#mut - Hello Poetry

He spoke about Mike far from the Jackson but more like the color Brown. As if whites love to see white since the lightest part of his body was in the air before his demise. I think you should cut that dread off you know the one for Mike Brown since you weren't there. Far from a activist I honestly don't give a **** Far from an activist you're just adding fuel to extinguishing flames. You know how words spread like aids. People saw what they saw, so they say. You're no Martin you're no Malcom you're more like Powell. This is when I knew I was a racist since all lives don't matter so you say. If I was to die today in the hands of a white man. You wouldn't care since I'm light right. Spanish boy on the mic. Like if my daddy wasn't black as Wesley Snipes. But you know how the ***** daddy story goes. Never home. Left mama with a belly on her own. They don't want to be the fathers but sure in hell they want to hit the daughters. I prayed one day you'll walk through that door without the bottle. That's my only memory. A dream. So if I was to die today you wouldn't care or maybe for half I mean my dad left me slung Guess that changes the fact the left me hug like a pair Jays on the electrical line Never to come by. Never to teach how to ride a bike. Never to teach me how to fight. This is when I knew I was a racist. Because I hate people, I hate crowded places. I hate 34th street I hate 42nd. I hate the city life I should be somewhere in the country side. But back to the matter tell me would you care if I die today in the hands of a white man. What if I got killed by my enemy since minority violence is not a hate crime to society. You see Tito got popped by Jahim And Jahim lights went off in the middle of the night by Piddy But these life's don't matter right Is just minority violence Is not the same media feed. So for all you rappers, poets and activist whose saw Mikes hands up round of applause. You're just like the media feeding in to what your eyes didn't see. Is not about the truth anymore ******* but the ratings. So to the special guest of honor poet I must tell you I'm a racist I have 6 dead Spanish friends killed by all hands Black, white and of time Don't speak to me about justice This wasn't Gardner or Bell And if there's beef let me know I always keep a glock close. My life won't matter to you like to yours won't matter to me. But if that's what makes me a racist, Mother ****** what are you?

0

Jun 24, 2015

Jun 24, 2015 at 7:38 PM UTC

brian-payamps

Nuyorican Café

He spoke about Mike far from the Jackson but more like the color Brown. As if whites love to see white since the lightest part of his body was in the air before his demise. I think you should cut that dread off you know the one for Mike Brown since you weren't there. Far from a activist I honestly don't give a **** Far from an activist you're just adding fuel to extinguishing flames. You know how words spread like aids. People saw what they saw, so they say. You're no Martin you're no Malcom you're more like Powell. This is when I knew I was a racist since all lives don't matter so you say. If I was to die today in the hands of a white man. You wouldn't care since I'm light right. Spanish boy on the mic. Like if my daddy wasn't black as Wesley Snipes. But you know how the ***** daddy story goes. Never home. Left mama with a belly on her own. They don't want to be the fathers but sure in hell they want to hit the daughters. I prayed one day you'll walk through that door without the bottle. That's my only memory. A dream. So if I was to die today you wouldn't care or maybe for half I mean my dad left me slung Guess that changes the fact the left me hug like a pair Jays on the electrical line Never to come by. Never to teach how to ride a bike. Never to teach me how to fight. This is when I knew I was a racist. Because I hate people, I hate crowded places. I hate 34th street I hate 42nd. I hate the city life I should be somewhere in the country side. But back to the matter tell me would you care if I die today in the hands of a white man. What if I got killed by my enemy since minority violence is not a hate crime to society. You see Tito got popped by Jahim And Jahim lights went off in the middle of the night by Piddy But these life's don't matter right Is just minority violence Is not the same media feed. So for all you rappers, poets and activist whose saw Mikes hands up round of applause. You're just like the media feeding in to what your eyes didn't see. Is not about the truth anymore ******* but the ratings. So to the special guest of honor poet I must tell you I'm a racist I have 6 dead Spanish friends killed by all hands Black, white and of time Don't speak to me about justice This wasn't Gardner or Bell And if there's beef let me know I always keep a glock close. My life won't matter to you like to yours won't matter to me. But if that's what makes me a racist, Mother ****** what are you?

42

An irishmen A Cherokee native A scottsmen A French belated A greek poet An English pilgrim A swiss purity Tis This is mine ancestry's kingdom!!!!! What doth this all maketh me? A puzzled mutt!!!!

0

Jun 6, 2015

Jun 6, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC

brandon-nagley

Bred of many colors(puzzletime fuñ)

An irishmen A Cherokee native A scottsmen A French belated A greek poet An English pilgrim A swiss purity Tis This is mine ancestry's kingdom!!!!! What doth this all maketh me? A puzzled mutt!!!!

11

A wing Carved of wood An inch in length Painted black With red and blue details Swirls and dots Bought at a beach From a street vendor Selling hand-carved trinkets Bought by her parents When they were together Before their child knew of their disagreements Before chaos entered The last good thing Embedded in that little trinket That little wooden Pegasus The girl decides Then places it in a box Upon a soft blue cloth The box; black with fern patterns "This," Decided the girl, "Shall go to the best thing in my life." So She prepared the gift For her love Meeting with him Talking, spending time, Then him having to return home Seeing the girl in a few days Forgot the gift with the girl The child promising to bring it with her to him Leaving it where she would remember The girl goes to carry out her day Forgetting it Until she looked out her window Seeing the remains of the gift scattered Shredded outside her window In pieces in her backyard Her dog standing over them Wagging his tail Shock and disbelieving The girl runs out to the remains Trembling as she picked up the pieces Relieved at finding the gift itself intact The only thing ruined being the box Once so beautiful Now ugly shreds Returning indoors The little wooden pegasus wing in hand She wept, her tears falling to the floor For the last good from her childhood Was almost ripped away from her This last good She wished to give to her love As a symbol of trust and unity To show her affection Yet It was so close So nearly stripped from her Almost swallowed by the jaws of a mut - Jay M November 23rd, 2019

0

Nov 24, 2019

Nov 24, 2019 at 2:39 AM UTC

Wandering_Spirit

Small Things

A wing Carved of wood An inch in length Painted black With red and blue details Swirls and dots Bought at a beach From a street vendor Selling hand-carved trinkets Bought by her parents When they were together Before their child knew of their disagreements Before chaos entered The last good thing Embedded in that little trinket That little wooden Pegasus The girl decides Then places it in a box Upon a soft blue cloth The box; black with fern patterns "This," Decided the girl, "Shall go to the best thing in my life." So She prepared the gift For her love Meeting with him Talking, spending time, Then him having to return home Seeing the girl in a few days Forgot the gift with the girl The child promising to bring it with her to him Leaving it where she would remember The girl goes to carry out her day Forgetting it Until she looked out her window Seeing the remains of the gift scattered Shredded outside her window In pieces in her backyard Her dog standing over them Wagging his tail Shock and disbelieving The girl runs out to the remains Trembling as she picked up the pieces Relieved at finding the gift itself intact The only thing ruined being the box Once so beautiful Now ugly shreds Returning indoors The little wooden pegasus wing in hand She wept, her tears falling to the floor For the last good from her childhood Was almost ripped away from her This last good She wished to give to her love As a symbol of trust and unity To show her affection Yet It was so close So nearly stripped from her Almost swallowed by the jaws of a mut - Jay M November 23rd, 2019

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