"dealings" poems
She stands at the door to your heart knocking, steadily
Not seeking out your head but obsessed with your conscience,
Curious to dominate every burn of your passions,
And seek recognition wherever you register your presences.
She seeks to work in your work and gain expression,
She moves with her entire family of Love, Respect and Tolerance
In all your dealings with those of your kind;
She demands you let her take the lead if you don't mind.
"Oh! if only they see how much they need me", she cries,
"Then humanity would not be ruled by these many lies".
Make haste and open the door don't further delay,
She sees your desolation and seeks to brighten your day.
She stands at the door to your heart please listen,
This reviving call must not escape your sense of reason,
Redefine and restore human values is her major quest,
Meet Dignity; give her your best and she'l fulfill the rest.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 4:56 AM UTC
No legacy is as rich as honesty to leave behind
No asset is as great as honesty that enriches mind
No voice is as powerful as honesty,your heart to guide
No word is as meaningful as honesty to swell with pride.
One who adheres to principle and facts , is honest
One who loves for-what-than-who-you are , is honest
One who inspires to be fearless and upfront , is honest
One who dares to raise voice against injustice, is honest
In actions ,words and dealings -be clear and transparent
Corruption,bribery,flattery and nepotism-be always against
Greats endure pain to follow righteousness,however difficult
On life’s tight walk ,do not crave to strike rich without sweat.
Win over lies,deceit ,treachery with love,respect and fair play
Honesty is a jewel that shines-shines brighter,rest fades away
Honesty is a bitter pill to gulp,gulp you must to lead the way
Quality than Quantity of life matters most,at the end of the day.
A child should be taught to be honest at a very early age
Set an example by emoting honesty at every step and stage
Honesty instils compassion ,concern,credibility and courage
It is a virtue that differentiates between a devil and a sage.
Stakes may be high ,don’t ever compromise on values
A Right can never ever be Wrong ,however one views
Forever under HIS scanner,keep hands clean and heart true (HIS ...GOD)
Give best to the humanity the best will come back to you.
(C) Bhargavi Ravindra ...........B’lore
Dated : 09/05/2019
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 7:13 AM UTC
As a child I was taught poetry
the quiet writing of feelings reflections
often in a beat with a rhyme and a few examples of alliteration
I was taught that as a woman my feelings
should be hid and kept quiet
that when I liked a boy it was not my place
to ask him whether he liked me back
I was taught to look out for myself by not dressing slutty
not walking home late at night
I was taught that my curvy figure would make people
question my morals my virginity my character
I was taught that as a girl I won't be as successful in math or science
I was taught to give myself to other pursuits
in liberal arts or domestic dealings
I was taught that even if by some miracle I found success in the fields where I "wouldn't be successful"
that I would and should give it up in a heart beat to raise a family
I was taught that I must share my feelings
my emotions my struggles
but not in a loud and open way
I had to remain quiet cool composed
Poetry was to be my outlet, written in couplets sonnets and verse
quiet and held inside written on paper
stored away from the world
to be read inside the mind
by others- men, teachers, parents
in order to decode me
and learn how to
keep
me
silent
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 5:08 AM UTC
Poet : " Hey peeps"
Singer : "sup"
Artist : " Hiii"
Poet : " I was wondering, its quite intriguing how we are all quite similar , yet different as well "
Artist : "How so ?"
Poet : " Well, we all show , some feeling or emotion or portray any message in some sort of form, one way or another "
Singer : "Thats true , I use my voice so that many can hear my lyrics whether cryptic or not "
Poet : True, but you also forgot...
Artist : "Poet does this as well , despite the words on paper for many to read , poet doesn't quite sing in melody , but speaks so that many can hear the words to tell the message "
Poet : " Exactly , thank you Artist "
Artist : " No problem , as for me I neither Sing nor speak , my art paint the words I want to convey in the mind as an image "
Singer : "Yes,Yes, But don't you at times say what your art means , so technically you do speak kinda"
Artist : " Hahaha , ******** yes but I would only say 15-20 per cent of the time , to convey what i'm trying to define "
Poet : " Fair enough but technically poets can do this as well , in fact there is a type of poetry called...
Artist : " Concrete, Yes I know , such a flattering name by the way, hahaha "
Singer : " Hahaha"
Poet : " Anyways! , to add to poetry we need not have to create art , for our message to be visualized "
Singer : " Thats all well and good , however in the rhythmic sway in the melodies of song , I quite literally move people , you could even say the way they dance to my songs to show how it makes them feel , expressing themselves, as well as painting a picture ...."
Poet : "Hahaha damnnn, are you trying to show your the best ?"
Singer : " Just saying facts , not my fault it might come across as me being the best "
Poet : "Do try and remember us Poets do move those who read or listen to our poetry , they can relate. On the words , they think and meditate plus with those lines an image in there mind they do, re-create"
Singer : " Really , you just couldn't help not rhyming ? "
Poet : " Don't hate , appreciate.. "
Singer : " Oh gosh... "
Artist : " Hahaha"
Artist : " Don't forget us Artists , our art , can move people , maybe not as physically as you Singer, but we can cause a sway of thoughts for a painting can have a multitude of meanings"
Artist : " Sometimes it is better not to tell them my definition of the painting, but to see what it means to them and how it makes them feel "
Singer : " Sigh fair enough you got me there... "
Poet : " Its like I said , we are similar in the fact , that we portray something in our own unique act , to wonder and see how the viewer will react , to see the thoughts and feelings in our different dealings... To..."
Singer : " Oh my gosh we get it... No need to rhyme us to oblivion"
Artist : " We all basically show some sort of message just in a different way "
Singer : " See , why couldn't you just say that poet ? "
Poet : " Oh shut up."
Artist ; " Hahaha"
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 9:04 PM UTC
To be a human being is to be riddled with thousands of imperfections.
Full of flaws; scrapes, spots, and scars cover broken and bruised skin.
But robots need not fear and fret about fixable, trivial defections.
Humans perpetually throw themselves at cold, apathetic, greedy clinicians
Only to be given terrible news and told there is no cure for a horrid death.
Meanwhile, robots bask in the glow of love from a passionate technician.
Humans can never agree when it comes to the dealings of the heart.
Always one-sided, they take turns ruthlessly destroying each other.
Robots, oblivious to the issues of any and all feeling, live freely.
Naive humans will work tirelessly, only to see nothing but certain failure,
But life has never once benefited those of us who are currently living.
So, humans crafted robots, to always succeed where they could not.
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 9:22 PM UTC
Where goes the time when it flies?
Simplified by expression, and stained by clarity.
Smudge by lucidity
smeared by simplicity
tainted by intelligibility.
Tempus fugit as in time flies.
Sharply distressing with painful feelings
to the point of mental instability
morning or night
we become possessed with its mystic dealings.
Where goes the time when it runs?
Not a solitary explanation is found.
It happens and it won’t stop
until life terminates as well
without cause.
Derived of rationalisation
lacking understanding
short of justification
bursting with vindication
persistently and with conviction.
Where goes the time when it sails?
From the second that we’re born.
Where were we existing?
We cannot be so sure
Cannot recollect the past
Not for the first five of our years
Memory so blur, so shadowy
Hazy with distortions
obscure and confusing
Unit our mind starts slowly to recollect.
Where goes the time when it escapes?
The chronology of life so mysterious.
Nothing can solve its ambiguity
for time is a complex case
with an infinity of secrets.
What’s the obsession when we have so many setbacks
drawbacks and obstacles
obstructions and conundrums
to take care of before time perishes away
and leaves us stranded in oblivion.
Oh time, you magnificent of all mysteries,
the high and mighty of ambiguities.
Show us mercy and explain
we are not detectives of secrecies
your spell with us reflects on the whodunits.
Oh time of things past and yet to come
give us a clue as to what is to derive!
“Remember”
it softly replies “Make most of your lives”
“Once I fly away no one can have a replay”.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 6:11 AM UTC
The wick is fading, and I have no matches left
In this dark abyss where I sit depressed
My valiant heart has become a perch for crows
Smile shaped in stone
Each embrace stiff and cold from my marbled soul
My arms depict a grasping hand
Reaching for a world these etched eyes will never know
Trapped in the heart of a withered artist
His mad dealings mold and make me
A victim of his musings
Crafted in a candlelit madness
Delicate delusions and vague allusions
To courage in the many veiled faces of death
Carved and set at the base of the steps
Statuesque
Jul 2, 2021
Jul 2, 2021 at 5:19 PM UTC
I see her there
A dark look in her eye
Smirking at me
Inviting "give it a try"..
My Shadow dares me
Into the ring
Smuggly she grins
Thinks I've nothin to bring..
"You know ur smoked!"
She gleefully taunts
"You wanna spar with me?
I'm fueled by your wants!"
I shuffle my feet
Timidly taking my stance
The first round, a blood bath
That b@tch kicked my A$$
Bruised and beat down
My trainer now pleads
Where is your fight girl?
Ya think I brought you to bleed?!
"But she's mean!" I sob..
As I spit out a tooth
"She breaks every rule!"
"So resentful and uncooth!"
Even still she is
A true part of you
Learn to dance in this ring
Or you, she will rule..
Now I stand with conviction
To face my brutal self
She may take her pound of flesh
But none will leave til its dealt..
We are not so separate
One good, and one bad
We move with congruence
Our conversation now had..
I dodge and I weave
As I feel her wear out
I take a few blows
But I leave her no doubt..
I am in this ring
Til our dealings be done
She may beat me down
But our pieces are one.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 10:22 PM UTC
If you know the tale of El Chapo,
You know then what will befall
Even the person who's known as
The most famous drug lord of all.
Exporting more drugs to America
Than anyone else in the past,
El Chapo lived like a king
On the millions of dollars he amassed.
You didn't mess with El Chapo.
Woe betide you if you did!
Not only would you suffer,
So would your spouse or your kid.
Back in the 90s El Chapo
Found himself in a scrape
And landed in a Mexican prison,
But he found a way to escape.
A protracted stay in the slammer
For him was not in the cards:
He bought his way to freedom
By bribing the prison guards.
For thirteen years El Chapo
Evaded capture and hid.
He kept up his shady dealings
While trying to stay off the grid.
Authorities in Chicago
Gave this man on the run
Notoriety as Public
Enemy Number One.
In 2015 the drug lord
Was back in prison again.
This time he fled through a tunnel
Dug by some of his men.
One day marines closed in.
They thought they'd caught their man.
El Chapo held a child
In his arms as he ran.
Soon El Chapo got sloppy.
No one could catch him, he thought.
Alas, the marines tracked him down.
Back to a cell he was brought.
Now the Americans want him.
Extradite him, they say.
El Chapo will be an example
To show that crime doesn't pay.
So, say good-bye, El Chapo,
As you sadly wipe your tears.
We hope you like your new home;
You're going to be there for years.
Yes, say good-bye, El Chapo,
To your Sinaloa Cartel.
A maximum security prison
Will be your new citadel.
- by Bob B
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 10:41 AM UTC
Sometimes we love, sometimes we hate
We love the wrong ones
We hate the wrong ones
And when we realise, it is a little too late
Sometimes we accept, sometimes we reject
We accept the wrong ones
We reject the right ones
And when we realise, we feel pain in retrospect
Sometimes we hope, when we should not
Then we give up hope, when we should not
Sometimes we stop, when we should walk
Then we say nothing, when we should talk
In love, in life, in our daily dealings
We let go of things which give our lives meaning
and hold fast to fading illusions
If only we could have vision!
Then we would love and accept aright
We would not hate and reject amiss
We would give and take a chance
These visions will make us wiser
But, what if it is man's fate to never be clever?
I hope you find the strength
I hope you go the length
For even if it seems too late, it is better late than never
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 3:50 AM UTC
Providing evidence to myself
I sense boredom
As adventure
But solution to a rusty bolt
Without smeared oil
While unearthing self
Before boredom detects you
In the vicinity
The environs speaks
Actions are no curiosity
To be nosy
While others exist with their dealings
A character brings passe'
To detect
But not evaluate
The boredom
Which leads to nowhere
How can a heart stop pulsating?
Only to have no charge
Jul 26, 2010
Jul 26, 2010 at 10:48 PM UTC
What gives you the right to
judge me,
criticism wasn't asked
so why you
open your mouth,
What's your prerequisite
to make assumption's
& judgments-
Constructive criticism
my ***
My
ADHD
PT-SD
Dyslexia Anxiety
& dealings with you
caused me a break down,
got me
chronically depressed,
You say you only
want the best for me,
Well shut up & let me be!
pill popping just so my E.E.D.
(Emitted explosive disorder)
wont cause me
to become
sentience
with life
new labels
would say
******
if you keep bothering me
I ain't stupid-
So stop talking down to me
Im not illiterate
******* I read
So let me be
No I don't have TS
(tourette syndrome)
I ******* cuss
cuz I wanna
so shut the hell up
I know right from wrong
I'm no psychopath
Then again
I just might be since
I could give a flying ****
about you
weather you live or die
I wouldn't cry.
Your making it harder
for ya self not me just go way
Doc
Do ya got **** Job,
I don't want to talk anymore
My past is where I left it
Behind me
You deal with it
Cuz
I already did & do
For you that
call your selves
wanting to help....
My OCD
(Obsessive-compulsive disorder)
is personal
So what if I wash
my hands& ***
3 or more times
I'm not stupid
or deaf
I have
Selective Hearing
Nor am I ********
that's how
I say hello
with my middle finger
I told you,
I'm not ********
***** I'm Special!
Always Me Ayeshah
Mar 10, 2010
Mar 10, 2010 at 7:15 PM UTC
An Irish judge recently commented that cyclists should pay insurance to protect people driving over priced cars.
I suggest that idiots in powerful positions in the judiciary should pay insurance for the possible damage that they may cause to this country.
Cycling is the last vestige of the romantic, facilitating free movement with minimal dealings with capitalists, exploitative business people, bus drivers, and the self interested.
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 8:14 AM UTC
Going on vacation in my spaceship to the moon
I'll call you from the station, but don't expect me soon
I'll probably stay the weekend, might even stay a week
When I'm all through playing "let's pretend" in the Land of Make Believe
I'll probably orbit Jupiter and build a sand castle on Mars
Then I think I'll take a cruise through Orion's Belt of stars
I'll go find the Tomb of Major Tom
I'll figure out how it all went wrong
I can't lie I might be gone long
Long gone
And when I've got these dealings done
I'll set a course straight for the sun
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Planet Earth is blue and it's all because of you.
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 11:54 AM UTC
So stay the gold.
foolish thoughts wasted
apon the old.
Your never alone except day and night.
did we forget the cause.
Or just grow tired of the fight.
Evergreen moments dont exist in books.
Or pictures trapped apon the page.
The wisdom of life is nothing without the rage.
Into a maze we go blind.
Far past the moment.
Nothing is left to remind.
Motions are not feelings.
Along with contracts and lies.
So many loser's with there double dealings.
Taken from the city lights
I lost all that was obscene.
My pasion was turned into my evergreen.
Time you change all but me.
Casting many storms.
That turn so very deep within the sea.
Erased are thoose moments
apon the slate is clean.
I wonder do you ever reflect my sweet evergreen
Nov 20, 2009
Nov 20, 2009 at 1:29 AM UTC
"Pain turns hope into scars that burn" ~~ Rose
Painfully aware
Of things I see
And I do not dare
Touch what I believe
One single caress
And hope diminishes
What you're left with
Is empty promises
And unfulfilled wishes
The remnants of faith
Are simply ugly markings
Left upon your body
Causing a fire of darkness
And smoke rising
Made of sadness
That disappears
Into the atmosphere
Until you're left with...
Absolutely nothing
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 4:09 AM UTC
My hands whisper double dealings
As I prance through a sea of coated chairs,
my mind's a jumble with tumbling
lyrics of songs-scraps of music
sung to me in pitched whispers as
I pass through
parting the aisle like Moses.
and like Moses I call to the people
reading to them all commandments,
fully understanding that it is they who dictate to me.
Feb 23, 2011
Feb 23, 2011 at 7:38 PM UTC
CAN'T YOU FEEL..
The gentle sound of my heartbeat, suddenly pounding with all the intent of tearing me apart-like a lady having anxiety attacks with no help within reach?
CAN'TYOU SEE
This sparkle in ma eyes, suddenly replaced by the look of fear aroused by images deeply ingrained in my memory, Memories you created that now torture even though you meant them to teach?
CAN'T YOU HEAR?
This melodious tune turned a melancholic symphony created by my wailing n sobbing,caused by a voice once therapeutic now at its faintest sound I flinch?
CAN'T YOU SMELL?
The stench of hatred as from us it emanates and slowly it spreads into ds crowded space we share, as little by little, layers of enmity fills the air we breath?
If all these you knew then your senses would interprete
That at your touch I cower; From a feeling once sweet and tender that now drains every ounce of strength and leaves me without power.
That at the sight of these I choose blindness; Away from the ethereal face that at the sight of, leaves me numb
As to your smell I get nauseous; so nauseous
That I taste the bitterness of heartbreak
And hear the sad music my heart will play at the sound of your heart bidding mine farewell
So please, I humbly plead, let me go!
But if break my heart you must n breach my trust,
Then let all we ever shared be counted a loss and from our memories be swept away like dust,
Please! Be fair in your dealings with me I plead
Be kind and just...
For this heart has only started to heal,
Please don't let it rot or rust..
-r3d-
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 9:08 AM UTC
I wasn't asking for attention- nor was I looking for sympathy.
I didn't need someone to save me.
I knew the unspoken consequences when I had all those thoughts and urges..
they'd be there forever.
you'll never be able to wear anything that comes a few inches short of the knee.
you'll be sore for a quite a while- you know how much it stings.
I didn't care about that- it didn't matter to me.
I didn't care about myself.
Back then, I was too naive to consider that some of those consequences might be much heavier than I was led to believe.
*do you not understand this could **** you?* -so what? Wouldn't it be best anyway?
it'll hurt your family, they care about you -no they don't; and even if they did, they don't have to know.
what will your future spouse think? -are you kidding? I'm never going to get married. No one will ever truly love me and all that I am.. all that I've done.
your body is a temple, made by the Almighy Go- -God doesn't want me. I'm a ***** over. He couldn't care about me even if I asked Him to. No one should.
How could anyone want someone who talks too much, laughs too loud, and loves too little?
I wasn't asking for attention- nor was I looking for sympathy.
It was purely because I felt the need to be punished-
And that punishment was what felt good to me.
I was out of my mind.
Way out of line.
The thoughts and wants and needs kept intertwining
and I couldn't think clearly anymore.
I didn't know just how wrong I was about all of that
Until I met you.
You showed me who God really was and how His love is always unconditional.
Even in the mess I had made, He sifted through it, grabbed my hand, and pulled me into the sunlight.
And then He stayed there and helped me sort it all out, fix the broken pieces, and create in me a new being.
He showed me that the pain I'd been dealing and the feelings I'd been feeling weren't the feelings and dealings He would have dealt.
He spoke in kind words that echoed through the people you introduced me to.
He moved through the winds of change that brought me to new places; and even though I was scared, He gave me the courage to continue on strong.
He rearranged my life so that I can wake up every morning without the feeling of hopelessness hanging off my heels.
So I could be grateful that I am alive.
He did this for me.
He blossomed everything around me.
Slowly and painfully, He changed me.
But the amazing thing about that pain
is that pain doesn't have regret chained to it.
It doesn't have long lasting impressions
that stay for years on end reminding me
of my worst mistakes.
It doesn't make me look back and wish
I had done it differently.
It makes me think
that I am someone
worth cherishing-
that I am someone
worth saving.
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 3:21 PM UTC
I love too much, but not too often.
My heart gets broken, but I keep going.
I am transparent, iridescent like glass,
So when you strike with the force of a hammer you leave more than a crack.
My heart is fragile, a bird with a broken wing.
I thought you would fix it and make it continue to sing.
I stand tall and confident in all my feelings,
Something that’s scary to you who is not used to these dealings.
I feel shame for the way I am.
Feeling love and passion for you that I wish I could bury in the sand.
A treasure left for you to uncover,
Not something I should have exposed to you undiscovered.
I tend to frighten away the one my heart wants to hold,
Do you see me as crazy, uncontrolled, too bold?
I often take broken loves words and wear them as scars.
Reminders of lessons unlearned and love unforetold by the stars.
I try their words on as an outfit of choice.
If I can change who I am, maybe for once someone will appreciate my voice.
But often times it’s too late.'
My true self exposed in revelations of hate.
No matter how hard I try to mold and bend,
I can’t change who I am, I can’t please every man.
But for some reason I never stop trying.
I can never give up my mind and hearts constant fighting.
I literally drive myself insane for a chance at true love.
I let my mind run wild for an ecstasy that will never come.
Because if I am changing who I am to achieve what I was fooled to see as true,
I’m mistreating myself and I assault my love leaving it ****** and bruised.
It’s funny how the world can constantly build me high,
But it only took you to send me crashing through the sky.
And when I fell and hit the ground,
The armor I built was shattered around.
Underneath it all I could finally see,
The only thing that remained intact was the original me.
I, myself, am my greatest force of nature.
And when I try to change who I am I’m in immediate danger.
The second I wear a mask to fool someone I love,
Is the second that my love is broken, recanted, torn up.
It’s not love if I’m not myself.
It’s not true if I pretend to be someone else.
I’m done being a victim in your insecure schemes,
But I’m also done pretending I walked away perfectly clean.
Yes I am hurt, and yes I wanted our love to be,
But I won’t sacrifice myself for you I’d rather let you go free,
Because somewhere, out there, there’s someone who wants me.
All my imperfections and everything you made me see as faults,
I consider beautiful, rare, a gift to make someone’s world halt.
I’m not sorry for the way I express myself.
I’m just sorry it has to be for someone else.
I love too much, but not too often.
My heart gets broken, but I, I keep going.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 12:55 PM UTC
as insanity depicts my pride,
I look at you in a way that I can't look at anyone else,
as you are constantly on my mind,
and the droplets fall in a way like never before.
you're heart encases me,
consuming everything I have within its arteries,
each thought becomes more liquefied,
as I try to stop the pain.
"she wouldn't want you doing this"
I tell myself time and time again,
yet still as the capsule slips past my lips,
I find some kind of release in the burning sensation,
that starts to simmer in my throat.
your eyes, I try to picture your eyes...
yet still you are not here for me to see them in flesh,
one look from you and I would stop,
but one look is something you will not give.
relapse...
a pain that cannot be fathomed by a blade,
as you drag it from your elbow to your wrist.
I was a month clean but I can't help it now,
my body is dead.
Pain is a placid thing,
yet somehow it holds a power over me,
but, when I am with you it seems...
... that the hold it has is simply gone.
I can't seem to rendeer the thoughts of my childhood,
as I continue to do the inevitable,
have I slipped back into my old ways...
... Have I gone too far to go back now.
Relapse...
Relapse...
Relapse...
I am sorry I have let you down,
I am sorry that my callous ways are somewhat spiteful,
I may not have much self esteem,
but I know that I am selfish...
was I selfish in my dealings with you?
in the way I handled your gorgeous smile.
not that I recall..
yet I feel as though I have somehow
left, not to be welcomed back,
into you're arms of grace that make me collapse...
drag me out of this pit
save me from this relapse.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 9:44 AM UTC
The bliss can be fleeting
Two hearts together beating
Love meant to last forever
Don’t touch me…ever
Feelings are hurt,
Just a bump in the road
Words said in jest
Felt like a punch in the chest
Misunderstood, but intentions were right
Whispered words plead your case…late at night.
Tangled lovers unite.
Just a bump in the road.
Old love can be best
Been put to the test
Even old partners can make a mistake
We forget, and others feelings we forsake.
Harder to smooth when deep rooted pain
Just a bump in the road.
Communication is key
Don’t just let it be
We work through tough dealings
Then back are fond feelings.
True love strikes again
Just a bump in the road
Life’s highway is long,
Subject of many a song
How do we get to the end?
With a love, and a friend.
We pave it all smooth.
Was there a bump in the road?
Oct 25, 2010
Oct 25, 2010 at 4:51 PM UTC
If you don't afford me the same respect
That I afford you
How dare you expect me to hold my tongue
Keep my silence
Look down, look away, so as not to offend
your darling pride
How dare you pretend that you're all
Supreme
Though you are almost hypocritical
You might delude
Yourself into believing yourself fair
But you're anything
But fair in your dealings, anything
but respectful
How dare you tell us that we have to keep
Shut and follow
When you barely set the brightest example
No one expects
You to be a perfect idol, but you're just vile
In your treatment
We might be below you for now, but one
Day we'll go on
To become the future generation, the leaders,
The pioneers
So lady, please talk nicely because even though
I avert my eyes
Try and keep my tone flat, even I have a threshold
When I break
And look at you finally, with the eyes that scream
'Anger! Hate!'
Be careful. I might not make the best grades, and I
Certainly don't
Believe I do. It isn't even my first priority but I am
Still your student
Still obliged to you but even I won't back off if you
Start talking down
Like I am a pesky bug that needs wiping away
I am not
Going to simply avert my eyes then and look away
I will stand
Scream out the truth I believe, I see, the truth of you
Being totally unfit
For such a holy profession as teaching
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 5:02 AM UTC