"complicity" poems
let's all revel in the duplicity
duplicate posts that lack authenticity
authentic thoughts fall to the simplicity
simple minds are guilty of complicity
a new origin of no originality
original thinking crushed by formality
formal rules lead to our commonality
common perspectives to lower our mentality
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 3:00 PM UTC
Wanderlust warlock blaspheme rapacity
Obsequious diligence pier pair appearance
Obstreperously vituperative vociferous tenacity
Consortium eclectic synectics concurrence
In extremis extremity cantilever capacity
Citadel clairvoyance pilaster conveyance
Inductive integration interpolative audacity
Derivative factor derivational appliance
Futurity fatidic’s laconic sagacity
Aseity veracity cacophony compliance
Accidence ambience aesthetics opacity
Acoustical articulation intonational occurrence
Apomixes anabolics histophysiological mendacity
Epistemological somatalogy syntactics refulgence
Refractive reflective semantics complicity
Hephestian dialectics Hegelian effulgence
Linguistic syntax synaptic intensity
totally tangential
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 9:10 AM UTC
The worst thing about abuse
is not so much the guilt
of feeling you're to blame
that you should never
have been so attractive
so irresistible, so seductive
though in all other contexts
you felt anything but,
were filled with doubt
and lacked self confidence
No, the worst thing of all
is the way that when
it's repeated enough times
you get used to it, inured
then in time there's a part
of you comes to welcome
that expected familiarity
need it even, participate,
share the other's pleasure
But the rest of you
rails against this
taking of your autonomy
this removal of consent
and that part wages war
upon the part that
gives it's acquiescence
and you are fractured
hating your complicity
despise that you made it
in any part your fault
Yet to have healing
requires you recognise
the part of you
that went along
was no more to blame
than the part that didn't
it was just a coping strategy
you needed to survive
after all what else
could you have done?
Cynthia Pauline Jones, 18/10/13
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 6:07 AM UTC
Johnny can't join
his daddy has no car
Michael can't join
they don't like his shoes
Ahmed can't join
he has a funny name
Bobby can't join
supports the wrong team
"What's going on?"
bellows the red-faced teacher
"You can't treat each other like this!
"Have you ever been excluded?
"Yes?
"And how
"did it make you feel?"
He ushers them in, muttering
though somewhat gratified
by the shame in their eyes
Then herds them through
to assembly
where the guest of honour
is the minister
who proceeds to explain
to the obediently seated rows
that if they don't see things his way
they will be eternally,
terrifyingly
and agonisingly excluded
from the great big party in the sky
And the teacher hangs his head
in baffled complicity,
defeated.
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 2:56 PM UTC
I've learned to love my black face
to stand in adversity and embrace
all the god-perfected beauty that he has placed
on this resilient black face
resilient
able to recoil or spring back into shape after bending, stretching and being compressed
resilient
the capacity to recover quickly from difficulties the very definition of black and its beauty
the definition of 300 hundred years of slavery and then modern complicity to be black proud and beautiful openly
to live in a world where European features are aspired to and to be black is frowned upon so if you have any black then you’re shunned
But we all know the stars couldn’t shine without the black space allowing them
Any giving moment our black greatness could swallow them
And funny thing is the same black face you call a disgrace only to turn around and try to obtain the very thing you shunned
so why is it that my curly hair is detrimental to society and my full lips cause controversy and my ****** curves taking as trends and stolen from me
told that white is what is to be and white model thin is in
while you praise poseurs for their artificial curves and fake tanned skin
yet through all the racial sin that dates back to 1910 when the KKK became known for lynching black men still then
we are able to stand in a crowd of hate and discrimination
the years of toil being perceived as an abomination and still love our skin
still rock our curly hair and color our full lips
still embrace our curvy hips
and embrace our “ghetto names”
and our ghetto trends
proud of it
proud of my face
yes I'm proud of my skin
because to be black is to be beautifully resilient
By poetic90's
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 1:18 PM UTC
"Surreal skeptic, cynical cryptic! Licentious lecheries fabulist façade fantasias. Wild eyed spectral serene. Dream of catenary concoctions, ethereal salacious conjugation, bridge the gap in metaphysical mystique. Erotica erectile errantry’s exserted protuberance is a kinesiology kleptomaniac with his embark embargo extraditions and his eventuation evocative execrations, a positive amalgamated anathema android of a terminus thrall. The shadow in the shade of the silhouette sojourn. The bailiff’s rakeness rails incarnate, unicorn railway nails and all. He will paint mirador bartizan panorama tableaus all over your proximity parameter perimeter peripherals. Force the enmity to acquiesce into impunity.” “Why this is not but an ogling ogre of an oligarchy omelet” she shrieked as he continued to tickle her. “Down here at the bizarre bazaar we all believe in the blasphemous farcical fugueness,” he said. “Positive orchestration renditions of transpositional interlude.” “Come here,” she said “let my clambering clamorous clangor write you a wield wile treatise expose’.” “The legions of Chinga da are battling the hoards of Gunga din saying ‘kinetic supremacy temporize tractive fluent’ , it’s sheer genocide. That plasty goop nosed Gumby ****** Gunga doesn’t stand a chance. Coax cacophony clout, catatonic phonics, grizzly grotto grouches all”, She squealed. “Now you’re gumption dreaming”, he chimed. “Chutzpah panache spontaneous generation complicity, gambit alluvium aloof succor.”
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
#
It was not the beast alone
that hollowed the soul,
but the silence
that made a chamber for it.
The silence of fathers
who looked away.
The silence of mothers
who smoothed the tablecloth
and spoke of other things.
The silence of friends
who chose comfort
over confrontation.
Every unspoken word
became a shroud.
Every careful pause
became a nail.
Every smile that denied
became another grave.
The beast feasted,
not only on wounds inflicted,
but on truths unspoken,
on the complicity
of quiet mouths.
And so silence
killed more surely than rage,
for rage at least
named what was broken,
but silence gave it a home.
*The deadliest weapon
that lays in the hands
of Death itself
is not the sword;
but the silence sharpened
against the soul.*
#
Aug 28, 2025
Aug 28, 2025 at 10:03 PM UTC
If you're complicit
It's not illicit
To keep your mouth closed.
But, know you this,
When women are dissed
With words like ***** and **
You're surely committing
Sins of omission,
From your head
Down to your toes.
You left no doubt,
When you didn't speak out,
You're spineless
And missing marrow.
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 1:30 PM UTC
This is a very important day
A grand and glorious day
The day on which we became a Republic
Thanks to the guiding light
Of Babasaheb Dr. B.R.Ambedkar
The Architect of the Constitution
And the True Father of the Nation
If it were not for the great leader's efforts
In creating such a precious document
Many of us would have been denied
Our basic rights and freedoms
There would have been no equality
Many of us would have been languishing
In the gloomy confines of Tihar Jail
In fact, many of us
Wouldn't even have had the chance to live!
This is a very important day
A grand and glorious day
Or, is it really?
Today is the day
On which we take the pledge
To follow and protect the Constitution
But do we really follow it?
Is there really equality everywhere?
Is everyone getting their basic rights?
Are we really a free country?
Is our human rights record
Really something to be proud of?
This is a very important day
A grand and glorious day
Or, is it really?
If Dr. Ambedkar were alive today
He would have been speechless
With sheer shock and outrage
At the way in which
Our Constitution is being misused
Whether it be innocents languishing in jail
Or the atrocities inflicted by the trigger-happy police
Or arbitrary bills being passed
To benefit the rich and the powerful
Or people being denied a chance to love
Because they belong to different religions
Or an entire state being trapped and besieged
And cut off from any kind of communication whatsoever
And of course, casteism in a myriad variety of forms
At each and every level, whether overt or subtle
The list goes on and on
With no end in sight
This is a very important day
A grand and glorious day
Or rather, supposed to be
In reality, a very sad day
We are cowards at heart
We wear our patriotism on our sleeves
We scream from the rooftops
India! India! India!
But we never question injustice
The sheer injustice perpetrated on a daily basis
On many of our brethren
Especially the marginalised communities
They are also equally patriotic
But we deny them the chance
To even share the stage with us
Till we, the privileged majority
Acknowledge our complicity
In all the injustice and inequality
And start making amends
In action, not mere words
There is no point in celebrating Republic Day
Jan 26, 2021
Jan 26, 2021 at 1:39 AM UTC
The sad thing is
I could have justified my instruction
with the simplest of reasons.
I would not have asked
a harmful or a wicked task of him
and I could have explained that
with perfect clarity.
But in the instant that he asked 'Why?'
my patience failed
and I said, 'Because I told you to.'
The implied threat was sufficient
and the task was done, satisfactorily.
If I had only known
that I would become one in a long line
planting furrow after furrow of bitter seeds
in this young man's head,
each of which would grow
into the toxic blossom of blind obedience
I would have checked myself that day.
But I did not.
And any inquest worth its salt
would line me up beside him,
beside parents, teachers, priests,
drill sergeants, generals, presidents
A line of dominoes
aimed remorselessly
at a smiling young woman with a placard
in a park, in Istanbul.
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 8:25 AM UTC
see no evil.
turn your blind eye
away from the ****** assault victim.
hear no evil.
do not listen to mother earth cry.
speak no evil.
when you justify
polluting the planet
with your GDP,
and give racism power
with your silent complicity.
hear no evil.
turn up your distractions
to quiet the disapproving shouts
of the whole world.
see no evil.
believe the images of brown skin children
locked in cages
for profit
are fake news.
you don’t heed their suffering.
speak no evil.
because in america,
other languages shan’t be heard.
you’re the monkey,
and monkeys don’t ask questions.
be not evil
?
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 11:01 PM UTC
You cringeworthy, evil pismire;
Your father did surely miss-sire
This personification of flatulence,
The embodiment of self importance
Overflowing with abject peccancy
Devoid of any sign of respectability
Replete with gross odoriferousness
Horribly and infamously unscrupulous.
You have reveled in misrepresentation
And tried to elevate your calumniation
Disinformation and deception exists
As capitalistic dissembling persists.
You’ve collected an evil government
Built mostly of human excrement
And have such a lack of veracity
That you speak in constant mendacity.
Sycophantic eructations of dogmatic bile
Issue from your unsympathetic smile
And your inauthentic glad-handed gropes
As if we all of us are unbright gullible dopes
That buy your fabrications completely
While you pilfer and prevaricate indiscreetly.
You are a Vaudevillian villain miscast as star,
But most of us know exactly what you are.
Deceit, deception, dishonesty; a tragedy
But not for you, for us and our country.
Distortion, evasion and fabrication the rules;
You despair of any other kinds of tools.
Falsehoods, fictions and forgery are your tricks.
You demand we build with straw-less bricks
Your erections that are planned to be palaces
Filled with your giant golden carved phalluses.
Those monuments, inanotomically correct,
Established to celebrate and somehow protect
A mountebank on the way to an overseas bank
Claiming to eradicate the scoria he creates
That decades of privation will not quite alleviate.
But you, the Great Prevaricator, will always blame
Other players in your sick, unconstitutional game
Instead of admitting your complicity and guilt
About the disgusting, putrid swamp you built.
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 2:32 PM UTC
My beloved,
The night is orange with the oppression of city against cloud. I sit outside, staring blankly at the exposed brick of another building as mosquitos prey upon my distraction. My heart cries out for you as I do - we ache together in the solitude of our nights. I do not know of the future, for all I feel is the cold knife of your absence. All I own is hope, hope in the anguish I hold, the longing that serves as proof of the intensity of our love. Though I know we will be together soon, I hold our nightly funeral, guarding our ashes and awaiting our ressurection. This death that is worse than death consumes me, yet day forces my face to change into one of complicity. If those who surround me could only feel how much I yearn for you, they would leave me silently by our tomb. However, I stand alone, a woman with her eyes upon the horizon, searching always for her sailor. I touch the Atlantic with the knowledge that it is the only obstacle that stands between us, and embrace it as a friend rather than a rival to be conquered. Soon, this sea will deliver me into your arms, and soon I will no longer serve as sentinel to our funeral pyre. Your hand will touch my shoulder, awakening me from this reverie, a long-forgotten dream of the past.
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 2:51 AM UTC
"Surreal skeptic, cynical cryptic! Licentious lecheries fabulist façade fantasias. Wild eyed spectral serene. Dream of catenary concoctions, ethereal salacious conjugation, bridge the gap in metaphysical mystique. Erotica erectile errantry’s exserted protuberance is a kinesiology kleptomaniac with his embark embargo extraditions and his eventuation evocative execrations, a positive amalgamated anathema android of a terminus thrall. The shadow in the shade of the silhouette sojourn. The bailiff’s rakeness rails incarnate, unicorn railway nails and all. He will paint mirador bartizan panorama tableaus all over your proximity parameter perimeter peripherals. Force the enmity to acquiesce into impunity.” “Why this is not but an ogling ogre of an oligarchy omelet” she shrieked as he continued to tickle her. “Down here at the bizarre bazaar we all believe in the blasphemous farcical fugueness,” he said. “Positive orchestration renditions of transpositional interlude.” “Come here,” she said “let my clambering clamorous clangor write you a wield wile treatise expose’. The legions of Chinga da are battling the hoards of Gunga din saying", "kinetic supremacy temporize tractive fluent" , "it’s sheer genocide. That plasty goop nosed porker of a Gumby ******* ***** monger Gunga doesn’t stand a chance. Coax cacophony clout, catatonic phonics, grizzly grotto grouches all”, She squealed. “Now you’re gumption dreaming”, he chimed. “Chutzpah panache spontaneous generation complicity, gambit alluvium aloof succor.”
Dec 14, 2017
Dec 14, 2017 at 1:26 AM UTC
Just a few thoughts.
Whilst colonialism by waring nations have steadily decreased across the globe.
(((Or until the next euro-war kicks off)))
Corporate colonialism has steadily increased, seizing power in society, using it's social and economic influence to extract resources; with little or no concern for the worlds fellow inhabitants.
That's because corporate colonial power has no stake, or little compassion for the welfare of indigenous populations or local economy's; over resources.
The super elite are so detached from reality, that they literally live in Alyssum; requiring just a small workforce and an army to realise production or the acquisition of global assets.
Our worlds leaders seemingly avoid all the negative consequences of their complicity in return for there compliance.
The welfare of the surplus population, especially those too young, or too old to work is unprofitable; and as such, is poorly funded, just enough to pacify the masses and stave off civil-unrest.
Globally there is a constant and gradual increase in funding pharmaceutical, mining and military sectors, with the support of the media machine; and a gradual decline in funding environmental schemes, health, and education.

(There may be big trouble ahead)
Jun 6, 2021
Jun 6, 2021 at 9:14 AM UTC
I’ve written enough small poetry
to start a nuclear war.
Do you want to die in traffic
behind the wheel of your car? Or in yr rodeer camp next fall.
Control eludes us. The hero
loses urinary control, the unified nation
loses missile control, lost my timepiece, lost my metronome,
now my music is ethereal as an archangel’s.
No owl hoots or duck quacks
or squirrels ********
or spiders spanning rampikes.
The floccinaucinihilipilification of nature.
No greater tragedy than a tipping
point that tests the hero’s gullibility, complicity,
self-control, comity, sense of humor
which is the only remedy not to hate those in authority.
Them guys with guns at the Michigan state house,
fat bearded tattooed ****** off white bros.
Norsemen, Crusaders, Vikings, Britons.
For despair there is no forgiveness. Peace out.
Nuclear mischief, mad Man’s most incandescent bloom
and the devil who exists to carry the load
when we misbehave and fight among ourselves.
I wake up to my skin boiling off my bones.
Humor is the only remedy, or is ardor the best way forward.
We’ll see how things work out in the next generation.
The same diverse, spoiled, unpatriotic revolutionaries as at the nation’s
beginning
trying to reverse the future, making phone calls to get out the vote in
Georgia, hating the desert for having no water.
Events keep piling up,
the future depends on ourselves.
Conflict is inevitable and in this conflict power must be challenged by
power
so err on the side of patience, perseverance and impermanence.
Dec 7, 2021
Dec 7, 2021 at 6:15 AM UTC
Dear Trayvon,
We should be rioting in the streets
But it’s raining.
We should be banging our fists
****** against the locked doors
Of state buildings screaming justice!
But the tea kettle is on and
I had one too many drinks last night, so.
I feel guilty for the protection of patriarchy, for never
Wondering as I walk home in the evenings
Who will shoot me
For my skin,
For never waking up at night from
The nightmare picture of my son’s killer
Smiling as he walks free.
They pretended this was
About youth violence and
Text messages and
Self defense, which is like saying
Matthew Shepard was about a broken fencepost
And the Holocaust was about the right
of innocent Nazis to collect gold fillings
From shattered jewish teeth.
You were black.
You were black. And being black
In America makes you threatening
And being scared
of a teenager turns ****** into
Neighborly behavior.
And I will never have to worry
About someone protecting themselves
From the threat of my skin.
So I will never have to question
My complicity in a country
That would rather shoot down
Than stand for
Its young men.
So I will stand outside
Drinking tea and letting the rain cry for me
While I beat my fists against nothing
And by the morning you will
Already be forgotten
Just like all the other
Beautiful threatening boys
We never cared enough to know.
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 1:30 AM UTC
When the ground jumped up to meet me
it was with the warmth of a former lover
left on good terms
(the timing just wasn't right.)
Surrender generated complicity.
Pound foolish, long face
betrayed something lost;
So with arms spread I fell
and fell…
and fell.
Lessons taught, forgotten...
Something about having big dreams.
A house doesn't need ghosts
to be haunted.
Send in the gods
so I can spit in their faces
one by one.
Just not Shiva.
Not yet.
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 9:33 AM UTC
I don't care about fashion anymore because of the odors! Deprive yourself of a new susceptibility to zamtok, who only cares for the telltale signs of externalities! Balancing your interests can also quickly lead to defects in taste! What does the exibitionist trend mean ?! Perhaps we don't even notice others simply because of their dressing habits, so that we can blend in with the sophisticated, elegant elite?
The culprits and the victims are thus put together, in a complicity, into dead-end stalemates, because they fear what the public opinion would say if many of them were to detect the protein in their teeth! - And once a health-minded, superficial-looking superficial, it is very upsetting; it might be a problem to try to see that exceptional One among many like that! The difference in the glass tiles of curved mirrors also looks different!
In the penultimate moments, are the Good Friends of Loyalty recognizable ?! Thugs and Timothy Tikitaki ?! - In all respects, the silent refusal of refuge is hiding silently; cocky misunderstanding shakes their heads and can keep them in cage captivity! The Imperial Ranking of Impossible Daydreams That Everybody Says Somebody or Something! Even now, some conscious mistrust is infecting!
All the cheap sensationalist celebrity pics have become more interesting; the message of sinking airships, instead of sitting at peaceful home conversations with sticky masses of secrets!
Mar 3, 2020
Mar 3, 2020 at 12:55 AM UTC
I cannot stand it, it weakens my core, it stifles my breath
The thought of him, forcing himself inside you
Making you whimper, unutterable sounds
Your unconditional complicity a gift, a given
Your abandon knowing no bounds
My manhood shriven
While I have dropped off the edge of your world
Your shapely limbs around him furled
And he, firmer, faster, harder, smarter, younger
Scoops up your jewels and riches with ardent hands
And hungry tongues, to burst your lungs
And all you can eats from your smouldering smorgasbord
And I don’t know him, nor where he lives
But I know he lives
And dies, and dies again in your scented garden….
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 12:56 AM UTC
Strange ineluctable rhythms have gradually and patiently entered my thoughts
Like a gradual orchestral cadence of soft melody subtly wisping around my whole being
They scamper in my blood become inseparable and live in me
Flocks of hallucinated concepts
I become possessed of ever changing moods
The catatonic calm
The delirious frenzy
The ungovernable mania
My pleas, my questions, are ignored
I live
In wondrous chaos
In disturbed turbulence
In manic colors
In the the Darwinianism of shapes
I experience a feeling of high elation
A complicity in my adopted position
Intoxicated by the prospect of my duality.
Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 1:31 PM UTC
Breathe.
It's only for a time.
Breathe.
Do not let the tears spill out.
Breathe.
But they laugh and laugh and laugh and I cannot handle their hands on each other and their smiles turned away from me and the complicity they share I am so
alone
In a sea of people
I put 5 plates
On a table and I am the odd one
Out.
I stare straight at the wall.
But they laugh and laugh and laugh and do not realize we are in a different universe.
I am the 5th plate.
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 5:15 PM UTC
who's reflection is this i see
staring back at me....
*forged in the flames of adversity
whispering ink leaking past blots
scarlet threads woven intricately
through portals of complicity
machinations of another time and place
laced within roots of strangling tendrils
mutated pretty posies succumb to history
dancing round the fire of life's indignities*
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 4:15 AM UTC