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On my way to work,
Whenever I pass through
The Holy Trinity church,
After a brief prayer,
The tombstone of a martyr
My eyes never fail to search
As his eulogies sensitive cords
Are sure to touch!

I admire
The tombstone’s design
A flickering torch,
Whose tongue
Is the  martyr ’s statue,
That talks loud his virtue!

“Holy Trinity
Till I crossed the river of death
Allegedly, striped of my health,
Poisoned by evil doers,
Who hanker
By unfair means
To amass wealth,
I had been
A public servant
Adherent to my faith! ”

“Holy Trinity
To abide by
Your commandment-
Don’t steal-
Was my desire
Also to pull out   millions
From poverty’s quagmire.

Across the board development
Working better than one's best
Efficient resource utilization
Also drew my attention! "

“Holy Trinity
A generation
To corruption averse
Is all-out
The bad scenario
In my country
To reverse.  
A generation  for
A developmental ******
That has lust.

I have come to understand
The coming up of
Many a lass and lad,
Whose rights that  demand
I need no more reward,
When in front of you
This way I stand
Justice to demand! ”

Children of Oromia,
Ethiopia’s elephantine branch,
You have to detach
Your state, your country
From the impudent
And the corrupt
That still exercise
The outmoded
Colonizers’
Divide and rule
As a fool .

A corruption fighter
Development’s workforce
Is also a hero
Like Ethiopia’s
Valorous and dear sons
Balcha Abanefso
Geresu Duke,Abdisa Aga
And Jagama Kelo.

Children of Oromia
Giving to divisive guys
A deaf ear,
You should hold your
Country Ethiopia,
A cradle of mankind
And civilization, dear
Do not forget
Adding up
Is the current road map

Evil doers
Killing a hero
Could not bring
The change drive
To zero.

As a poet what I can say
“Evil doers
Stop to opt for
Devilish way!
But if you
Keeping going astray
You will go
To the grave in
Ignominious way!”//
Dedicated to  a higher government official allegedly poisoned  for staunchly fighting corruption
Lacey Clark May 2022
On a bright and sunny day
On the 18th of May
An earthquake resulted in a landslide
That unleashed a massive force brewing inside

The eruption removed the upper 1,300 feet
The magma chamber burst- rock & gas blown at supersonic speed
Within 8 miles, all was instantly wrecked
With a shockwave so big, what could one expect?

As the north ***** collapsed down
All life forms began to drown
Every tree in sight swept away
19 miles outward; a ruinous ashtray

Silence breaks as ash falls like snow
The once mature landscape now just an embryo
What had become a lifeless terrain,
Now shows us what 35 years can attain.

After the volcanic cataclysm
Biological legacies determine the pace of new ecosystems
The following colonizers proceed:
Lupines, pearly everlasting, alder shrubs, and fireweed.

The coniferous forest was replaced
The deciduous Alder trees won the race
The new forest attracts grasshoppers, birds, and ants
Larks, gophers, sparrows and deer mice take a chance

Out of 256 species alive prior to the eruption,
86 are now in production
20% of the surface is covered with grass and legumes
Struggling young trees that endeavor to bloom

Ecological gaps begin to fill
Strong ecosystems form, production is uphill.
Elk arrives to munch on grass and bark
The thick forests attract birds, like larks.

Fallen logs create nutrients and feed biofilm to the lake
Floating ecosystems now have plenty resources to take
Elevation affects the rate of recovery reports.
The higher the colder, which means the growing season is short.

The loss of trees means more room for sun
As the lake warms up, there’s increased production
More insects and bigger fish, like rainbow trout
Salamanders are scarce now, not many about.

Lupines deserve their own stanza, those purple legumes.
They help make a pumice landscape suitable for others to bloom.
Lupines create essential nutrients the pumice is low on
Other plants are thankful for the rare space to grow on.

All this information hopefully to inspire,
Life pulls through in situations most dire.
Mount Saint Helens’ destructive wake is seen clearly today,
The eruption that obliterated had also paved a way.
what do you remember, if you were alive?
Is it the pompous pope
That blessed off tanks
And hailed fighter Jets
Bombs to drop,
On modestly armed patriots
Marching for a fair battle
Entertaining hope,
Not suspecting
A non-stop
Rain of
Banned poisonous gas
Lethal as Nazis
Mass destructive soap?

What is more
Is it
The self seeking pope
That sacrificed
An independent
Country, a push over,
Expecting a reward handsome
-  an earthly kingdom?

Or


Is it the martyr monk
Who warned(cursed) the people
And land
To fascist colonizers
Not to give a hand?

What is more
Is it the
Selfless monk
Who was atrociously
By atavists
Gunned down
Scanning the sky for
A heavenly crown!
Up on seeing the monument of abune (monk) Petros
Tuffy Mutombo Apr 2021
Early morning birds chirping
Singing melody’s of peace
Looking out into the forest
I see beauty in your face
Africa has a smell that no one can erase
A smell that echos love into your soul  
Life so simple, life so inspiring and incredible
Don’t believe what the discovery channel told you about a land that existed before any other
Africa the mother of the earth
Birthing billions of souls
who left it but still live in it
It’s blood runs deep in our souls
Skin shades might change
but our roots are deep Within
When Africa cries we feel it’s pain  
When Africa smiles we rejoice with pure joy
Colonizers tried to change it but it changed them
They stole its music, passion, material good, it’s minerals, traditions, and norms
Taking even its greatest queens and kings
Tribal men and women
They tried to **** its joy but it still smiled through the pain
Enslaving it’s people still couldn’t **** it existence
Africa
Birthed in resistance and molded by resilience, inspired by diligence, fueled by consistence
We are strong, powerful, and courageous  
Africa the birthplace of the human race
With our palms pressed let’s say Grace
As we pray for peace
(Scene I)

Heeding golden days pays


Making a circle around a big oak tree in paradise Ethiopian patriots are seen sat. The valorous Yohannes IV, Alula Abanega, Tewodros II, Menilik II, Balcha Aba Nefso, Jagama Kelo and the like are seen on the front. They were discussing the current political situation of Ethiopia.

(--> Enters Mai Kadra holocaust victims/martyrs)

Hacked to death
By those who
Lost their mental health
Obsessed by ethno politics
In the wrong-headed
‘We and they’
Political matrix
And also who
Sold their soul
To devil
Inured to acts
Dubbed horrifyingly evil
The fledgling, feeble
Children, pregnant women
Their feet and hands tied
What is more chopped
Were committed to
A mass grave
When the atavists
Lost battle
In the hands of
Nation’s cherished
Sons & daughters brave.

(Stands up Yohaness IV and putting his hands on his head says.)

How barbaric?
To me such an act
Is Greek.

(Enters Ethiopian soldiers who were attacked by the Junta, while maintaining peace.)

Deployed to guard
The border
From any enemy
That conspires
To put Ethiopia
And its people asunder,
By traitor Juntas
We were stabbed
In the back
When it got pitch dark,
Yet, heroically,
We mounted
Counter attack
Till support
From hinterland
Arrived from
Our side.

Traitor Junta’s
Plan had to fail
Together we chased
Them away
Between their legs
Placed their tail.

(Balcha Abanefso stands up and waving his pointed finger says)

It was standing one
Many battle engagements
We won,
Unity, love, peace & cordiality
Must mark our identity!

I am angry
Ethiopians’ super chemistry
Is fast turning
Behind us left history.

This send
It must be known
It is high time
Ethiopians reverse
This trend!

How come, selfless,
The land
We kept once
Barring it
From colonizers’ advance
Fast gone?
This calls for a new dawn!

(Stands up Jagama Kelo and walking to and fro says)

How come the self-centered
And selfish
Than their mother Ethiopia
Their ethnic base relish.
It is with chemistry
Great things like
Adwa or Karamara victory
People accomplish.

In the face of adversity—
Colonial aggression
What is more
Expansion—
Helped us most
Unity& fraternity
To preserve
Our religious, language,
Cultural identity.

Forgetting what
We are displaying today
Let us live
In forefathers way.

Come rain or shine
Considerateness, unity
Peace are fine.

                      A poetic Drama – Scene II

Rewarded Satan’s way

A weekly devil council about evil prowess is being held in hell. Devils were standing on tongues of fire waving their tails and howling in a frightening manner that sends a chill down one’s spinal cord. They were gritting their saw-like teeth and holding double-forked arrows. All were soot greased horn to toe, twisted and long. They were submerging the sinful like Judah deep into the fire.

(Enters lost- in-action TPLF Junta’ informal army members referred Sameri.)

Aghast, at last
Vanquished, to retreat fast
Inflicting vengeful attack,
Tying and strangulating
Mai Kadra people
Brutally, we had made them
Breathe their last.

(A Satan on the front puts his hands together and says ‘How impish!’ ‘What news to relish!’ Then he says,)

Spilling the blood
Of fellow human beings
Is something
We appreciate
The level of
Your cruelty
Is  not
Heard to date.

By inflicting on
The innocent damage
With us
You have come to
The same page
As goes
“Out Heroding
Herod!” adage.

(Enter Junta group members. They were the ones who were killed by counter attack, while stabbing the northern wing of ENDF in the back. Rearing his grotesque face out from the fire ‘bravo!’ says Judah the culprit. A devil pushes his head back into the fire)

Averse to
“Love your friend
Like yourself ”
We ambushed
Fellow soldiers
Off their guard
Though our action
To the sane
Is hard to understand.

Looting heavy arms
Heavy damage
We were to score
No doubt
Had it been successful
Which sadists and Lucifer
Would adore.

(A Satan at the back stands up to accord him a high five)

Stabbing in the back
Fellow soldiers
In the military ditch
Is something
Not heard to date
That is animosity
We compliment,
As it is top
Among sins
God said
“Felony I hate.”

(A veteran TPLF official on top of his voice says)

Unless ethnic groups
Get at loggerheads
We didn’t feel comfort
Because we are heinous,
Who understand
“Cut your cloth
According to your coat!”

We adored
“Divide and rule”
to exercise,
Cognizant to outsmart devil
That is an approach wise.

In a two-year-and-half time,
One crime after a crime,
We had committed messes
To 113 which add up
In the nation’s
Massacres map.
As a result
Reigned supreme turmoil
On Ethiopia’s soil.

We didn’t want
The prime minister
Ethiopia, tranquil,
To administer.

Without us,
The diabolic,
In the top brass
Also trampling on
The broad mass
Allows we not
Ethiopia to continue
Reformed or anew.

Fabricating lies
Was our characteristic feature
As we got it by nurture
And practice it as if
It was our nature.


(At last when a pin drop silence falls Satnael got up and said)

Outsmarted by TPLF junta
For three decades
That lavished
The flow of blood
Like a flood
And which milked
The destitute
But pious Ethiopians
Till they cry
Until their woes
Reached the sky
“God punish us
With TPLF Junta why?
Alive must we die?
For what evil
Are we being punished
By those
Ever who outperform
The devil?”

Today
I have to reward you
My way
“I will throw you
In to a more
Smoldering fire—
Inferno—
As atavism
Is your desire!”

A lacerating fire
Devoid of light
Will be
Your plight.

Devils are seen outrunning each other to drag the atavists into the inferno.////
Unheard of story
Pearson Bolt Jun 2019
i wish i could put my fist
through this wretched city,
march straight down Monroe
to the capitol building—
that flaccid, *******, hideous tower
looming like the tomb of god
over Tallahassee.

this bastion of neoliberalism
sits in the heart of a red state.
escalating rent and gentrification
go hand-in-hand on occupied Muskogee lands.
statues commemorating genocidal colonizers
defended by neo-Confederate bootlickers
keep watch over Martin Luther King, Jr. Blvd.
everywhere you look in this college town
you’ll find indigeneity reduced to a mascot.

so let’s introduce a little anarchy.
we’ll clash with riot cops
armed with tire-irons and Molotovs.
occupy the academy, transform the cafeteria
into a people’s kitchen. teach freely
on Landis Green. come, dance
with abandon and reclaim these tired streets
from those beset on our alienation.
Jordan Soriano Sep 2019
can you hear them?
the cries of the children who have no land to pass down to their descendants

can you see them?
the bodies of the Sainas (elders) who starved to death

can you feel them?
the spirits of our ancestors chasing you out of our jungles

do you appreciate them?
the CHamoru soldiers who fought beside you in combat

i'isao hao: you are a sinner
you have sinned against us, against God, against our ancestors, against the land, and you have sinned against the future generations

get out of our land! take your bullets! take your bulldozers! take the chemicals that pollute our water! take your bombs! take back your broken promises! take back your lies! take it all back!

give us, the taotaotano (people of the land) our islands back
Na libre i Islan Marianas: free the Marianas Islands
Not only the Old Powers traded and earned
Empires of coming ages also gained and governed…

First were the Spaniards for 3 centuries
Since then, the Cross rules, pagans hide, Muslims decrease
Second were the Americans for 3 decades
Since then, Liberty reigns, Frailocracy fades
Third were the Japanese for 3 years
Since then, we dread a world war filled with tears

…They were our 3 Colonizers who imprinted a mark
Both sweet & bitter, bright & dark!

-09/12/2015
(Dumarao)
*Philippine History Rhyme Collection
My Poem No. 378
Em MacKenzie Oct 2017
Neon lights; they're taking away my rights,
advertising so bright, only capitalism in sight.
Slaving away, to make ends meet each day,
creditors barely at bay, with the same thing they always say:

"You're indebted to us,
we manipulated your trust,
and now we own you; head, feet and bust,
but it's your life and wallet that we lust."

Constant bills, money has lost all of it's thrills,
no heat; you freeze and chill, then starving; being poor kills.
Yet still it seems so, they think you have the money to blow,
on the pointless things for show,
or on knowledge you will never know.

So tell me when will it stop?
When will the prices drop?
The well's dry and farms lack the crop,
the economy is doomed to flop.
From the advertisers, the supersizers,
the colonizers, the demonetizers.

Going to pray, that I survive another day,
to light a candle to show the way, but for the light I have to pay.
Now it seems to me, that Heaven is meant for the wealthy,
and our lives; a shopping spree, in this Hell we get for free.

So tell me how long will it be,
until Jesus' sandals are Nike,
and his **** cloth is Gucci,
and they trademark the word "Holy."

So tell me how long will it be,
until Jesus' sandals are Nike,
and his **** cloth is Gucci,
and praying will cost a service fee.
Lorenzo Creaghe Mar 2017
border towns and underground existence
where does the first world end and third world start?
there third and fourth worlds in every city
on every corner
consequences of occupation
po-lice proxy wars
how we got border towns?
when each neighborhood lies on some border
between white and Black and Brown
Rich and Poor
first and third world
right?
first world the colonizers
third world the colonized
second world the ghost of the genocides
it took to preserve capital's wretched glory
the first world will be the first engulfed
in fiery ruin
Kay-Ann Apr 2021
I may not be as
horrible as hunger burning
like salt in a wound
or as
cruel as centuries of colonizers
but I can be almost
as unbearable.

When the weight and wrath
of reality seeps in,
I spew it out.
I take others along for
a weeping woeful ride,
knowing all too well that
my universe of pain is so intense
that they would live in it too.

I saw no problem with this
until the wrath was no
longer mine but the world’s.

Now I try to
sit with the feeling
instead of becoming it.
I never want to be
the one who does not
get to collect
a new harvest of mangoes
worrying about the rain.
Ordeezy May 2018
Mama, what does it mean to be free?
To think and act on your own?
If they free our skin will they free our minds?
Will we learn to love and appreciate one another?
Will my bronze skin be beautiful?
Will men admire my ***** hair
Will they rather look at her pale skin in awe?
Can we be truly free or will it be an illusion?
Will we stand equal or forever inferior to colonizers?
If freedom walks in
Will we mourn our brothers or sing songs of freedom
Mourning is easy, we mourn daily
If we are to sing freedom songs
How will we sing songs we were never taught
If freedom doesn't walk in
Will we be slaves forever?
Mama, what does it mean to be free?
José Vaca Jul 2020
Refined white lies.
Increased hate crimes.
Blood spike death rise.
Black lives chastised.
Allies demonized.
**** ring enterprise.
Children traumatized.
Elites organize.
Information ostracized.
Revolution televised.
Oppressive systems capsize.
As we the people synchronize.
Through the day butterflies.
Though at night fire fly’s.
Colonizers vandalized.
Hate symbols pulverized.
Say no more, mobilize.
Dream no more, visualize.
Social justice normalized.
War and famine neutralized.
Empathy not sympathy.
Happiness not jealousy.
Peace and love, no room for hate.
Like bumble bees let’s cultivate.

Replacing sugar with honey.
Kelly Mistry Mar 28
Invasive
Intrusion
Colonizer
Usurper

You who do not belong
Before

Who cause destruction
                                           devastation
                                                     ­             violent change
Now

Your presence means
An absence
                       of others

Yet
However you came
Wherever you came from

You’re here
Now

You will be here
Into the future

Is there a way
A path forward?
Amidst this change
Your coming has wrought

To make you
No longer invasive
                                    alien

How can we integrate
Our invaders
Our colonizers

Change can build
Even as it destroys

Whether thru the passage of time
Or conscious effort
Eventually
                      can the invader become native-made?

How can we make the process
Less destructive
                               Less devastating
                                                     ­         Less violent

                     Transform the invader
as much as
                     The invader transforms us
The dark cloud of that day still hovers over us like a stubborn ghost,
A dark moment, sad and excruciatingly tormenting,
Democracy was plunged under a huge and portentous threat,
Just like the lives of each and every miner in solidarity,
Every miner that felt they had been uproariously ***** and beyond measure,
Lives being disparaged and sacrificed for money,

Some fat ugly capitalist politician proclaimed them criminals,
To impress his blood ******* immigrant masters,
The brutish British multinational super exploiters,
The stinking atrocious colonizers who stole our land and our humanity,

And as criminals they should be treated,
Declared the egocentric mercenary politician,
Indeed, as criminals they were treated,
And as criminals of apartheid, they fell,

Heavy machine guns roared,
And the whole environment smelt heavy of burnt gunpowder and blood,
The whole place depicted a war zone,
With bodies lying everywhere,
And the police force claiming victory,
The dead, really dead,
And the living, really leaving,

This is the Marikana story,
A story that has neither beginning nor ending,
A story that is told with very sad and shocking connotations,
A story that is neither a cause nor an effect,
A story of a high disregard for human life,
A story of split unions,
A story of greedy and hyper-selfish politicians,
A story of police brutality,

But above all, a story of innocent lives lost like garbage,
And fingers not pointing at no one,
The Marikana story.
Your ***** finally in the discussion of being an accent to beauty but who gets the cents from all that call to action
It’s not a sister who car is dashing
I’m not bashing but just like Sebastian
Constant comic relief without any green leaf, so why isn’t Franklin the one saying “Good grief”?

The same way they didn’t see robbery when they thought to elect Vivian over Celie, constantly a side note though  our words stay in the quote forever the black knight stuck at the mot, yet I can’t blame a invisible hand, cause it’s my own brothers keeper who would sell my own hand for a couple of bands, it’s framed as integration more like selected representation, still light versus dark creates a fraction that leads to more distraction influenced by our own reactions, quick to cop Italian, German, London and French designers even though they were the main colonizers but were so “woke” it’s all ok if rappers are the buyers so who’s the real lier?

Black business is labeled with asterisks cause we shop like we’re at risk, price tags look different when written by a black wrist, so ingrained that we continue to persist with a system that makes me feel we stuck in the mist, it should be king novel cowritten by Willie Lynch, real or not his words are the tapestry that still affect our reality, but to you another young black casualty,  

Black Lives Matter was removed from main stream chatter like a infection in Americas bladder, me too seems burked not the whole collection just the women in colored section, from trafficking, continued police murders that are baffling, cultural appropriation that reigns supreme so put on your little black dress with your favorite song, From cover to conclusion racial inclusion is just a westworld delusion
Mia Donaj Jul 2020
trail of tears
paralyzing fears
ripped from the mother's womb
land destined to be taken to the tomb,
colonizers,
****** hands
take take take
stolen land
transgenerational trauma,
passed down,
sweet mama
sour whiskey
takes the edge off of reality
poverty
violence
erasure
history books won't tell
victims won't be around to tell
emily will never know
suppression
leads to the communities depression
anguish
languish
we love dream catchers
why can't we love the people who made them?
no reparations
no reservations
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transgenerational_trauma#:~:text=Transgenerational%20trauma%2C%20or%20intergenerational%20trauma,be%20transferred%20in%20between%20generations.
Nevermore May 2020
I wonder,
If you were still alive
At 104 years old today,
If you would have been proud of me,
If you would have liked what you saw.

You knew me as the toddler
Who insistently took your hand
Before crossing the busy Chinatown street,

But not as the awkward teenager,
Anger simmering beneath his acne-riddled face,
Eager to prove his growth,
Trying too hard with his vitriolic rants,  

Neither as the young man
Floundering about in his twenties,
Dissipated on intoxicants,  
Groping about for direction,
Pining for a woman's companionship,

Nor as the married man
Who had attained independence,
Having found a way in life,
But now longing to regress to boyhood,
Sublimating his regrets in bad poetry
Scribbled between issuing memos and contracts.

Just what did you see in that toddler's future
As he waddled across the bumpy cement streets
Dappled with horse manure spilled from kalesas?

Did you see a man with broad shoulders,
Employing hundreds and feeding their families,
Making a tidy profit week after week?

Or perhaps an academician,
Erudite and eloquent, a debate juggernaut,
A far cry from his forefathers' humble beginnings
In some fishing village from Bumfuck, Nowhere, China?

Or did you just hope
For your grandson to retain his heart
The same one that prompted him
To take your hand as you crossed the street?

I still think of you at times
And wonder how things would have been
Had you been around,

If you would have bore our valley days
With your trademark stoicism,
Anchored father with your presence,
And have finally reined in
Grandmother's bladed tongue,

If we would have eventually shared
Your daily quart of brandy
After weathering with ascetic patience
The sound and fury of idiots.

How you would have seen
With your own eyes
The clan flourish and increase
In members, clout, and material wealth,

How you would have sat
Stone-faced but proud
As I took my steps to patriarchy
And started my own tribe,

Albeit with someone outside our race -
Worse yet, a descendant
Of our colonizers from the war.

(I wonder how much convincing
How much yelling from father
It would have taken
For you to relent)

I know I look back too much.
I guess there are too many unexplored paths,
Too many phantoms who remained acquaintances.

Or maybe I'm just like father,
Habitually framing the present
With the context of the past,
Always romanticizing the bygone
With the wine of sentiment,
Though reality would have been harder, drier,
And we needed the magic of romance
To make reminiscence palatable.

Thirty years have decayed my memory of you
To but a reconstructed charcoal sketch  

But it does not make me miss you any less.
May 20, 1916 - February 10, 1989
Happy birth anniversary.
I still feel the pain
For those who sailed
Through ships towards the unseen.
I ache for their courage
And for their unjust fate.

The world was never the same:
A new order,
A new richness,
New types of suffering,
An unthinkable set
Of both greatness and meanness.

It was not a discovery for a new world,
But for different ideas,
Possibilities that defied
Everything once believed.
Eventually, it somehow turned
Into a new power game.

Those who died
Died for themselves:
The world they were building
They never knew it,
They could not foresee it,
It was not their battle.
They struggled for life,
They flew away from a harsh place
To another harsh place
For they were harsh themselves.

The world would never be the same
For the simple man would never be the same.
They now knew more,
But knew also so little.
As we know little
And think we know everything.
Magellan stood still
While the Earth revolved around him.
We are still,
We are the same,
Great and mean,
The same.
Colonized and colonizers.
The same.
The clock turns around twice every day,
Rivers turn to ocean that turn to cloud that turn to rivers.
Life dies to feed new life,
We get on top to be the base to something else get on top.
We aim so high we reach the base.
We heat everything up so much things freeze.
We imagine a space so big it can only exist within our tiny heads.

The courage is to extend yourself,
But for that we need to diminish us.
We can't be big in order to be big.
We must be tiny persons,
Limited, short-sighted, blindfolded,
So we can see what can't be seen.
The courage is not
To fight storms or drift with no tools.
The courage is not to bet life in your ideas,
But to have no ideas at all
And still bet your life.

What we call discovery
Is not an act, is a way of living.
We call discovery
To arrive at a party
Everybody else was,
But we didn't know about it.
That's ignorance.

The real discovery
Was never a continent,
Or the conquer of vast rich lands.
The only thing discovered
Was the new limits to our imagination.

Something we are really lacking these days:
New boundaries for our thoughts.
We are cloistered by what we see
And still asking
What is it suffocating us
When it is just
We are forgetting to breathe all the time.
MyCrumbledCookie Nov 2021
I am America.
To become president you have to be a natural-born citizen, at least 35 years old, and a resident for 14 years,
fruits are accepted too.
As well as uneducated people with no prior experience in politics that have their reality tv shows.
Masks are political statements like bumper stickers on a car,
A person’s IQ hangs on the invisible threads of a maskless face.
That does an oh-so-well job of covering an ugly mouth that spits gum onto the ground and insults at one's face.
School shootings are justified by the mental illnesses of white people,
but a forged president Jackson will press against the neck of George Floyd by a man with a badge that once meant honor.
Terrorists that attack a branch of our government are called patriots,
but a movement supporting a black person’s right to live freely without fear is ‘’racist and communist.’’

I am America.
People neglect climate change as an issue,
yet believe a shadow from a groundhog to tell the prolonging of winter.
Here we’re proud to be “American,”
forgetting that our border neighbors are American too.
Kids are bullied for having melanin by the same people that get skin cancer at 23 from their excessive tanning obsession.
Our shelves incarcerate black hair products with padlocks and laser beams,
Conditioner and gel are guarded better than our Congress.
Guns can be found next to the gum as you checkout.

I am America?
Where a flag supporting slavery,
representing centuries of degrading, oppressive, demonizing, racism,
justifying hate against people whose beliefs don’t match Christian values,
hangs on the porch of a couple who are first cousins.
They believe same-*** marriage is a sin,
but he cheats on his wife with the clerk down the street twice a week
and condemns a 13-year-old’s body that couldn’t bear a child without losing her life.
Pointing to her in ridicule,
with a finger connecting to the flaunting ******* clinging to the forearm.
And on Sundays they hold each other’s palms,
reciting a prayer to a God,
for their home on land that was snatched from Native arms.

I am America.
The ongoing battle of old white men defending older white men to be on our money is never a closed discussion,
because they can’t bear to have a freedom fighter named Harriet Tubman have the recognition she deserves.
‘’GO BACK TO YOUR COUNTRY’’ is yelled to indigenous people that dance for the 8 million natives that couldn’t.
“GO BACK TO YOUR COUNTRY” is yelled at to people whose ancestors were stolen and flung onto grimy boats that couldn’t sustain pure human lives.
“GO BACK TO YOUR COUNTRY” is yelled at people who “steal our jobs”
but the jobs they “steal” are managed by people that speak a different tongue and you feel too privileged to do.
Our history plays on repeat,
As our fears are held by the hands of men that couldn’t keep their wrinkly white hands to themselves.

I am America.
Where the irony settles,
Of four white men carved into sacred land.
As they dug their mucky nails and lanky fingers in the shoulders of thriving indigenous people.
I am America. as
Our land is as free as the slaves in 1863.
Our states are united,
As we are the home of the cowards.
Two colors flood an election map,
three colors on a star-spangled banner.
Drawn are 13 stripes of colonizers,
and 50 stars of stolen Native land.
I am America.
I’m not proud,
nor patriotic,
just disappointed.
As a flag waves in disgrace,
being American is just being born in the United States,
I am America.
It's lengthy, but I promise It's worth the read.
Exosphere Mar 2021
I don’t believe in god
do you?
though I can go on all day about Siva,
even Vishnu or Brahma
if I had to practice any religion
it would be Kasmir Saivism
Abhinavagupta ascended way better than Jesus
and he took all his followers with him, great guy

Krishnas are my absolute favorite devotees
I could chant Hare Hare all day long
and the food is phenomenal
though my money is on Kali to kick your *** if needed

the Sufis are the most beautiful and poetic
I can whirl as ecstatically as any dervish and
Rumi, the quintessential lover, was my inspiration
25 years ago, long before he was cool
I can prove it, I have out of print editions

African Orishas are mysterious and fascinating
I did my final thesis on Umbanda
(in 1997, were you even born?)
a syncretic blend of spirit possession and spiritualism
a lovely shade of brown practiced primarily in Brazil
created culturally by African slaves mixed with European colonizers
with the indigenous  just trying keep their heads above the Catholicism

and, of course, we all have to respect
the Native American wisdom,
Wolf has always been my friend
in every sweat, she was with me

I should pay further respects
across the centuries I have been Egyptian,
Celtic, Greek
a keeper of arcane knowledge
for a small collection of mystic peoples

but in this time
my religion is science fiction
physics, neuroscience
my prophets are Tesla,
Philip K ****, David Bohm

while I give Teresa of Avila, Francis of Assisi and even
Thomas Aquinas
my deepest regards
there’s nothing bores me more
in my insatiable quest for truth and
insight into the human condition
than your tedious Christian god
There that should do it. And if not, I can also lecture you about Platonic solids, sacred geometry, urban design in Europe and the Americas, the history of zoning in the US, feminist sci fi authors, and well, to be honest, a **** ton of other stuff.

Move along children, enrich yourselves.
Exosphere Mar 2021
scams of the heart are most egregious
and while I don’t like to think the worst of you
alternative explanations seem absurdly naive
though, I am a descendant of European colonizers
and we are a notoriously jaded bunch
I dreamt I was in a fight for my life
with a lion that turned out to be a dog
the owner spoke Zulu
but he turned out to be an english man
onlookers seemed unbothered by the attack
A second dog joined the assault
ripped my index finger off my hand
still no one intervened
I strangled the second dog to death
and spit on the first one
I was calm during the whole ordeal
as ****** as it was.
Moments later
I decided to wake up cause the fight was unpleasant
In Zulu spirituality  dogs in your dreams represent enemies
cause they came with our colonizers the Britz, the dutch,
french huguenots and the germans.
I woke up and washed in sea salt to cleanse my soul and my centuries old wounds.
I wonder if I should stayed asleep and fought on.
Tonight I would be ready for the **** dog
taking my Shaka Zulu spear to bed.
Exiled In Thrive
Exiled colonizers
Are fighters so wild –
And narrow neither,
Nor barrow wide

Can stop their hopeless-
Ness on their way:
Ambiguous prowls
Breathe day after day...

Those zombies a nation
Come there to pose:
What passed not to mention
And blasts make to toss

Colonial fringes
Will cut and conform
Those bled “aborigines”
Who learn to adore…

Uprooted be *****!
Shells out from seeds! –
Not buying or selling
Shall roses and weeds

Be now in mingling
Of petals alive:
Expansion of dwindling –
Expats be in thrive!..
Louise Oct 31
I handpicked you,
with these hands that clawed their way out
of death and then back to your inner city.
More carefully than finding shells
on a beach, on an island down south.

I handpicked you,
with these hands that engraved stones
and carved runes from the walls.
More desperately than ancient men learning
how to write and draw for the first time.

I handpicked you,
with these hands that shook with the devil
and in the same manner, greeted saints with.
More intentionally than touching artifacts
in a museum, within a country of colonizers.

I handpicked you,
with these hands that wrote law, poems,
and stabbed enemies lurking in the tombs.
More defiantly than a monster experiencing
how it feels to be betrayed for the last time.

𝘚𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘢-𝘪,
My chosen,
you have no choice but to give in.
My love,
it is now my heart that you live in.
My destiny,
it is my body that you will be buried in.
“Ahmanet” series from Halloween 2024: PART II 🎃
Ryan O'Leary Sep 25
This Land Is Your Land

Irish Refugee Racists are
genetically compromised
by the able ***** of slave
trader colonizers who no
doubt impregnated souls
and bodies and minds of
their ancestors, because
the descendent’s of true
Celtic Brehan’s feel no
such animosity’s to their
fellow humans in need of
security sanctity & shelter.

Welcome I say, to all who
wish to come and stay in
any part of the Irish Isle &
that includes, fleeing Jews.

— The End —