone.

It’s comfortable. It’s over now.
Austin Heath Mar 2014
It started with a pen,
and wound up in English.
No diction, addiction, or
ambition,
to get published.
“Don’t scream and you’ll look normal.”
Screaming “MISOGYNY!”
if screaming at all,
I’ve seen the great minds of
my generation
addicted to Adderall.
 
Some friends who get wasted,
and I remain sober.
Cheap ‘03 cars, yet,
no ones coming over.
 
Actors without work now,
no one with opportunity.
Suicidal crazies now,
crafted from 80’s and 90’s responsibility,
and A is for Adderall.
 
Sugar coated heroine,
designer drugs.
Poor blacks, whites, mexicans,
and asians swept under the rug.
 
“The father, the son,
the invisible hand.”
 
Crack in prisons, *****,
holy ******* in a BMW,
Feminism, becomes communism,
becomes atheism becomes you.
You so counter-culture,
you forgot about us,
“She’s not an angel friends,
throw her under the bus.”
 
Politicians in purple now,
blessed American royalty.
Slaughter the disenfranchised,
poor, socialist regime,
and A is for Adderall.
 
Don’t shoot the police,
shoot the children instead,
or send them to war,
but the war had to end.
“In god we trust, but
in the market we invest.”
So occupy Wall Street,
and get called a hippie,
or occupy college,
and become a dead beat?
 
In high school you’re told,
be what you will be.
Cancer is still a…
“…”
…Hereditary disease.
 
Actors without work still.
Politicians lying still.
Suicidal crazies.
Ecstasy filled crazies.
Counter-culture conformist.
Culture conformist.
Eco-terrorist.
Mindless consumer.
Junkies, addicts,
soldiers, students,
leaders, followers,
murderers, democrats,
conservatives, liberals,
republicans, child molesters,
sexists, racists.
 
No more labels.
 
It was every single individual.
Individual failure.
One by one, we were all found guilty.
You are guilty. I am guilty,
and
A is for Adderall,
and the new marginalized.
The only rhyming poem I've written, "Adderall", is supposed to represent a culture that is angled against feminism, too tolerant of violence, uncaring, uncertain, poor, and confused.
MarkTheGr8 Mar 2013
The soul reapers take until there's nothing left,
walking by like hollow vessels.
All expressions far too faded,
endlessly wandering with no meaning.
Long gone are feelings of remorse and sympathy,
now only gestures with no sincerety.
Corpses lie empty on the ground,
so grey, soon abandoned by all color in the skin.
Reapers walking by devoid of empathy,
reavealing their indifference and disdain.
Their minds are breeding lies,
creating the venom their tongues are spitting.

— The End —