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"ahmed" poems
i. Happy birthday To thee, dearest Friend. Mayest This remembrance of birth Be another year for thou To thinkest of none end's; But a brighter tommorrow. ii. Resteth gal sarah, Put away all of Thine sorrow's, Didst thou not Knoweth; there's A God who breaketh The alshshayatin Who cometh against Thee. iii. Thou art not alone, As me and mine Jane Art alway's there to Be, a friend in need. Growing seed's, to Help-another grow. iv. Mayest the morrow Be for thou, as white As snow; mayest the Seraphim, who surround's Thy worries and protects Thy home, showeth Thee the light above thine tear's. Smile mine friend, a friend is here. Mayest thy sight be clear, and thy crown Be uplifted and flared. As the world's glare Hast betrayed thine eye's. Observeth upward Wherein paradise lies; as thou wilt hath wing's one day O' laureate of poetry's net. O' brilliant friend; of Jane and mine. ©Brandon Nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Thepoet(Sarah Ahmed) birthday dedication. Sorry Sarah day late on b day dedication... But a happy wonderful birthday from me a friend if you ever need one there as you have always been there for me and Jane and have always been a major blessing to me and Jane!!! May the heavens open to you, and may you overcome your battles you face in this world... HAPPY BIRTHDAY poetic friend !!!!
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Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 7:32 PM UTC
عيد ميلاد أحد الأصدقاء ( A friend's birthday) arabic tongue - birthday dedication to Thepoet ( Sarah Ahmed)
The Lion of Panshir United different ethnic groups Uzbeks and Turkmen People from Kandhar, Paktiyah, and Jalalabad Under the Northern Alliance He went to try to negotiate with the Taliban He said they were "In a different world" The Taliban are not Muslims They are murderers and thugs They do not serve Allah The Lion of Panshir and the Mujahideen Defended his native homeland from the Taliban The Taliban could not enter the Panshir Valley 10,000 Taliban were slayed By the Mighty Lion of Panshir and his forces The mighty lion went to try to negotiate with the Taliban He said they were "In a different world" Death to the Taliban May God continue to bless the ancestors of the mighty lion of Panshir And the people of the Panshir Valley The true followers of Allah The Most High God 100,000 people gathered For the funeral of Ahmed Massoud Great leader, Loving father, Proud warrior They built a musem in his honor Your spirit lives on Ahmed Massoud Allahu Akbar! God is greatest And you were one of His greatest servants
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May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
Ahmed Shah Massoud (God bless the Mighty Lion of Panshir!)
Johnny can't join his daddy has no car Michael can't join they don't like his shoes Ahmed can't join he has a funny name Bobby can't join supports the wrong team "What's going on?" bellows the red-faced teacher "You can't treat each other like this! "Have you ever been excluded? "Yes? "And how "did it make you feel?" He ushers them in, muttering though somewhat gratified by the shame in their eyes Then herds them through to assembly where the guest of honour is the minister who proceeds to explain to the obediently seated rows that if they don't see things his way they will be eternally, terrifyingly and agonisingly excluded from the great big party in the sky And the teacher hangs his head in baffled complicity, defeated.
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Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 2:56 PM UTC
Exclusive
You hold grudges, as if you've  never wronged anyone  yourself. You bear grudges, as if you  don't know how  much it hurts  to have one  against yourself. Remember what you've done. Remember how it feels. © Sarah Ahmed
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Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 11:59 PM UTC
• Grudges •
I conquered vast pieces of land. I ruled green patches and sand. I am Akbar, I am Aurangzeb, I am Alexander, I am emperor, I am man. I discovered places which were unseen and unknown, sometimes with my friends and sometimes alone, I am da Gama, I am Polo, I am columbus, I am explorer, I am man. I constructed beautiful mosques and castles, see this Taj, as if it was built by Angels. I am Ustad Ahmed, I am Master james, I am Sinan, I am architect, I am man. I take rational approach to solve life's mystery, through biology, physics and chemistry. I am Jabir, I am Newton, I am Einstein, I am scientist, I am man. I have turned upside down many nations, my thoughts and writings can inspire generations. I am Marx, I am plato, I am socrates, I am philosopher, I am man. I crossed boundaries of earth to reach space, Even on moon you can find my trace. I am Aldrin, I am Gagarin, I am Armstrong, I am astronaut, I am man. I shape words like a sculptor with delicate touch, my few words can convey so much. I am Iqbal, I am Kabir, I am Wordsworth, I am poet I am man. I Stayed for nine months in her womb, her love and kindness made a man in me to bloom, She is sister, she is wife, she is mother, she is woman, Yes, I am man because of a woman.
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Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 5:24 AM UTC
I AM MAN
shukraan, for showing selflessness in a land of selfishness; and self wants. Thou art a soul, wandering alone, with the blood of a friend who seeks the unknown. As sadly woe constructs thy face. Shukraan, mayest God almighty send thee his grace; when thou feelest no taste of love in thy mouth. Shukraan, wherever mine friend thou shalt go, please know an ear thou hath here; to always lend it's hearing, and a soul to connect to for Grasp and understanding. Shukraan, thou art a ray from the wonderful creator, let not the world hook thee in its filth and vague papers, for the beauty is not outside; but in. Shukraan, Shukraan mine poetic friend, show affection to woman and man, be thee the best thou canst; let not dark overtake thee, but let the light be thy own shadow. Shukraan, dear Sarah, if seek God he shalt win all thy battles, none more tears or the morrows wherein fears art the normal; but where mercy, peace, joy, and happiness art the new. Shukraan, mine friend; Shukraan to thou O' ploome. ©Brandon nagley ©lonesome poets poetry ©Sarah ahmed birthday dedication (aka Thepoet)
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Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 7:23 PM UTC
shukraan ( Thank you) arabic tongue: Birthday dedication to Sarah ahmed ( aka "Thepoet")
Mentally  insane, psychologically  distorted, I'm physically  in pain, and I'm  emotionally  contorted.  © Sarah Ahmed
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Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 5:33 PM UTC
• Beat •
Without any effort, you walked into the room And said, “This is my world now.” Hurdles are pebbles to you; Stresses fit in a thimble to you; Obstacles – nothing to you; It’s an honour to simply know you. The way that you smile turns my heart into gold And my face the brightest red. Voice like smooth honey, lips soft as satin; How do you make it look so effortless? Your nervousness is unwarranted, you're great and you know it; You needn’t worry yourself. Your intelligence and beauty and strive pile up Like the books on all of our shelves. It seems like I waste all my time and strength, Just to simply break through. But you, you – in all of your lovely ways, It seems so easy for you. Your eyes simply drown me, even when you Aren’t around me – what isn’t just easy for you? You make us all proud, And we shout it out loud, “I KNOW her! – does she know YOU?” Glasses or no, you’re beautiful, though You make it so easy – you do. You give us all hope, make us loosen the rope, And become as well-rounded as you. Expectations you set, we will reach them yet, But we can’t make it easy like you. Smart, gorgeous, electric, and sweet – Pioneer; trailblazer; that’s you.
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Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 10:58 PM UTC
Ahmed
Let me take your heart to where it should lie, in a place that consists of only you and I. Let me take your heart to where it should be, in a world that exists for only you and me. © Sarah Ahmed
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Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC
• You & Me •
Mughal Emperor, Shahjahan For the memory of his wife Arjumand Banu Begum Made, a royal tomb- Everyone knows it, called the "Taj Mahal", Which stands on the banks of the Jamuna With the scope of its vastness. Beginning in 1832 It ended in 1853, Thousands of artisans, architects, workers in 21 years They were dedicated to its construction. Ustad Ahmed Lahuri was The original designer, The white marble dome-shaped tomb- Being a complex integral, architectural wonder. Every year, millions of people flock To see this archetype of love, Everyone is overwhelmed to see- In everyone’s heart, it’s unique to cut the stain of love.
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May 6, 2021
May 6, 2021 at 6:34 PM UTC
The Taj Mahal
/ you sure that there's an actual vinyl revival? it's stirr-frying my testicles back in england and vinyl is on the comeback?! **** yeah! i tried interpreting an ancient egyptian concept of a fanning / ***** police for days on end... newspaper? no... saturday nespaper magazine? no... c.d.?! no... impromptu napkin "loophole"? nope... vinyl?! oh **** me! i own a vinyl sgt. peppers'... don't really want to listen to it... but, vinyl, within the framework of a revival?! july sunday pants... you can fan me back and forth, back and forth that elongated into circular ******* liquorice... finally! vinayl has a secondary, degenerate purpose... fanning equippment! spread the air... unless you're me lodging a ******** imitation of a ******** with ice-cubes dangling in front of a fan: spreading nothing, but hot air... honest to god, in this weather: the beatles' vinyl? means as much crock-shit as i'd really love for a nefertiti: "woof"... or a... wave of air... a bellowing bull with rotten breath... but at least we found out that vinyl is useful afterall... way past the newspaper... or a pigeon flapping, or the comment section that's coorporate... vinyl? perfect flapping equipment! disperses the air... like sinatra disperses bad singers... drunk and... 'opely 'opefully on to "it". is that like: the dead come (back)... and then we hit karma redemption with reincarnation?! limited contra dough-dough-deep state affairs?! new delhi *** new york?! no wonder i can't stop laughing as if that could even be translated into slavic languages! you pompous anglican-integrated-inbred... ****** english women... you?! you?! you?! you want to dictate, rules for me?! ****** now i want to fight your side's resemblance of goliath! i've petted an alsatian and a dobberman up to the age of 8... i think i'll manage... shit-fisting your granny's egotism rooting for: ahmed no. 1.
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Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 9:53 AM UTC
vinyl revival, given this weather
/ you sure that there's an actual vinyl revival? it's stirr-frying my testicles back in england and vinyl is on the comeback?! **** yeah! i tried interpreting an ancient egyptian concept of a fanning / ***** police for days on end... newspaper? no... saturday nespaper magazine? no... c.d.?! no... impromptu napkin "loophole"? nope... vinyl?! oh **** me! i own a vinyl sgt. peppers'... don't really want to listen to it... but, vinyl, within the framework of a revival?! july sunday pants... you can fan me back and forth, back and forth that elongated into circular ******* liquorice... finally! vinayl has a secondary, degenerate purpose... fanning equippment! spread the air... unless you're me lodging a ******** imitation of a ******** with ice-cubes dangling in front of a fan: spreading nothing, but hot air... honest to god, in this weather: the beatles' vinyl? means as much crock-shit as i'd really love for a nefertiti: "woof"... or a... wave of air... a bellowing bull with rotten breath... but at least we found out that vinyl is useful afterall... way past the newspaper... or a pigeon flapping, or the comment section that's coorporate... vinyl? perfect flapping equipment! disperses the air... like sinatra disperses bad singers... drunk and... 'opely 'opefully on to "it". is that like: the dead come (back)... and then we hit karma redemption with reincarnation?! limited contra dough-dough-deep state affairs?! new delhi *** new york?! no wonder i can't stop laughing as if that could even be translated into slavic languages! you pompous anglican-integrated-inbred... ****** english women... you?! you?! you?! you want to dictate, rules for me?! ****** now i want to fight your side's resemblance of goliath! i've petted an alsatian and a dobberman up to the age of 8... i think i'll manage... shit-fisting your granny's egotism rooting for: ahmed no. 1.
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Bombarded, Rubbled, About to die. I, Ahmed and my friends yet dream, To eat a shawarma, A chicken sandwich, Not to have the roads closed, Waiting for a brother, To hear his mother calling him, Hopefully to see another morning. 5/11/2023
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Nov 5, 2023
Nov 5, 2023 at 6:51 AM UTC
I Dream
To Rashid Khan and Qais Ahmed During dread and death, You use leather and willow, To show Afghan’s strength.
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Aug 20, 2021
Aug 20, 2021 at 7:45 AM UTC
Haiku 08.21
I don't want to go To any job I don't need any more Friends I want to go Afghanistan And **** the Taliban I just can't get anything The woman Or the money And I've been sentenced To a life On this planet And people can Just **** off! Now I'm in Afghanistan With a heart full of hate I have hate for the Taliban! The Afghan people Just want to make a living And survive And the Taliban goes around Killing everyone That's really ****** up Well I'm a rogue ****** Left alone like I always was But now I'm alone in The war zone I've got my fifty caliber And I put the scope On that Taliban leader Boom! A shot rings out Across the land I'm the judge now You ******* Blew his ******* brains out All Taliban Will die I'm sending dozens Of Taliban leaders Floating down the river That won't go to see Allah But they'll burn in hell Let them burn! No respect for human life Murderers Killing children and women! I'm here to wipe them off The face of the earth And If I get in real close And fight one without Any weapons Just strangle him To death Death to the Taliban! Long live Ahmed Massoud! Long live the men From the Panshir valley Who fought with Massoud! I'm content to **** with a rifle But even happier When I get my hands On one of those scumbags Strangle him to death Die!!! I'll choke the life out of That piece of **** Taliban All Taliban must die! This is for the children For the women you murdered I manned a 50 caliber Machine gun They were all in there camp Like a ******* Rambo movie I blew everyone's brains out Dieeeeeeee!!!!!! Death to the Taliban Shrieks and screams Arms and legs flying everywhere This is judgement! You deserve to die You child murderers Those who do not respect life Will die! Death to the Taliban
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Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 11:04 PM UTC
Death To The Taliban
I don't want to go To any job I don't need any more Friends I want to go Afghanistan And **** the Taliban I just can't get anything The woman Or the money And I've been sentenced To a life On this planet And people can Just **** off! Now I'm in Afghanistan With a heart full of hate I have hate for the Taliban! The Afghan people Just want to make a living And survive And the Taliban goes around Killing everyone That's really ****** up Well I'm a rogue ****** Left alone like I always was But now I'm alone in The war zone I've got my fifty caliber And I put the scope On that Taliban leader Boom! A shot rings out Across the land I'm the judge now You ******* Blew his ******* brains out All Taliban Will die I'm sending dozens Of Taliban leaders Floating down the river That won't go to see Allah But they'll burn in hell Let them burn! No respect for human life Murderers Killing children and women! I'm here to wipe them off The face of the earth And If I get in real close And fight one without Any weapons Just strangle him To death Death to the Taliban! Long live Ahmed Massoud! Long live the men From the Panshir valley Who fought with Massoud! I'm content to **** with a rifle But even happier When I get my hands On one of those scumbags Strangle him to death Die!!! I'll choke the life out of That piece of **** Taliban All Taliban must die! This is for the children For the women you murdered I manned a 50 caliber Machine gun They were all in there camp Like a ******* Rambo movie I blew everyone's brains out Dieeeeeeee!!!!!! Death to the Taliban Shrieks and screams Arms and legs flying everywhere This is judgement! You deserve to die You child murderers Those who do not respect life Will die! Death to the Taliban
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All it took was for Ahmed who had been sleeping in his hut (built at least twenty meters away from the rest of the village), to stop snoring to realize that something was out of the ordinary. Silence crawled over the land, bringing with it the sensation of a severed hand in desperate need to attach itself (any arm would do), scraping over the sand, against the walls of mud dwellings. Fadwa touched her wrist, looked up through a hole in the roof covering; synthetic satellite blinks took over a clear pre-dawn sky— the stars cowered, some even fell away at the sight of their man-made twitters. Tweets and twitters in the sky “… news had said they’d blocked the Net, that a kind-hearted group in the Netherlands had opened their servers for those folk either in need to contact loved ones or to tell the ****** truth that stains this sand.” Or something like that; Fadwa yawned— she wasn’t sure what the Net was but it sounded like “serious business”— that’s what he had said, Uncle Mohammed, who came for dinner the night before; there’d been terror in his voice. A stifled yelp broke the stillness. Within seconds the dunes were lit, strewn with military-style boots,  the rubber soles of which reeked of corruption carried in from army bases located not far from where the city ***** souls. Ahmed was on his hands and knees Fadwa was peeking through the key hole, or what was left of the door; Billy the Kid, Fadwa’s goat had been at it. Two troops held handguns to his head but Ahmed had already departed.
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Mar 6, 2011
Mar 6, 2011 at 2:44 AM UTC
Uprising: A Journey - 2 (Ahmed, Fadwa and Billy the Kid)
All it took was for Ahmed who had been sleeping in his hut (built at least twenty meters away from the rest of the village), to stop snoring to realize that something was out of the ordinary. Silence crawled over the land, bringing with it the sensation of a severed hand in desperate need to attach itself (any arm would do), scraping over the sand, against the walls of mud dwellings. Fadwa touched her wrist, looked up through a hole in the roof covering; synthetic satellite blinks took over a clear pre-dawn sky— the stars cowered, some even fell away at the sight of their man-made twitters. Tweets and twitters in the sky “… news had said they’d blocked the Net, that a kind-hearted group in the Netherlands had opened their servers for those folk either in need to contact loved ones or to tell the ****** truth that stains this sand.” Or something like that; Fadwa yawned— she wasn’t sure what the Net was but it sounded like “serious business”— that’s what he had said, Uncle Mohammed, who came for dinner the night before; there’d been terror in his voice. A stifled yelp broke the stillness. Within seconds the dunes were lit, strewn with military-style boots,  the rubber soles of which reeked of corruption carried in from army bases located not far from where the city ***** souls. Ahmed was on his hands and knees Fadwa was peeking through the key hole, or what was left of the door; Billy the Kid, Fadwa’s goat had been at it. Two troops held handguns to his head but Ahmed had already departed.
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I was living in the dark, With dancing demons around. Hopes and butterflies, None i found. Even the dark ; extinguished the stars. I was astound. And then, So bright and magnificent, The moon unveiled. With many scars, But still a beauty mark. Frightened the fear away. And enlightened the stars. 'Who are you' as I asked; Replied: 'Your other half.' ~Sweara Ahmed~
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Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 11:30 AM UTC
Other Half
As days go by As poets pass The friend we make Who now departs But as I look back And reminisce There's that one friend I made Who I'll surely miss Who inspired my writing Intrigued my mind To whom the world out there Was not always kind Yet wrote on and on Of love and of pain Of hope and of sorrow Which she could not contain That sparked into words And roared like a flame A friend - fellow poet A star, became So thank you, my friend For your inspired works That set upon this open sky Explode like fireworks
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Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 5:56 PM UTC
Tribute to ThePoet - Sarah Ahmed
Semisynthetic illumination faded over the land. The dunes sighed; women and children (wide-eyed) emerged from humble homes, hands in the air, guns in their backs. Still on hands and knees, as if in prayer, Ahmed’s body slumped forward, his beard and robes leaving tracks in the sand. Hand-rolled cigarettes glowed over Mona Lisa soldier-sniggers; village men, lined up like sheep near the fence were being stripped of their clothes— they shivered in the face of death. Fadwa’s back door creaked open; two soldiers, high on poppies’ finest, tiptoed through desert darkness, fingers on triggers. Billy the Kid wasn’t named ‘Billy the Kid’ for no reason, “kicks like a mule”, so Uncle Mohammad had said; The first soldier was winded, the second not quite so lucky. Fadwa picked up the man’s rifle, popped the winded soldier in the face. Billy and Fadwa took the brunt of the bullets; the rest fled.
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Mar 9, 2011
Mar 9, 2011 at 3:40 AM UTC
Uprising: A Journey - 3 (Go!)
Your ivory Was devouring First as a smirk Then a ploy Grazing a nape I was your boy “When will I See you again?” You said “C’mon over” I replied So you made the drive We were lovers s o m e t i m e s A birthday card Now gathering dust In a bin I often think Of what could Have been To have your teeth Grasping my Whole being And your Primal scent In my nose Lingering “When will I See you again?” . . . I wonder . . . Knowing the answer Is never will we be More than a secret Every bead of sweat Locked up in memory Safe from your faith Safe from your family Which makes me Sigh And cry And die A little inside This is purgatory Your purple satin Slipped through My fingers like the Sands of time s e v e n years since you disappeared And still a part of you Is always on my mind
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Oct 8, 2022
Oct 8, 2022 at 12:58 PM UTC
Ahmed
What am I in the eyes of others? What am I in this chess game known as life? Am I the predator or am I the prey Am I the valiant knight? Or am I the cowardly king What am I when I die? What would the difference be? One piece One life One game One world One pawn What am I? I am Ahmed.
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Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 11:46 PM UTC
What am I?
Each morning close to ten. I get a call from Egypt, or India. Exotic places, that I will never see. Flooding with people I will never meet. But Ahmed calls everyday. When the phone rings, and I see the number. I want to sing him a song. Picture message him masterpieces. Text him epics. In a sea of instant hang-ups, and hot-headed drunks. Poverty stricken parents, and last straw leaps. In the ocean of anger and grief, I want to be the voice that reads poetry.
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Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 4:21 PM UTC
Outsourced.
CYCLE OF LIFE Jalal Ahmed Cycle of life we know that what is true what is bad, We are not changed or awake But time is not waiting only go ahead In this short time we see that what is good or bad but again we Carry on and go ahead because life time is short life is same as like road or path Do u Understand? the people of earth ………………………………………………………….
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Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 1:27 PM UTC
Cycle of Life
Don't tell her stories Of hopes or lights. For her; These are just pretty lies. Darkness is where she belongs. Wearing the crown...sitting on throne. Thy worship her...coz' she's the goddess. In front of her, demons gather in throngs. ~Sweara Ahmed~
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Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 1:00 PM UTC
Goddess
Intoxicated, liquor going down the esophagus, hiding from my problems because I'm still devastated. Will we end up obliterated by the crap we have done, it was all fun, but now we have no where to run. I tried expressing all my worries, but a lot of yawl not hearing me, it's not just illimunati theories but that's all you choose to see. Emotions fluctuate so much, so easy to lose touch, so easy for life to leave you crushed. Starting to suffocate, why didn't we cultivate? Why did yawl hesitate? Is the future truly set, are we truly the keepers of our fate? Degeneration of these degenerates, starting to reap our recompense. Tried to keep positivity elevated, tried to not keep my expectations elevated, tried to leave my negativity eradicated. Separated by technology, separated, man we even  try to figure out each other using psychology. Separating what makes us do what we do, to figure out what struggle is true.  Separated by race, if you intermix you're treated like a disgrace. Separated countries, towns, cities, and continents, separated religion and genders, and you don't fall in line your incompetent. So I drink, bottle after bottle, isn't that my people's motto? That's what we got told by privileged whites, and if we revolted, we got hung up like kites. Gangs and drugs, created into monsters, by all these monsters. Now a broken generation oppresses each other, now we decide who is native enough, we have become cain, just a killer brother. Oh brother you may say, you have a choice to make life bright or keep it staying grey. Three to six generations of broken treaties, three generations of residential schools, forced to lose our culture and embrace your culture and your deity's. Now why don't you try dealing with that, only one generation out, and we still treated like rats. Killed anyone different, whether that be native, black, asian, it didn't matter you held your entitled nose and became ignorant. What did we deserve to get this, there are days I wish I didn't exist, because we are still dealing with this. I guess it is what it is, it's just your average day being ethic, never going to be treated better even if your if a **** Don't believe me, just ask Ahmed Mohamed, that's why I believe this world needs to get hit with another comet.
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Sep 12, 2016
Sep 12, 2016 at 1:30 AM UTC
Just Your Average Day Being Ethnic
Intoxicated, liquor going down the esophagus, hiding from my problems because I'm still devastated. Will we end up obliterated by the crap we have done, it was all fun, but now we have no where to run. I tried expressing all my worries, but a lot of yawl not hearing me, it's not just illimunati theories but that's all you choose to see. Emotions fluctuate so much, so easy to lose touch, so easy for life to leave you crushed. Starting to suffocate, why didn't we cultivate? Why did yawl hesitate? Is the future truly set, are we truly the keepers of our fate? Degeneration of these degenerates, starting to reap our recompense. Tried to keep positivity elevated, tried to not keep my expectations elevated, tried to leave my negativity eradicated. Separated by technology, separated, man we even  try to figure out each other using psychology. Separating what makes us do what we do, to figure out what struggle is true.  Separated by race, if you intermix you're treated like a disgrace. Separated countries, towns, cities, and continents, separated religion and genders, and you don't fall in line your incompetent. So I drink, bottle after bottle, isn't that my people's motto? That's what we got told by privileged whites, and if we revolted, we got hung up like kites. Gangs and drugs, created into monsters, by all these monsters. Now a broken generation oppresses each other, now we decide who is native enough, we have become cain, just a killer brother. Oh brother you may say, you have a choice to make life bright or keep it staying grey. Three to six generations of broken treaties, three generations of residential schools, forced to lose our culture and embrace your culture and your deity's. Now why don't you try dealing with that, only one generation out, and we still treated like rats. Killed anyone different, whether that be native, black, asian, it didn't matter you held your entitled nose and became ignorant. What did we deserve to get this, there are days I wish I didn't exist, because we are still dealing with this. I guess it is what it is, it's just your average day being ethic, never going to be treated better even if your if a **** Don't believe me, just ask Ahmed Mohamed, that's why I believe this world needs to get hit with another comet.
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