"assert" poems
I'M MAKING nachos in your toaster oven. The chips fall in the pan without a problem. Beans, evenly distributed (if I do say so myself.) Salsa- good to go. Then the cheese. Generic brand shredded cheese blend. I dangle my (washed) fingers into the zip-lock bag, grab a generous pinch and rain mild cheddar down on my gourmet meal. And I feel the tears building. "No," my conscious scolds, "you will not cry over shredded cheese." I add another pinch for flavor, then another to assert dominance. I slide the pan into the tiny oven- triumphant! But the next task breaks me. I freeze when I try to adjust the heat setting. I hear your voice so clearly, like you're still calling from the next room: "you have to press the TOAST button, it cooks much faster." The tears start to roll. I think about how excited you were when cheese bubbled perfectly- "just a little brown, ever so slightly crispy." We would joke about your persnickety preferences, likely a product of your superior taste. Of course, you would have appreciated anything I made for you, but it was always better when the dish matched the idea in your head...when I made it like you would have made it (if you were only well enough to cook for yourself again.) In the present, I poke the TOAST button and flee the kitchen as to not cry in front of the smothered chips. I sit on the sofa and break down, gasping in childish sobs. "I miss her," I wail to an empty house. Warm tears coat my cheeks in the air-conditioned room. I feel so small. I feel so foolish for crying over stupid, little things. I feel so... so... A bell dings in the kitchen. I wipe my sleeve across my face and traipse back to the toaster. Hand into oven mitt, mitt onto pan, pan onto table. I grab the plastic tubs of sour cream and guacamole from the fridge and a spoon from the drawer that sticks a little when you try to open it. I pick the non-wilted bits off the head of lettuce and rinse them under the faucet. I finish the recipe. I pull out a chair. I sit down to nachos for one.
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 9:57 PM UTC
African woman
Mother of civilization.
Oh beautiful woman,
Thou are beyond description.
African woman
Queen of the people of Mamba.
Jambo to all those in heaven
Bless you too my dear mama.
African woman
Royal Nubian Queen.
The backbone of her man
You'll do anything to help him win.
Single Black woman
Made of broken pieces
You're the breadwinner,Superwoman.
You're the symbol of strength in all places.
African woman
Daughter of Eve's.
Thou are God's true specimen,
And the apple of his eyes.
Black woman
Daughter of Africa.
Blueprint of a **** woman,
Dark hue of coffee arabica.
African woman
Mother of humanity
Chieftess of ancient Nyngoman,
Mama Africa's bounty.
African woman
My Mandingo bride.
First woman of Africa's Eden
Center of God's black tribe.
Nigerian woman
My Yoruba Queen.
Envied by the women of Oman,
Cafe ou lair, cream of Africa's cream!
Warrior woman,
Queen of Wakanda.
Come and flip your wand,
Find the soul of Sarafina.
Curvy woman
In your womb lies Africa's future.
My Lormah woman
Oyobuays marvels at your structure.
Beautiful woman,
Perpetual envy of the silicon woman.
Pride of the Black man,
The essence of a real woman.
Indigo Woman
Lillies of the African plains.
Thou are Eve of the African Eden,
Best of the portraits that nature paints.
Voluptous woman,
Full, thick natural lips.
Real assert of the Black woman,
Nature gets aroused by your hips.
Ellen Sirleaf, today's woman,
Africa's first female president.
A Liberian woman,
Loved and revered wherever she went.
Smile ,Gambian woman,
You're daughter of Sarakunda.
Roots of the Black American woman,
Captives of the kanda Bolinga.
South African woman
Mariam Makeba
Sang for freedom and fought like a man
You were truly Soweto's finest Deva.
Dark ebony woman,
You are red, yellow and green.
Hanmatan wind stops at your command,
Born to slay and be seen.
African woman
Thou are the only reason
God put Adam in a coma.
Your perpetual beauty transcends time and Season.
African woman,
Under your cleavage, the Nile flows
And between your fingers, golden threads are woven,
You are the reason Beyonce glows.
Harriet Tubman, brave woman
Smuggled slaves underground.
She was a freed Black slave woman,
Who avowed to leave no soul behind.
Creative woman
Maya Angelou, gifted poetess.
Famous writer and a Black woman
Will be remembered for her poetic prowess.
Native African woman,
Africa's limestone and cement.
A mother, a wife, virtuous woman,
Lioness and the spine of the continent.
Liberian woman
Roots of my poetry, you gave me life
You are every woman.
Your edges are sharper than the Sumarais knife.
#IvanBrookspoetry©
13/8/2018
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 4:56 AM UTC
A confident man feels not a need to speak
on all things with which he does not agree
Though in the proper time and place
he is not afraid to assert his way
And though his words at times cause spurn,
he will admit when they are out of turn
Fearing not the inevitable mistake,
but rather owning it too late
Caring and feeling without hesitation
and not for reciprocal adulation
Emotions are expressed appropriately;
either subtlety or rationally
As honest with others as with himself;
recognizing what he does and doesn’t do well
Claiming to know what he does know
and asks when he don’t
Pursuing tasks for their benefit and or joy
rather than status or fleeting ploys
Those latter things are often great fun,
but worry of them yields none
While in his mind there is good thinking,
he is more occupied with good acting
In order to have concerns of the ideological,
requires labors that are practical
On his confidence, he does not ponder,
as neither he or anyone wonders
of whether he truly possesses it.
We know it.
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 6:25 PM UTC
for seven years i believed that i had no right to say
that i had been abused because it wasn't physical,
like my friend who was beat by her drunk father on
a daily basis.
my abuse was only on an emotional, psychological scale
and while sometimes his hand slipped or gripped too tight on me,
i honestly wouldn't count it as abuse.
recently i began reading into this and while it's not
as talked about as physical or ****** abuse it still counts
and it carries over as children grow up from these experiences.
even experiences that i didn't think counted as emotional abuse,
from times when i was far younger than just a teenager.
the abuse i've dealt with hasn't made me any stronger than i was,
it's made me the exact opposite;
instead of being the person i was before, bright and optimistic,
i'm apologizing constantly for things i don't need to and
second guessing myself and others intentions.
constantly i wonder if i'm bothering someone,
am i being too much of myself? am i allowed to speak?
does my opinion matter? is it all right to assert myself?
after being told for three years that i don't matter,
and there is no point of me for existing and that
it's no wonder i don't have any friends,
i'm trying to break myself out of the box i've placed myself in
and it's so **** hard.
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 2:17 AM UTC
If (WO)men are the ones that suffer an exacerbated amount
Of the violence, the **** the abuse, and everything that comes
with and from struggle and alienation;
it is because of their femininity that men at times
have come to believe that their contributions soften institutions.
That at times throughout history neither capitalism, neoliberalism nor revolutionary experiments like that of Cuba have placed femininity as compatible
with progress or resolution.
In which case femininity must be hidden, silenced, or displaced with no purpose or place to belong.
Thus everyone closely associated with this femininity such as homosexuals, transgendered (WO)men, and "effeminate" males, (ignoring, subverting and negating the lesbian identity because of their gender) have come to be marginalized by a structural system of exclusion.
(WO)men carrying the highest burden for originating the associative distinction
Homosexuals battling to find love by constantly having to assert their masculinity
Transgendered (Wo)men afraid of expressing their through identity.
Lesbians fighting to legitimize their own identity separate from the directives ascribed onto them by virtue of being born women.
Males who are labeled effeminate because of their sympathy toward those who struggle and are alienated.
And every other individual who refuses to deliver to give a marker to their identity and a degree to their femininity.
Hold fast in your femininity and embrace the rancor that society grants you
As a homosexual I speak with you brother and sister, not for you
Realize that our self-ascribed degrees of femininity and identity are as revolutionary and transformative, and thus necessary, as those of Che Guevara, Mohammed Ali, Harriet Tubman, or the Dali Lama.
That because we have decided to embrace our degrees of femininity, problematic to any movement, at one point or another, we have inadvertently decided to align our selves with those who are alienated the most by the systems in which they live.
So that in this way we must make our struggles deliberate and political. Let our degrees of femininity become legitimizing banners of solidarity for anyone who suffers in any corner of the world.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 12:48 AM UTC
Make it through make it true
Lay it bare if you dare
Banish doubt make it count
Look around you’ve made it there
Shout it far show your scars
Fill the day with twenty-four hours
This is it what we’ve got
Looks like **** but it’s ours
You see this life filled with strife
So much hurt so much pain
Now you win now you lose
One’s loss another’s gain
It wasn’t meant to be pretty
Empty towns ***** cities
People all around have issues
Insecure, lost and misused
You can choose to stay and fight
Assert yourself claim your rights
Or decide to turn away
Make your mark another day
Showing up is half the battle
Knocked down back in the saddle
It’s not the wins and the losses
It’s the learning it’s a process
At the end of the day
Stop and do the math
Those who've made hay
Don’t have to look back.
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
Seek freedom from the anxious mind
For, you have the freedom to choose
Break the shackles of intimidation
Claim your freedom for the sleeping madness
Wake up to a world of freedom, for it’s yours
Freedom for the prejudices and the dogmas
Claim your freedom for the untrusting world
Freedom beckons you from the deepest caverns
Thwart the advances of violence, and seize freedom
Do not pay heed to the abusive words
As your freedom to speak up is jeopardized
The weakest of hearts and minds, resort to violence
And their abode inside is wrecked by loss of freedom
You freedom will come when you walk out
Opening the gates of your heart to freedom
The weak personalities seeks to strangle freedom
To dominate the beautiful souls, as they feel threatened
Assert your freedom; this is becoming a puppet’s world
Always made to act when the strings are pulled
There is a world full of love and freedom waiting for you
You just have to cross the threshold of the murky world
Only you can win your freedom, if you choose to
Seek freedom, and slam the door on the world of captivity
© Amitav (Radiance)
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 5:56 AM UTC
Graffiti, Graffiti, Graffiti
Being bled onto
The landscapes between thighs
Incarcerating women's wombs
Justifying men's genes
Foreigners appropriating
Women's and men's sexualities
Losing the power to be
When changing our roles' long overdue
Gendering our words and attitudes
Man, who taught you to be a chauvinist!
Woman, who taught you to be a *********
Don't put your god in gendered bigotry
Do man's emotions feminize him?
When will women freely carry torches!
What gender do you assign this voice?
What gender do you assign this words?
Will the masses even understand these choices?
Don't worry, my sexuality won't infect you
Criminalizing sexuality
Placing it front and center, implying that's all I am
Graffiti, Graffiti, Graffiti
Being bled onto
The landscapes between thighs
Graffiti, defiling the masses not high classes
Because men and women of society
Full of stride, take pride, in their gendered hyde
Graffiti, defiling the masses not high classes
Ignored hoods, barrios, countrysides, ghettos, projects
Devouring women's and men's bodies
Younger and younger people falling to HIV/AIDS and STDS
Vaginas receiving the violence, wombs bringing misery
LGBT youth ****** into fire
Lost males (in mental chains) ****** to assert their manhoods
Graffiti, Graffiti, Graffiti
Full of dangerous chemicals, being sprayed onto
The landscapes between thighs
Attempting to legislate our stories, without warrant
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
Wake Up Wretched World,
I assert my Indigenous heritage
I self identify
With the ancestors of my continent
Identity afraid to articulate
Culture, unknowingly belonging to me
Cycle of shame now shattered
Product of love, hatred, lust, and desire
europeans plundering my mother Latin America
In chaos and violence, my skin's pigment
Has been engineered through the mestizaje
Of my Indigenous forefathers
How could I not forget my lineage
When the historical legacy of modernization
Has been to massacre the consciousness
Of where my people really come from
Erasing indigenous pride
Making Paisano and Indio
Synonymous with poverty and alienation
Insulting the humbleness
State of hunger you've left us in
Original lineage within me disturbed
So you push me to ambiguity and embarrassment
Not white, not indigenous?
Pure indigenous brothers and sisters silenced
Not an exploitable consumerist market, not in your campaigns
Not benefactors of your philanthropic development tactics
Bodies too costly to abuse, no reason to bring them
Into the neoliberal multinational corporate circuit
Constantly driving them off productive land
Because they choose to assert their identity
Live in collective communes, not owing you nothing
Waiting for them to make barren lands productive
So you can take those lands too
Not capturing an obscure history, these are not colonial times
This is the legacy of the european presence entering mother Latin America
21st century still defiling Indigenous cultures to civilize and modernize
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
Assert confidence in a convincing recital
Claim certainty that protection is binding
safety is paramount
a rehearsed amount
until she takes it on ethics
every truth is there to detect
A battle for reason
until potential yields to the objective
Loyalty isn't just imagination
Fate constructed in a noiseless dialogue
momentary eye contact
pencil hits paper
Smoke and vapor
Fire comes later
an unsurpassed honor
All the letters weve written
are a smear on the page of occasion
Resulting in endless treasure
Only to be rediscovered
When the omission is uncovered
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 4:41 AM UTC
I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed.
Inaction, no falsifying dream
Between my hooked head and hooked feet:
Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills and eat.
The convenience of the high trees!
The air's buoyancy and the sun's ray
Are of advantage to me;
And the earth's face upward for my inspection.
My feet are locked upon the rough bark.
It took the whole of Creation
To produce my foot, my each feather:
Now I hold Creation in my foot
Or fly up, and revolve it all slowly -
I **** where I please because it is all mine.
There is no sophistry in my body:
My manners are tearing off heads -
The allotment of death.
For the one path of my flight is direct
Through the bones of the living.
No arguments assert my right:
The sun is behind me.
Nothing has changed since I began.
My eye has permitted no change.
I am going to keep things like this.
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Red flags in the beginning are easy to turn into little sticky notes, notes for later that sometimes lose their adhesive and fall to the ground much like my current tolerance for ****** dudes
The first known use for red flags was by the military to indicate they’re ready for battle, unfortunately I’ve seen enough red flags to start the next world war
I should’ve known
When I came back from Arizona and he said “you must’ve cheated on me because your ****** feels different”
Not because he’s insecure
or
because he doesn’t know trust
or
because he’s trying to assert control
I should’ve known
When he asked if I “had a problem getting wet because it seemed like that was a thing”
Not because he doesn’t know foreplay
(side note: **** doesn’t teach you foreplay)
or
because he doesn’t actually turn me on
or
because fun fact!- women can be turned on and not be wet
I should’ve known
When he said “if you shaved, then I’d go down on you 24/7”
Not because he was scared that choking on my ***** hair reminded him he’s with a real woman that grows hair
and humans inside her
and ideas
and opinions
and strength
and my body is not yours to give me ultimatums of
I should’ve known
When I asked if figuring out my pleasure was a burden and he answered “actually, yes it is”
Not because he’s too lazy to actually want to pleasure anyone but himself
or
because his only ****** education ended with a .com
or
because no one has ever expected more of him
I should’ve known when he said
“What I want out of a ****** partner is someone that wants me inside of them as soon as possible”
Not “inside my soul”
or
“inside my thoughts”
or
“inside my memories”
or
“inside an intimacy he will never know”
I should’ve known when he said
“Let me show you how Rachel did it”
Not “this is how I like it”
or
“can we try this?”
or
“opening your ******* mind to how another human being moves around you”
I should’ve known when
He spit on my ****** the universal sign for disrespect
Like I deserve the same fate as tobacco swollen cheeks
Like my ****** is your spittoon,
am I the end of a tobacco session or a fancy wine tasting?
these things matter
Now I find it symbolic men are taught to spit while women are taught to swallow
Swallow our reactions
Swallow our feelings
Swallow our voices
Swallow his releases
Swallow his spit
Swallow us whole
When you see a red flag do not ignore that it means battle
This battle is not a healthy one, this battle will leave you bruised
Uproot this flag and take it with you to remind yourself
You can lose every battle and still win the war
11/28/2016 Amanda Powell
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 8:59 PM UTC
Hidden star against the dark backdrop of night.
Not seen...
Not heard...
Struggling to assert existence with waning light.
Stifled are the stories dying to be told.
Eclipsed are the emotions
within collapses and folds.
Cloaked is the voice
that screams in silent anguish.
Disenchanted is the will
that once spoke of flourish.
I see you black star...
Know that...
You're nearer than far.
Dig deep...
Past the charred, crumbling skin.
Dig deep...
Into the beating heart within.
Know that...
You're better than any of them.
Any of us.
Time will only reveal,
what the sky sought to despicably conceal.
Your true calling.
Not as the quiet sentinel
that no one sees...
but a cosmic gem.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 12:41 AM UTC
You are Great
Never forget that.
I’m telling you
You are unique
A DNA Lottery win.
You Exist
Are Conscious
Sentient
And so much more.
A Wonder.
Incredible.
Every bit, you are, of all these things
As Royalty
Presidents
Or any Power Figure
You care to name.
By all means be polite
To Kings and Queens
And figures of Authority.
But always know
Within yourself
That You are The One.
For You are the only one
That lives Your Life
And that’s the only fact
That Counts.
Give due deference to those in power
If only to preserve yourself
For your survival is
The only thing that matters.
Esteem yourself
For you are wonderful
Assert yourself
For you’re the only one
Who is I.
Paul Butters
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 6:16 PM UTC
You see this building? I built this building. But nobody knows that I built this building.
I can only assert that I did build this building, and refresh my own memory of building said building.
But at the end of the day, it's just an old building. And ironically enough, I've never stopped building.
There are a few other people who helped build this building. Like myself they can say that they did build this building.
And even if all of our name were there on an engraving, it would never truly be anyone's personal building.
Because we built it for those, so that they could start building. So that they could get going and build their buildings.
Because the framework we built was a structure of learning. And we each taught ourselves through the process of learning.
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 11:57 AM UTC
(Rock Lake, Canada)
In this country there is neither measure nor balance
To redress the dominance of rocks and woods,
The passage, say, of these man-shaming clouds.
No gesture of yours or mine could catch their attention,
No word make them carry water or fire the kindling
Like local trolls in the spell of a superior being.
Well, one wearies of the Public Gardens: one wants a vacation
Where trees and clouds and animals pay no notice;
Away from the labeled elms, the tame tea-roses.
It took three days driving north to find a cloud
The polite skies over Boston couldn't possibly accommodate.
Here on the last frontier of the big, brash spirit
The horizons are too far off to be chummy as uncles;
The colors assert themselves with a sort of vengeance.
Each day concludes in a huge splurge of vermilions
And night arrives in one gigantic step.
It is comfortable, for a change, to mean so little.
These rocks offer no purchase to herbage or people:
They are conceiving a dynasty of perfect cold.
In a month we'll wonder what plates and forks are for.
I lean to you, numb as a fossil. Tell me I'm here.
The Pilgrims and Indians might never have happened.
Planets pulse in the lake like bright amoebas;
The pines blot our voices up in their lightest sighs.
Around our tent the old simplicities sough
Sleepily as Lethe, trying to get in.
We'll wake blank-brained as water in the dawn.
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Anthropos apteros for days
Walked whistling round and round the Maze,
Relying happily upon
His temperment for getting on.
The hundredth time he sighted, though,
A bush he left an hour ago,
He halted where four alleys crossed,
And recognized that he was lost.
"Where am I?" Metaphysics says
No question can be asked unless
It has an answer, so I can
Assume this maze has got a plan.
If theologians are correct,
A Plan implies an Architect:
A God-built maze would be, I'm sure,
The Universe in minature.
Are data from the world of Sense,
In that case, valid evidence?
What in the universe I know
Can give directions how to go?
All Mathematics would suggest
A steady straight line as the best,
But left and right alternately
Is consonant with History.
Aesthetics, though, believes all Art
Intends to gratify the heart:
Rejecting disciplines like these,
Must I, then, go which way I please?
Such reasoning is only true
If we accept the classic view,
Which we have no right to assert,
According to the Introvert.
His absolute pre-supposition
Is - Man creates his own condition:
This maze was not divinely built,
But is secreted by my guilt.
The centre that I cannot find
Is known to my unconscious Mind;
I have no reason to despair
Because I am already there.
My problem is how not to will;
They move most quickly who stand still;
I'm only lost until I see
I'm lost because I want to be.
If this should fail, perhaps I should,
As certain educators would,
Content myself with the conclusion;
In theory there is no solution.
All statements about what I feel,
Like I-am-lost, are quite unreal:
My knowledge ends where it began;
A hedge is taller than a man."
Anthropos apteros, perplexed
To know which turning to take next,
Looked up and wished he were a bird
To whom such doubts must seem absurd.
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Does it make you feel powerful to tell me that
I do not own my body?
Do you get satisfaction from looking down on me
from the pedestal you’ve clawed and crawled your way onto?
Tell me,
does it make you feel good to threaten me
with words that come out of your mouth so empty
but land on my shoulders so heavy
Tell me,
do you get high from the nauseous look in her eyes
as she meets yours, slowly trespassing along her body?
Does it sound like music to hear the tremble in her voice,
look like art to see her to resent her femininity,
feel like silk to touch what you have no business touching?
Tell me what it is.
Tell me what you think you can get from me,
what it is you think I owe you.
Tell me that it is necessary, justify your theft –
Do you feed off of dehumanization,
can you pocket the profit from her sense of security,
shelter yourself with their rights, their body, their life?
Where did you learn to value your impulses over her innocence?
Where did you learn to assert yourself where you do not belong?
Where did you learn to rip a woman apart piece by piece
starting with her dignity and ending with her self-worth?
Tell me,
what does it feel like to own your body?
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 5:29 PM UTC
Mother Nature rules the World,
And probably
The whole Universe.
Our Earth, a planet blue,
Just teems with Life.
Even deep beneath the ocean,
Amongst those geysers,
Oh so Hot,
You will find Life.
Lakes filled with acid,
Bone –dry deserts (look underground),
Solid sheets of ice:
They all are home-sweet-home
To bacteria
Or Viruses,
At the very least.
We bomb those cities to piles of rubble,
And poison the Earth with God knows what,
Yet always, given time,
Life will re-assert itself:
That sprig of couch-grass,
Those flowers.
Mother Nature never does give in.
Life springs eternal.
From amoeba to a dancing dolphin.
So utterly determined
To survive.
Clinging to existence
Like a limpet on a rock.
Invincible in Her tenacity.
Paul Butters
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 6:43 AM UTC
Oh! pleasant exercise of hope and joy!
For mighty were the auxiliars which then stood
Upon our side, we who were strong in love!
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very heaven!—Oh! times,
In which the meagre, stale, forbidding ways
Of custom, law, and statute, took at once
The attraction of a country in romance!
When Reason seemed the most to assert her rights,
When most intent on making of herself
A prime Enchantress—to assist the work
Which then was going forward in her name!
Not favoured spots alone, but the whole earth,
The beauty wore of promise, that which sets
(As at some moment might not be unfelt
Among the bowers of paradise itself )
The budding rose above the rose full blown.
What temper at the prospect did not wake
To happiness unthought of? The inert
Were roused, and lively natures rapt away!
They who had fed their childhood upon dreams,
The playfellows of fancy, who had made
All powers of swiftness, subtilty, and strength
Their ministers,—who in lordly wise had stirred
Among the grandest objects of the sense,
And dealt with whatsoever they found there
As if they had within some lurking right
To wield it;—they, too, who, of gentle mood,
Had watched all gentle motions, and to these
Had fitted their own thoughts, schemers more wild,
And in the region of their peaceful selves;—
Now was it that both found, the meek and lofty
Did both find, helpers to their heart’s desire,
And stuff at hand, plastic as they could wish;
Wcre called upon to exercise their skill,
Not in Utopia, subterranean fields,
Or some secreted island, Heaven knows where!
But in the very world, which is the world
Of all of us,—the place where in the end
We find our happiness, or not at all!
2.9k
This cosmos, indisputably, a sheer wonder
We cannot but bow before its grandeur
To what strange terrains opens its doors
And what secrets, hidden beneath the stars
From the merciless emptiness sans light,
From the deep silence of the horrendous night,
Was heard the bang of hammers
On the anvils of eons like thundering fire crackers
Abruptly through a gas cloud burst of inexorable force
Life emerged from stardust, our energy source
This is what the exponents of Big Bang assert
Life, from cosmic egg was hatched, some others purport
No doubt, this universe is an infinite stretch of lattice
Woven in the loom through billions of years by gratis
Where myriad wonders exist in the intergalactic space
And man has been on relentless effort to trace their course
As the wheels turned and as the fires burned
Through cosmic vapor the first atom was churned
How, over the eons, life here has flourished
With man’s wisdom and efforts nourished!
Galaxies are scattered in infinite space
And our planet Earth is well balanced in place
After the day’s vigil, when the mighty sun sets
The stars invariably take over on their night shifts
Multitudinous stars glitter and twinkle, a wondrous sight
As branching chandeliers, shedding luminous light
They are gems donning the night sky with their splendor
Where meteors dash and star light dances in nebulous glare
Some extra terrestrial hand has set the Earth in tune
And everything needed to hold life is benevolently strewn
Through countless dawns and sunset
Endless generations did come and beget
Just as this universe was born, it would one day die
With all the planets, stars and starlets of the sky
Who can predict how it is going to end
With a bang or whimper, or is the end impend?
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 3:44 AM UTC
A man poses at a dimly lit table,
a light hangs directly overhead
with a cobweb ribbon-wrapped around
the steel wire escaping the ceiling.
An inverted roulette table,
a man betting against the house:
It is always this way.
Light flickers, flipped on,
and off, and on,
without a switch
with which to assert control.
He is alone in the squeaking chair,
sipping tea and dipping his crumb-covered
hands into the napkin-covered basket
of water crackers and salted peanuts.
Sitting, he poses for practice, but for now,
he practices for no one.
The house is empty.
In the back of his mind, there is no worry
of what one will find upon entering
the kitchen: A scarecrow at a table,
full of straw and teeth dulled down
from night grinding,
sitting in, what could be mistaken
as, a pensive position.
The scavenger hand makes him look wanting.
It's partner is propped on chin,
accompanied by his half-sculpted smile
and the dark-light contrast of his hair and eyes
with yellow shining off of his two front teeth.
The color is not the fault of stumbling home
too late to care for the mouth, but of the old
incandescent staring him down
and the obsessively clean, marble surface
at which he puckers his face.
A tapping in the hall stirs his bones
and his body darts up.
A crow, it seems, with small grey beak
has wandered in from the overgrown fields,
the fields that haven't been tended to
since this boy began taking himself too seriously.
The both of them with stilts for legs
and no breeze of running feet
from scream to sway the pair of pairs.
Their eyes connect and neither moves.
Who should place the first bet,
black or red,
and who will set the ball in motion?
The light goes off.
Denoument is a bad time
for a bulb to die.
As calm as a hand
with razorblade against skin,
the scarecrow sits down once again
and poses.
The bird observes his motion,
calls, and waits,
but the man moves no more,
overjoyed with an invisible audience,
a full stomach.
Aug 16, 2012
Aug 16, 2012 at 3:05 AM UTC
In the midst of sea, we scream
Where are humans?
Where are super humans?
None to respond to our desperate scream,
In the midst of a sea, we are
A deserted island
One that can most likely be submerged or
Reach shores unlikely
By the events, we remain helpless
Being human less and with inhumanness
We, at the brink of death & last inch of hope
Expect miracles and wonders
Nature fails us
Kills our expectations, fills more sorrow
Nature fills our body with
Slow approaching death,
We remain as a secluded mass of useless disposed waste,
On a world that has a place for all the flora & fauna
Modern nations-the epitomes of peace
Wash their hands away remain
A hopeless, useless, helpless puppet
Ostracized from our ancestral land
Vehemently opposed and reluctantly accepted
We remain a displaced alien
In their eyes.
There are nations,
But where are humans? Where are humans?
A hope puts us to survive,
Where we leave a message,
As we get back to the graves.
We send the waves of final message; we fall,
Not as a disposed waste,
But as a Phoenix that falls as a nutrition,
For the soil,
To revive an infinite and eternal humanity
That stands tall as an undestroyable banyan tree
Unshakable on any crises
For humanity, we give ourselves
As dare-doers and daring self-killers.
Let's harvest the human hearts
With the ever rising flames
And give back
Our future generations the homes.
We lost and dreams we wished
With a thin ray of distant hope,
We dream to give our future generations
A world that has no,
Hopelessness of being helpless.
We assert
We are helpless, but not hopeless
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 1:17 AM UTC
It can't hurt us
Or harm us
To harmlessly flirt
But they see us
And warn us
And harmfully assert
The grass isn't greener
It's grayer
Than dirt
*
You want me
Curiously
I'm bitter to the taste
You make me laugh
Addictively
Addiction here laced
If we were there
If we weren't
Spill of the chase
*
Acting coy
Just acting
For everyone's eyes
Ours lock
And look
Internally decide
What harm
We seek
To whom do we lie?
*
Just friends
Friends playing
With poison in cups
If you drink
The venom
From your veins I will ****
The scars
Won't move
There is no luck
*
Raw fantasy
Fresh meat
My mind wanders mud
Play cheat
Cheat the joker
Roses in bud
Come closer
Look at me
Feel the heat of my blood
*
It can't harm us
Or hurt us
To flirt harmlessly
They'll watch us
So we must
Chase silently
In our heads
It shall stay
That question 'If we...'
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 4:46 PM UTC
"YOU SHALL NOT PASS"
lord of the rings fanatics, typical
Somehow controlling thousands of people turned us all into Gandalf
I guarded the food, you two the door
Most people don't tell you how healthy it is to assert yourself,
They crave passivity, fear aggression
Assertion doesn't mean aggression
Patriarchal society
How good it feels to stand tall
Huge like a mountain, wise like a wizard
If we are Gandalf you're the ring
I hope you get thrown into the pits of Mordor
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC