Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"birthright" poems
May we live in and see interesting times, the old saying goes another offers that when the mind is blind, the eyes cannot see for me my days are interesting and the laughter readily and often comes for the grapes of wrath brings forth mirth filled grapes on grapevine tendrils As lemmings and sheep enact bellyaching absurdities, as the ridiculous does Veracity on sojourn and falsehood in residence with doors firmly closed Hamlet re-enacts hapless role, with Red Robin Hood and vigilantes to a tee eager audiences, participatory scenes in towns and cities, leaving empty homes come all and vent your spleen and satiate your prejudices without paying a fee This land belongs to us, it is our birthright and we will send Hamlet to the catacombs Nothing is private anymore, rights and freedom nailed, anywhere we roam Ophelia not only went to Italy, she went to Hull, Turnpike Lane and even Essex but a joke here, if all these were good, why did she come to me, you simple gnomes perchance unlike you common goons,  she knows distinction has no comparison to thee Your vacuous hate filled mind cannot see that difference in a Prince, that regally looms Act two, dim, fooled actors in their Beggars Opera, screaming, 'we oppose' with glee so called republicans, laughable in their ardent favor, ignorant of their lobotomy botches we will do Hamlet's head in, totally unaware theirs been done in, for the brains of fleas in a civilisation, our conscious and stable populace, roots for vigilante and mob rule, yeah for a man of distinction is a threat reminding you of your insignificance and lack of tomes Come friends, lets see how the home of Democracy, hounds a citizen for us all and we lets know that Robin Hood is alive and taxing, and 'Windrush' is still active in dispatches indigenous people power, meets criminal gang stalking, meets racism and we all drink tea and in true cowardly fashion, its all done by insidious, indictable, nefarious, malcontents and psychopathic crazies It is our proud duty that we should all ruin Hamlet, for mediocrity has no distinction for aspiration et excellence Copyright LaurenceA. JUNE 2018.All rights reserved.
0
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 8:00 PM UTC
Mediocrity knows no Distinction.....
May we live in and see interesting times, the old saying goes another offers that when the mind is blind, the eyes cannot see for me my days are interesting and the laughter readily and often comes for the grapes of wrath brings forth mirth filled grapes on grapevine tendrils As lemmings and sheep enact bellyaching absurdities, as the ridiculous does Veracity on sojourn and falsehood in residence with doors firmly closed Hamlet re-enacts hapless role, with Red Robin Hood and vigilantes to a tee eager audiences, participatory scenes in towns and cities, leaving empty homes come all and vent your spleen and satiate your prejudices without paying a fee This land belongs to us, it is our birthright and we will send Hamlet to the catacombs Nothing is private anymore, rights and freedom nailed, anywhere we roam Ophelia not only went to Italy, she went to Hull, Turnpike Lane and even Essex but a joke here, if all these were good, why did she come to me, you simple gnomes perchance unlike you common goons,  she knows distinction has no comparison to thee Your vacuous hate filled mind cannot see that difference in a Prince, that regally looms Act two, dim, fooled actors in their Beggars Opera, screaming, 'we oppose' with glee so called republicans, laughable in their ardent favor, ignorant of their lobotomy botches we will do Hamlet's head in, totally unaware theirs been done in, for the brains of fleas in a civilisation, our conscious and stable populace, roots for vigilante and mob rule, yeah for a man of distinction is a threat reminding you of your insignificance and lack of tomes Come friends, lets see how the home of Democracy, hounds a citizen for us all and we lets know that Robin Hood is alive and taxing, and 'Windrush' is still active in dispatches indigenous people power, meets criminal gang stalking, meets racism and we all drink tea and in true cowardly fashion, its all done by insidious, indictable, nefarious, malcontents and psychopathic crazies It is our proud duty that we should all ruin Hamlet, for mediocrity has no distinction for aspiration et excellence Copyright LaurenceA. JUNE 2018.All rights reserved.
Continue reading...
26
You do the math and I'll provide the irrationals, as I tend to cling to panic in the asymmetry of life. In this Twenty-First century women still suffer from laws streaming out of councils of men. These are not self-stabbing heroines, they do not ask the heavy deluge of derision. They are faced with laws stemming from an abbatoir, from men who wish to usurp the birthright. Men who have become strangers to their own mothers, men whose ***** dispense a fouled milk, men who deserve an **** ultrasound colonoscopy. So, I beg you to balance the inequality of the equation, gather our sisters in this non-Euclidean space: this is one we solve by inspection!
0
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 10:57 PM UTC
Moral Algebra
Rest in this, my bruised and weary soul: I was a wretch, chosen to be a beauty; a slave, chosen to be a bride; an orphan, chosen to be an heir; an enemy, chosen to be a friend. I deserved nothing but wrath and death yet received everything of life and grace. I am loved beyond any dreaming of it and blessed above all worldly wealth. I have the incomparable birthright of those whose Father is God and whose Lord is Jesus Christ— righteousness from Him and peace with Him. I am a cherished gift from the Father to the Son. I was paid for by the Son’s own blood and am "engraved on the palms of His hands." I am the living temple of God’s Holy Spirit Who empowers me to do His pleasure and bring Him glory. I am the LORD's, chosen and set apart for His delight. ***What more could I ask? But that's only the beginning...*** I will live as blessed as I believe myself to already be, for "I have been blessed in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ," "given everything I need for life and godliness" through knowing Him and His precious promises, "an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade— kept [securely and eternally] in heaven" for me. I've been "raised up and seated with Christ"; my "life is hidden with Him" in the Father, and "He will fill me with joy in His presence, with eternal pleasures at His right hand." Oh, that "the eyes of my heart would be enlightened with the spirit of wisdom and revelation" to see what’s already been prepared and given to me and to know much more fully the One Who has so meticulously prepared and lavishly given it. As I walk intimately with Him and rest confidently in Him (based only on His merits, never my own), I am given free access to my account in His heavenly storehouse and enabled to appropriate its glorious riches to every circumstance of my life, even the most searingly painful and confoundingly difficult ones. I have a spiritual Fort Knox available to me through knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, but He Himself is my greatest treasure. Without Him, nothing else matters. Nothing else has meaning if I am not found in Him, clinging to Him and carried by Him. When I finally become desperate for Him alone, I begin to understand the profound reality of all He desires for me and offers to me in my spiritual inheritance in Him. There are infinite presents to be unwrapped in His presence which cannot be told in human words or comprehended by mortal minds, but they wait to be taken hold of by any and all who would take hold of Him. ***For He gives and gives and gives and gives, and even when He takes, He gives.***#
0
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 3:22 AM UTC
~ BLESSED BEYOND ~
Rest in this, my bruised and weary soul: I was a wretch, chosen to be a beauty; a slave, chosen to be a bride; an orphan, chosen to be an heir; an enemy, chosen to be a friend. I deserved nothing but wrath and death yet received everything of life and grace. I am loved beyond any dreaming of it and blessed above all worldly wealth. I have the incomparable birthright of those whose Father is God and whose Lord is Jesus Christ— righteousness from Him and peace with Him. I am a cherished gift from the Father to the Son. I was paid for by the Son’s own blood and am "engraved on the palms of His hands." I am the living temple of God’s Holy Spirit Who empowers me to do His pleasure and bring Him glory. I am the LORD's, chosen and set apart for His delight. ***What more could I ask? But that's only the beginning...*** I will live as blessed as I believe myself to already be, for "I have been blessed in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ," "given everything I need for life and godliness" through knowing Him and His precious promises, "an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade— kept [securely and eternally] in heaven" for me. I've been "raised up and seated with Christ"; my "life is hidden with Him" in the Father, and "He will fill me with joy in His presence, with eternal pleasures at His right hand." Oh, that "the eyes of my heart would be enlightened with the spirit of wisdom and revelation" to see what’s already been prepared and given to me and to know much more fully the One Who has so meticulously prepared and lavishly given it. As I walk intimately with Him and rest confidently in Him (based only on His merits, never my own), I am given free access to my account in His heavenly storehouse and enabled to appropriate its glorious riches to every circumstance of my life, even the most searingly painful and confoundingly difficult ones. I have a spiritual Fort Knox available to me through knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, but He Himself is my greatest treasure. Without Him, nothing else matters. Nothing else has meaning if I am not found in Him, clinging to Him and carried by Him. When I finally become desperate for Him alone, I begin to understand the profound reality of all He desires for me and offers to me in my spiritual inheritance in Him. There are infinite presents to be unwrapped in His presence which cannot be told in human words or comprehended by mortal minds, but they wait to be taken hold of by any and all who would take hold of Him. ***For He gives and gives and gives and gives, and even when He takes, He gives.***#
Continue reading...
59
Sweating on my mat, I curse! As the light dimly flickers Off and on it wavers Like a torch amidst a storm. For the ten thousandth time I wonder What is wrong with mother? My aggrieved home and country Her pain is mine to bear. She has many a tale to tell Troubled much from deep her belly Wonder how much she can endure Till body and soul give in. She was blessed by the heavens Much to the envy of all Yet! Alas, she mourns And weeps in pain untold. Time and again she follows Sheepishly trusting her shepherds She has had a quite a number With tongues unknown and known Her plight is not their vision As she inevitably learns Her wool and meat and milk Are all they dare to care. She breeds enough to share And feed her dying lambs But much is lost to thieves Who lurk in shadows of shepherds. Destined for royalty she was But penury has robbed her glory Awake! Oh mother Nigeria! And reclaim your lost birthright. © Raphael Uzor
0
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC
My Country, My Pain
Self Worthlessness is a completely, temporary phase of human maturation. It persists within the passing ignorance of youth, And fades with the realization of eventual adult wisdom gained over time. The suffering within the journey, Builds character and worth. It's earned, not a birthright.
0
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 11:54 PM UTC
Worthlessness
It must be said Once again No matter how you tire Of sin And hopelessness Where God lives Is love Understanding Selflessness and wisdom The Mahatma Courage Achievement Humility Without rank Without ambition Morality Merit Human Determination Dignity Sacrifice Pain Patience Kindness Principle Standards Where oppression exists There is no God With power Comes differences Rank Superiority Predominance Hierarchy Religion Patriotism Nationalism Jingoism Legacy Birthright Force Class Pride Privilege Hypocrisy Corruption Humiliation Indifference Cruelty Violence War All faiths Should be considered equal Before a God of all faiths Acceptance On Earth You cannot **** God By killing his believer You cannot **** a believer And be loved by God No man or woman Is subservient To another No man or woman Is held above Any other All kneel before the maker Worship No man No victory No wealth No fleeting beauty Honor Charity Empathy Tolerance Diversity Culture Art Justice Freedom Creativity Fairness Deference Humanity Where do you sit? At the head of the table Or at the foot? What do you wish for? Riches? To be respected? To be feared? To be loved? What do they say about you? Do you know? Do you care? Are they fools To be exploited? Is life only for your gain? Can you be trusted? Can they count on you? Or do you count on them For your achievement? For your glory? For your power? For your face to be carved in stone Above men And God? Is that you? Is that what you want?
0
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 1:28 PM UTC
A Mahatma Life
at the point of entry (explicit) it does not strike me strange at the point of entry when the heightened senses and the dark subconscious merge when the lust and the sweat intersect with ego desire and self is everlasting everything that the ***** words secretion is sticky on my tongue when I pant poems born in rawness and tears on this the last day of the year and eyes closed see visions extraordinaire and the Maker whispers in both ears see! it is the see of what is me, it is the point of entry and departure, one and the same, conception an immaculate mess, the emptying and the fulfilling, when unkempt promises are born free flowing and semi-truths transform into actualities unforeseen and my child cells of new poems are injected, stored, awaiting the birthright and the death of publication, my moment of privileged perfection passes and frowns and smiles are one and the same, silken thread wove open and shut the precision precious circumcising of flesh and soul departing the utter collapse from within, the drowning in the amniotic, rebirthing rebutting my denying that I have no more to give I believe I belong to you for it is what the desire firing cylinders say repeatedly in the union of the up and the down cycle: come, come inside me, I am the pleasure you are the treasure in one cup measured conjoined container when the point of entry is the point of departure and with eyes closed from satisfaction and prayer I see everything all at the same time, uttering: I am undone utterly and the difference between the end and the beginning can be seen only at the millisecond long seven decade coming point of entry 12/31/17 5:38am dawn dying and new day mourning
0
Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 5:59 AM UTC
at the (explicit) point of entry12/31
at the point of entry (explicit) it does not strike me strange at the point of entry when the heightened senses and the dark subconscious merge when the lust and the sweat intersect with ego desire and self is everlasting everything that the ***** words secretion is sticky on my tongue when I pant poems born in rawness and tears on this the last day of the year and eyes closed see visions extraordinaire and the Maker whispers in both ears see! it is the see of what is me, it is the point of entry and departure, one and the same, conception an immaculate mess, the emptying and the fulfilling, when unkempt promises are born free flowing and semi-truths transform into actualities unforeseen and my child cells of new poems are injected, stored, awaiting the birthright and the death of publication, my moment of privileged perfection passes and frowns and smiles are one and the same, silken thread wove open and shut the precision precious circumcising of flesh and soul departing the utter collapse from within, the drowning in the amniotic, rebirthing rebutting my denying that I have no more to give I believe I belong to you for it is what the desire firing cylinders say repeatedly in the union of the up and the down cycle: come, come inside me, I am the pleasure you are the treasure in one cup measured conjoined container when the point of entry is the point of departure and with eyes closed from satisfaction and prayer I see everything all at the same time, uttering: I am undone utterly and the difference between the end and the beginning can be seen only at the millisecond long seven decade coming point of entry 12/31/17 5:38am dawn dying and new day mourning
Continue reading...
41
The Standard Model is full of sticky, quirky Quarks, perky little Fermions, and the Boson Higgs, the reigning King of Mass of towering might; who, by spontaneously falling off in any old direction, gives ad hoc Masses to nearly all, and to all a birthright. And for all normal matter in creation, the Boson Higgs is the physicist's salvation. Alas, we could have learned more, but a Weasel ate through the Collider core.
0
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 4:33 PM UTC
The Boson Higgs
this is where you own our love purse your lips and twist mine because I am the one who has to sleep without you no compromise you said as I ran my feet over the smooth 12,000 threads but no body even the patter of the rain can’t soothe it hits my face in horizontal crosswind and I sit in that same fold out chair on the porch looking out across the park at the children playing in puddles now when I think of your highlighted jaw line I am truly gaping at the mirror that shiny shiny reflection where my eyes pop blue and I’m magnetized at your breathy yawn what’s in your head? what caused this boiling this cream that settled on my coffee? actually already easily I am forgetting interestingly intriguingly amazingly you still taste sweet when I blast music in my car and then I hear myself uttering thank you.
0
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 10:50 AM UTC
this is your birthright
Champagne and cup cakes. A Cornish beach with rippling swell. Love be cultured as a precious pearl. Where love be found with special girl. Projects full of rich intention. Health. Wealth. Happiness. The air is filled with childhood squeals. Summer flicks on the crown of her hair. Children ride horses with the sea on their heels. History steeped at the top of the hill. Empty mines. Cleared of tin. In the county, where Poldark first made his mark. Country delight? Nah. A county in England. Better not tell the Cornish man. Kernow man's birthright. The sovereign state of Cornwall. Not all of the Cornish men have seven wives. Nor do they live in the land of St Ives. One wife is enough for most. Your spirit in Southampton, now merely a ghost. (c) Livvi Good luck.
0
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 7:05 AM UTC
FOR MY FRIEND
Nature teaches us our tongue again And the swift sentences came pat. I came Into cool night rescued from rainy dawn. And I seethed with language - Henry at Harfleur and Agincourt came apt for war In Ireland and the Middle East. Here was The riddling and right tongue, the feeling words Solid and dutiful. Aspiring hope Met purpose in "advantages" and "He That fights with me today shall be my brother." Say this is patriotic, out of date. But you are wrong. It never is too late For nights of stars and feet that move to an Iambic measure; all who clapped were linked, The theatre is our treasury and too, Our study, school-room, house where mercy is Dispensed with justice. Shakespeare has the mood And draws the music from the dullest heart. This is our birthright, speeches for the dumb And unaccomplished. Henry has the words For grief and we learn how to tell of death With dignity. "All was as cold" she said "As any stone" and so, we who lacked scope For big or little deaths, increase, grow up To purposes and means to face events Of cruelty, stupidity. I walked Fast under stars. The Avon wandered on "Tomorrow and tomorrow". Words aren't worn Out in this place but can renew our tongue, Flesh out our feeling, make us apt for life.
0
3.4k
A Performance Of Henry V At Stratford-Upon-Avon
~ *Mother of many waters the manner with which she ascends is sympathetically informed we are a running spring from her womb flowing along the magical line of peaks and summits to cascading fiery birthright and the rain fell and the snow settled and the ice theologized to remind us the outside world still worships her eruptive embers* ~
0
Aug 30, 2021
Aug 30, 2021 at 12:18 PM UTC
Rainier
In the name of democracy An entire state is terrorized Decade after decade Freedoms are curbed Protests are brutally suppressed People are brutally oppressed Education is diluted In the name of democracy The Army turns from protector to oppressor Every soldier marching past With his head held high Sounds the death knell For every man, woman and child In the name of democracy Soldiers break into houses Wielding their massive rifles As if it is their birthright As the peace and harmony within Is replaced by abject terror In the name of democracy All morals are flung out of the window As the women are ***** The men who challenge this unspeakable atrocity Are swiftly silenced with bullets As the children begin screaming in terror They are molested, one by one Until the trauma overcomes them Such that, they lose their voices They lose their minds They lose their hearts Meanwhile, the soldiers slip away quietly Having completed a good day of work In the name of democracy In the name of democracy India and Pakistan, warring for decades Use Kashmir as a bait As a means to satisfy Their unquenchable thirst for power As the potion simmers on Fuelled by hate on both sides Curfews and lockdowns follow with alarming regularity Schools and colleges are shut down Political organizations are banned The Internet is crippled Mobiles and landlines are killed Even the most feeble of all protests Is brutally quelled with bullets and grenades In the name of democracy Consent is dead and buried As nationalism takes centre stage The world watches on silently Allowing India, the oppressors-in-chief To reclaim the moral high ground And suddenly proclaim themselves as saviours Leaving the beleaguered Kashmiris no choice But to bow to their captors Their dreams of self-determination Shattered ruthlessly in the course of a mad, mad day In the name of democracy
0
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 1:18 PM UTC
In the name of democracy
In the name of democracy An entire state is terrorized Decade after decade Freedoms are curbed Protests are brutally suppressed People are brutally oppressed Education is diluted In the name of democracy The Army turns from protector to oppressor Every soldier marching past With his head held high Sounds the death knell For every man, woman and child In the name of democracy Soldiers break into houses Wielding their massive rifles As if it is their birthright As the peace and harmony within Is replaced by abject terror In the name of democracy All morals are flung out of the window As the women are ***** The men who challenge this unspeakable atrocity Are swiftly silenced with bullets As the children begin screaming in terror They are molested, one by one Until the trauma overcomes them Such that, they lose their voices They lose their minds They lose their hearts Meanwhile, the soldiers slip away quietly Having completed a good day of work In the name of democracy In the name of democracy India and Pakistan, warring for decades Use Kashmir as a bait As a means to satisfy Their unquenchable thirst for power As the potion simmers on Fuelled by hate on both sides Curfews and lockdowns follow with alarming regularity Schools and colleges are shut down Political organizations are banned The Internet is crippled Mobiles and landlines are killed Even the most feeble of all protests Is brutally quelled with bullets and grenades In the name of democracy Consent is dead and buried As nationalism takes centre stage The world watches on silently Allowing India, the oppressors-in-chief To reclaim the moral high ground And suddenly proclaim themselves as saviours Leaving the beleaguered Kashmiris no choice But to bow to their captors Their dreams of self-determination Shattered ruthlessly in the course of a mad, mad day In the name of democracy
Continue reading...
59
*She longs to spread Her wings afar And fly till its midnight She longs to feel Breeze of the winds Caress her wings And smother her soul Dance among the clouds Sneak around in sky She longs to reclaim Her birthright of freedom And get food for herself Find shelter in rain She longs to live A life without chains Even if it means She may lose Her very life But all she can do is long For she is just A bird in a cage*
0
Dec 24, 2016
Dec 24, 2016 at 11:39 AM UTC
Bird in a cage
Forgetting about that uptight blight. Emanate apathy Unapologetically. Cheers to you Baby Jesus, I'm all jacked up on pink Moscato; by noon. Without a clue of what to do Retreat to a beach For a gala beset by an erubescent sunset. What marry monarchs, All clinquant, in gold light All turn to heathens, in the night. Perpetually transfixed By a curious mix of Rhythmic eruptions & fevered delight Like fairies & nymphs Amidst the moon of misbehaving. Wondering eyes are tantalized You are luxurious, feral, **** boy personified. I was mystified by the wild & eroticized by the style. A Huckleberry Finn identical twin, ohhh but of course — You had a Porsche. But we were far from bonafide. All is well, Who really gives a **** about a relationship cuff… I was inherently drawn to the effervescence, of your soul. Together in disconnected bubbles Like a glass of champagne, Sparkling to the surface effortlessly. Daytime friends and nighttime lovers; Nympholepts in retrospect, Carefully tip-toeing around Blossoming curiously & compromising cantor. Over winsome side-long looks The burgundy hardtop drops down Into my body & out of my mind Tipsy daze were just foreplay For the passionate midnight sexcapades. A midsummer’s night moonlit dream Manifested midst the trysts of Spring. Every Sunday Drinking champagne, Not practicing self-restraint Sneaking into private estates Dive into the grotto pool. Worshiping the Sun, not the saint. My late night lover show me your wicked pagan birthright. Two lonely hearts bonded over confessions in the dark.
0
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 10:11 PM UTC
Spring into Melancholy
Forgetting about that uptight blight. Emanate apathy Unapologetically. Cheers to you Baby Jesus, I'm all jacked up on pink Moscato; by noon. Without a clue of what to do Retreat to a beach For a gala beset by an erubescent sunset. What marry monarchs, All clinquant, in gold light All turn to heathens, in the night. Perpetually transfixed By a curious mix of Rhythmic eruptions & fevered delight Like fairies & nymphs Amidst the moon of misbehaving. Wondering eyes are tantalized You are luxurious, feral, **** boy personified. I was mystified by the wild & eroticized by the style. A Huckleberry Finn identical twin, ohhh but of course — You had a Porsche. But we were far from bonafide. All is well, Who really gives a **** about a relationship cuff… I was inherently drawn to the effervescence, of your soul. Together in disconnected bubbles Like a glass of champagne, Sparkling to the surface effortlessly. Daytime friends and nighttime lovers; Nympholepts in retrospect, Carefully tip-toeing around Blossoming curiously & compromising cantor. Over winsome side-long looks The burgundy hardtop drops down Into my body & out of my mind Tipsy daze were just foreplay For the passionate midnight sexcapades. A midsummer’s night moonlit dream Manifested midst the trysts of Spring. Every Sunday Drinking champagne, Not practicing self-restraint Sneaking into private estates Dive into the grotto pool. Worshiping the Sun, not the saint. My late night lover show me your wicked pagan birthright. Two lonely hearts bonded over confessions in the dark.
Continue reading...
47
I don’t see black and white. I don’t understand why people fight, For a freedom they have already received. Is it just how they have perceived, The world around them. My attitude sometimes astounds them. ‘Black Lives Matter’ yes, they do, But that already’s been taken care of, for me and you. I don’t see black and white. While people put on mental shackles like it’s their birthright. “I can do this because he’s racist.” When you really don’t understand just where your place is. Inside yourself you want to reach for the stars. But your state of mind keeps you where you are. I know racism is still apart of our problems, But stop being negative and figure out how to solve them.
0
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 10:31 AM UTC
Black and White
a fair question, deserving of thought, goodly soft care and hard consideration, strangely, instantly and undeniable, one worldly, word achieves ********** whether first or foremost, après ma raison d'être, cannot list, nor rank or certain state, yet my heart repeats, nation, nation, my understanding, instant and complete worthy journey to self-fulfillment, contentedly unhappy to be permanently, one poem short on the one continuum, the-road-trip to salvation, my end, my finality / our self-acualization aking pagtatapos, ang aking katotohanan my einde, my realiteit fen m 'yo, reyalite mwen akhir saya, realiti saya ma fin, ma réalité M write of the ifs of a man's life, and come aboutface to conclusions, instant and long in the making, there are willing ears on this globe, welcoming me open armed, opened lipped, knowing firstly this open-eyed greeting, welcome poet, tell us for we are one nation, everywhere invisible, indivisible with liberty and justice inherent, creation our common good, in fact it is our lifelong wares and goods, letter by letter composing, we sell for the price of free This then single common currency, our ouro, derivation of languages multi and mellifluous here spoke, this my/our nation where birthright and citizenship ego-and-geo boundless, my loves, continentally arrayed, to whom I pledge until last breath utter all, guttural devotion when one of us creates, good manifests, I care not in what tongue, for our tongues intertwine and intertaste this one flavor, communitas, meine gemeinschaft, meine gesellschaft where spoken goodness all the days of life, it has goodly gotten me to you...
0
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 6:55 AM UTC
where has writing gotten me? (March 2014)
a fair question, deserving of thought, goodly soft care and hard consideration, strangely, instantly and undeniable, one worldly, word achieves ********** whether first or foremost, après ma raison d'être, cannot list, nor rank or certain state, yet my heart repeats, nation, nation, my understanding, instant and complete worthy journey to self-fulfillment, contentedly unhappy to be permanently, one poem short on the one continuum, the-road-trip to salvation, my end, my finality / our self-acualization aking pagtatapos, ang aking katotohanan my einde, my realiteit fen m 'yo, reyalite mwen akhir saya, realiti saya ma fin, ma réalité M write of the ifs of a man's life, and come aboutface to conclusions, instant and long in the making, there are willing ears on this globe, welcoming me open armed, opened lipped, knowing firstly this open-eyed greeting, welcome poet, tell us for we are one nation, everywhere invisible, indivisible with liberty and justice inherent, creation our common good, in fact it is our lifelong wares and goods, letter by letter composing, we sell for the price of free This then single common currency, our ouro, derivation of languages multi and mellifluous here spoke, this my/our nation where birthright and citizenship ego-and-geo boundless, my loves, continentally arrayed, to whom I pledge until last breath utter all, guttural devotion when one of us creates, good manifests, I care not in what tongue, for our tongues intertwine and intertaste this one flavor, communitas, meine gemeinschaft, meine gesellschaft where spoken goodness all the days of life, it has goodly gotten me to you...
Continue reading...
51
Welcome to the club where there's no clapping And shouting's just beneath you when you've raised yourself so high And not a soul here is into moving-- Just standing with crossed arms Because it's all "alright (you) guess." Now be careful with your mouth corners, A smile could crack your face You're not a joke unless you make one, and we "don't get it anyway." Your pedestal is comfortable And comfort's where it's at--it isn't boring... It's your birthright-- You do things the rightest way. Always so amused, but never laughing You're not having any fun 'cuz it's business anyway Doing the right thing for the wrong reasons Don't make you Chief-of-Scene-- Just chief on its list of flaws Now, be careful with your egos, boys They're fragile. Say you hate-- all that ******* rockstar ******** I'm getting all your "jokes," today Your pedestal is lofty and You built it all yourselves--"That's D.I.Y., kid." You're all you've hated... You do things the "rightest" way.
0
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 7:32 PM UTC
Econoline Vanity
Dine on open roads and dust Each meal another stamp These pockets filled with traveled ink Beg gypsies to make camp These stamps they urge for permanence These stamps they whisper home But these soles deaf to stand-still dreams Won’t listen, will just roam No tar pit streets or shackled needs Will hold me in their grasp My ship will sail to float the sea The nets are tied and cast These travels promise me more meals of dirt and humble brews My thirst cannot be quenched indoors A drought my soul would lose These travel stamps drip ripe with ink They live to smudge and haunt The signature I’ve signed in soot My birthright home does taunt Yes, I must off to earth and air Where deeds for land are scant These soles the only souls I trust I hope you understand
0
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 7:18 PM UTC
Gypsy
bipolar, brass knuckle baby, pretty eyed prince of el paso: i've listened to you weep in spanglish and i would wade through that river of dead women just to feel closer your grandmother, that oval faced polaroid girl who knew her birthright and had the grip strength to take it.
0
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 3:27 AM UTC
Wailing walls, howling fences Encaged and blocked by barriers All smashed, sorted in security fence Miles of humanity and flesh torn apart Why is it that we can’t live together? We bleed the same coagulating blood Lined up and humiliated in alleyways Paths of iron bars and imprisonment My veins wringed, intensive torment Mentally distracted, strained by grief Settlement, conflicts and border struggles Governance, religious trickles of disunion The biblical birthright verses human rights The unsighted straining peace settlement Shadows of the peace blueprint screams Ongoing reconciliation, milked in small doses Whose home is whose? Subdivided in areas Controls of disillusionment undisclosed Unmanned checkpoints evokes fears Revolving cameras tossed and turned Bansky slogan “make hummus not war” Smashes freedom to uproot  and merge Constitute and construct peaceful resorts All horns blowing to collapse duality
0
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 2:08 PM UTC
Bawling West-Bank Barrier
Spirit and Breath of Life, whate'er Thy name! Bear with Thy creature, Man, That makes his dwelling-place a blot of shame Upon the Ordered Plan. Not Thy hand, O Divine Designer, hurled Athwart the starlit skies One blood-stained, greed-diseased, hate-eaten world, To shock celestial eyes. Not Thy default, O Beautiful, this crust Of fratricidal crime, These maggot-breeds of hunger and of lust That Thy fair work begrime. But ours, who mock Thee from the highest place, And in the light of day; Who claim to lead an upward-struggling race, And will not seek the way. Guards of the human birthright, at Thy call - A city sacked and burned; Guards of the house that is the home of all, But whence the weak are spurned. Brothers, to whom the outcast brothers cry As with a voice unknown; Stewards of Nature's bounty, that deny The lawful heirs their own. Thou that hast made us men, and earth so fair, To be so vilely used, Give space for late repentance and repair Of sacred trust abused. Give time, Eternal, that we stanch these tears, Give time to heal this sore, That our brief speck amid the shining spheres Disgrace its birth no more. But sail ethereal seas, an orb of light, To bear Thy purpose on Until it fades into the cosmic night Where the dead worlds have gone.
0
2.3k
A Prayer
When I utter commit, I mean to dedicate First to Him, that gave my full birthright And two to myself, the reason to create, My commitment is my responsibility I choose to commit, perhaps you may not admit I want to melt my fears, thyself to acquit Realize my valour, to knit again my grit My commitment is my responsibility I commit to trust my inner instinct, Lest I stumble and be called extinct I will teach me to always be prinked My commitment is my responsibility I commit my business to what is real Perhaps people will get dull Maybe I will find my answers in the baffle And get busy making my now life blissful For my commitment is my responsibility
0
Apr 3, 2021
Apr 3, 2021 at 2:44 PM UTC
Commit Yourself
Precious complications The will to be impressed Has gone away To far forward Mindless feeble altercations The fear of what is left Is hear to stay Please refrain from harmony If you can't see What is infront of you I'll be forced to tell a lie Don't  make me take it to the grave My left hand sank through a bible Waiting for the world to burn Beyond the day I was waiting for freedom True freedom travels in a mask Disguised as tainted oxygen Breath and believe the true The abyss is calling you   I found Life above The cannons of bliss Firing In the dark We broke Love below Untimely cliches So we could leave a mark These eyes Built the gun Now who is the man Trying to speak the truth I found life above The cannons of bliss I will remember you No need toy with stop and go The will to be alone Wakes up the day Unquestionable treason Crack a smile and break the bones The hands of birthright given thrones Move in the shade Please keep you distance I will refrain from here Where uncertainty is clear It's a life I'm accustomed to   Moving through the motions To save me If you can change my mind I ask you do it under wraps In secret searching for freedom Now and then I'll attempt to defend the pain Refurbish the past Try to remember why Now and then I'll attempt to defend the pain Prove that I'm insane And make my way from there If we can Let's remember to **** the pain Revisit the facts And know that this is why True freedom travels in a mask disguised as tainted oxygen Breath and believe the truth In not allowing cannon fire To become white noise to you I found Life above The cannons of bliss Firing In the dark We broke Love below Untimely cliches So we could leave a mark These eyes Built the gun Now who is the man Trying to speak the truth I found life above The cannons of bliss I will remember you
0
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
"The Cannons of Bliss"
Precious complications The will to be impressed Has gone away To far forward Mindless feeble altercations The fear of what is left Is hear to stay Please refrain from harmony If you can't see What is infront of you I'll be forced to tell a lie Don't  make me take it to the grave My left hand sank through a bible Waiting for the world to burn Beyond the day I was waiting for freedom True freedom travels in a mask Disguised as tainted oxygen Breath and believe the true The abyss is calling you   I found Life above The cannons of bliss Firing In the dark We broke Love below Untimely cliches So we could leave a mark These eyes Built the gun Now who is the man Trying to speak the truth I found life above The cannons of bliss I will remember you No need toy with stop and go The will to be alone Wakes up the day Unquestionable treason Crack a smile and break the bones The hands of birthright given thrones Move in the shade Please keep you distance I will refrain from here Where uncertainty is clear It's a life I'm accustomed to   Moving through the motions To save me If you can change my mind I ask you do it under wraps In secret searching for freedom Now and then I'll attempt to defend the pain Refurbish the past Try to remember why Now and then I'll attempt to defend the pain Prove that I'm insane And make my way from there If we can Let's remember to **** the pain Revisit the facts And know that this is why True freedom travels in a mask disguised as tainted oxygen Breath and believe the truth In not allowing cannon fire To become white noise to you I found Life above The cannons of bliss Firing In the dark We broke Love below Untimely cliches So we could leave a mark These eyes Built the gun Now who is the man Trying to speak the truth I found life above The cannons of bliss I will remember you
Continue reading...
83