"anthropology" poems
The name Theodore has its Greek anthropologies, Jewish anthropologies and also Germany anthropologies. The Greek anthropological perspective of The name Theodore indeed has something to do with the gods.However, the Greek way of looking at life was a frustrated thinking.To them everything was a god. They had a plethora of gods; utopia,cacotopia, Thespis, muse, clio, calypso, and Theodore was a half a god like Gabriel who impregnanted Mary on behalf of God as Joseph the cuckold carpenter patiently looked musing the ballad of a cuckold peasant . So Theodore and Gabriel were godsend.I have not delved to know what it means among the Jews, But am aware of the the cultural and anthropological surroundings of the name Theodore in Germany . It is a name of a male person signifying extra-masculine behavior. I also write poetry in Deutsch, so i know substantial cultural values of the people of Germany. Like in this case the modern social naming systems . I am aware of the anthropology of this Deutsch nomenclatural position.Why would link this name to Greeks but not Germany may due to some silent social and emotional disposition in Europe that the English speaking Europeans have a soft spot for the Greek culture.While at the same time they become victims of high adrenaline level when exposed to anything Germany. they always get repulsed when the word Germany is mentioned.So one's thesis on nomenclatural values of the name Theodore depends on which side of European consciousness one is found; is it Germany friendly consciousness or Germany threatened consciousness? The dystopic component of the name Theodore is purely cacotopic with zero element of utopia , as extra-masculinity is a swine of engendered civilization all the times.
Yours
Alexander k Opicho
NB/ i kindly invite Theodore to come to Kenya so that we do a joint research on the Swahili perspectives of the name Theodore, in Kiswahili the name Theodore is subverted to bwana tadayo
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
Yes,
I threw your champagne glass at the wall.
Yes, the door did hit me on my way out.
I know you did it because you know my secret.
You know why I wear those turtlenecks.
You knew how I scorned humanity,
And the good name of anthropology,
Psychology, and physiognomy,
You could tell I didn't think the lake was so beautiful,
Because I was the only one who notices the algae.
The only one who noticed the pollution from the Victorian chimney,
And the only one who didn't just see you in your reflection,
But your volatile doppelgänger.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 4:35 PM UTC
Let’s learn the Social Science subjects called Sociology & Anthropology
The twin disciplines are integrated comprehensively
Sociology focuses on society & socialization
Social Processes, Social Groups, Social Movements are in every nation
While Anthropology centers on the study of culture
Here we can learn better the society for sure
As culture has characteristics, elements & dimensions
Society evolves with it through various interactions!
-04/28/2017
(Dumarao)
*SSN Poems
Sep 28, 2019
Sep 28, 2019 at 10:02 PM UTC
Shadow of the past,
echo of the future;
dedicated Musician,
a Phonomancer;
and inspired Philosopher,
a Philosomancer.
A Mystic and a Metalhead,
a lifetime Scholar and a self-Teacher;
a determined and self-guided mythic Artist,
a psychologist and an Observer;
I am a Lover, a Father, and a Son,
a homeowner and a Dishwasher,
a Friend and a bit of a stoner,
a social drinker and a fan of quality Spirits;
I am a self-contained Universe
contained within another Universe;
so fractal-esque.
There is much to this being I call "me"
and so little of it is visible
from the surface of my awareness;
so much of it falls within-
within the limitless void;
to be revealed only in Time,
and, to be unraveled by Time.
Discerning, yet reckless,
a wise man and a fool;
I find myself within,
and within myself,
a beautifully chaotic dance
of chaotically diverse energies.
Within:
the Spirit of a Renaissance Man;
Music, Geometry, Cosmology,
Mathematics, Statistics, Physics,
Mythology, Musicology, Psychology,
Masculine, Feminine, Canine, Feline,
Light, Dark, Day, Night, Sun, Moon,
Anthropology, Cooking, Dreams,
*** Love, Lust, and Suffering,
Spirituality, Science, Language,
Contrast, Respect, Individualist,
Intuition, Feeling, Understanding,
Action, Non-Action, Elation,
a bit of a Goth and a Hippie,
a Rocker and a Composer,
Haphazard Attention to Detail,
Conscious, Shadow, Subconscious,
Id, Ego, Super-Ego,
Animal, Human Being.
Alive.
Mortal.
Mortal,
and grateful for it.
An aspiring,
amateur Shaman
who "shows promise";
dabbling in Feng Shui,
the Occult,
T'ai Chi,
the Tao, Zen,
Music,
Art,
and Life;
a dilettante Poet;
I am an ephemeral expression,
a temporary microcosm,
of both the Human Spirit
and the very Universe
in which we occur,
if for but a brief,
beautiful,
fleeting,
moment.
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 12:13 AM UTC
Tai-kong.
The only story I have of you is when dad told me
You used to be so cheap,
That you used newspaper to wipe your ***
When I made the trek to
Abad Santos to visit your grave,
I found myself staring upward at
Brows knotted permanently
In a scowl.
I associate your scent with
The smell of incense and
Burning candles,
Your touch like that of
Cold marble.
Even in death,
You eclipse my grandfather.
He has your eyebrows.
I hope you noticed.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 9:04 AM UTC
O, king
bones ground to chalk
the Herero cry in the dust
The Kaiser had enough
he sent General Lothar von Trotha
to impose his will,
the ending of the Herero
as a people
von Trotha says,
'I wipe out rebellious tribes
with streams of blood
and streams of money.
Only following this cleansing
can something new emerge.'
Ten-thousand heavily-armed men
and a plan for war
von Trotha says,
'the Herero, who in their blindness
believed that they could make successful war
against the powerful German Emperor
and the great German people
I ask you,
where are the Herero today?'
twenty skulls gather dust
in the drawers
of Germany
monument to anthropology
O, king
skulls in drawers
the Herero cry in the dust
Is our language ever rich enough
to name
the evil man has levied
Is sin enough
to encompass
the vast, the richness, the full
depravity
of our visits
to the Herero
O, king
bitter herbs, unleavened bread
the Herero cry in the dust
Oct 6, 2011
Oct 6, 2011 at 9:47 AM UTC
I sat behind the barricade between the street, the bar, and the park overlooking that glistening pause-asteric of the water... my phone was clamped closed at zero battery life so I was alone with the city and the city was alone with me. as subtly as I could, I pulled my pipe from the bottom of my over-encumbered backpack satiated with 6 books (and they tell me knowledge is power, but they'll probably just drive me insane with question after question after question because the study of the world is one in which the brain falls victim to exponential growth 2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64, 128, 256)
MY SKULL ISN'T BIG ENOUGH
I couldn't find my grinder, so I tore the bud by hand. More than half a nug was spent, pushed solid in place like a **** mound about to reach apocalyptic ****** thanks to the soft clitoral bonfire of a red Bic lighter.
blaze, set, and fade til you rise again
little stoner boy.
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 2:45 PM UTC
Lumpenproletariat's
Comprise the population
Revolutionized, new variants
Attempt consolidation.
Socialist experiments or
Anthropology's deviation?
Avoidance- societal detriments of health:
Classism's obliteration.
Nov 5, 2023
Nov 5, 2023 at 12:45 PM UTC
artifacts arranged
chronologically -
flint and wood
allied with cordage -
sharp-edged bronze and iron
- a skull with cut marks
beside a copper
-tipped alloy bullet
on the shelf between
war and peace
and anthropology -
an anthology
- details emerge
in the painting
- killing is our nature
and dying
- a still life.
r ~ 10/26/14
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 9:44 PM UTC
Oh what a band of brothers we were,
The fantastic fraternal eternal gang.
Long sun-soaked summer daze,
The bunch of us, sometimes
Sitting legs folded under a parasol,
Telling stories and jokes
Beyond our years;
And then water fights,
We, the little soldier boys,
Armed with plastic pistols,
Rainbow coloured balloons,
Or super soakers,
Nobody ever won because
Nobody ever gave in,
Everyone was soaked,
Right to the bone.
Near endless evenings,
We played on the green,
Football, tag, 42, curbs,
We played on the green,
Even when the cold stung us,
Even when our skin glowed blue,
We played on the green,
Only until our mothers
Called for us to come in,
Time for tea,
Then time for bed and
A Bo Peep.
Oh what a band of brothers we were,
The fantastic fraternal eternal gang.
-Jamie F. Nugent
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 1:42 PM UTC
body genre
at a carnal address
sensory and sensuous effects
materiality
digital images
anthropology of desire
she tied a knot around his ****
a wedding band made of licorice shoelaces
for the art of tongue and ****
driving it in her pink throat
back and forth
like a shift stick
flared for the retina
a puzzlement and fascination
haptic screen of fiction
adventure of being pinned down
an unpremeditated punctum
fucktum sucktum
the stadium of desire
a shop window
banality transcending banality
the literal transformed
into the ******
a ****** smiles red
girl in a suitcase
with a hole to ****
a treasure chest
the leaky boundaries of erotica
sing in
musical blood whistles
I packed her up
limbless and threw
her on the bed
and with tender kisses
of endless
wet permutations
banged
three oozing holes
into finger ponds of oblivion
she taunted
age play- ageless
***** class
a weird ethnicity
from Timbuktu
racially motivated lust for a
conveyance of
fleshy intensities
way past help
a big **** dips
a tender dimple
like a barnacled whale
in a deep dive
the violence of
a preemptive strike
for everything imaginable
across raw lips
in her cosmos
of swinging hips
and cross bone riddles
oh happy *****
suicide ******
at the computer screen
**** bullets birthday cake
in a River Styx of flames
Jun 21, 2020
Jun 21, 2020 at 4:40 PM UTC
the one drop rule
invisible blackness
black versus white
different categories of race
created by man for evil purposes
such as caucasoid negroid and mongoloid
this is a bunch of hooey
these words are just terms for
marginalising whole groups of people
by some smarty pant with a so-called degree
in anthropology and sociology
who gives people the right to classify other racial groups
I pondered it - anyway just blue smoke and mirror stuff
created by some racist people organizations and institutions
by creating racial and class division plus religion creating wars
thus
God created man - singular form
thus
God created man from the earth (black mud)
and no accident that we are made from one blood
oh yeah - Adam's blood
mankind is just a very large extended family - based on DNA
Europeans are not 100% white
they became white because of environmental adaptations
and they are no better that the rest of God's creations on earth
skin color does not make one racial group superior than another
this is just a head and mind game for social and political advantages
however everyone is a Heinz 57 mixture
White People are mixed with so much stuff - too
oh yeah baby and who is your daddy now
race mixing has been around
throughout the history of mankind and still
it will continue to mix races in the future
just remember this
the neanderthal mated on a regular basis with the homosapien
no race is 100% pure of anything
according to one drop rule - White are neanderthals too
this one drop rule is a silly and hidden taboo that is just plain ludicrous
God is a good God
God is neither Black nor White but He is a Being of Existence of every dimension
God is the all of everything - seen and unseen
God exist in every creation
God is a part of you and me
the will of God lives in every place
God is justice and equality
God don't speech hate and racism
God is love and peace toward all mankind
God does not make men slaves
God gives man the right to be free
God wants man to be inherit the earth and be good stewards
Well ain't God good no matter how you look at it
yes He is good - all the time my brother
yes god is good and everlasting
amen amen amen
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 10:31 PM UTC
He'd be more
than one page in your journal
this man, Yorkshire-born,
anthropology at Pembroke,
the one who wrote
about a fox and a song.
Piano music in the room,
British-bohemia.
You, enthralled,
wonderfully drunk
among turtle-necked boys,
friends of his
and then him,
the unscratchable diamond
you wanted bad.
'Then the worst happened.'
Earrings like tears in his palm,
two accents mixing,
new paints in a ***
Before long
he'd be chucking
clods at your window
though you wouldn't be home.
But his name would spray
from your mouth for good.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC
Use your fingerprints
decorate walls,
stain old world maps.
Whorls spiral into
comic book wallpaper,
vertical designs and heart lines.
Glass pillars fogged with secrets,
bits of chipped concrete,
2:34am security footage.
42 minutes of prepackaged snowstorms.
Lying corners of the mouth
whisper plans B through Z.
Rusty sleep theories,
half-truths
in runaway boats.
A static pulse
casually remembers menthol cigarettes,
apple cores and
eighties music.
Espresso roast washing
blue and white porcelain from 1683,
knotted pale navy dots.
Wisps of kites anchored in the sand,
anthropology in lighthouses
stretching for the aurora borealis.
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 11:37 PM UTC
Here in poets' glory, we bask....
Not long ago, a bard did ask,
"When did poetry become ethnography?"
Verse is part of human anthropology,
Even part of Christianity,
Millions of people read the psalms,
Millions of folk read their Koran,
As part of their faith of Islam,
Poetry is a sweet and sour dish,
You can interpret as you wish,
Each verse is a snapshot of society,
Part of our cultural anthropology,
So, "When did poetry become ethnography?"
This muse has set us a task,
Good question to ask, good question to ask,
As here, in poets' glory, we bask.....
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC
Oh, how I want to go home
this teacher keeps talking and my mind still roams
I'd rather die of rabies with my mouth full of foam
or throw something at her, maybe my phone
because then, hopefully, she'll shut the hell up
let us go early, with a little bit of luck
until then, 1000 hairs on my head id rather pluck
because, nothing personal teacher, i just don't give a ****
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
it's visual anthropology, I swear.
it's everything can't you see!?
I'm on my bed.
I had a great dream about you,
I'll even say it, you said you'd make love to me,
so I anxiously listened to Pull My Daisy by Allen Ginsberg afterwards, he certainly was mad but was genius but I do care about my health, though.
So, I ordered the speeches of Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King. Lincoln said a lot, he advanced a conversation but appeared to lord over the common man, the man who works in the field, the man who goes to war to fight. Martin Luther King didn't say much, although Common says freedom is free.
I smoked a cigar and poured some orange juice, too. I can now smell the cigar and enjoy orange juice. I saw a white bug outside and felt deep. The specific kind, unknowable. I'm nervous tho' about today. I have to be up at five AM. I could sleep more but I won't, instead I'll write a clear and coherent prose-poem about the circus because I do care about my health. I will love myself and maybe take a shower because I do care about my health. Molly Casey, who knows, I forgive you if you forgive me, and if whoever said "ugh" apologizes, I'll be happy. But first, or later, we'll have to accept that life is unfair, and that you have to be professional to make it through.
Here, look it, I'll tell you everything and more, and all the time, if you tell me I'm sane and beautiful.
How badly do you want bad? I want bad, sometimes. I want good more often that's why I do this dear Molly Casey. And when you said you'd sleep with me, did you think? No, I don't think you thought and I don't think you mean it. No, when you said you'd make love to me, in my dream, did you think? No, I don't think you did. But know, you inspired me. As a conciliation for my inability to be profound, or for being too profound, or too much of a thinker, or for being overly cautious, I want you to know that biology is interesting and that when I write several words down in my poem book and in my phone to use later, I think I'm working.
Here are those words:
1. faced
2. changed
3. is
4. cognitive
5. multiple
6. vision
6. droplet
7. positive everyday experience
8. I lie
9. ought to listen to that song
9. cause
10. zeal
11. prudence
12. in the dust
13. self-criticism
14. work
15. chill Castro
16. not SA - SF although SA isn't bad
17. me
18. my friends
19. All encompass dropper
20. Only human
21. All too human
2:38 AM December 12th 2018
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 6:54 AM UTC
Examine the word "embrace"
How syllables escape into sound
Waves
Mouth shapes
Release
E - M - BR - A - CE
How tender
A gentle approach
E... arms open wide
the invitation
an elongated welcome
"Come close"
Lips parted into a smile
M... a joining together
Communion
BR... limbs entangling
Millimeters pulse
A... the one enclosed
CE... teeth in contact, lips dangle
Hold that position
The lock
No letting go. No gaps. No holes
In bracchium -- this is your home.
Hug -- to console
a rush, a thud, an immediate response
H - U - G. Hug.
Hush.
Here. Now. Tighter.
Speech Pathology & Linguistics.
How the mouth works, how we make sense of words -- Why does your face look like that when you say those words?
Anthropology. Semiotics. Etymology.
Notice how we gather and release,
what we do to make an embrace, a hug.
Mouths feel before nerves could touch.
Have we yearned so much that utterances have become placeholders?
Settling for words, we fixate on how we say them
Read my lips gained a new meaning
Embrace, hug
Opening and closing,
holding and releasing,
touching
Wishing an action upon someone is not tantamount to sensations of nerve-endings
But bodies never really touch
Atoms push and pull
It's the physics around them that we feel
When palms caress
When fingers trace
When skin brushes upon skin
Physics
Let the physics of my words be enough until our electrons can interact again
In a dance
The expanse between your atoms and mine is dismissible as long as you hold on to the words "embrace" and "hug" and "kiss" and "love" and the anatomy of how these words come to be
Until then, I wrap my whispers around yours
Their warmth is the 3rd law of motion in action
Jan 24, 2021
Jan 24, 2021 at 2:59 AM UTC
My heart spills with everything I have learned in the past six months,
this is my anthropology homework and how to mix paint
the exact amount of seeds (two and two fifths) to grow a proper squash
how many raindrops have evaporated on your tongue as well as
how much of your saliva that has been on mine
sugar from three hundred cups of coffee, that image on CNN of a bus
filling with gasoline then flames on the way to school
an elderly gentleman who called me sunshine at a restaurant
and that somehow you know the perfect way to break my heart so
it shatters, overflows, thunders, a bird bath of these experiences I keep.
I wanted nothing of this, but you poured warm water
to scrub your dishes with and I decided to wash my veins of you instead;
I did not erase the memory of you but the feeling of you
severed my arteries like the levee that broke in New Orleans when I
was nine, it flooded the whole neighborhood.
We regret different things every day, but they both mean the same thing.
A band-aid, ace bandage for my heart so it can swell like a basket
hoarding chicken eggs and pennies and feelings inside,
we both want the nerves repaired
so I feel your touch again, so I can risk being broken again, so sweet.
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 1:58 PM UTC
Rippling down the stream
Of many peoples consciousness
An effervescent future life
Stripped of this abhorrent distress
A future filled with study
Free for each and every human being
A world with no false borders
A world with far less disagreeing
And a universal language
Forged with available technology
That translates in real time
Enhanced with anthropology
Giving us a precise understanding
Of how each other achieve solutions
A pragmatic communication
Circumnavigating ****** revolutions
We would calculate the earths resources
And how to evenly distribute them
Then we would dispose of pointless cash
Like ill people dispose of phlegm
Our centralised political weasels
That do far more harm than good
Would be replaced by microchips
Programmed to not be misunderstood
It is an interesting proposal
To those with a humane conscience
But to those smugly enjoying advantage
I guess it is annoying nonsense
So we must wait for millions to be displaced
For total world economic collapse
The greedy spoilt brats will listen then
Or will they continually relapse?
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 11:59 AM UTC
You say I never write poems about you
so I'd like you to know:
I'm very much
in love
with myself.
I don't need you to crawl into my ribcage
and kiss all the places you think are broken.
But I wouldn't mind
you all over and under
my skin.
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 12:53 AM UTC
Black Space
(eyes without a face)
Poverty lingers
like an ill gotten taste
giving up her secrets to no man;
teaching lessons in life
at every turn.
Poverty taught me to be frugal
how to beg, borrow or steal
live on £1 a day to eat once a day
the truthful instinctual perusal
the unreal zeal
blocking the thoughts of hunger
the puerile senses;
the basics on how to feel.
In the near dark I found you
sheltering from the storm
under the bridge just like I was
wrapped in mottled harsh cloth
sitting on cardboard for warmth.
You spoke many languages
had a degree in anthropology
and a penchant for gambling
and alcohol;
we shared a bowl
of disregarded noodles
in the rain.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
Anthropology teaches us that alpha male;
is the one that is wearing the crown,
displaying the colorful plumage,
shiniest bubbles,
stands out from the others,
but I may have now realize that anthropology may have it wrong,
I've come to realize that;
the quiet man,
the invisible man,
the man that is always there for friends and family,
that's the real alpha male.
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 5:29 AM UTC
Jimmy Beans were strewn in the fields like fire crackers
out from the waxy hulls
sprouted miniscule Bizarrities
(which is a word because it was their names).
The Bizarrities were kind, they enjoyed playing pan flutes
and had a nifty knack of flipping silver coins so that they consistantly landed on heads.
They cried when picked in the Spring-a-ling,
but after a day or two adjusted to life outside the vines
and took up anthropology, or archaeology.
A few opened their own dental practice and picked the little green teeth of fellow Bizarrities.
One day, to-day,
a Honey Tree was swimming along when it came to a Bizarritie.
"Hello kind Bizarritie, won't you play a song for me?"
The green Bizarritie laughed in false glee and said
"My dear sweet Honey Tree, thou art positiv-ity
the reason why I left the ground
and moved to Bizarritie-town."
The Honey Tree, baffled and distraught, contemplated the feelings he thought.
It was on that day, bright and dreary, that the Honey Tree grew ever weary
of the merchants on streets and artists and skeets
and the reasons why
not all assumptions die.
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 9:08 PM UTC
perhaps the europens conducted
anthropological studies on the Amazonian
tribes, niche pockets of
a quirky corporation ethics -
perhaps...
but when one european looks
at another european,
and conducts his own anthropological
study?
who says i'm not conducting an
anthropological study of the English -
who are more deluded
as islanders than the ******* Icelandic
people, with regard to shared
roots...
traveled the world a bit too much...
brought back the elgin marbles
and several minor mummies...
but then... the Pakistani **** gangs...
whoop whoop! choo choo! train a' coming.
what? reality is not some brick
wall you get to impose with
what 19th century romanticism movement
was... a bout of nostalgia...
to me?
the english are...
collectively solipsistic - esp. in the south,
i'm sure it's different in the north...
but the southern english?
a strange breed of ego-bloating -
megalomania,
collective solipsism,
a shogun complex...
solipsism?
just a fancy word for autism...
i've seen flies congregating
on a **** appearing more sociable than
these people...
an englishman's home
is his castle...
yet when i own a castle...
they think i live in their castle's
dungeon, rather than my own home....
weird people... truly odd...
i'm pretty sure the english didn't
expect a covert anthropological study
to be taking place,
from behind a velvety almost see-through
curtain...
it's not like they have much
to feel proud about...
perhaps the minor instances
of selected sports at the olympics...
and all of this based on one example,
but of course, outside the proximity,
there's the multiplication factor,
i.e. it's most likely replicable elsewhere...
perhaps not football...
but anthropology is certainly coming home.
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 11:23 AM UTC