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Man Mar 6
What were the temples
Of the tribes, Judea
Brothels of slave Shepards
Of child lovers
And Christiandom was it's continuation, post revolt
Back it all goes back to Rome
Further back than that
To Greece
But ultimately the nomads who settled
In the land we call Egypt
These are the freaks
The monsters throughout history
Who eat of their own young and
Lay with them
Who manipulated what were the Pagans
Who continued on slavery, after the
End of its practice.
Cybele & Attis,
The cults that taught
Drugging as a tool
To manipulate behavior
Bend the rules, in their favor
Far off in Europe and since
The civil war, in America
And it was Truman's gang
That hijacked us
They have been hijacking
Various belief and countries,
For as long as there have been them.
We got back control
With some of us Americans getting in
And then they shot that young man
Going through Dallas, Texas
And ever since, it has been
Foreign elements pulling strings
Foul false Americans
Because they made of us
Of our conservative society
One of shame, one of privacy
Where normal people like you and me
Are afraid to speak out for what is right
In the face of ignorance
In the stead of savagery
They blackmailed and extorted our politicians
Right before our very eyes
I tell you, wake up
Be political, and only trust Americans
Including our southern siblings
Common people like us
Who merely wish to live free lives
I am not in favor of isolationism or xenophobia and I have no qualms with anyone who worships God. The Lord is righteous, it is man who is corruptible
Maria Mitea Jul 2022
the dawn rises over the forest,
the dawn promised to wait for us
in the eyes of the eagle the drums smile
and dance
eagles jump up, take turns around the lake,
one round, the second  round ... fourth,
the drums hit the sky,
feathers fall off,
are falling, and
are kissing the grass, and
are kissing the earth
when the eagles come down and down
with the beak  are catching the fish
from below waters
the thundering sounds swear the waterfall to be combed by the sun
when drummers smolder all year round
like the star of the night,
smolder like coal extracted from the hearts of ojibwe people
ashley marlow Aug 2020
You loved her in the womb,
Until you saw her face,
Then you decided she was an ugly baby,
You loved the story until you saw the person,
Then you decided you don’t believe them,
Because of their Race.
You wanted them teaching your children,
Until you saw their sexuality,
Their appearance their beliefs their eyes.
You loved them until you saw who they love
And how they choose who and how to love,
Then you decided they weren’t worth hearing.

You decided that they Are crazy.
You decided that they belong in a box,
Because we know “how to deal with people like them
How to fix people like them”.
But what you don’t do is listen.
You are so quick to change your opinion,
When you judge with your eyes.

You are so quick to tell call them worthless,
And to say, “YOU’RE FIRED”,
For believing something you didn’t.
You are so quick to ostracize them, to hate them,
To say that something is wrong with them.
Because you judge with your Eyes,
And forgot your heart.

Copyright Ashley Marlow ©
I am published in a literary journal for this work, it is 100% original work by me and I own copyright to it.
Mitch Prax May 2020
Dear diary;
I have thought a lot
about leaving this all behind
and buying a one-way ticket
to anywhere where no one
knows my name.
I want to forget who I am
and lose myself
in another's culture.
I want to stay until I tire
and do it all again
somewhere else.
Marie-Lyne Jul 2019
That’s the thing about lived realities
They are not expectations
Nor stereotypes about cultures
They are the opposite of common knowledge
How about we document our life and get rid of these misconceptions?
emru Jul 2019
Growing up between
two cultures
too less for some
too much for others
too many expectations
no middle
Krystle OBrien Apr 2019
To see the world
It opens your eyes
Experiencing cultures
And their way of life

No words can explain
The emotions can be much
To gain something new
And have a fresh outlook

Constant learning of different ways
Broaden your being
It grows you as a person
Humbled, grounded & joyous

Heat and dryness of the desert
The openness of the ocean
The world so vast and extraordinary
With so many things to offer

Music, food, traditions
So different yet the same
Benefitting worldly wisdom
With a great deal still to wander
دema flutter Apr 2019
the first time
our lips met
didn't feel foreign,
it was as if
you were my home
and I had only just
entered your land,
then took a taste of the berry tree
which my greatest grandma had grew,
in either ways;
she would be
bebe = grandma in my language (Iraqi)
Justyn Huang Dec 2018
my Father planted
the seed, yet
The flower.

What kind of
shall we sow?
Family generation cultures
Nomkhumbulwa Aug 2018
A poem to my People:

"I love you all dearly,
but I know that you have gone;
I see you all here daily,
but I know that you have gone.

I don’t blame you, I understand you,
And I know that I bring shame;
But I also understand,
that I was not to blame.

I know I won’t be welcome likely
ever there again,
And although you may not believe me
I don’t want to cause you pain.

I hope for your forgiveness,
Although I did no wrong;
I hope someday you'll understand
that I did no wrong.

I have tried to make contact,
but you never spoke again;
And because you are so many,
this causes so much pain.

But I guess that you have gone now,
and forever that may be,
If he only hadn’t hung himself,
you might have believed me.

But now that I know,
that I’m not the only one,
I understand the "dark side"
more than anyone.

I understand the culture,
its different where I live;
And although I hope for change for all,
I as yet can just forgive.

I hold nothing against you,
as I said - I understand;
but I hope that in the future,
heads won’t be buried in the sand.

I rarely write poetry,
but this is all I can do;
as a way to get my thoughts across
to so many of you.

I live here in Scotland,
I don’t need to be ashamed;
here on this "Isle of Arran",
I am never blamed.

I hope that St Helena
one day will see it too;
that "there is no excuse for abuse"
no matter "who is who".

It’s sad to lose the RMS,
the most loyal Saint of all,
but she is serving us still by
opening the island to the World.

Opinions might be questioned,
from cultures far and wide,
but with that I hope you'll see
that I have nothing to hide.

Through my bad experiences
I have gained a lot as well,
I have an understanding of
all the people put through hell.

I know I’m one of many,
I know I’m not alone;
together we share this deep connection
to a place that some call "home".

I hope one day you'll forgive me,
as I forgive you,
for treating me the only way
that you knew.

The RMS is serving us,
by opening up this land;
If she stayed forever-
you might never understand.

She may be just a ship to some,
but to me she’s so much more;
She has a soul, a personality,
she had to leave our shores.

We have a lot in common,
both feeling as if "disposed of";
but I do hope we won’t end up scrapped,
and still receive some love.

I'll love you all forever,
even if I hear nothing again;
and I don’t regret my visit,
even though I "caused you pain"

You may not understand just yet,
but I hope one day you will;
and with more education,
the Island will be better still.

I stand by the others,
as they have done for me;
and I’m forever grateful
to my "extra family".

I wish you well for now,
as I’m tired and can write no more;
and I just hope that one day
Such darkness shall leave these shores.”

Take care,
love **
A desperate plea to "my people" who never spoke again, after I was subjected to assault.  They disappeared from my life completely.
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