"backwardness" poems
He's an introvert
Yet an extrovert at its finest times
He's optimistic
And a pessimist
He is the heart of a hurricane
And the floor of the calm ocean
He fixes things
Says he is broken
He contradicts himself
But acts as though he will never
Be wrong
I love how upside down
He is
I love this boy because
Of his backwardness
And his tendency to make up
Words
And places
I love this boy because
He follows the rules
But also breaks them
He is the ultimate roller coaster
I feel daring and unbuckle
My seatbelt
The drops the dips the spins
The curves
My body is thrown off
I bonk my head on the ground of his
Brain
He doesn't make sense
But he does
At the same time
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 1:29 AM UTC
There's nothing you can give me that is strong enough to stand
The things I cause myself to feel, I'm holding my own hand
And if there's any mercy left I don't know where it is
I only sense its presence when I barely want to live
Between the waves of heaviness my head & heart collide
Instead of showing anything I try to run and hide
The days are catching up to me, I shiver and I shake
I cannot mask the fever that is keeping me awake
I've written down so many words I partially explain
Reduce the possibility of going half insane
The backwardness of this becomes a trigger made of ink
I swallow it because I can't remember how to think
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
Bring the angels and shine
Bleach the smile and shimmer
I rushed in the isles of the world
I rested halfway through the island
The tiredness of the unforgiving pain
The strain of trying to explain myself
They saw my social awkwardness
They peeped as I hid by a corner
Seldom backwardness is my nature
So so in a world where introversion is a sin
I have never been a fool, just turned down
I have never been unconfident, just confined
I have never been sociable, just a lone wolf
I have never been lonely, just absently present
I have never been old, just youthful at heart
Bring those songs you chatter, take my hand
Banters of a hunter hunt as I revolve cyclically
I pass the ball in this deserted court in a park
I park my back on the decayed timber as I wait
The sire of the ailing livelihood we call life
The site where we watch as the sun illuminate
I saw your sincerity and cocooned you in me
I spoke your language as you pushed me in an abyss
Seldom backwardness is my nature
So so in a world where introversion is a sin
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 3:36 PM UTC
Seated in a half circle,
Around their recycled leader
Men and women of ignominious calibre,
Ruminating over matters of state;
Out of touch minds,
Ancient recluse,
Trapped in stone age idiosyncrasies,
Blind to present shifting paradigm;
Six decades of backwardness,
Circular movement without advancement,
Left behind by peers,
Now poverty capital of the world.
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 6:57 AM UTC
There is war across the stream, I’ve read.
And corruption over the wall.
There is a dire need I’ve seen to feed
the hungry over there—
Perhaps we’ll find it, we Nation, within our purses
to bargain with such backwardness.
To push the inside-out-ness across the pond
and over the bridge to other places
where such sin belongs.
I voted for the men and women who
raked the evils to tomorrow and over there;
to the places that—beer in hand and
TV crackling—I cannot say I know very well (at all).
To the places so foreign even our shared humanity is
no more real than Landlord Mercy.
Still—something moans inside my conscience
like the grazing hum of locusts.
Even I know there are so many walls, so many streams,
so many lands to skip and souls to sour before
the round world brings the desperate
back to me.
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 12:44 PM UTC
Fitting perfection into imperfection; ****
Destiny’s paths in a fallen world; crooked
Sticking to the original script in spite of modification; stubbornness
Purpose contrary to the films of the soul; conflict
Bogus revelations from false prophets; false rights
Subject to the interpretation of the bearer; truth
Scripts that leave with a new feeling contrary to believing; doubt
Birth of belief and place of surrender; the heart
Authority to rule and reign; ‘Kings and pawns’
Set against enemies, an army; game of chess
‘Come with me I will lead you;’ submission
‘I will lead you to the light;’ enlightenment
Do without questions; acquiescing
Ability to choose but submitting; ‘Free will’
A path of morality and virtue; noble
Journey led and guided by a sage; life
Multiple paths and closed doors; labyrinth
Noble hearts and genuine allegiance; humanity
Unfeigned confidence; tried and proven
Result of weariness and exhaustion; stumbling feet
Inability to walk along due to doubt and disagreement; separation
A journey of backwardness; digression
An act that devalues; abasement
A sentence that is unjust and from a hot judge; wrath
Crooked paths lead to broken streets
Broken streets lead the soul into debasement
Debasement leads to corruption
Corruption leads to horrors that make a freak
A freak of nature
The result of lies, lies, lies.
A broken plot
A bogus belief.
P.S; written at 5am(16/04/14)
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 10:00 AM UTC
Pray that the sun rises in the east,
And pray, too, that the earth spins along its axis,
Make supplications that the moon shines at night,
And intercede on behalf of the many rats in the sewers;
Here we are, people of state,
Vagabonds in high places have come again,
Pulling the chord of our collective mentality,
Yanking the chain of our divisive idiosyncrasies;
For many, many seasons they have harvested,
Fruits borne by the motherland,
Furnished their illicit barns with treasures of state,
Fueled their desires with the blood of the children;
Yet a time comes when the seas will roar in tempestuous rage,
The four winds cry out in deafening anger,
Night and day both refuse to do their bidding,
The earth refuse to stomach the wickedness of their inhumane abominations;
Not too long, oh brethren,
The time is dearly nigh,
That the shackles of our backwardness,
Will turn into tools for our deserved happiness.
Aug 3, 2021
Aug 3, 2021 at 8:00 AM UTC
for many ran on fumes,
these few years,
living daily on hope,
and nothing else;
a great number wanted,
but the heavens never granted,
the privilege to see aturn in the tide,
to the dearly departed, sleep on;
and for the quick,
welcome to making history,
a rare opportunity to be amongst,
the countable, the reachable, the available;
whatever it is worth,
the next four can never be as darkly,
as the eight spent in vast backwardness,
time truly deserving to be forgotten;
but for the lessons learnt ,
nothing nostalgic of the cowtostrophic era,
every single element will get what is deserving,
karma always finds a way;
and for the hopeful many,
may your aspirations meet rapid improvements,
because today marks a departure from irreverence,
into days and nights of renewed hope.
May 29, 2023
May 29, 2023 at 1:27 AM UTC
Tensioned in social awkwardness
Necked and anchored in oneself
Others whistling backwardness
Puzzling ways of earthly existence
Set on a world that I never belonged
Pushed in the deepest curved cave
Introvertsion censored as inconfident
For I have a voice, reserved vocal chords
For the ones I connect hear my echoes
Tangled and tackled in resolving conflict
Tarmacks, bricks, the shelves I always see
We stare and converse in the untold whispers
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 1:34 PM UTC
In the dark and deep interiors
Where harsh reality prevails
Where no state's aid knocks
A gruesome tale it entails
Where woman is a mother,
Sister, or a guileless daughter
Behind veils of ignorance
Where poor is beaten excruciatingly
For solely out of wantonness
A young girl writhing with pain
Fear, dysphoria of social shame
Where age-old myths are sacred
In their glum and gloated atmosphere
Where harsh reality prevails
Out of sophisticated, sedentary lifestyles
In the dark and deep interiors
Where backwardness is upheld...
Nov 8, 2019
Nov 8, 2019 at 11:09 AM UTC
Walking on a street's path
A distance as far as I've been back
Lessons and retrospects carried in an heavy backpack
Streets lights off standing tall under the sky'
s dark
Dark as panther in a zoo or a park
O' peace of sight
Rare are you in my days
Endangered sanity at night's plight
The glory of day uplifted and dropped in an emigrant's flight
Walk on keep
A voice passes me by
In dark knowledge of my start
Not even enfants it has been
But grown exceedingly pass my reach
Still walking yet destination awaits me
Legs crumbling head unarmed
Growing older yet they passed me
Ha' you famous of sight haven't you grown
Said as they were inferior now superior
I am as they were before
Lights inplaced at my backpack
Never knew I these lights is a collection mindless to my knowing
The lights of conquest and triumph which beam is essential
Lightings of value and dignity exuding inevitable shine
Lights of blunder rays so repeat them not
All these lights never knew I
The inscrutability invades my mind
Evoked my soul to it's captivity
O' spirit of exigency,deceit, corruption and unpatriotism
Can't thy be exhumed
Control my mind ignore the lights pack
Walking through out the darkness you caused
Growing older moving backwards
Retrospects of who I was
Doctor now patient
Teacher now student
Long gone host now parasite
Too late to back
Extremely damaged to front
Can't just find a way through this darkness
Old lady of Africa
Treasured by history
Record as a routine I've broken
Adrift till I've broken my self
About to none
That's for the others impeccably
Imperiled by a spirit in mind
Collecting the strings yet I play not any
Evinced impetuosity mischief set in motion
Can't desorb in this modern solvent
Peter natural to be seen as such
I should be the star that parties with the moon
The zephyr that coaxes the tree leaves in mobility
Being not the sun that chases the moon away the sky
Nor the fire that burns the trees
This darkness drives away my delight
Impute backwardness
Lest I think those lights I ignored years long
This journey seems impervious
This dire adventure is far from the abyss of remedy
Dec 22, 2020
Dec 22, 2020 at 10:23 AM UTC
His chiding of those berating, confiding in
peers, pals, kin, from neighbor's din
to seaside inn, with 'backwards', caused chagrin.
My heart did jump in, 'backwardness'
could never extinct humanity,
like the religion of scientism has
in only the latest 400 years
of it's tryst with oligarchy.
'One insect damaging so much grain',
one instant evolutionarily,
destroying so much grace,
that it took the Cosmos 18 billion
years of evolution to create.
"Truer words were n'er spoken",
was his snort, in retort,
as we savaged our insides on
with tonics, nuts, gin.
Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 12:03 AM UTC
above the fruited plains
and bow my head in dishonor
and crown with good
my brotherhood
and say I see a bunch of ******** hypocrites.
Stand above all honors
and crown my nation as not one under any god
that is forgiving or prescient.
I am so ashamed of her idiocy and backwardness and willingness
to believe that men are not created equally.
I see daily
all the small minds believing all that are fed to them,
like the muslim zealots so blind behind their followers
they give their lives to rhetoric
and blow up rational thinking.
Fear and uneducated, we will be if we allow this prejudice to color our eyes, like animals afraid , we survive by killing all strangers.
And back in ancient days, our so called national religion, warred upon many.
open eyes to see the hypocrisy before you are one of them.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 2:25 AM UTC
THE PIANO KEYS. KEEP STEPPING. ON MY TOES. THEY DO IT WITH A LOW, GRAVELLY, DOMESTIC APPLIANCE VOICE LIKE THE DAY I CAUGHT YOU DANCING. DANCING SO BEAUTIFULLY. IN THE VIOLET ROOM WITH THE SHAGGY. DRUNKEN. HOOVER. OH. ONE-EYED CARPET FACE I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING. I SWEAR MY TINNITUS IS ACTING UP. THE ROOM HASN’T STOPPED RINGING SINCE YOU OPENED YOUR MOUTH THE FIRST TIME. WHAT AN UPSIDE-DOWN BLUES CLUB I WALKED INTO. I ORDER A DRINK FROM THE SINK. IT TOLD ME STRAIGHT OUT TO **** RIGHT OFF. I THINK I JUST LOST ITS NOTEBOOK. THE ROOM OF BACKWARDNESS. OUTWARD. HANDS. THUMBS. I THINK I MEAN. PLEASE DEAR GOD. STOP CROONING. SIGHS THE RUG. TIRED OF STEVEN. STEVEN DOESN’T KNOW EITHER. ANYTHING. NOT EVEN. ABOUT THE CARPET.
Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 1:43 PM UTC
His chiding of those berating, confiding in
peers, pals, kin, from neighbors din
to seaside inn, with "backwards", caused chagrin.
My heart did jump in, "backwardness"
could never extinct humanity,
like the religion of scientism has
in only the latest 400 years
of it's tryst with oligarchy.
"One insect damaging so much grain",
one instant evolutionarily,
destroying so much grace,
that it took the Cosmos 18 billion
years of evolution to create.
Truer words were n'er spoken,
was his snort, in retort,
as we savaged our insides on
with tonics, nuts, gin.
Nov 10, 2019
Nov 10, 2019 at 5:22 AM UTC
Oh Kushite muses, open wide my lips
Regardless whether blood or honey drips,
To speak against the backwardness of those
Who progress, light, and liberty oppose.
To clarify a theme of clannish wrong
While nomads move the camel-herds along.
Animal husbandry takes on new meaning:
Their brides sewn shut; their pasturelands are greening;
Sheba’s daughters cheated of their pleasure,
Despoiled through painful plunder of their treasure.
Filthy blade in hand, the crone bears witness.
The girl in terror, clueless, cut, then clitless.
As if this weren’t enough, infibulation
Ensures the bridegroom’s ****** **********
The honeymoon brings every husband joy:
Reopening the wrapping on his toy.
Where knife or horse-whip place their gentle kiss,
there Kushite swains deliver nights of bliss.
And nine moons later, motherhood, grown mild,
is opened yet again by blade for child.
From Kush to Punt, on Afric’s burning horn,
Sadistic ways cause modern minds to mourn.
We wonder how this barbary was born . . .
Many Bantus, and Ishmaelites as well
consign their birth-machines to living hell.
Explain to me how Satan sold this rite
to those who dwell in bio-sexual night?
Veiled in flesh, her godhead cast aside
Subjected to some herdsman’s wounded pride . . .
Let Kush and Punt, their glory days recall;
Their daughters drink the wormwood and the gall.
Old scars, reopened, threaten to infect
What multi-culti feminists protect.
(*But no one ought to talk about such things
because of all the prejudice it brings*.)
Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 5:23 PM UTC