"corruptions" poems
*
Complicated right and wrong,
human mistakes gone prolong.
hard to stop when truth hides
from many unseen lies.
Corruptions & conspiracies
Mimics love for money.
Population demands increase
and supply decrease.
Shortage of goods from over consumption.
Rare find in a brink of extinction.
*
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 6:24 AM UTC
i can never love you the way i claim — delicately and without violence. i remember hating flowers and broken seashells, and my grandmother, hand-sewing pastel dresses. deep down, my bones are raised on stories of ancient wars and biblical battles carried from memory to memory, a string of generational blunders — i am made of my father's bitterness and my mother's denial. so i will love you with corruptions and apologies, with bled-out veins, giving in like an emptied river, with all the poems i have read and forgotten, and with everything that makes me finitely human.
Feb 6, 2022
Feb 6, 2022 at 12:05 AM UTC
its tha return of tha gangsta thanks to ya
too many blacks out here livin' they life in fear
families seeing tears problems tier
blurry visions make it hard to see clear my dear
cant get through the atmosphere
feel me it's the return of the gangsta I'd like to thank ya
Malcolm for giving me the principles and reaching a few people's
opening minds to grinds and you'll find
me chilling on the corner puffing marijuana yep I'm a gonna
in society outlaw outcast put my thoughts on blast
techs is humming cuz I smell war coming armies drumming
po folks crying innocent victims dying
for no apparent reasons caught in daily treasons which gives me a reasons to put an end to Americas sin but too many folks stuck in
a fantAsy called reality in actuality
they plotting our burials G
troops overseas findings empty caves so the government can make saves war profiteers racketeering gangsters hustlers
exposing lies don't be a busta like a Douglass no diamonds in my cutlass couldn't move so I had cut less people out of my circle I'm nerdy as urkel yea my intellect carefully selects
what's real from reality I envision myself as well as my enemies in a fatality so battling me I was made for war built off the backs of my ancestors sore yea white house was built by the slaves for white supremacy kind of irony they sayin' my folks was lazy?
worked up from Sun up to Sun down
I can't believe my folks walking with they heads towards the grounds
how bout we get mad and let off gun sounds pound for pound
you know they can't hang with us
that's why they had to make laws against us
scared of rise and corruptions ain't a surprise through the eyes
of real people who realize pain ain't a substitution for happiness bliss
I guess I was sunkissed
by wisdom mouth open hail Mary entered me and told me
we all family eyes lit no **** no fit nothing
but a glowing brain exemption of fame down goes my name
in the book of life made wisdom my wife
she took my arm she's my charm
as I glance at the souls gunned down on plantations farms gangsta....
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 2:49 PM UTC
I'm afraid to fall asleep
Because if I sleep
I'll dream
And if I dream
I'll dream only of you
Not of the way
That your smile is beautiful
Or the way that your laughter is contagious
No -
Instead, I'll dream
Corruptions
Tragedies
Fatal accidents
Yes -
The way you'll jump for your escape
By leaping from your chains
Or the way you'll jump for your life
By leaping to your death
Off a heightened building;
Or the way in which
Unknowingly
You'll drag me down along with you
Because I can't live without you.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 5:55 PM UTC
My eyes are glossed,
I can not see.
I'm just as lost,
As a rootless tree.
Young strong ambition,
Brought down by the evils of humanity.
A good life was once my mission,
Now I question my sanity.
I feel separated from the world.
Reality is a fragment of my imagination.
What appears straight is curled.
Light is just a mere imitation.
We seek justice that is always blind.
For our laws are rooted in discrimination.
Greed serves as the currency of our kind,
And profit the sole motivation.
To see the corruptions of our society,
And sit outside and observe.
Brings a cold chill of sobriety,
and feeling of atrocity to my nerve.
My eyes are glossed,
I can not see.
I'm just as lost,
As a rootless tree.
For every beautiful creature,
There is complementary predation and blight.
For every miraculous feature,
There is a parallel of war and spite.
You can choose to accept things as they exist,
Or be the person that brings in change.
But if our current circumstances persist,
Our decedents will learn nothing but rage.
A wise man once said:
"Be the change you want to see."
So peace and love I will spread.
And live by the same decree.
I will use my tools,
Given to me by my Creator.
To make wise men of fools,
And make the common good greater.
My eyes are now clear,
And I can see.
I no longer appear,
As a rootless tree.
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 11:07 AM UTC
among the lean and
narrow hours
when the brutal minutes
aggrieve
like the protruding ribs
of an emaciated animal
abandoned things shuffle
into dark unkempt little rooms
littered
with the manifested debris
of a life
unspoken thoughts
in rusted cans
stacked heedlessly
on overused shelving
bowing perilously under the weight
mangled hopes
kicked into the corners
stuck to the floor
foul and fetid
vitiated with wasted time
black mold
leaking from dilapidated hearts
creating pointillism art
across the sagging plaster
overhead
consuming an ersatz
Sistine Chapel ceiling
saints and angels
prophets and devils
sepia toned
in their water stain media
disappearing
into corruptions artistic virtuosity
only God remains visible
reaching out
to give life
if any are left
to receive it
Nov 28, 2023
Nov 28, 2023 at 10:23 PM UTC
A wish is lost
In an instant. Outside
The street that never sleeps
Festers below sheets
Of bitter rain. Your eyes burn in
Words you cannot read.
Concrete shimmers in the
Gleam of a million tears.
The sky above is thick with years
Of tar, like an enormous pavement.
Eyes shut, but still
Blue light permeates the
Shallow barrier of your hands,
Corruptions of sin, and fear,
And silence. You try to scream, but
You do not know how.
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 5:32 PM UTC
A decomposer
of brutish sins oft
repeated, I worm
past the pretty germs
shut tight in candied
shells, bursting to birth
untapped corruptions.
It's on the sawdust
dollops buried deep
I feed, biting bits
from soiled skins riddled
by regrets of not
offending good more.
Turning their oaken
flavors o'er gently,
my mouth will work them
down to a relish
of soft, black leavings.
Apr 2, 2010
Apr 2, 2010 at 8:35 AM UTC
Look at where you are now,
look at what's become of you.
I'm so sorry that you have turned to pieces and dust.
All from letting your protective coat down,
from people who mistreated you.
The sad truth is,
that you're just the image of me,
how I feel inside.
Broken porcelain doll,
Broken porcelain doll,
who once was so beautiful,
but has fallen into so many wrong hands.
Hands that keep on breaking promises,
and those broken promises is what destroyed you.
Now that you're broken into pieces and dust,
we play a game,
a game that gambles this so called 'fate'.
Let it decide, for you to be thrown away,
or for you to be created into a new.
It's so unfortunate,
how many cruel people exist.
Due to their own experiences and choices they make;
from hurt, loss of values, corruptions and influences.
Yet, knowing the way they are,
they have the nerve to 'keep a promise'.
They think they can keep one,
though of eventually, it's forgotten.
Those are one of the things that made you fell apart.
These broken promises breaks you into pieces.
Sadly those people still exist.
They fend on the fragile creatures like you,
on the moment it's in their sight,
to keep breaking them all apart.
That's what makes them satisfied.
Sorry I went blind for a while,
poor you.
Maybe it wasn't meant to be.
For you to be created in this world,
that's filled with heartless souls.
So rest now,
you warn out, faded broken doll,
and just gamble with 'fate'.
Just waiting what'll decide.
I'm sorry,
I couldn't make you solid, no more.
For now, I'll gently caress whatever's left from you.
Broken pieces of porcelain, dust, and materials from your clothes.
The least we can do
is wish for the best to happen to you;
To be created into a new.
You never deserve this my inner-self.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 1:55 AM UTC
She's there on the corner this morning, as she is every morning.
A bundle of newspapers in her arms.
Her bundle of joy swaddled snugly on her back.
Her face time-worn, flush with the creases of a life insecure.
Her clothing time-tested, warm in the cold, cool in the heat.
Seemingly devoid of emotion, her face now and then reveals an inner light
– an inner light that flickers with the sale of a paper,
then comes to full beam with the coo of her son.
She probably doesn't — or can't — read the product she pushes
it serves merely to feed the mouths that call to her for sustenance.
Reports of pestilence, the day's corruptions and the growing war dead
are forgotten amidst the smiling innocence of her hijo.
Her son may never know material wealth, or even a life of plenty
but he'll know the love of his mother.
He may never ride in the fancy cars to which she caters, or vacation at Disneyland
but he'll understand the value of family.
One day, limbs that now flail aimlessly upon his mother's back will toil for her.
One day, his strong hands will do the heavy work so that his mother won't have to.
Perhaps, his efforts will keep her from perching her aging body on some unforgiving sidewalk,
at the feet of passersby, hand outstretched for pesos.
If he too can only avoid the pestilence, the corruptions and war that fill the front pages of the daily news.
May 26, 2010
May 26, 2010 at 10:01 AM UTC
She's there on the corner this morning, as she is every morning.
A bundle of newspapers in her arms.
Her bundle of joy swaddled snugly on her back.
Her face time-worn, flush with the creases of a life insecure.
Her clothing time-tested, warm in the cold, cool in the heat.
Seemingly devoid of emotion, her face now and then reveals an inner light
– an inner light that flickers with the sale of a paper,
then comes to full beam with the coo of her son.
She probably doesn't — or can't — read the product she pushes,
it serves merely to feed the mouths that call to her for sustenance.
Reports of pestilence, the day's corruptions and the growing war dead
are forgotten amidst the smiling innocence of her hijo.
Her son may never know material wealth, or even a life of plenty
but he'll know the love of his mother.
He may never ride in the fancy cars to which she caters, or vacation at Disneyland
but he'll understand the value of family.
One day, limbs that now flail aimlessly upon his mother's back will toil for her.
One day, his strong hands will do the heavy work so that his mother won't have to.
Perhaps, his efforts will keep her from perching her aging body on some unforgiving sidewalk,
at the feet of passersby, hand outstretched for pesos.
If he too can only avoid the pestilence, the corruptions and war that fill the front pages of the daily news.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 7:27 AM UTC
The New year 2013, in trepidation slips faintly;
head-long in India while it bleeds shockingly. .
The patient Sea awaits its souls rained rudely.
while somebody blocks their brooks brutally.
Poor parents awaits nurses as patients patiently
for nurses to nurse ere their pulse falls abruptly.
For thirteen days we forgot the feudal FDI fully
Our M.Ps’ empathy poured in media profusely.
“Thirteen” an accursed number mourns lowly
holding high the news of **** or hope crudely
News of corruptions and the corrupted partly
merge or submerge in clamour in vain freely.
The reckless leads a life carefree fearlessly
And they glide in politics scot-free wryly
Pharaohs wield the power to save and to ****
Challenging God’s sole unique authority, still.
The twinkling starry eyes, of my darling, fill
In me Calm Nature’s emerald hope and Will.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 4:52 AM UTC
They say
Where there is hope
There will be life
I say
What is life without
Happiness & fairness
What is life without
Proper funding
To buy even the
Basic Things
In life
I say
In hope
I see our children
Starving
In hope
I see our children
Gunned down
Everyday on our
Streets, and even
Inside their classrooms
In hope
I See too many
Heart broken
In hope
I see our blue Angels
Gunning down
My brothers, just
Because
Of the color of
Their skin
In hope
I see our elected
Officials
Corruptions at a
Different level
In hope
I see racism
Evolved
In hope
I see the world
On the verge
Of collapsing
In hope
I see pastors
Appearing
On television
Defending
The wicked
In hope
I see too many
Tears
From our
Mothers Eyes
In hope
I see nothing
But a path of
Thorns towards
Peace
In hope
I say
I am hopeless
And in
Hopelessness
I am lifeless
Yet
I’m still holding
On to hope
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 4:49 PM UTC
I cleansed my hands of corruption today
For I had done a filthy deed
I gazed into the mirror
I saw corruptions seed
In harvest of its fruits
My ends justified my means
And although there's not a mark
I'll not be truly clean
You may question what I did
But it is my belief
That it's better to feel something
Even if it makes you bleed
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 11:32 PM UTC
In all honesty, I’m scared. I’m a scared 13-year-old boy trapped inside a 23-year-old man’s body who has been stripped of all joy due to the corruptions of an overly demanding society and what could be considered an unstable mind. In all honesty I’m scared of joy.
What disruptions and changes may joy make to the apathetic lifestyle I’m so used to, yet want to rid of so badly? A broken cycle I’m stuck in yet change to something considered better is what I’m unsure of. Is it my lack of faith or the fact that it will feel like I’m climbing a mountain to adjust to this new joyous lifestyle that all so desperately seek?
Maybe I’m meant to a life of the mundane, but whose really to say besides the Lord Himself, who promises a life to the full. Yet I question this, where has joy been within my 23 years of a sorrowful life?
At the same time, I follow the Lord due to this promise, holding on with a faith that may seem blind to many, but to me my faith stems out of the beauty of suffering and the hope of what is to come from the things that are unseen to the naked eye.
An odd paradox, yet one where I hear the call to “take heart, o beloved son.”
Mar 4, 2022
Mar 4, 2022 at 9:57 AM UTC
What is our reality?
Bulging waistlines and burger joints?
Sweatshops and religious fights?
Our poisoned food system and corporate profits?
Our jailrate is as high as Mao and Stalin.
These revolving doors and corruptions cannot blind us anymore.
We, the people, deserve to know.
People who hate, depreciate.
The fact is, who can we trust?
Certainly not our bankers,
but what about the Chief Executive Officers,
full of evil and greed?
What about Rana Plaza and Tazreen?
Burning bodies to ash.
And they can get away with
burning bodies?
There was the Holocaust
and then...
there was now.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
Death played hopscotch he threw his
touch then his feet grasped upon the
souls of mortal man and there hearts
were stopped twelve steps of death.
He lifted his cloak so to see where
to jump, one jump, two jump third
jump and three drop dead like fallen
trees they fall in the breeze.
He could play this all day the pebble each
one a heart, he lifts it up jolting in his
bony fingers and then looks as it beat
within his palm then crumbles it to dust.
Then anguish and pain the daughter of
death that help him in his role in the world
"father let us once again play our game,
He smiles and skips on broken spines.
Mother please, As decay walks over asking
what is this scream not of mortal breath?
Its daddy he is ruining our game,
off the children's play thing I say.
Death wallows as his fun is ended, and
once again death now cant end their
suffering as his children once again
Linger there misery on human kind.
"My husband I no you meant well,
But children must learn from mistakes.
Now come with me and let us rest in
the earth and linger in corruptions embrace.
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 9:45 PM UTC
Corruptions was as old as this ancient province. As the population multiplied and new cities formed, organized crimes often followed. Many who lived in Guangxi went about their normal daily lives as they worked at various occupations, however, lives can have their secrets and evil lurked in the shadows. Many of the townspeople possessed slaves; slaves who had a high value that governed the economics of the law-breaking world. Human traffickers, along with drug lords, ruled this region. To keep their actions hidden, the crooks bribed the officials to look the other way.
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 8:32 AM UTC
Corruptions exist
Many of cruelness
Many of religion
Many of sickness
Many of well being
Many of evil
Many of peace
Corrupt the soul into acting on anew
Yet the peaceful cannot be corrupted.
The longer the company,
The easier the corruption.
Corruption does not annihilate one trait,
For only it can hide it, to its extend.
Curiosity and the yearning to learn,
Can never be manipulated, only hid.
It's up to the peaceful to uncover
it.
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 9:52 PM UTC
For the guidance,
in this interesting
adventure,
you took my hand,
despite the flaws,
and easy corruptions
found this grace,
a special place,
that only you can
give
an awakening towards the invisible,
a sacred rhythm
of infinite
virtue
you've seen the beginning
and will see the end
a father of infinite wisdom,
and giver of good things
why should we be blinded to the good,
and be deceived
into the darkness,
awaken your minds
the third eye,
an old forgotten
Way
Oct 1, 2025
Oct 1, 2025 at 12:44 PM UTC
Crows caw chanting cheerfully conquest comes
contemplating Corinth cutting crucks cradling crucifixs
chamber chatter checks corruptions cost
contemptment's cunning cloth
contained corrosion's cornering confrontation
coins claimed confirm crooks carry charges
contaminated city's crumble
community's commence
citizens content
come correct
collect
C
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 7:25 AM UTC
With improvised backpacks
& flowers in their hair,
they were forging new beginnings,
building dreams for brighter futures.
Marching toward victory
under the sacred heavens,
they were snuffed out
through the end of a barrel,
the guns of the ruling class.
Ignorance & hate rule our days,
but surely wealth & power
cannot withstand the coming tides.
The hours will come when
the guerillas will seek truth,
a recompense
for the dense fog
that makes us blind
to their corruptions
& killings.
Some call it Armageddon,
others call it righteous justice.
I say karma.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 6:42 AM UTC
○
My
Skin is pinned down
In crumbles to your sorcery
○
And
You've reigned
Supreme_a being
Bottling me in your whims with cursory
○
Unkindly
You've muse me to corruptions
But in the depths of your cravings
○
Every
Gentle kiss on the neck
Rhymes my whole body
In thunder-storms raving
○
In
Your eyes
Are thousand poker-portraits
Fashion amongst diamonds to spot
And set lose blown prides
○
You
Have shackled my mind
With what seem like pink ivys
And I'm charged with effervescent
So let's ride
○
The
Comfort zones
The undying desires
Of whence poets hold pencils
And write in the skies
Hoping the times stride them not dry
○
But
Now
Let me touch your body and learn
The language you speaks
For your sensual voice louds and echoes
The meanings of all the totems
The pre-colonial gods cried
○
A Sorcery Captive
Historian E.Lexano
○Recalcitration With Excellence○
○Still Your Favourite Romantic Poet○
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 5:48 AM UTC
i have no love for those that condemn,
i have nowt but sympathy for those that turn to the unseen.
Faith is but a little girl,
daughter of most beautiful hope.
Her father is corruption,
who embraces her in the shadows.
Her mother is lost in night,
too weak to find her and to fight.
to give her truth,
and give her meaning,
to send the lies of her father fleeing.
So hold tight daughter of the night,
i alone am witness to your plight,
and will hold your hand in Corruptions blight.
untill sweet hope comes into sight.
Jul 22, 2010
Jul 22, 2010 at 3:14 PM UTC