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xenophobia
the politics of stupid
where hate and fear rule
Senryu
 Mar 2016 Thomas Newlove
A Lopez
Some poets will
W
   R
  I
T
  E,
Just for the
F
A
M
E.
Having
To
Send
Requests,
For someone
To like their poem's
Again. They'll befriend,
And put on a smile,
While asking by inbox
'Can you share my poesía for a while'.
Yet poesía isn't inboxing
To get a quick like,
That's just new
Age poesía, sickening to my
Dislike, I understand if one
Wants to get known,
Though just send us your
poesía, other poet's who like it
Will surely make you known.
I will speak out
Against this invasion-------of the sending and begging
For the liking
For the gain of many's
Own self wanting ambitions.
I will no longer share
Anyone's writes
Who beg for me to share,
If one has to beg
poesía isn't your fair.
Noone else will speak out
So I will do dare.
Poesía, if we like
We'll click and we'll compare.
Poesía isn't sending a write
To every rhymester and
Imploring. Poesía shares itself
In the world of poetry
That's been mourning.
So please I ask kindly
No more entreating me with inboxed writes,
If others like, we will share
As we're together
In this fight.
I have seen noone speak out on this I don't hate anyone who does this though it happens to me alot and know it does with so many people, there are a few here that the only reason they do get a like, is by sending their poesìa to every man and woman here, and to be honest that isn't poesìa, it has nothing to do with trolling as many have sickeningly called me that, this has to do with poetry as a whole. In poesía if anyone studies old world poetry the will see the best poets who ever existed never considered themselves as poets, and never asked or wanted anyone to like their poems, they just wrote to their little hearts content. And people years later decided -hey- these speakers are amazing and made for the world of poesía, I have no issue sharing ones piece that isn't known, or wants to get themselves on their feet. Though to be honest, my inbox is filled with more than one person, many know who they are, that send us daily on a scheduled basis, the poems they create, and say please read, meaning you got to give it a like, as why many get the popular votes on hellopoetry, while the unknown artist starves and doesn't get one daily or even a view . let's stand up to this. Yet respect those doing it. And letting them know poesía isn't begging for a like, it's helping another out in this community by sharing.
Gracias

Quick note taken
If get unfollowed or unliked for stating facts, OK with me. I will still continue to like their writes, if I like their poems and choose to do so. If one doesn't like my poesía for this, I say oh well, and won't exchange hate for hate, but replace hate with love. And share others writes that deserve to be shared . even if they don't like mine. Every poet has their own preference. =D
There's gods all around that pound you
While the men in high heels surround you
How much longer 'til they've found you?
Suzy, do you know what you've done?

She had her ways of seduction
A femme fatale if there ever was one
A high class killer and a smart one
But everyone fails once or twice

You spent the night in the hacienda
Curled up on the white veranda
To kingdom come they'd like to send ya
Suzy, do you know you're on your own?

The sun will rise tomorrow
Do you need some time to borrow?
Listen to the morning swallow
You've got to come up with something quick

How does it feel to be a rebel?
To wake up dead next to the devil?
You've got one more deal left to settle
Suzy, I hope your aim is good

Is that smoke in the distance?
Is it a campfire or an instance?
Is there anyone out here to witness,
Whatever Suzy has up her sleeve?

The gun that she carries
Belongs to the man she married
And tonight, along this lonesome prairie
Suzy will meet him once more
High Priest Paul stalks them in the night
He promises forgiveness by the edge of his knife
He never stops to question or hesitates to bite
Believe in him and he will make it right  

Scar-Faced Jake doesn't like to wait
He murders Myan time and claws the hands of fate
He bullies his way to the top of the state
He wears a velvet hat and sells you ****** bait

Senator Chris keeps his lovers on a list
A check for every thrill and a line for every kiss
Somewhere, out there, far beyond the bliss
There's kids wondering where their daddy is

Groovy Jungle Jim buries his guitars
Played them like a fiddle in middle country bars
Slept with the lowlifes and wannabe a stars
His voice is the air and his clothes are in the yard

Ali of the Valley sees the starry sky is clear
Reflecting in her eyes like a cosmic mirror
Wondering if the universe looks at us and sneers
While the people on the earth scoff and call her weird

Mr. Priestess Slim puts the bottle on the floor
It's full of whiskey eyes but just a moment more
Someone is rapping on his chamber door
But when he opens it up, he starts a holy war
Dear Colorado,
Are you still awake?
You're like a fantasy I have
Like I risk I have to take
How have you been?
It feels like years since we kissed
How many people come your way?
How many of them do you miss?
I think what you said was true
I'm gonna die alone and sad
But I've grown to realize
That it wouldn't be that bad
Just let me see you again
At least one more time
Once more, and I'll never call
I wanna die under your sky
It was down in California
Where the light hurt my eyes
I couldn't hear my thoughts or find a reason why
It was down in Louisiana
Where all my friends were now
When something went black and escaped into the south

So I went into the city
Of whatever state I'm in
I can't tell if it's New Orleans or if I'm drunk again
I buried all my secrets
In a tarnished leather book
At which only me and the universe can look  

Thank god for himself
For he's given me pain
And if it's someone else
You can erase them with blame

So I jumped into a truck
Driven by border clerks
But halfway down to Mexico, I knew this wouldn't work
They had it in for laughs
At the expense of broken hearts
I know they meant no harm but they were tearing me apart

The flag above my head
Only made me feel sick
Someone tried to sell me love but I knew it was a trick
But when the sun finally fell
And the stars shined on me
I understood what people meant when they told me I was free
Sell me Pocahontas
She is only seventeen
Paid in full for a painted skull
And a million apple trees

Guide me, native spirit
Teach me how to speak
To tell them why they have to die
And why they're so weak

Pocahontas, come with me  
Take my hand and you'll see

The land of fallen glory
Of courageous family men
Fought for truth and killed the youth
After we called them friends

Pocahontas, come with me  
Take my hand and you'll see

Listen to my promise
This is my desire
Just sign the line and close your eyes
As I set your home on fire
 Mar 2016 Thomas Newlove
Argentum
fact: our subconscious decides actions half a second before your conscious even wraps itself around the situation.

fact: peer pressure can make people do the craziest ****.

fact: jellyfish are immortal. certain species can revert to an infantile, earlier stage of their life cycle when needed.

fact: humans cannot. this is one of many causes of our obsession with life and death, innocence, time, and many other subjects pertaining to similar matters; this inability is one of many forces propelling and pulling us towards the great unknown.

fact: this makes humans bitter and jaded and contemplative. this is something to continue to investigate.



fact: my subconscious is cruel and strange, having fed on a great deal of dark poetry and books I was too young to read.

fact: I get angry sometimes, and easily.

fact: I do stupid things, but it's not always peer pressure.

fact: I am bitter and jaded and contemplative sometimes, but not being a jellyfish is only one of many forces propelling and pulling me towards the great unknown.

fact: I hate you.  fact: I love you.

fact: facts aren't always true.

fact: I'm sorry.

request: Please forgive me.

fact: it's okay if you don't.
I can feel myself changing and bending under the Fate's gaze
Christ was afire as men were lynched ..The hopeless , unwanted , forgotten sons and daughters .  Christ was afire as the black child cried in abandon , unto the night .. Christ was afire as they continued to **** , long after physical death .. A symbol of Christ rages somewhere tonight ..
Copyright March 12 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson  *All Rights Reserved

My Georgia and its history .. Not all flowers and honeybees sadly ..
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