They tell me to be proud,
but little do they know that Pride is a deadly sin and even deadlier if I walk through the wrong alleyway.

They tell me to be confident,
but little to they know that hands-in-my-pockets-hunched-over has hid me my whole life.

They tell me to be loud,
but little do they know that disappearing quietly has kept me alive all these years.

They tell me to speak up,
But little do they know that masking who I am has allowed me to move in this world
As If I Am Free.

They tell me to be proud but pride is confidence and confidence is being loud and being loud is speaking up and speaking up


Dangerous? Dangerous.

They tell me it's okay,
they'll be fine,
But how could they know? They haven't
faced the fear of knowing the unlimited know -

- Secrets spilled as blood over middle school halls -

They tell me to be proud.

They tell me to be proud, as if
confirming the masses can fix all that I've broken -

-Silent shards over dirty linoleum -

They tell me to be proud.

They tell me to be proud and I nod,
breaking glass and spilling blood and
maybe one day I will.

Maybe one day I'll speak up
loud and confident,
the terror of facing them left behind, my
shining clean face proud.

But until then,
They tell me to be proud.
They say and tell and demand me to be proud.
They tell me to be proud.

Dangerous? Dangerous.
Deadly? Deadly.

Shoutout to Those People Who Make Me Write This Poem. You know who you are.
ethan gaskill Jun 21
something about your windows-
i mean- eyes,
let me see into your heart
even though they are tinted
through them, i can see the art
a crystalline soul
constructed by the
sands and winds of life
the world's a puzzle
in which we're all
just trying to fit
and you make me feel right
so when i stare or frequently
day dream about you
i think about the mind behind
your windows
and the world they're
looking out into
titled 'hug poem' because slam sounds like too violent a word to describe something i'd write about her. this one'll actually be a song soon
James Khan Jun 13
Now then,

Let's do the math,

God's wrath,

How many

In the motherfuckin' bloodbath?

Lost on the journey,

Followin' the 'good path'?

Don't fret, class,

We'll leave religion for last,


You can't run

From the revelation,

From education

That Civilization

Has faith

As its ancient foundations,

So let's jump into place on

The human equation

And balance it out

With the complication

Of the Indus nation,

These Indian traders,

Made famous

Avoidin' a war with their neighbours,

No fuckin' invaders,

For two millennial ages,

Now tell me that ain't courageous?!

Now back to the history pages,

'Cos whilst the Indus chill

The war still rages,

With Sargon gone

His kids couldn't carry on,

Poor Rimush,

Lost lands that his father won,

His bro took over but Akkad's run

Of fortune, like thread was being unspun,

Manishtushu, crushed

Handed off to his son,

And the 'living god' did what none of his family had done,

Young Naram-Sin,

The linchpin,

The kingpin,

Took on the Lullibi armies

And chalked up a win,

Bringing Akkadia back from the rim

Of extinction completely,

A Victory Stele

Erected to honour him,

A six-foot sign

Made out of pink lime

Akkadia brought to its prime,

Strongest the empire was at any fuckin' time

The end of the anarchy pantomime,

Naram-Sin stepped in,

Saw his popularity climb

But the worse was to come,

A curse, a decline

And Akkad would succumb

To the Gutian mountain-scum,

But over in Egypt,

The nation was gripped

By the pyramid edict

And built that wondrous crypt

The head of a Giza Sphinx

For the dead fuckin' kings,

Maintainin' their links

To the afterlife,

Boy, did the dynasties thrive

But on the other side

Of the sand,

The land was commanded

By genocide

As the Gutian tribe

Lay waste to what they were denied,

The children of Naram-Sin couldn't hide

And the curse was fulfilled,

Rulers killed

And the heritage died,

Cut down by the pride

Of Erridupizir,

The Lord of Sumeria,

Reigning with pain and fear,

The Gutians, harsh and austere

But only for fifty years

'Till the Uruk rebellion

Put a spanner in the gears

And Sumer sheds no tears

As Utu-Hengal steps up to raucous cheers,

Where we at now,

Two millennia bee-cee or thereabouts

And somethin' is starting to sprout

In the Southeast,

The civilization of the Chinese

Dynasties unleashed

Refine these

Times of unease...

But that's reserved for part three's

James Khan Jun 12
It's a Je$u$ Cri$i$,

You fuckin' bet it is

And they're puttin' up prices,

Faith in the advertisers,

The Dionysius

You worship, gripped by the vices,


Fuck Islam,

Fuck ISIS,

Both the fuckin' same to the blindest,


Can't find bliss?

Now sign this,

Sell your soul to the god

Who's bid is the highest,

Y'all liars,


Every round you load misfires,

You can't buy us,

Can't hire us,

We're all born immune to your virus,

So don't fuckin' lecture me,

Conjecture me,

Infect me unexpectedly

Like somethin' transmitted sexually,

'Cos I'm a threat to your heavenly equity,

R.I.P out the womb

I'm the secular hysterectomy...

On a different trajectory,

Direct to the source of the forces

That fuckin' neglected me,


I'm comin',


Like a rada-drum drummin',

I'll fuck till you're done in,

Cover you in some'ing,

All sticky and runnin',



And I've come quite far,

Slums to the stars,

Done with the bars

And the motherfuckin' mardi gras'

And I see through the la-dee-da's

And the motherfuckin' farce

Of the carcinoma,

Of the sarx, of the soma,

Put the pneuma down and out

In a coma

Until you own the

Egotism haematoma,

Tried to phone ya,

Allah, God, Yaweh, Jehovah...

But only got done over

By the voice inside of me

That pushed for insobriety,

It crushed my sense of propriety,

So violently,

It kicked me out of society...

To die quietly,

Stuck in the gutter

To rot away, silently

But I'm back

And I'm fightin' the Kraken,

Devour like Saturn,

And I'll flatten

The rats that grow fat on


Motherfuckers put cash on

The altar and salt in the wound

And they feed you your ration

Like the passion

Of Christ,

'Cos he'll rise,

Again (so it's said),

And I'll tell you now,

He'll see fuckin' red

When he looks at the way

That His faith is led,

He'll open the Seals instead

And we'll all rejoice

As the voice of the Lamb

Proclaims us dead.
James Khan Jun 10
You wantin' a prophet...?

You got it!

Find your Babel,

And climb atop it

Then fuckin' jump off it

Into fires of Tophet,

Pain you won't forget

If you suffer

Like suffragettes,


In tesseract

Blacked-out aspect


How the decadence reflects,

Lays eggs in your mind

Like parasite insects,

Infects us

The meat of cerebral introspect

Misdirects us

To the nexus

Of self-induced hexes,

The voudun runes

Tattooed on your solar plexus,

Where your heart

Falls apart

Like the gun-laws of Texas...

And that 'Wall' won't protect us,

Remember, the walrus collects

All the Oysters,

(that's us)

All the boisterous protesters,

He sells us lies

And then fuckin' ingests us

Then shits us back out

Like a turd that festers

In bleach,

So you reach

Unto the breach,

(once again)

To the light that the elders preach

And put leeches on veins,

On your arteries,

Plead and beseech

Till you're drained

And you see what the martyr sees,

Hubris, harmatia,

Part of cathartic disease,

That tightens in degrees

Like decrees of Tourquamada,

The harder you barter

The worse it'll be,

Fuck me,

Is it Satan-in-waiting

Or God's philosophy?

Socrates never really offered me

Hope when he spoke

About ropes 'round the throats of democracy,

Homegrown hippocrasy,

Violence aross the sea,

Wrote the atrocity prophesy,

(Greeks, you see? Smart)

So you could read your Descarte,

Your Sartre, your Maynard,

Don't fuckin' matter cos ya brain's hard-wired

To the faith-scarred


Bound for the graveyard,

So pray hard

And hope for the 'get-out-of jail' card.
James Khan Jun 10
Eat what you truly feel

As your last fuckin' meal,


The end drenched in cochineal


Where ya redstone headstone glows, surreal

And the motherfuckin' grave

Has a grave appeal,


Made a deal

With the Devil

Now you revel in sin,

Like Severin,

A rebel in

Leather in


And the method in

Ephedrine madness

Leaves you in pain,

Your brain contained

Like a viral strain,

So pour your life down the drain,

Ride the weight-gain freight train

Scar yourself in self-hate shame,

Or one-eighty, refrain,

Be a stick-thin mannequin,

A sallow thing

That's constantly panickin',

Can't remember its own fuckin' name,

Either way, it's the same,

Eat the meal then ya vomit

Up a sonnet

With pity writ upon it,

The old demonic


Urge to immerse your soul

In Vodka n' tonic

Risus sardonicus,

The terminal rictus,

The conquered invictus

The mixtures

Of hurt and self-worth

Like surrealist pictures,

By Goya,

Like Sabbath Witches,

The blasphemous art

That picks apart

The stitches.
Witches Sabbath by Francisco Goya (1798)
James Khan Jun 5
I'll believe in a God

I can fuckin' believe in,

A faith I can sink my teeth in,

Yeah, call me a heathen,

A demon,

'Cos I just won't breathe in

The steam

From the boilin' of reason,

Denounce me 'the creature'

As Legion,

Although I ain't many,

And layin' your seige on

Like William

Laid flame to Kilkenny,

A penny

For your motherfuckin' thoughts,

With your ethics caught

And your conscience overwrought,

I'm good blood-sport,

A kill of the secular sort

But be forewarned,

I've murdered whatever I've fought,

I draw six,

Three times

With the rhymes I mix,

Forty licks

With the whips

As faith's dominatrix,

Leather-bound hips,

The flesh in strips,

Kiss the boot of worship,



By the acid trip

Of the motherfuckin' manuscripts,

Raaah! Shit, I'm loadin'

This fuckin clip,

Hollow-point lyrics

With a tactical grip


To your membership,

Remember this,

You fool no-one

With your counterfeit edifice,

You make less friends

Than you make fuckin' enemies,

And God nowadays

Paraphrased by the terrorists.
James Khan Jun 8
Lets vogue

For the Eighties,

Back to the denim days

Where anyone who's gay


And the doctor says

The ubiquitous phrase,

"Don't worry, it's jest a phase"...

Not serious, anyways,

Thirty empty years


And that childhood - phase

Won't erase,

Won't allay

The dark malaise,

The mind has replaced

Life's bittersweet taste

With a mouthful of soot

And a gut full of razor-blades,

What a fuckin' waste,

Socially disgraced,

Emotionally crazed,

Locked in the fuckin' cage

We bleed rage

When we pass the stage

Of critical mass,

Spittin' glass

In a pressured gas-blast


And the last resort

Is the fast-track

Path to Crown Court,

Pre-sentence report

And our freedom cut short,

No lessons learned

'Cos none were fuckin' taught

And tempers grow fraught,

Controllin' your thoughts

As we're back and we're forth

Like proverbial intercourse,

Like the vivant mort,

A livin' corpse,

Misgivings force

Us back to the source

Of confusion,

Cold fusion

And losin'

The will for inclusion,

But don't let the nuisance

Of fuckin' delusions

Made by the institutions

Impress on your futures,

Humility sutures

The wounds and contusions

Inflicted by so-called tutors,

Those fuckers that shoot us,

Refute us

Fuckin' convolute us,

Like we are the Julius

And they are the Brutus,

So kudos,

To those who chose

To oppose themselves pigeonholed,

And stay original

And never mind shit

That politics

And religion told,

You'll never grow old

'Cos your soul was never sold.
James Khan Jun 8
How d' ya plead, defendant?

Stand there, resplendent

And pleadin' the second amendment,

Disputin' intentions,

And claimin' repentance

And 'cos you ain't dark,

Avoidin' the sentence...

The general consensus:

The badges are worn

As defences,

Backed up

By the beaks on the fuckin' benches,


Non compus mentis,

Moppin' up messes

Like the Sorcerer's Apprentice,

And racial cement is

Repaved in contentious


Not murders

But misadventures...

Nothin' that mentions

The fucked-up dimensions,

The water in the oil

Corruptin' the engines,

The hidden inventions

Of those with a vengeance,

Incitin' the tensions

And still keep their pensions...

'Cos they're blessed by Our Father

And' justice' would rather

Drink Pina Colada

Than deal with a martyr,

But bias will start a

Fire of social intifada,

Sinkin' the ship

Of the nepotists' fuckin' armada

And they'll fall down harder...

Than the walls of motherfuckin' Jericho,

The bassline to their decline

In stereo,

Flick off the switch

And watch the Merry-Go-

Round grind down,

Now it's time to to let it go.
James Khan Jun 6
Carpe Diem,

You're wastin' time,

Unbind your rhymes,

Free 'em,

Don't wait for the mausoleum,

We might agree an'

We might wanna fuckin' see 'em,

Don't let the fear

Of critics

Make you disappear,

Just share,

We might wanna hear

The thoughts from your inner layer,

Loud and clear,

Let the words


The curse so you persevere,

I don't care

If it ain't fuckin' Baudelere,

We're not all Blake here

We ain't fuckin' Shakespeare,

You'll make a mistake here,

So what?

If your form is a little bit shakier?

It wouldn't forsake ya,

It won't fuckin' break ya,

And don't let them tell ya

You're some kind of failure,

'Cos art is expressed

At its best

When the grief and unrest,


Is pulled out of your chest

And the conscience is blessed

By the stress

You fuckin' invest,


Emotions like arabesque


No sense

In the pensive


Talent remanded,

Custodial sentencing,

You don't need degrees

Or that butt-fuckin' MENSA thing,

Pick up the pencil an'

Write about everything,

Anything goes

So compose,

'Cos when ink flows

It shows the stamen

Of the rose

And no shame in

Explainin' how that motherfucker grows,

Just disclose

That emotional quotient

So everybody knows,

That your heart

Is poetry and prose.
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