Sara L Russell  29th August 2016

Time to retire now, ladies,
the drawing room awaits
as the gentlemen go to smoke
and drink brandy
or tell ribald stories
unsuitable for a lady's delicate ears.
Time to work on our embroidery
or retire to bed.
The men shall retire whenever they wish,
and the stars are too many for us to count.
Now we must lie abed
dreaming of Mr. Darcy
or perhaps a future career,
If only one's gender
might permit such a thing.


Time to adjourn now, ladies,
Mrs. Pankhurst has said her piece
and the rozzers are coming
to break up our meeting of like minds.
I heard that she was in prison for a time,
and went on hunger strike!
oh yes, my dear,
I heard they beat her,
force-fed her
then left her to cry alone in her cell.
Only she didn't cry. She never cries.
They say one day we women
will be able to vote!
Yes, of course it could happen.
We deserve it, after all.


Time to adjourn now, people,
it's been a long session
and even ministers need a lunch break.
Mrs. Thatcher no doubt will carry on
making notes for yet another meeting,
I don't think that woman ever sleeps.
Even if she never does,
she has razor-sharp concentration
and a sharper mind.
You don't want to get
on the wrong side of that one.
Funny, years ago,
they never dreamed we'd have
a woman Prime Minister.
Not everyone agrees with her
yet few dare to disagree.


Time to retire now, ladies.
The men have important things
to discuss, too serious for our lowly ears.
Theirs is the sun and the daylight;
ours are the shadows that herald the dusk.
Gather your prayer beads
and lower your gaze.
Do not look into the eyes
of the Imam as you pass by
on the way to your rooms.
Do not let any breeze from the window
displace your veil.
Guard your modesty
at all times;
protect your respectability,
for it is all you have in the world.

Black lives matter
The ******* they chant
They say peace and equality is what they seek
Half in which don't even know what they speak
Seeing the opportunity to riot and act a fool
Giving the white man more ammunition to eradicate like they wanted to
Using us and our "protest" as an excuse to pop a cap in our ***
Just to watch us bleed out until we lay in our final beds
And here I am waiting for the breaking news
The black race has gone extinct
So I can be the fool who yells out

"I so called this too"

As my ghost floats to join the rest of you

A blast of hatred of acid tongues,

A needless phrase to scold the tall,

A forgotten hero they never mention,

Take a look at the one called Robert Smalls.




A swipe by fist of foul means,

A dangerous concoction of sparks,

A cowards language of sorts,

Take a look at the one called Rosa Parks.




A definition of weakness in ruling,

A slap in the face of the now free,

A collapsed cult now gone forever,,

Take a look at the one called Isabella Baumfree.




A word is a word to fight and hurt,

A sentence pinned together from fools,

A paragraph of silence descends upon you,

The N word no longer a relevant tool.

Neither man nor machine,
these beings; being pipe dreams
were conceived by the silver screen.
Unseen by the naked eye,
they have taken you and I
by surprise like a tractor beam.
Neither the factor of genes nor factories
nor anthropological capacity.
These beings, being faculties of thought,
predetermine the preface of the plot.

© Matthew Harlovic

I found my pleasure in writing poems.
But technology has tought me how to type.
But today i have decided to go back to my old roots.
I write this in pain,
Tryibg to wipe away all the opressions that is behind technology.
I just want to vanish into the channel of my thoughts.
Mybe i might come back happy once again.

Feel like i have fallen under the devil's trap,
Under opression,
And my soul is chained up in manacles.

Trying my best to reach to the world,
But that concrete wall bounces my words back,
the louder i become its like my voice is being lowered.

They say they want the best,
But they never assist me in achieving it,
Just like that novel Animal Farm,
they are Squealer and Napoleon.
Only caring much about the result but not me.

It feels like i am back in the Aparthied era,
And like Nelson Mandela,
My 12 years of learning have just become a 27 years imprisonment.

I feel like i am a murdurer being questioned in the court of law,
I dont know anything about being a lawer nor a police,
But am forced to write reports of why i failed.
Looking at their barbaric faces,
i know how much they will never suport me.

They call a school a place of learning,
but today i saw another story in the system.

To Be Governed**

“To be GOVERNED is to be watched, inspected, spied upon, directed, law-driven, numbered, regulated, enrolled, indoctrinated, preached at, controlled, checked, estimated, valued, censured, commanded, by creatures who have neither the right nor the wisdom nor the virtue to do so. To be GOVERNED is to be at every operation, at every transaction noted, registered, counted, taxed, stamped, measured, numbered, assessed, licensed, authorized, admonished, prevented, forbidden, reformed, corrected, punished. It is, under pretext of public utility, and in the name of the general interest, to be placed under contribution, drilled, fleeced, exploited, monopolized, extorted from, squeezed, hoaxed, robbed; then, at the slightest resistance, the first word of complaint, to be repressed, fined, vilified, harassed, hunted down, abused, clubbed, disarmed, bound, choked, imprisoned, judged, condemned, shot, deported, sacrificed, sold, betrayed; and to crown all, mocked, ridiculed, derided, outraged, dishonored. That is government; that is its justice; that is its morality."

Why am I called "white"?
Why am I an absence of color
To be associated with purity
Flawless innocence
A clean slate

Why am I called "white"
When I have the blood of monsters in my veins
There is nothing immaculate about my heritage
Simply from a lack of pigmentation
My hair is braided with the ******* of masses
My eyes see the broken lives of the oppressed
My ears hear the echoes of homelands invaded
And my hands hold the books with the historic lies enclosed

Why am I called "white"
Compared, as if, to the paper
On which my people's crimes could be written
Repeating so frequently with so many new victims
But we are never called to justice
And the cycle remains unbroken
When we are addressed
We stand up from our thrones, screaming
"Unfair, cruel, why attack me?!
I don't understand, what privilege do you see?!"
We act like the victims, fed by the system
And we eat it up with our metaphoric silver spoons

Why am I called "white"
I've been stained from the years of hatred
Perpetuated by a people who claim guiltlessness
Just because they are a newer generation
What was once called subjugation
Is now appropriation
But both are used to deny culture and rights from nations
But I won't sit by and prolong this delusion that we are any better
Any more beautiful then any other one of God's creations