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Maria Etre Apr 2018
My heart
feels like it ran
a marathon
I am
in my
t facing
y   o   u
though I yam Caucasian,
   tis rightful to honor that most bitter
racist genocidal crime
   nonetheless ovation qua

   quintessential significant contribution
   vis a vis that doth litter
   many anonymous multitudinous peoples
   many unknown dark skinned souls

   bravely fought as non quitter
with melanin so **** sitter  
   this asthma feeble attempt
   made to mind of literate
   parent, guardian or sitter
adorn aye rhythmically twitter
   to **** Sapiens with Negroid color
   who, despite being human *******
   managed to adorn
   worthy contributions to society,

though an American (though not so proud)
   and civilization since time immemorial
   hence, I wanna pay poetic homage to persons born
akin to diversity exemplifying gamut

   analogous to Indian corn
   debased brutally and forlorn
   and raised in cornucopia horn
of plenty with rare serf tenderness

whipped by wicked task masters
   from the ***** of morn,
   aye cannot fathom why
   a great proportion of humanity

must struggle on scraps of subsistence
viz with fifty plus shades of chocolate
   vile shamefully opprobrious sworn
   vengeance toward those

via heroic efforts escaped,
   manacled, tortured, et cetera history
   as slaves an existence
until...pacified family dislocated
   sans rent asunder, ripped and torn.

Once a proud family akin to Brady
bunch, now brutally, nasty
   and short lived poorly destitute
   (case in point) like Haiti -

once a nation extant with cultural finery
   insidiously ***** "Lady"
lacerated odiously robbing
   unique peoples as owners didst slay

   practically ***** "Primates"
   encaged like wild animals in zoos
   culturally robbed while
   abhorrently marched in ones and twos

   shredded souls without shoes
   (analogous to persecuted Jews)
   of singular ambition to break shackles
   though tightly fused
to life as they chose.

this just one example of many peoples
   UNFAIRLY subjected
to subservience and exempt
   from enjoying the fruits of their labor.

January twelfth two thousand and ten
(original date this communique writ then
kept wedged where in no wise bore visual witness
   vis a vis near annihilation and destruction
   of African, Haitian, South American, et cetera nations
whereby countless/ nameless individuals

   e’en the strongest Herculean type men
   crushed by humungous slabs of
   building facades practically
   demolishing every creation

since this island settled, which
   indigenous tribes sought safety
   in any geologic den
   seeking solace and salvation

   from wrath of nature
   by paying obeisance via oblation
perhaps giving credence to clear water
   in tandem with rooster and hen

   that laid a golden egg, especially
   as encroaching savages affected violation
particularly when Europeans
   foisted forfeiture of land

   with primitive implement like pen
   no matter that travesty, trickery, mockery,
   et cetera wrought humiliation
pleading invaders to forsake

   such actions that rent asunder
   culture beseeched god when
   these brutish, nasty and (shortish) simians
   to cease desecration

yet the peoples of this dominion rose
   from the ashes like the phoenix like bird
   no mattered genetic pool underwent
   white washing from scouring influx

from western thumping proselytizers,
   which alien beliefs hard to swallow like curd
   basically bribery (with lustrous trinkets)
   ah those coveted legal tender

upon emancipation proclamation cessation
   to sell men, women and for x amount of bucks
akin to the soundcloud winged fowl clucks
foisted/ forced the unpleasant alternative

   (wanton slaughter) to be clearly heard
   yet within the very fiber of tropical
   man grove persons patiently
   lined up their ducks

and declared as one of the first
   african american peoples
   INDEPENDENCE to be the word
   whence adulation, elation, inspiration
echoing across ramshackle greensward.
Andreas Simic Oct 2017

There once was a man named Trump
Whose hair looked like a clump

A little bit plump
Never caught looking like a frump

He lived in a home that was no dump
It didn’t even need a sump pump

For some he was a pain in the ****
Yet you would never call him a schlump

Some thought he was a grump
Others said he was no chump

He did like to make people jump
Causing people’s throat to have a lump

Rules didn’t apply to him, no need for an ump
Even when his business was in a slump

Like most he did have the odd bump
For everyone runs into a slump

While there were those that did want him to flump
So along the way he could see a thump

Still others did relay you were a mump
I say so long old friend, Mr. T. Trump

Trump (Ted) 1925-2005

Andreas Simic©

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses,
places, events and incidents are either the products of
the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or
actual events is purely coincidental.
Aroody May 2017
You read and write about strength,  
They say mountains show strength,  
We speak of iron and metal!  

But I believe my heart is the best example,
To burn, break, wound and die.  
And still keep pumping blood,  
No metal no iron no mountain ,
Has ever been through all that pain,
So proud of the heart!
Äŧül Jan 2017
The fairy flew like a dried leaf,
Way beyond the red coral reef,
It flew unto its fairy mom.
The mom was unlike other fairies,
For it is red in colour & has horns,
It also has a pointed fairy tail..
For it is the Devil's own fairy agent!!!
A fairy tale ruined wickedly.

My HP Poem #1363
©Atul Kaushal
So much depends

A frail heart

Against one
firm chest

Breaking its blood

— The End —