"civilized" poems
Shadow man,
an unusual human being without a name.
You called me one night out of the blue
and asked me to run away with you.
I was baffled,
but as night turned into day
we both jumped in your boat and sailed away.
You told me about the lonesome life you live and how you've sailed these seas for many years and was in search of a hand to hold.
You told me that I was the most beautiful flower there was.
Your world was without a sky and you told me I am the calm of the storm,
and that I should stick around for awhile.
You showed me all the constellations
and all at once I was lost in space.
I closed my eyes and smelled the sea salt and felt the ship shake smoothly over these waves.
I laid here with you.
We landed on many civilized city's ports and explored for more.
We'd have lunch in the woods, see movies, and explore the inside of museums.
Breathe it in because there will come an end.
You told me I wasn't the first you ran away with.
There have been others but in the end they always broke your heart.
You cried to me on the nights memories found their way back into your mind
and knew that one day I'll be the one causing tears when my time ends.
If I leave
don't worry, don't weep
dry your eyes so you can see light
and notice that I'll be in the stars.
I'll be trapped in time.
Just sail on and find the edge of the ocean
and become friends with the moon, and stars above,
before the curtain falls.
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 9:05 PM UTC
**** this civilized **** I am set, like an object. So don't object. My eyes on the prize like my future subjects. All these haters is suspect, I pay them no respect. That's how a King treats his subjects. I blow minds like lare jets-- then take marks and get set. It could be the bad or the ugly, l'm as good as it gets. I'm raising the bar like I'm working my pecs, working hard, baring arms like I'm funk master flex. I'm laughing so hard it's hurting my chest. instead of getting money I'm enjoying my wealth, weight a couple rounds, then rise up in belts. My Dawgs underdogs, like we training vets. I weigh the pros agasint cons, then Shakakon like I'm K. West. Extend my arm and drop a bomb when this mic turn on. My future brighter than prospects, standing on Prospect while the Sunset waiting to get it on
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 8:45 AM UTC
Civilized life is rigged, O land-dwellers!
With landmines hidden
in trails of Society's doctrine,
'Too often is it stepped on,
Too often does it explode.'
Blowing constitutions to smithereens,
Where you then rummage within your nucleus
to piece together your scattered jigsaw,
Misplacing your natural elements,
Overcasting your ability to side with beauteous aspects in simplicity—
Of those ethereal-resplendent butterflies.
Disillusioned on land thus is you (the complex you).
Let go—
Rise above your materialistic graves—
Walk on air!
My kindred wisps
Walk on air!
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 4:56 AM UTC
I remember a time when time was just a number,
where the only times where school and dinner.
When I didn't have to grow up to be what I want,
but I could act it out in a secret lair or a parking lot.
As you become old, they try to rid you of you imagination,
well I say nay as I fly my submarine in a train station.
You know what take my wallet, live my life,
because I am a ninja hiding in the night.
Go ahead, try and catch me if you can,
Big old stupid corporate man.
You might be sophisticated and civilized,
so what, I am a 50 foot spider that can freakin' fly!
Mar 17, 2010
Mar 17, 2010 at 12:50 AM UTC
And all your heros are gone,
but you refuse to take off the mask.
A loudmouth, a capitalist,
with greasy hair and a golden toothpick,
he is your enemy
he is your oppressor and
he sits upon a throne of coal and blood
with armed security
and a nation built for him,
to protect him and his money,
a police state, pat downs on the corner,
murdered in the street,
your daughters gotta eat.
He grows fatter and fatter still,
he loves complacency,
he loves contentment,
he invests heavily in both.
He knows we are strong,
he knows we are many,
he knows he must divide us to win,
he knows we're his greatest weapon,
so he created Fox News,
he created TMZ,
stealthily,
we didn't even notice,
he created NPR and KVIE,
he gave them masks that look like ours.
They look poor,
they look starved,
they look like us, but they have a different master.
Our master is the earth,
our master is our coworker, our neighbor, our mailman,
our dishwashers, our bus drivers, our minimart clerks.
Our masters are not the TV,
our masters are not the radio,
our masters are not the New York Times,
they are not National Geographic,
they are not BP,
they are not our principals, our administrators,
our policemen, our CEOs, our investors, our bankers,
our insurance providers,
these people hate us,
they hate us because they can't squeeze blood from a stone,
and
the rivers are running dry,
the factories are standing still,
the people, our masters and our friends,
they're in the streets,
they're shouting "BLACK LIVES MATTER"
they're shouting "NO JUSTICE NO PEACE"
"NO MORE WAR FOR OIL"
**** THE POLICE"
"DOWN WITH THE 1%"
and soon
and soon,
The False Gods will grow so fat
and we'll have nothing left to eat but them,
and on that day we'll sit down to dine
and it won't be civilized and it won't be pretty,
their blood, our blood, will feed the rivers and their flesh will feed our hungry children and their money will burn and warm our chilled bones but we can't wait,
we can't wait for this to happen because everyday they grow stronger,
we grow weaker and the river becomes dryer.
The Bourgeois is our enemy,
they say 'All Lives Matter'
they say 'Work Hard and Your Dreams Will Come True'
BUT THEY LIE
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 4:54 PM UTC
They say that the human being is a primal creature
That deep down likes to bite, to scratch, to hunt
Mark their own territory
And like so many other primal animals, feels this intrinsic pleasure in subduing others
People say many things
But in my world, pleasure and pain mix together
Primal creatures show their claws
For others willing to be subjected
I once heard that *** becomes human from the moment it becomes ******
For me however, eroticism doesn't depend on ***
And the primal is the most human and the most civilized of them all
Just like the ones that look at me right now
They see my movement and judge me feline
Sharp claws, curious look, precise movements
And I don't even need to show my fangs into a smile
For them to understand who the predator is
After all, as I already mentioned
Pleasure and pain mix
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 2:25 PM UTC
electromagnetically
feelings occur,
responsive to going ons,
pineal gland awakens the senses.
and almost every woman has heard it
"you're so emotional."
so electromagnetically aware
and we don't remember this,
now,
the womb,
the beat maker,
she tunes the
energy of the babe.
mothers wave of
waves fractionally
lay a deep foundation
of the babes waves.
I tell my children
if they can't find me
to look in their hearts
I reside there…
my rhythm, my beat, my heat
lives on.
my womb
charged that spark
that started the parting
of molecules
fractionally
creating its imagine
time and time again, (as we do)
until, begin again,
a new life.
rest your head upon my chest
child
for a recharge.
in our civilized world
we send mothers to work
in a make believe cycle of need.
babes heart searches
for mamas tone
she only cries short
cautious of overspent energy
first dose of sickness.
and EVERY woman has heard it…
"you're so emotional"
notably more so
during some part of her
moon cycle.
so obviously the moon
is more electromagnetic
than we guess.
and women are more emotional
because we are the heart
of the species.
we co-create the heart
of the species.
we require the emotional
antenna
to summon the essence of the heart.
we didn't come from a rib…
our ribs vibrate the
harmony of life through our time!
our hearts beat
the pulse of the
sun
and the dark side of the moon
and infinity.
we are electromagnetically
inclined to emotions.
systematically processing
the energy of existence.
perhaps the first title I will accept
a claim upon my being,
the feminine sensitive.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
it’s in your nature
to submit and serve
present yourself
doggy style
*** in the air
to your master
to be reminded
that you are
less civilized and evolved
than you think
confused and conflicted
as juices flow
and wetness
glistens on you lips
emotional and primal
remember
you’re just but animal
Feb 27, 2022
Feb 27, 2022 at 12:07 PM UTC
Life is different from the visions of stories.
Built on over coming obstacles, finding love, and glory.
There is a difference between life and death, one you sleep, one you wake, and most take for granted each breath.
Pure evil lives among us, ****** women, selling drugs to our children.
Sending them to school within that community occupied by villains.
There are among them, pressuring them, and they will break, with no back bone these days, soon the youth will be fake.
What is the point? God whom built this place flourished with beauty and green, and we slowly yet rapidly with a pace ruining it with cement, bricks, and machines.
Why does one man takes a stand? There is one man, and he is kind, but he has no support.No one in behind.Can you hear the cries?? War rages on in a world who claims to be civilized.
War is primitive, so we have no need to bring bloodshed.Tell me another lie, as I rest in my bed, looking in sky, counting stars with one eye, is the only joy I can get, when all around me, those I've known too the ones I have gotten know continue to die. Truly a world with great potential, but those masked faces, killin the idea of the though of life, isn't coincidental.With words corrupted to project the opposite, The ungrateful, the not nice.
The soon to be forgotten.
we looking at the beginning of a fallen to be torn apart by greed, selfishness, planting an abundance, unfruitfully amount of seeds.Harmful deeds, and decision made for those who have no voice, what choice do we have, if our right was never made, and we fight for freedom in which we never had, in the times of dark or light.
By: Emmanuel jv Hernamdez
1-2-12
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC
Today you will see a sight very rare.
hypocrisy will come in bridal wear.
Will be removed all clothes of creeds.
Roaming naked will be seen deeds.
Cats will show their vegetarian teeth;
And rats will witness standing high on feet.
Tons of civilized men on streets you'll see;
And in their trousers many will ***
Today you will see a sight very rare.
Hypocrisy will come in bridal wear.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 7:53 AM UTC
Buildings for the most part are boxes square.
But Pentecost circles and spirals,
they turn and burn wild.
Of those who would tame
and make comprehensible any fire--
apt tongues have gone titch titch
and beautiful catch 'til words and music
and parlor diplomacies fortify
much which is untrue.
Fear has no finish, even in our dying.
The path is a cliff edge.
Let us turn, un-adult-like, and strip ourselves
of civilized persuasions. Usher
Earth's children into primordial worlds.
Water shall love and receive us, as it always has.
The naked ground will speak up,
into our touching feet.
Listen to the tongues of the wind.
Unhinge the body, which is you.
Let all creation fly.
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 5:11 AM UTC
Alright,
you've convinced me.
Let's get ice cream
and eat it out of the tub
with two spoons.
Like the civilized pair we are.
We'll eat it in one sitting.
No,
maybe two.
I promise
this will be our favorite
part of the weekend.
You and me.
Munching on fattening, frozen dairy.
Enjoying every bite.
And each second
as we sit on the edge of the bed
together.
So, I'll get my shoes
you get your keys
and we'll make
one of our favorite memories.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 9:56 PM UTC
One with sensation
One with feeling
One with conscience
One with tears
The cry soars to the horizon
They are killing
They are slaughtering
They are breeding
They are feeding
They need the flesh
To digest into ****
The cruelty within
The merciless beyond
The ignorance under
The indulgence upon
The assassin
The mass ******
Slaughter and evil
A call of an animal
A call of a voiceless
But a denial
A denial of the human race
Slaughter for an idea
A pitiful act
Denial of existence
Today I am going vegan
Dripped in emotion
Dripped in sensation
Dripped in acknowledgement
Dripped in the knowing
The knowing of evolution
The evolution of life
Of the voiceless
The voiceless with life
The mercy to be shown
But merciless around
The acknowledgement within
Today i am going vegan
Vegan I am
For the voice of the voiceless
The nature of existence
For the truth of the tears
The cry and the pain
The cruelty for an idea
For the civilization of the civilized
For the life as a gift it is
For respect of life
The life only, within and beyond
From now on
I am a vegan
The love for life
The truth of the divine
The truth of nature
The intelligence of human
The sensation and sight
The pain and cry
The idea to breed
The idea to ****
The idea to feed
Disrespect of nature
The ignorance
To crawl over and over
The idea of indulsion
The idea of false victory
The idea of superiority
The idea of amusement
The idea of carnival
The idea of the not alive
But idea of the dead
The alive if one
Ought to respect life itself
Turn the fire of warmth
Find the well being
With the sense of compassion
For sure fill the belly
And only with leafy greens
Yes yes yes
Nature made us as plant eaters
Think and acknowledge for yourselves
Our body is not that of a carnivore
We are not natural meat eaters
Don't have teeth of carnivore
Don't have digestion as a carnivore
A body for the plant based diet
So its natural and without a glitch
To eat leafy greens
Killing animals for an idea
Killing animals for the sake of food supply
Evil it is
Not a effort to manage food
No no no
It is a scam
Breeding animals
For the sole purpose
Of killing for feeding
Feeding the indulging ones
Feeding for amusement
Feeding for anything more than survival
Except the sole purpose
Of survival and existence
Is an evil in itself
Realized now
Realized yesterday
Realized to the haze
And through maze to eternity
Realization strikes
A light bolt
The light fills the dark
Awaken
Illuminate
Realization
Wow
Vegan now on
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC
I got an award
For being the stupidest young boy
With a wax soul
And impressionable.
I thought I'd find something
Nestled here amidst the trees
And I did,
But in no halls but the hall of god
Speaking to me
Dancing between the leaves
Singing with every whispered breeze
And yet when I stepped
Past the threshold and into the
"real world"
I was sold
A maniac of utter delinquency.
Everybody there
Waiting for their turn
Auditioning for the favor of hearts
They'll never win
Can't see
Laughing and wondering
Reading without comprehension
Sticking their *** in the face of the classics
Lap dogs licking the milk from
Professed *******
Thinking they'll be next
Its not resentment--
Is it fair to be bent
Towards dollars that've never been spent?
All those silly parks
Divided from the civilized lands
Frontiers of the past
Left to be little staging areas
For that invisible hand
Kids go on spring break
Take pictures between the towns
Maybe a stop along
On the way
To Vegas
Deep in the desert where it'd **** any other day
I cannot escape the unfathomable beauty of that place,
Living off the world in a way God said
To toil and love the pain
In a way nobody does
I am guilty of pride and
Stuffed like a pie full of anger
Cooking it into solid joy
And trying hard to scrape the cancerous crust away
All the dark sides we avoid
But screaming the heat away is good
Thermal induction is the name of the game
Entropic fizzlements like bubbles in the wind
Sublimating all that ever stood.
Yet soon enough I'll be born anew
And what I leave behind
Lifted up
Nautoloid shell
With a sparkling abalone interior
Someone will place on their shelf
And think,
"I wonder where that thing had been."
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 12:37 PM UTC
Some day, some people you don’t know might get spittin’ mad at each other.
you won’t have a ****** thing to do with it.
But one morning while you discuss equality at a café on Wilshire
you might hear a terrible
BOOM
In the middle of the city
And you could spill your fair-trade iced coffee
All over your Egyptian cotton clothes.
you might be able to make it home to see
If your purebred cats are not dead
But most likely you won’t get so far.
your ice might melt,
Don’t you know?
And your faucet might leak.
your apartment could be an ocean
And nobody would care.
You might try to get away
But everyone else will do the same
And you might puff up like the Chilean Blob,
And maybe your hair will come out in tufts
And you’ll possibly die with your legs stuck out at obscene angles
On a gum-dappled sidewalk,
Ashes and fallout whiffling down around your snow-angel death scene.
Mushroom cloud don’t care how civilized you is.
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 1:33 AM UTC
Such a sight to behold.
The beauty of sitting on your warm behind.
Cool, filtered air blowing, drying your sore eyes.
Staring at two glowing tail lamps, full of rage and light.
Time waves good bye, like a widow left behind.
Composed,civilized minds decline into untamed―primitive impulses.
Instincts drive them, hoping it will hasten their journey.
The flow of traffic shows otherwise.
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 7:30 AM UTC
‘Apocalypto’ is a film set in a Maya civilisation and consists of a story that takes place in one tribe and how a passing tribe affects them to a degree of destruction. The story unfolds in a linear way of storytelling which is basic but still effective. From director Mel Gibson, the director of ‘Braveheart’ and ‘Passion of the Christ’. An underrated director of sorts but a great one nonetheless. Overlooked due to his acting career, he has been holding back on us as a director.
The characters are set to be living a Mayan life and go about their days behaving as such but are rather generous and civilized for such an old race of people. They live peacefully and secluded until they interact with another tribe which brings about their downfall. And the way in which a Mayan civilization might go about solving problem as common as a natural disaster. Through sacrifices to the God's as a way to solve problems and mass results. Very accurate to the Mayan culture as well as the entire movie taking place without one word of English, all dialogue being said in the Mayan language. Another credit to the film.
The directing style for this film is beautiful and flawless to say the least. No shaky cam used or hand held cam either. All fluent movement of the camera to create a great story, one that flows naturally. The use of camera angles is creative and different, using tilted angles to convey a certain mood and straight framed shots to convey another mood.
The performances stand out as a huge positive, the actors who I have honestly never heard of give Oscar worthy performances. Mel Gibson uses unknown actors as not to compromise the film by the status of the actors. These actors and actresses give a hard performance based on body language and quiet moments, the enduring task of learning to be emotional through a foreign language. Which is why I would guess Mel Gibson used local actors who are more aware of the Mayan language than American actors.
The set design is truly Oscar worthy in this film. The Mayan temples and tribe lands are captured perfectly in the sets for this film. Well build and suited towards the amazon environment. As well as good filming locations, using the wonders of the amazon rainforest as an advantage.
In final thoughts, I believe that Mel Gibson is a stunning director with an eye for detail and a beautiful visual director. A director that can produce great work. ‘Apocalypto’ to me in the near future will become a period piece masterpiece. A tale of survival and dedication that will live on through the ages.
Rating: Film - 8.4
Personal - 8.9
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 12:02 PM UTC
It takes a village to stop a bullet, johnny. but you go 'head and stand in front of as many bullets as you want; hell, i might even write a poem about you doing just that. but i shan't pay you. and that is my price.
there, under the rug, like darkness in haste... there between, we perplex... at a civilized pace
[ as we continue to mean nothing ]
until our horrors are in HD
then we make a move on Paradise...
like drunken kangaroos wearing cursed hats
that can never be removed....
storming the gates.
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 4:25 PM UTC
Museums as art
Art as museums
Sail the trail to my mausoleum
Psychopaths and physicists
Psychiatrists and philosophers
Philanthropists and pilots and painters
Declare now, that these are our days –
Our hours, and our days
These are our city, our hours
Our time, our days.
This is our world –
At 14:92 I landed here and claimed it
And searched it and found it wanting
Of civilization that I could so easily supply
By means of wounds and iron
And brawn and truth
(and just a tiny touch of influenza darling)
By means of our Lord,
Who grants us all that we desire
If only we **** enough of those he did not choose.
This is our world –
And we shall make it what we will
Make it in our own image
Teach it that innocence is not knowing the difference between right and wrong
Raise it to hate no one
But to love itself so deeply
That all other love seems hateful in comparison.
This is our child, love
Yours and mine.
Here the first shall be last
And the last shall be first
But once the first are last they shall be
Last
Last
Last
And once the last are first
They shall make it so they can never be last again
This is our primitive accumulation
Of necessary materialism
Let’s cultivate matter
To make objects that we can place on shelves
And in cases –
These are our cases
And we love them as we love ourselves
Museums as mass graves
Mass graves as museums
Kiss me in my mausoleum
Priests and prisoners
Prostitutes and prophets
Pioneers and pilgrims and pagans
This is our time –
And we are dispensing it in spendthrift increments
Buying threadbare bandages for our cavernous canyons
Buying ample earplugs
To seal in the silence
So we can somewhat say
“look there is peace –
Look we have done it
In our time it is accomplished” –
This is our peace –
And we know it by the signs
The lions and lambs lay quietly together
In our brass-barred zoos
For as long as shelves and cases
Are intact and the first are first
And the last are last
And the civilized are organized and holy
There is peace –
Oh, look
We made peace!
And as for Solomon and Socrates –
We take their words to weave through our new wisdom
And when we re-chart the constellations
We shall give them each a star
And salute them once a year
When they come around the universe
Oh, look
How wise we are!
Mass graves as art
Art as mass graves
There have been no better days
There has been no greater time
Politicians and pornographers
Professors and pirates
Psychologists and pastors and pianists
This is our time –
And we are doing with it the very best we know how
The last are toiling and trying
And the first are trying to think to try –
But there is a shortness in our hours
And a violence in our peace
There is inherent foolishness in our wisdom
And disease in our cities
And there is death upon our shelves and in our cases.
This is our world –
We crafted it and declared our truth to be true
We sculpted this, our colosseum
Please inscribe my mausoleum
With “we know not what we do”
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC
Observing these old men sitting at the stockyard cafe,
Suspendered bellies hanging above huge buckles
And button-crotched Levi's tucked tight over leather boots,
Legs grown bowed and thin, but carrying them to the sale, still,
To hear the auctioneer, talking fast to work the buying crowd,
And get their fill of cattle, shoved indoors,
Sold beneath the steady cracking whips,
A spectacle to burn its way into my minds's forever eye:
The skidding steers, the rolling eyes, the frantic scramble to find cover,
While buyers gave their quiet signs:
A tilted cap, a winking eye, a thumb or index finger up or at a side,
To purchase cow or bull or horse, in living flesh...
Then out again, through the other door,
And turn our heads to wait for more, and read the scrolling numbers:
How many head, how much per pound, perhaps a buyer's name,
And then the swinging sound of other cattle coming in to start again.
So, here these old boys sit again,
Slurping coffee through their yellowed teeth,
Remembering days of indoor cigarettes and harried waitresses,
The smell of cow manure and jingling spurs,
Though now the smokeless ring seems tame, more civilized,
I see the glory days reflecting in the old men's eyes.....
I was just a boy back in those good old days,
My memory is a little hazed, but I can recall
When smoking was allowed and sawdust covered the filthy floor,
A Coca-Cola cost a dime, and the cattle sale with Dad was the big time;
Quaking as we treaded light on the catwalks above the pens,
Looked for our calves, or cows Dad culled to bring to sale,
Then going down and in to see them sell.
Fondly now, I can recall the restaurant at the ring
Where I hoped for a slice of lemon pie from behind chill-fogged glass,
Saw cowmen wearing spurs and neckerchiefs and chaps...
Dreamed of growing up to be a cowboy.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 1:32 AM UTC
If you give me long enough
I could paint a vivid portrait of myself
with every blemish and pore behind a brush,
and hush the voices that would criticize
unsubscribe and dance it up over in wonderland with the sycophants
put on my bedazzled pants
let the local singles know I'm a dancer
just a beating heart away
From being another square upon a lattice
a writhing mass of hair gel
and cologne working up the ladder to fuckboi status
Imma walk the line between
a marble arch eclipsing the sun
over an angel statue kneeling in prayer
and a black leather boot clad
bad *** with bad habits
but he's so cool he doesn't care
Look at him go
all on his own
with only a thousand or so, little paintings
that are equally as photo shopped or filtered
just floating around waiting to see the show
and letting other people know they liked it
or not
What a spectacle destined
to leave us senseless and restless
what a test of the patience to be a slave to the masses
to see my juxtaposition against the rest of the best of us
and think "I should go with clever with glasses."
What a brutal twist of civilized life
to have an AI made for driving my car
so I can shimmy down and sneak another **** pic
THROUGH SPACE, to some guy who works at taco bell's wife
Laura something or something
I'm so social
What a medium,
Exchanging ideas,
and hunting body heat from out of the ether,
to have the pleasing distortion
of the speakers
drowning out all the wearisome noise
of our contortions
"You gotta learn to love yourself"
She says, and posts another photo
buried somewhere under 60 layers
of dog noses and rainbows, and angel wings
Oh **** this isn't boyfriend material let me change some things
-
You don't ever need to change girl,
there ain't anything, in this world
That I wouldn't do, to be with you.
And the Brief exchanges we had,
didn't reveal any red flags,
that I am willing to skip on *** over.
So somewhere down the line,
when the filters start to fade,
we'll just kick that can down the road,
and neither of us will change.
And the picture's that we painted of our Love
will degrade.
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 12:29 AM UTC
the hour slips by without a sound
and through the looking glass window
the days unfolding scene
gives life and motion
to the surreal stillness within
the silent theatricals of man and beast
strive and fail under the shifting skies
like the rise and fall of nameless empires
their brilliant banners swiftly stirred by
the storms and seas
i walk along the fresh laid carpet
with bare feet feeling the texture
and stand at the doorway
with its wooden contraptions ajar to allow breezes
to walk into the dark house
the heavy presence of paint on the air
and the devices of workmen underfoot
soon will fade to memory as our polished lives
are neatly adorned and trimmed
we have become what we dread
civilized
she walks from the bedroom
wearing nothing but her dreadlocks
as i finish making dinner
we have duck and wild rice
i teach her some ballroom dancing steps
we laugh and whisper
the night has come to its fading
and though we are restless
we trek to our bed
and wrestle eachother to sleep
this is evening with her
and our elegant love affair
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 9:27 AM UTC
Leather creaks, quietly
in the dark
thick and musky
wild hides sit in opposition
to progress?
latex stretches shiny
conforming to every curve
needing not sweat to glisten
taut and cheap
industrialized
still isn't civilized
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC
I've seen cops
way too many times,
too many times
to go through my ****
ripping apart pillows
with switches
and against my better judgment
I did nothing
as I heard the glass of
my grandmother's picture
being tossed around
in the back.
Too many times
asking me questions
about this
and that?
Him or her?
If you help us out,
we'll help you out,
understand?
in their rooms
where no love is grown
and no help is on the way,
their eyes were filled with the fire,
they were finally
gonna get this ******
make him pay
for crimes he didn't commit.
Too many times
when i was asleep
in some old sewer,
and rolling up
asking me if i was on drugs
or drunk,
and if i didn't leave
they were gonna shove
a nightstick up my ***
get me used to it.
Too many times have they slowed down
at a light
and turned slowly,
keeping their eyes on me
like I was a wolf,
when they had blood in their eyes
and teeth
in their holsters.
"Where you going tonight?"
as they surrounded me,
another inmate
inside the bounded
bars of an external prison.
Cops never helped me,
never asked
how I was doing,
or why I was doing it,
or why I felt trapped
inside my own body;
all they saw
was another ******
making problems
for the civilized people.
God will remember them,
just as I can't forget.
And most of the time,
it was other black men,
some fruit bred strong in them,
to hate them bottom-rung *******
because they had escaped
and remade themselves,
apparently.
In truth,
I have killed many of them
in my sleep,
but when I step back,
I see that they are a product
of the same system
that says the guns, drugs, and violence
are part of the ****** condition,
that only shows a ****** on tv
when he's ***** or killed somebody,
another mugshot for you to put in your
scrapbook of fear.
So, no I don't hate them,
I hate seeing people that look like me
getting killed
before they come to fruition.
I hate that
:"black"
is used as a term
meant to engender
fear.
I hate that I walk down the street,
and a white girl
walks ahead
turning around
to
check for me.
I hate that when me
and some of the homies
walk down the street,
our hoodies pulled over our heads,
people look behind us
for the grim reaper.
There is hope,
but without
it being fostered,
The fruits
die on the vine,
noosed up
in a new way
as they drop.
Feb 11, 2012
Feb 11, 2012 at 6:36 PM UTC
Civilized behaviour is only recognized after you're gone,
Insolence is admired during entire of your lifetime,
Be rude and someone will always like you.
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 9:33 PM UTC