"advantaged" poems
He says I should do this
Society usually agrees
There's only so much a girl can do
Do I have anything to prove?
I can't "compare" with other men
Society says they're "more advantaged"
Where does this leave me?
Unable to prove my capability?
The thing with sexism is,
despite living in the 21st century,
some people are closed-minded as can be...
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 6:50 AM UTC
NEW YEAR INTROSPECTION PART FOUR
the air of maturity
is breathed today
with such rarity
that what is termed
the age of majority, <
is in reality not,
it instead being
a place of minority;
it's occupants being
the selfless lot who
give freely of their proffering,
offering themselves an offering
and considering themselves
adequately advantaged
as they willingly
position becoming likely
to be taken advantage
and taken for granted
hearts ready for breaking
yet give, love, share
heal, they do,
and freely so;
therein standing
in stark contrast to
the narcissistic hoards
who protect,
with pirouetting steps,
their barren nests,
empty hearts,
and meager pockets,
ever failing to realize
that nature’s law
bestows abundance best
at the selfless giver’s behest.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 1:31 AM UTC
You told me that day,
"The girl I knew would never"
and filled the rest in with everything I've done
The girl I knew would never listen to rap or country music
The girl I knew would never have driven down the backroads going 70 . . . 80 . . . 90 ... 100 .. 110
The girl I knew would never think about themselves first
The girl I knew would never put their needs above anyone else's
The girl I knew would never wear such revealing clothing
The girl I knew would never been comfortable sharing their thoughts
The girl I knew would never feel sorry for themselves
The girl I knew would never feel comfortable in their own skin
The girl I knew would never stand up for themselves
The girl you used to know hated themselves
The girl you used to know was taken advantaged of and walked all over
The girl you used to know hid their true self
The girl you used to know would have sacrificed anything to satisfy you, even herself
The girl you used to know cried every night
The girl you used to know hurt herself when she couldn't feel anymore
The girl you used to know could never stand up to you
I'm glad you never really knew that girl
And I'm glad she became me
May 14, 2021
May 14, 2021 at 12:16 AM UTC
Those cosmopolitan provincials sorts
the chavs, yobs, yobbesses and oiks with semolina for brains
them retro-grade grade-less sub-humans bottom feeders
who think Cardiff is in East Angular and Magaluf is Eden
and Higher Education begins in Borstal or a stint at HM Prisons
found by happenstance a tin of Caviar
something they'd never seen before
with the curiosity of practiced thieves
they proceeded to examine its worth
'its a tin of hair gel says one'
'No, no, no says another, I think its something you eat'
'it says Caviar Royal Beluga, observes another'
'throw it away, anything with a name like that is rubbish'
'Beluga...some foreign muck, it look dark and oily'
'yea mate, look like **** throw it away'
One of the dis-advantaged rabble with one O'level in Carpentry
took a closer look
'look he says, there's sticker on the bottom that reads
Caviar Royal Beluga – 1kg £3,780.00'
Hahahaha they all roared in ceaseless mirth, hahaha
'some joker is having a laugh, pull the other leg, fancy...
a tin of black gunge in some slimy stuff cost three grand,
must think people are born yesterday, Beluga..fuckoffluga'
And with that, they tossed the tin away and walked off
laughing like *********
Ignorance is a disease, ignorance is bliss
will vandals extol the sheer magnificence of a Constable
or see anything other than a chair in a Chippendale ribbonback chair,
will Barbarians shed a tear on hearing the sensuous notes of Chopin or shiver at the graceful notes of Debussy or melt in sheer
adoration as Tchaikovsky's romance soars in magical resonance.
Will cosmopolitan heathens gape in mesmerizing wonder on
seeing Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel and praise God for being alive
So who has great expectations of our dear cosmopolitan provincials sorts
those chavs, yobs, yobbesses and oiks with semolina for brains
for in disparaging excellence
and rubbishing the noble and the exceptional
they make us appreciate more that we are blessed
and privileged
and do not have
semolina for brains
hey!
who would like some caviar
Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 6:40 AM UTC
For Caira Doheny, My Irish Muse
"Chameleons feed on light and air:
Poets' food is love and fame."
An Exhortation, st. 1 (1819)
Percy Bysshe Shelley
------------------------------------
Let us intimate a Poetic Competition,
Tween an Irish lass,
and a New York Jew,
I shall serve, and you,
You shall return
A contest:
Our tongues, our racquets,
Across the table,
The words shall bird fly,
Across the net,
Couplets and haiku
Shall smash and whistle
The winner will be the one
The God of Poetry
Accepts for permanent servitude
You **** my poetic soul forever
With the currency of praise genuine,
Authentic, flowing and fulsome,
Awarding me the Medallion Doheny
Cash value, a mere Irish penny,
But to the poet, the food of love and fame
Genetic to your nature,
You exhale word rhythms,
Excitable and interrupting,
Speech free flowing,
Tho I am of the People of the Book,
You, by birthplace,
Are unfair poetry advantaged
All your utterances
Are action heroes of the heart,
And I fail miserable to capture
The poetry you breathe out
Your Irish praise me awarded,
Tis now the
Standard and the Curse
This benighted amateur
Must now Prometheus nurse
One day in Dublin, shall we meet,
In a country where poetry is the
Iron in the people's blood
In a particular pub
Opposite we will sit,
You, a cowboy by adoption,
Me, the dastardly banker
You know the pub,
I, with my pint,
You, with your diet coke,
And the only lingua Franca
Shall be darts of poetry
In a language our own,
A collective work we will weave,
A blessed unity, a single tongue now,
Lilting, singing, bespoke
We will let the singer-poet laureate**
Of the island we now share, moderate,
Over his piano man's gin and tonic,
As we do as Yeats instructed:
Between us,
"A line will take us hours maybe;
Yet if it does not seem {but}
a moment's thought,
our stitching and unstinting
has been naught"
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
L--- is the thick, adrenaline-wrought catharsis of a summer rainstorm on the highway at night.
It's the ridiculously advantaged team in a game of dodgeball;
and the hail in March as you run from work to close your car's skylight;
and the wave that rakes your hair with the teeth of the sand and surf;
and the pebble on the downhill slope that your bike trips over and you fly off, eyes wide and gracelessly flailing;
and L--- is the way you lose yourself in the cosmic threads of their eyes;
and the breath you forgot you were holding.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 11:22 PM UTC
The relationship I used to have lasted over a year.
The whole time, it was one sided.
I'm never felt more neglected, hurt, taken advantaged of, and inferior,
Now that I haven't contacted him for two weeks,
And he's begging for attention,
Makes me feel empowered for once.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 5:15 PM UTC
Snow Sleep
the promise~warning of a fresh snow delivery
by milky white angels alters the soundscape
of the city; the early traffic is major muted; the
boisterous, ribald ribbing of teenage competition
is put away in the drawer, reserved for weekend
snow ball fights and Central Park mountain sledding
but what I come to tell you is of my beloved, who nearby,
advantaged by the silence deep sleeps in the ultra
quiet of the bedroom for I have tiptoed lightly away,
nary a squeak or a tweet to sting or wrest the cool
comfort of the concoction of dark+chocolate combo
of absolute silence, the political commentators must now wait their turn, while supping my endless Blue Mountain white mug
yes, even I, wide awake for hours, sense the ulterior
sensory deprivation, the only noise is the windage
of the air conditioning that refrigerates its humming
and the body’s humming response, a choral harmony
of shhhhh…
why matters this to you, I do not know, perhaps
a mutuality of recognition as your children exercise
their snow day privileges, letting you off the hook,
for there is always tomorrow when the dragging-
out-of-bed, the stomping of snow boots, and pleas
to help them find their hidden scarfs and gloves cannot
go ignored, or be silenced…today, this sound of snow~sleep,
a rarity for us city dwellers, who, the unfortunate few, will soon venture forth to meet obligations, completecontracts, open the shop,
write the reports and do the daily diurnal or place calls to counterparts overseas to jointly prognosticate the future of
the next twenty four, but with a snowy lethargy
I write, this, to you, to my children, to the world, but
mostly to my beloved, who, drugged by snow~sleep,
yet to stir, sleeps a soundless sleep of….
*wait-a-minute, 8:00am, and I hear a bellow of hello,
a lighthouse sound of warning, and kitchen noises,
the cicadas of circadian rhythms cannot be held back,
triumphantly awaken her, the habits of a lifetime
cannot be overcome…*
8:04am
nyc
2/13/24
Feb 13, 2024
Feb 13, 2024 at 8:15 AM UTC
I knew he was a player
So, I didn’t get involved
I stayed there on the side-line
But never touched his *****
I watched him with his other halves
Advantaged by position
He played the field and tackled
This dude was on a mission!
He's scored his final goal
Set up his final long ball
The flag is up, time has been called
He’s found his final fixture!
No more wins, just ties!
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 5:50 AM UTC
Send or Request Money
a Facebook choice (new?) stumbled upon,
what! no more the check is in the mail stall,
which strikes me funny, cause my preference is
to send offerings before being asked,
which is one of those
items that I list on Linkedin resume as a
serious flaw under honorable man,
listed under miscellaneous skills,
next to
often cranky quirky guy who is
collaterally damaged and has been
taken advantaged of
Send or Request Money a two way duality
prefer send to request
for me it’s more intriguing to be owed
a tool to uncover honor-enabled humans
that I close upon closer to my heart
nearer to thee, my human god’s creation
and that’s why you and them
even me - even god (get in line)
call me
stillcrazyafteralltheseyears
Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 10:14 AM UTC
I feel important at times,
But I mostly feel worthless and unimportant.
People may say I am worth a lot,
But it's false.
I used to be important,
But now I'm torn apart.
I've been taken advantaged of to last a lifetime.
My friends are always busy or barely get together with me outside of school,
And I feel studying and school work is all that there is to life now that tennis season is over.
I just want to go to college already,
To get away from a hard life I have always had.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 12:20 PM UTC
I wanna begin this off with I'm sad for everything that I did
got on your every single nerve when I was a child
played with some of your feelings
pushed each and every catch
be that as it may, there was never a period where you didn't demonstrate to me a mom ma's loving
there's kin out there that has never held their mom's hand
I'm sufficiently blessed to state you helped shape me into a man
indeed, even in the most wiped out of well being
you still dependably put us before yourself
I was excessively youthful, making it impossible to perceive the amount you needed to give up
long days
longer evenings
at work simply wanting to be home during the evening
I realized that you didn't generally have additional cash to pay a sitter
since regular that momma went to work
every one of us children would run with her
none of us at any point truly minded
it got every one of us to spend a tad of family time
you generally dealt with us kids transforming each house into a home
giving every one of us something that we could call our own
I realized that I was sheltered with you I never needed to stress
since on the off chance that I at any point required you
you were in that spot in a rush
in the event that there was a mother of the year grant
you would be the one
I would never truly thank you for everything that you've done
I truly am advantaged to have a mother like you
no mother could ever come close with everything you do
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 7:40 AM UTC
We should celebrate life, not in segments
Not in periods and slots, not in fragments
We should celebrate life in sum, in totality
Leaving behind hatred and jealousy,
Going ahead with grace to face death
To fight poverty, deprivation and dearth
Of resources for the less advantaged
And the physically and mentally challenged
Or it is the same year with euphoria
With false rhetoric and phantasmagoria
Let us be good, simple and wise
Let us face tomorrow’s sunrise
With a wish for peace and harmony
Don’t sell your soul for tonight’s cacophony!
Love and joy, peace and harmony
The world needs more than acrimony!
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 2:16 AM UTC
all my life I have had my kindness been taken advantaged of,
through friends,
classmates
and strangers.
for the longest time I saw this as a sign of weakness,
that people would forever walk over me because of my kindness,
but it is not a sign of weakness,
it is a sign of loyalty,
bravery,
compassion
and so much more.
kindness is not a weakness,
only those who use you for your kindness are simply too weak to find solace within their own hearts.
Jun 10, 2020
Jun 10, 2020 at 1:19 AM UTC
----
Titular:
"Nowadays, it means that you
are an empty, non~deserving of
whatever title you take for granted"
A poem,
but if be untitled,
if it be a titular,
what are we to make of it?
the title is the 🔑
but to be untitled
is
an acknowledgment of
defeat
the key to unlocking
the inner-est construct,
from within, or without,
is the title.
without
which
the poem cannot
constructed,
deconstructed,
and then
reconstructed
it is:
the clue
the hint
***** it,
it is the soul insight
that leads the reader's eyes
to the water,
to the enquiring,
the scent of
mmmmm,
that!
is worth investigating,
that fresh baked,
right out of the oven,
you know it when you
smell it, and your tracks,
suddenly stop, turn around,
cease the scrolling,
go back,
get ****** in,
and roost within,
exclaiming,
**** that title,
that came from the right in,
not a glancing blow,
more like a right hook,
Happy-attached to a line and sinker,
and the poem that leaves you forever
thinking,
cannot ever
get enough
of that fresh bread aroma,
and the great brioche
the bravado
of one of those,
{who knew, who knows?}
that the nexus of
the next intriguing title
of the
next poem,
and the next next poem,
is not
an empty
unwashed titular,
of the
un
en~~titled
an yet,
more a tease
to our curiosity's
cat,
to the
as of yet unimagined,
it is in
that invitation,
for your preparation
to be
astounded…and advantaged…
Oct 6, 2025
Oct 6, 2025 at 2:54 PM UTC