"colonizing" poems
Science is a wonderful thing, it is
Science is here, there, and surrounding all.
From the mines below to the rocketships above
Technology surrounds us, one and all
We have mixed substances to make concrete
And use concrete to create our buildings.
Science is such a magnificent thing
And for a couple reasons you see.
Today, lasers that can destroy aircrafts
‘Morrow even colonizing planets
But one thing is true and one thing is real,
Science is really our true compassion.
As we search for extraterrestrials
As we look towards spatial expansion.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 10:20 AM UTC
To future conquering civilizations
in galaxies far far away . . .
don't worry about polluting the air,
our smokestacks have shot dirty-bombs
into the clouds for centuries,
mixing rain drops with the
black grime of industrialization,
transforming our children's tears
into cesspools of sulfuric acid and ddt.
We've also drained the bayous and swamps
and between you and me
don't even bother landing in Africa
there isn't suitable drinking water
for miles, you see.
You can thank years of colonization for that.
In fact, you may not want to land
on Mondays, Tuesdays, or Thursdays
in LA either-
on those days the air quality index
is 175 and far too unhealthy for any
biological organism to survive.
But at least you won't die of malnutrition
you've got decisions:
McDonald's or Burger King
choose
cholesterol and diabetes are your shock troops.
Send them in immediately,
there won't be much resistance
we've got these things call lazy boys
and daytime t.v which have
enslaved the population and decreased
the distance
between fully functioning
human beings and mindless apes.
Don't worry about bringing weapons
we've got those too
we've perfected the art of blowing each other away
there's not much for you to do.
we destroy cities with fire from the sky
and our mushroom clouds rise
at least ten miles high.
And god can't see, there's too much smoke
in his eyes
and our radiated children die
with radiated sighs.
While we are on the topic
don't worry about us spreading
propaganda
we've lost the ability to communicate.
We've learned
books turn a peculiar dark yellow
when lighted and burned.
And forget erasing history,
we've done that too.
Our subjugation of native peoples
is masked as 'patriotism'
under the red, white, and blue.
But don't get me wrong,
I tell you all
of this not to dissuade,
please come and attack,
please come and invade.
Here, I'll even turn
on the lights . . .
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 9:06 PM UTC
What is it about this chase that eludes me
That runs away from me
That seeks to experience and then flee me
Until I get hijacked by another
Consenting to my own free fall into ignorance and bliss
Conditioning myself to transmit
Abundance without reservation
Until shot at the knee
But dragged along for a while longer
By the chains I so genuinely let bind me
And even before the wounds have healed
I don't stop running, I won't stop running
Resolute in a chase that targets me
I do so unconditionally
But you can't hijack my senses
I am not an experience or experiment worth having
I am not a temporary treat to be improperly digested and defecated
I am not an amber that ignites upon initial contact
To then be mediated or extinguished if the temperate is not right
I am not the holy water that you colonize
And shower with to cleanse you
To then invalidate that sanctity
When it falls down the drain
I am not a barometer that reliefs the labor
Needed to challenge the aberrations
Of your colonized and colonizing tendencies
I exist
Physically insignificant
As the earth that birthed me and will bury me
But eternal in essence
I am a permanent presence
I am an unforgettable imprint
I am your equal, no less, no more
The moment that we mutually acknowledge
Each other's existence
I have bound myself to you
From that moment...loved you unconditionally and eternally
And expect no lesser commitment
From you to me, or any other person you meet
And even after the wounds have healed
I don't stop running, I won't stop running
Resolute in a chase that targets us
We must unleash our abundance unconditionally
And when we leave
We will have given
Absolutely everything
That we had to give
During that time of our existence
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
“I remember the bed just floating there” is how Phil Kaye started his ‘repetition’ poem.
I remember pausing the youtube video after the poem ended.
I remember burying my feelings under 3 blankets and 4 hours of binge watching spoken word poetry.
I do not remember the dreams I could have had.
I remember the set of nightmares that visited religiously like the downstairs neighbor tired of how loud my heart pounds at late evenings.
I remember, very clearly, how they went.
I do not remember if I have written them down.
Dream one: he peels my freckles off my skin; he says he needs them because his coffee is too light. I scream while he calmly adds pints of the cheeks to his cup. He says I can never be as quiet as the girl who managed to sneak into his ribcage and build herself a bedroom.
Dream two: We are standing in the great library of Alexandria. He pulls the sea from underneath my feet and stuffs it into his back pocket. He says he needs it because he is tired of drowning himself in uncertainty. I start to cry and he says: Aries is the god of war, and women born under this sign confuse war for love.
I remember the mole on his left ear growing bigger in my nightmares without me ever watering it.
I remember he smelled of tangerine trees and broken records.
I do not remember if his face looked like the man I almost fell in love with last winter, or my father.
I remember the first time I saw my father after he came back from Ukraine.
I remember his brown leather shoes that oozed of old spice cologne and neat scotch.
I remember his hardly worn pair of glasses and the pieces of me they never cared to read.
I remember the wrinkles that seemed newer than his glasses slowly colonizing his hands... the hands that never held me as tight as the dress I wore to my school prom hoping it would catch my ex’s attention.
I remember that dress.
I remember it had a floral print reminiscent of the season that I was named after hoping maybe it would remind him I’m part him.
I remember realizing he will never remember.
And now, I sit on a carpet of autumnal leafs as crisp as my tied tongue and as dead as my fears, trying to turn my love for him into more than just a memory.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 4:00 PM UTC
resuming vogon poetry
altering website logos
pretending everyone cares
playing "east hastings"
asphyxiating well-nigh denouement
depicting twitter status
obfuscating coincident deletions
translating from Sḵwx̱wú7mesh
assuring Sḵwx̱wú7mesh exists
painting skwiḵw's mother?
decrying micropolitical maelstrom
imbibing fireball fountain
inundating lexical foofaraw
crafting poetic wonders
desiring other mediums
remaining practically invisible
ending internet-only depression
drafting noetic blunders
requesting astute clique
blazing perilous trail
aging ominous grisaille
depicting kmart realism
seeking darker groups
increasing pre-weekend laughter
appropriating communist symbols
making lone chuckle
offending worldwide communists
colonizing hello poetry
colonizing parallel universe
relaxing e-migration policies
пить чистую водку
photographing abduction scene
¿losing consistent format?
increasing bluebird insignia
avoiding frivolous legalities
striking astraphobic comments
assuming near-universal automation
lowering latent inhibition
traversing oneiric plane
laxwadding afebrile loodies
wallscaping pitchsourced chthonicities
closing one-star conveniences
sharing alien-looking alphabet
writing system downtimes
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
She did her happy dance
As she walked down the stairs
And that hug was the evidence for unconditional love
Like that fight between pomegranate seed and the teeth
Love burst at the right pressure
She did her happy dance
And visioned eternity
But I don't believe in unconditional love
So right before dawn I prepared to leave
As I do every time I sense love on the horizon, rising with the sunrise
Take me with you, she said - let's run
I've been choked before - I thought
And told her I'll be going for a spin
Spider webs were colonizing my bicycle
I find freedom as the air shapes my face into a smile
I am far now, in that shed were I hid myself
And I'm not intending to return
I will be watching the sunset alone
Her eyes were intending to nail the sun
On the wall of our destiny
I speak highly of the sunset
But she insisted to capture the light
She believed in unconditional love
I believe in unconditional positive regard
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 1:08 AM UTC
“Two teaspoons of coffee, one teaspoon of sugar, and pour it right before it boils down”, my mother said smelling the coffee she is cooking to perfection. I stand there and wonder what scent Hamlet was smelling when he said “Something’s rotten in the state of Denmark”, I’m guessing it’s the same scent colonizing this house. I look at the ***** ceiling and start sniffing the air. My mother looks at me and says “your nose is nearing the skyline, keep it where your feet are. Men don’t like prideful women”.
I looked around trying to see what smelled so repulsive. My grandmother lit incense, my sister baked a fresh orange cake for celebration, my other sister splashed a few drops of the musk that the Arab man gifted us all over the house, and father held a stack of 500 Riyal banknotes to his nose.
The rich Arab that knocked on our door last week asking if we have an extra womb for sale is visiting again today. My mother prepared a hot bath for me an hour ago; she said I have to smell like freshly uprooted Baladi roses, so I soaked in the bathtub trying to figure out what is this repulsive scent I am smelling.
Right after I finished my bath I told my mother “something stinks”. Her reply was dragging me to the kitchen where she teaches me how to make coffee. I say “mother, nobody drinks coffee here”, she says “You need to learn how to properly make coffee to serve our sheikh some tonight. Remember, eyes on the ground”. I reply reciting the lesson she just taught me “Keep them where my feet are”.
I hear people in the city overlook what lies beneath their feet; a 16 year old city girl will never know what it means to have to walk 30 kilometers with a broken shoe in order to read one book. I guess farming taught me a thing or two about looking down. I remember reading before that African slaves were shipped to America to primarily work in farms, coffee and sugar farms to be exact. I realize now what this stink is. I look at my mother and tell her “I will not marry him. This ring reeks of slavery”. She looks at me in astonishment, and I reply reciting the lesson she just taught me “and pour it right before it boils down”.
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 7:18 PM UTC
settlers came to the frontier lands
holding guns in their seizing hands
the tribal people's tears and blood
fell on the earth in a torrential flood
they'd been dispossessed of terrain
so lasting was the anguishing pain
their ancient grounds ceded away
to the occupier's colonizing sway
the Indians of the vast Dakota plains
had a culture under great strains
the foot-print put down by forebears
was nearly lost like the brown bears
yet the spirit of the tribes still survive
in their ancestral territory it's alive
they've a heritage enduring of flow
which is seen in the sun's risen glow
Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 12:09 AM UTC
i. picture this, just for a second. instead of waving from a mile away, we walk up the gently sloping hill together, side by side. the sky sheds its bruises above us. we could hold hands, if you wanted. what do you see in the morning clouds? tell me what it felt like, to swallow a star.
ii. i think of you all the time. i’m getting used to the weird volcanic eruptions in my chest when i see you leaning against the front gates at school or lacing up your shoes or when you tell me how much you hate durian, or whatever. you’ve got a habit of inclining your head slightly when you say “all right” or “okay.” i’ve noticed all kinds of things. i wish i didn’t.
iii. but tell me more about yourself. what’s your favorite color? do you get along with your sister? are you content here, with me, lying on a vast expanse of green on a dying planet, or do you still dream of colonizing a different soil? where do you go, when you get tired of running?
iv. here. give me your palms. look—your lifeline, strong and sturdy and sure. i’d like to trace your veins with sharpie someday (or perhaps even with my own hands, if you would let me). when you cross the finish line next week, maybe you’ll throw your arms up, the universal victory gesture, and maybe you’ll think of me the same way i think of you. maybe. just maybe.
v. so let’s ditch the world tomorrow and get coffee together after school. let’s tell jokes and forget everything else exists, and no, you don’t have to worry about the bill.
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 9:01 PM UTC
I . Taytu Betul as a leader
Ethiopia is famed for being
A peaceful,hospitable
And warrior nation
How come then it failed
To come to your attention,
As bees whose hive is threatened,
Citizens are ever alert to
To foil provoked aggression!
The 1889 treacherous
Wuchale treaty
I will tear apart
A messenger,with a tail
Between your legs,
Before you depart.
The Italian version
That tries to put Ethiopia,
A sovereign state, a pawn
Under Italy's protectorate
Is completely opposed to
What Ethiopia's
Versions indicate.
Till we meet
Your colonizing troops
At a showdown,
As a punitive measure to
A cheater or a clown
I will be tempted to smack
Your face
To ram home,valorous,
For fear we have no place.
II Taytu Betul a strategist
To deny the invading
Italian troops, advancing
from Eriteria,
Advantages of logistic
We could do
The following trick
Indeed, we could shift
The battlefield
From Adigrat to Adwa
Also we could cut them
From a key water point
Till for truce they plead.
To this end,
A battalion
I will personally lead.
What is more,
I will inspire
Women,combatants,too
To fire!
Parallel to that
Our injured soldiers
To nurse back
Wounded in the attack
Also dry foods
To prepare and pack.
III Taytu Betul as a wife
Though independent,
With lots of love to
Emperor Menelik II,
My king and beloved husband
I will lend a cooperative hand.
IV. A beacon of independence & standard bearer
True to my name Taytu
— A sunshine—
I will flicker
A ray of light
The oppressed for
Freedom to fight!
Women
For a military prowess,
Leadership and intelligence
Have acumen! ////
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 4:09 AM UTC
~
*Solandis
Solandis
Colonizing the past so we can dream the future
~
Stellify
Stellify
Heaven's at the bottom of this glass*
~
Feb 20, 2023
Feb 20, 2023 at 1:59 PM UTC
Green, stringbean bodies.
Neon skin, the color of
a lime being crushed
underneath a heel.
Tell me about earth,
I could hear the voice
in my head. Like a
radio being crumbled
up into a ball and
thrown into my
train of thought.
Earth?
Yes, Earth. Tell us about it.
Us?
There are forty-million listening.
Oh. Well, Earth. Earth. Earthy-Earth.
Earth is full of humans, like me.
People. Humans are people.
And people are hell.
In No Exit, there are these--
We've read No Exit.
You've read No Exit?
We've read everything humanity
has published, in a matter of
m o m e n t s.
You aren't as developed as you
seem to think you are.
What was the best thing you read?
We were partial to
Last Exit to Brooklyn.
Now, back to our question:
tell us about Earth.
If you've already read everything,
why do you need to ask,
let alone ask me?
You are the most
insignificant person
on this planet.
We are interested
in your thoughts.
I'm insignificant?
Yes.
Oh. I see.
Earth... Well, people...
People are beautiful.
The Earth is beautiful.
What makes us gorgeous
is our growth and our
desire to progress.
What makes us dazzling
is our belief that
a collective happiness and
an individual happiness
is both attainable
and sustainable.
Now, **** me
and annihilate
my planet, already.
That's why you're here,
right?
No. We're here to
harvest your women
and to colonize
everyone else.
You just persuaded us
to breed with your women.
But, that's ****
And colonizing?
That's slavery.
We've read everything
your planet has ever written.
**** and slavery has been
encouraged on your planet
since your brief breath of
e x i s t e n c e.
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 2:19 PM UTC
bit by bit
even
beneath the grasp of your hand
against my neck the pull
of my hair against my scalp
and the burning gasp
that is wrenched
from the confines of my throat
i will build it
bit by bit
stick by stick
pebble by pebble
and bone by bone
this city paradise
stretched along the length of my back
a river flowing between
the blades of my shoulders
white fog along the edge
of my skin blue
and purple flowers blooming
deep within the spaces
of my ribs
while the red crunch of autumn
dries clean and crusted
between my lips
and in the end
this is perfect regardless
of your absence i
am still building
and growing and
constructing and colonizing
and reclaiming the land
you took
away from me
*bit by bit
i'll pave over
the remainders
of your presence*
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 1:35 AM UTC
Main road marked on all sides
By small shops
Vendors sell bananas
Banks are centralized and closed
No corporate vulture multinationals
Except the one I chose
To make a living representing
My empire’s softest power plays
The spending, buying, mass consuming,
Wifi access money maze
The neoliberal colonizing
Culture shocking tidal waves
Still ebbing in the rolling hills
And crashing in the daily pills
The vivid dreams dissolve and fade
Digesting final three square meals
And learning what it means to be
A self-sufficient person
Goods and services exchanged
At rates that make my head spin
Topsy turvy circuses
New temples to the excess gods
Converting them as we decline
To little more than human lives
Devaluing as dollar signs
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 12:35 PM UTC
Exponential Nothing
cancer
whiteness is a free radical
no allegiance to organic intelligence
exerted by a force
a pressure
that made some of us humans
slaves
no loyalty to being a human
once and for all
our bodies do not know
what to do with it
like fake sugar
used to be real
used to be liquor
used to be steel
nuclear whiteness
instability
exponential nothing
it did not take nature
into its equation
colonizing our cells
deep
affecting our gene function
what is the cure?
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 9:03 PM UTC
The only problem with 'Moonstruck'
is Cosmo's moon could never be so large in winter,
stand for luck.
Mid-winter sledding brought joy
snow, speed, although the kids were beautiful
none were boys.
Walking the boundaries, and the old field
boundaries. Aged maples, barbed wire
past the cambium.
Northern hardwood all the way, except
less than an acre scotch pine plantation
and a few primeval spruce.
Pendant spruce cones in tree tops
colonizing the old field too. Conifers
a primitive civilization.
Lyonia has red, scaleless buds.
Shrub or small tree, maximum height 12 feet.
It's a heath, Ericaceae.
Small, white, bell-like flowers become
seamed capsules, similar to but smaller than
laurel, Kalmia.
The buds had me thinking red chokeberry,
Rosaceae, but of course the fruit
was completely wrong for a rose.
A timber stand improvement now
in the scotch pine would encourage tall
even straight trees, a cathedral.
The maples on the upper rocky slopes
where the skidders couldn't or wouldn't go
are impressive as eagles', hawks' nests.
Mid-summer, Spiraea, field of pink flowers
fully encircled by mountain ranges.
Bees working them.
Nancy, the broker, coming at five.
These 160 acres, a dream, are unnecessary.
Offer 500 dollars per acre.
Not an investment, a sanctuary.
Backed against the Taconic ridge,
real moon rising.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 2:10 PM UTC
you
non-
colonizer
friend, companion, self-intellectualizing
non-
colonizing
colonizer
who loves, cares, hurts
[ me ]
lays an offering
of violence
at
my
feet
non-
colonizing
colonizer
this is how you love
[ me ]
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 6:29 PM UTC
She is clad
in white,
even the stain
on her satin
underwear
is pallid.
As tear drops
well up
in both eyes,
she pleads,
"For God's sake
always wear white,
Do not provoke
the bull in heat
by showing red
in front of the
huffing beast"
Spare a thought
for her, discern
her reasoning
well, see her plight
with open eyes.
Men in black
with violent streak
imbued from
stone age powwows
are on the march
through high streets,
colonizing homes.
Media, self obsessed
and power drunk,
periodically shriek
make mandatory
noises to please itself,
but to no avail,
in a globalized world,
strangely getting
polarized in micro level
men and women, remain
just pawns pulled in to
the simmering cauldron
of boiling turmoil.
But see this;
a woman in white,
holding up a white flag
she signals surrender
in abject fear,
can't attack her, right?
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 9:46 AM UTC
A man tore himself apart
It was just the other day
Limb to limb, bit to bit
****** pulp, sinew askew
And now he sits and wonders
Was he always in such discord?
Or was this a fabrication
A fabrication of the mind
Or of the absence of a mind
Self diagnosed insanity
A man who had reached an end
A break, a crack, in his psyche
Exhausted every nodule of sense
Along the highway of consciousness
But how has it come to this?
What was it that sent him into madness?
Was there an actual affliction?
Or did he see his reflection?
He took his manifestation of monotony
Blew it to pieces with a shotgun blast
Picking out buckshot with broken fingers
Each pellet another unanswered question
How many times can a man crush himself
Before he's pressed too thin?
How many times can his world be flipped
Before he knows which way is up?
How many deaths must he endure
Before he feels alive again?
But he can no longer take action
After all these mindless meltdowns
He lays on the forest floor, motionless
Becoming one with the earth
Buried in leaves and branches decaying
The dirt below him is cold and wet
Insects crawling and colonizing
Marching through his rotting flesh
And it all feels romantic and beautiful
Sunlight and serenity fall upon him
Feeling nothing and everything
And then nothing again.
Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 2:27 PM UTC
I come from the city of a thousand planets
Covered in a dark grey mineral called stannite
My orbit spirals, loops and dances
Creating hypnotic trances
The proletariats , march on, one by one
Colonizing, constructing, creating around the sun
Plebeians flock on mass to marvel
Its castle with glass and marble
Sparkling water flows from the heavens
Unleashing its powerful Armageddon
Returning to the unholy seven.
The proletariats march on, one by one
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 10:39 PM UTC
Infamy
Shunned liked a hermit
Recluse heart
Wallowing in alienation
Afflicted with vex
Persistent feeling glued to his thoughts
Wierd
Tardy when the revelation dawned
Irresistible and irreversible feelings
Lustful eyes in a fine frenzy rolling
Doth cursory look at a he
Sets off unanticipated secretion of testosterone
And tingling sensation between the legs
He is trapped inside this ****
Abnormal
Sitting is a herculean task
Unendurable pain
Yet it feels contentful Hence from the commencement
Inclination engulfed his life
Leading to a point of no return
Addiction
Face obscured behind shroud of his palm
Face wet with overflow of tear
Pain saturated query
In this world why forth was he brought
The pain don't drown the dejection away
Desperate
Dark corner
Alone afraid howling out
Emotions colonizing his brains
Slowly he strips down to his birthday suit
The ghoul in the mirror is nothing like he used to be
Wasted maimed by sadism
An emblem
A permanent tatoo of the wicked life he chose
Abomination
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 11:21 AM UTC
It drones on, with empty determination,
the moving mouth;
pouring out a jumble of blurring monotones,
onto halfhearted minds.
While stiff gears grind the rust of in-imagination
and spin silent thoughts,
that stay quiet and subdued.
The people move in silent obedience
to some empty hearted duty;
colonizing the corridors like clockwork,
hoping to find refuge in the knowledge,
behind their murmuring doors.
Solace to the lurking shadow,
a fragile future,
hung by fears and dollar signs.
An intangible force,
that makes our feet march in time,
along the road to success.
Jun 3, 2025
Jun 3, 2025 at 3:27 PM UTC
Reverse colonisation
is the price of empire.
Ireland, the only non
colonizing european
state sadly missed out
on the Arab Diaspora.
It is my dream to see
Monsieur Cardin bequeath
his entire Lacoste portfolio
to the Bedouins.
All for one and one for Allah!!
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 12:01 PM UTC
why do you mind?
let him cry if he wishes
for he longs
he seeks for the womb which gave him comfort
and now out of the woods
tragically spinning like webs
and mobs colonizing dungeons
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 10:18 PM UTC
You have to let the thinkers think
The dreamers dream
The speakers speak
The schemers scheme
The wolves among us feast on sheep
The shepherds teach them how to reap
The harvest of community
The plenty space for unity
If being free is what we want
Equality must be the need
Prioritized beyond our profit
Mass-producing greed machine
Still colonizing everything
Then selling you the diamond ring
The social contract theory bomb
The buffer states that look like Guam
And from the satellites they beam
That perfect family fifties feeling
Reaching for your credit card
With isolation’s *** appealing
Movie star aestheticism
Gaping black hole fetishism
Whispering it’s holiest
Pale ghosts of fascist soviets
Still letting all the thinkers think
The dreamers dream
The speakers speak
The schemers scheme
As money sorts the in-between
Dec 20, 2017
Dec 20, 2017 at 1:28 AM UTC