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"dehumanised" poems
My easel, has been asleep for a while, like a whale on the lost deep seas finding a prey to victimise to sate the belly full. Your easel, sees in my eyes the robbers on the blink of an unruly end finding recognition in social media to favor ego to sate the belly full. Your easel, is a mellow fine lens Hands in line holding a gun set a trigger, to silence the crowds the doom in the public cruise trollers and vipers with wipers to sate the belly full What have we come to dear friend? we seek fame and lose our self to the shadows of the masses who denude our dignity to gain their sanity to sate the belly full What have we come to dear friend? in the spaces of the contours between dehumanised by the social media the medium of the century voice the armageddon of currency that sate to fill it's belly
0
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 1:45 PM UTC
Robbers (Art Poetry: Social media dehumanisation)
I almost don’t want to voice my opinion because I like staying in the back of the mix but it’s hard to do. Straight from the mind, the mouth, of a transgendered person, this is honesty. I know that there are a lot of people going on about the bathroom laws right now. It’s ridiculous we even have to get to laws for bathrooms. They’re for elimination, but it generally doesn’t stay at that. Gossip, vomiting, crying, **** ****** etc. Things you’ll most likely, in this century, find in the walls of bathrooms. People are posting the meme, about the ****** Trying to mix it in with these laws. A ****** who is a man, and someone who is transgender, don’t fall into the same category, and even if it’s made to better the judgement of hate and redirect the criticism of keeping transgender people in a specific bathroom, don’t compare. Because he is a male, he is a ****** We are not the same. Now, recently, people are posting about the mass shooting and connecting the two. Saying how the last thing they want to hear about is how dangerous a transgender person is in bathroom now. And they’re correct, because it’s always the last thing on my mind. I hate myself, so you don’t have to. I have enough hate in me for myself so everyone can leave me be, knowing its strong enough. I don’t want to be me, I don’t want to be like I am and I live with that everyday. I haven’t been able to make peace with myself and love myself, yet. But I hope I can eventually. I just wanted to put this out there, so people can see this side of things. From someone who is transgender. The last thing on my mind in the bathroom is: you. I do not want contact with anyone in there. I fear you. I am scared to be there. I feel threatened. I feel in danger, not you. You should be ashamed to feel such resentment towards someone you don’t even know, because I am in the one in danger, not you. I feel ashamed I am afraid of you and that is embarrassing to say, but I am. So don’t dare make it about your safety, because you are the last thing on my mind, I promise you that. Being misgendered, being ***** being beaten, being murdered, slandered, assaulted, accused, uncertain, hated, dehumanised, alone. Fear. These are what I am thinking about when all I have to do is *** but all I wanted to have to do was get groceries. Or get McDonald’s, get cat food, my car fixed, an outfit, take my husband lunch, take my daughter to the park, etc. I have a family I love, very much. So yeah, you are the last thing on my mind when I just have to use the bathroom, and don’t even want to need to use one in public because I am so afraid for my safety and wondering if this time, is going to be the last time I walk in one and don’t get to go home to my family because of who I am. I am sure people have reasons to fear what they won’t know or understand, but understand this. I know you have your own fears and your own needs and expectations, but so do I. Don’t fear me, in the bathroom, because my fear is actually greater than yours, I promise you that. And honestly, that is the last on my mind, anyway. **I just have to ***
0
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 2:32 PM UTC
I Hate Myself So You Don't Have To
I almost don’t want to voice my opinion because I like staying in the back of the mix but it’s hard to do. Straight from the mind, the mouth, of a transgendered person, this is honesty. I know that there are a lot of people going on about the bathroom laws right now. It’s ridiculous we even have to get to laws for bathrooms. They’re for elimination, but it generally doesn’t stay at that. Gossip, vomiting, crying, **** ****** etc. Things you’ll most likely, in this century, find in the walls of bathrooms. People are posting the meme, about the ****** Trying to mix it in with these laws. A ****** who is a man, and someone who is transgender, don’t fall into the same category, and even if it’s made to better the judgement of hate and redirect the criticism of keeping transgender people in a specific bathroom, don’t compare. Because he is a male, he is a ****** We are not the same. Now, recently, people are posting about the mass shooting and connecting the two. Saying how the last thing they want to hear about is how dangerous a transgender person is in bathroom now. And they’re correct, because it’s always the last thing on my mind. I hate myself, so you don’t have to. I have enough hate in me for myself so everyone can leave me be, knowing its strong enough. I don’t want to be me, I don’t want to be like I am and I live with that everyday. I haven’t been able to make peace with myself and love myself, yet. But I hope I can eventually. I just wanted to put this out there, so people can see this side of things. From someone who is transgender. The last thing on my mind in the bathroom is: you. I do not want contact with anyone in there. I fear you. I am scared to be there. I feel threatened. I feel in danger, not you. You should be ashamed to feel such resentment towards someone you don’t even know, because I am in the one in danger, not you. I feel ashamed I am afraid of you and that is embarrassing to say, but I am. So don’t dare make it about your safety, because you are the last thing on my mind, I promise you that. Being misgendered, being ***** being beaten, being murdered, slandered, assaulted, accused, uncertain, hated, dehumanised, alone. Fear. These are what I am thinking about when all I have to do is *** but all I wanted to have to do was get groceries. Or get McDonald’s, get cat food, my car fixed, an outfit, take my husband lunch, take my daughter to the park, etc. I have a family I love, very much. So yeah, you are the last thing on my mind when I just have to use the bathroom, and don’t even want to need to use one in public because I am so afraid for my safety and wondering if this time, is going to be the last time I walk in one and don’t get to go home to my family because of who I am. I am sure people have reasons to fear what they won’t know or understand, but understand this. I know you have your own fears and your own needs and expectations, but so do I. Don’t fear me, in the bathroom, because my fear is actually greater than yours, I promise you that. And honestly, that is the last on my mind, anyway. **I just have to ***
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48
The machinesed drones droning ozones made of homogenised genes by replicants from clinical doctrines and empirical indulgences Soulless and efficient, bred for duties destructives Capitalist fodder, programmed ready for earth's **** Regulate as required, inputted subs with pigs hearts Made followers with voracious appetite for blood mechanised barbarians on leash with one track mix Human shire horses in designer shods and faulty gauges Manufactured manufacturers limited and corollated Factories, dormitories partnered with like, watered and bedded till tomorrow, audiod to the Sterling whip Given ample ales, keep blinded and chained Distract and cater to baser instincts, *** *** *** Free 'love' free *** valueless values, what values Enjoy kids must return to work desk seven on the dot Time is money, clogs and production waits for no man, do or your pleasures denied Money, money money, honey for bees, honey for drones Soulless, dehumanised, pale, aged at thirty, heart attacks next Vacuous ghost programmed dunces Malfunctioning entities devoid of humanity Superficial plasticated robots, destruction default Industrial pieces with industrial minds Chemicalized drunks with wired brains They roam around screaming freedom and power!
0
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 8:28 PM UTC
Our Erstwhile Robots in Gucci......
Pose for the selfie Our left hand becomes the right The wedding ring that will never be A lie calculated in a chip Face algorthymised Spawning a Warhol gallery Pixelated Dehumanised Cultural property of the internet
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Oct 15, 2021
Oct 15, 2021 at 11:41 AM UTC
The camera can lie
These words you speak These words you spin Have infinite meaning A definitive substance Inject my mind Flipping the norm Unravel all the lies They fed to us Unlock my mind, unwind my eyes Take me out of this boxes, boxes Erecting all around me Untwist my tongue, deject my terms Pull me out of the sinking crane Piloting all around me Who gives the **** Just give me a fact All 7 billions souls unique This linear life is meaningless Fictions to act One day I am frog the next a beauty The mystery of the dark All shrugged in blanks They say its locked in your head A crazy existence Dehumanised to decay The police can’t even help
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Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 1:51 PM UTC
Dejected Terms (Guitar Lyrics with audio first-run unedited)
Attack upon a child, Aggression and fearless thoughtlessness, Treating others as animals, Dehumanising them, Leaving them alone and filled with hopelessness.
0
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 4:38 PM UTC
Dehumanised
Contagious, to the point of extinction, Nerve racking, Part of our own subliminal illusion. We have become poisoned by the Social Media, dehumanised, unrealistic and falsely optimistic. Departed from our minds structured like chemical products, in this elusive society that we embrace with blindness. We have become strangers, strangers in our own bodies as old philosophies die and we embrace the loneliness. Experiments of corporations muppets of governments, products of our own minds. Energies floating, intestines bloating, Hearts unfulfilled, And lives not well lived. How long do we still have?
0
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
How long do we still have?
my heart bleeds for the Lost Children of Tomorrow cut down in their infant prime a community broken by sorrow families in turmoil united, saddened, enraged and loyal. what happened in Connecticut the other day is just ******* wrong I rarely swear in my poems but the feelings too strong I struggle to express 20 children killed lest, the very thought leaves the spine frozen and chilled Im not one to be political and this poem isn't satirical we talk about the Lost Children of America but what of the Lost Children of Gaza 200 killed, bombed and shot in their schools, in their homes, in the plaza do we protest that these atrocities must stop? we outcry at the public consumption of guns but are we fickle to which news story that leaves us shell shocked and stunned perhaps we have become dehumanised to the daily statistics of death; we should write eulogies for all the Lost Children of Tomorrow not just for those from the West my heart bleeds for the Lost Children of Tomorrow cut down in their infant prime leaves a world broken by sorrow in a race against time lets not forget the other nations at this time of giving; we should be a race united for the love & for the living I shed a tear let it not be for nothing please do not scan read the poems meaning or dismiss it as poor verse because it demands of your feelings; if the emotions were blood vessels the arteries would burst we are all poets here with words to share put our hearts online our emotions laid bare I ask very little of you Only, lets not forget the many when we eulogise the few
0
Dec 17, 2012
Dec 17, 2012 at 9:24 AM UTC
Lost Children of Tomorrow
my heart bleeds for the Lost Children of Tomorrow cut down in their infant prime a community broken by sorrow families in turmoil united, saddened, enraged and loyal. what happened in Connecticut the other day is just ******* wrong I rarely swear in my poems but the feelings too strong I struggle to express 20 children killed lest, the very thought leaves the spine frozen and chilled Im not one to be political and this poem isn't satirical we talk about the Lost Children of America but what of the Lost Children of Gaza 200 killed, bombed and shot in their schools, in their homes, in the plaza do we protest that these atrocities must stop? we outcry at the public consumption of guns but are we fickle to which news story that leaves us shell shocked and stunned perhaps we have become dehumanised to the daily statistics of death; we should write eulogies for all the Lost Children of Tomorrow not just for those from the West my heart bleeds for the Lost Children of Tomorrow cut down in their infant prime leaves a world broken by sorrow in a race against time lets not forget the other nations at this time of giving; we should be a race united for the love & for the living I shed a tear let it not be for nothing please do not scan read the poems meaning or dismiss it as poor verse because it demands of your feelings; if the emotions were blood vessels the arteries would burst we are all poets here with words to share put our hearts online our emotions laid bare I ask very little of you Only, lets not forget the many when we eulogise the few
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50
What have I done but obey the cynical dogma that plagues the patriots? (then to be rewarded with the cutting rattle of the guns that dehumanised the holiest saints. MIA the pawn who obeyed.) Can we sacrifice to "the Cause", for the end? (without the other side sacrificing more. Men should press toward the enemy. We will win because ten minus one equals nine Rip the glorified general.) Possibly **** the man I call brother for hesitation. (with the gun that conscripted me to his side. "killed for the disobeying of orders". They will say that I was a traitor But never a man of his country RIP the brother that hesitated.) Justify the sin that will be forced upon my brother. (As I will not commit the sun that will be forced upon me. RIP the holy deserter.) The multination of a child. (Thats what Devils do. That's what they did to me. Destroying what I took for granted. RIP the young amputee.) Glorification of the war as some sort of game. ("Come sign up you be a hero" I lied in front of them But back then I even believed myself. RIP the gulibal propagandist) In war winning is living (Yet not a one I am willing to play. RIP the veteran) Destruction of the family tree (Destiny was not prepared for the irrational. RIP the mother that worried) What can possibly justify the glorification in destruction?
0
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 5:22 PM UTC
Unknown
*ich bin nein sympathisant, bin ernst betreffen (verb without adjective modulation):                   https://goo.gl/h0VEjA.* as the solid red partisans' plague brought a censor to emerge from a politico volcano - dehumanised with the plucking of petted eyes of cats out to engage dehumanisation of man against man - should it be a lessened esteem - then iron swastikas may be readied now - SALUTE! SALUTE! AVE HERR EMPEROR CHARLIE CHAPLIN! i love comedy, the last refinement teasing the lineage of what's taboo; and the last survivor of the tank dubbed fury was a coward - in death as in coordinate we came to press a bleeding wound with our hand - but not a retreat of hopes, as the soldiery faction came to revise a return to the everyday, once in the ***** of Mars, forever in the twin wombs of Mars's quest for continual war in the eyes, for once in the ***** of Mars a homosexual in the hands of Venus, bruderschaft die für immer - but as said... die Eisen Hakenkreuz... the iron ******** with India sleeping into a populace of over one billion - the Roma beggar playing the Accordion while the ᛋᛋ men marched to a drumbeat of *wo wir sind da geht's immer vorwärts, und der teufel der lacht nur dazu! aha, ha, ha, ha, ha!* insomniac buggers, with amphetamine injections while the opposing side tamed a lack of courage with alcohol; these beggars with the amphetamines like the Luftwaffe and the caliphate soldiers of twins Syria and Iraq among the bookmarks of the 21st century, conspiracy theories and 24 years without sleep after the Vietnam war - ingesting serotonin tablets to provide the natural equilibrates of sleeping.
0
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 8:44 PM UTC
die Eisen Hakenkreuz
*ich bin nein sympathisant, bin ernst betreffen (verb without adjective modulation):                   https://goo.gl/h0VEjA.* as the solid red partisans' plague brought a censor to emerge from a politico volcano - dehumanised with the plucking of petted eyes of cats out to engage dehumanisation of man against man - should it be a lessened esteem - then iron swastikas may be readied now - SALUTE! SALUTE! AVE HERR EMPEROR CHARLIE CHAPLIN! i love comedy, the last refinement teasing the lineage of what's taboo; and the last survivor of the tank dubbed fury was a coward - in death as in coordinate we came to press a bleeding wound with our hand - but not a retreat of hopes, as the soldiery faction came to revise a return to the everyday, once in the ***** of Mars, forever in the twin wombs of Mars's quest for continual war in the eyes, for once in the ***** of Mars a homosexual in the hands of Venus, bruderschaft die für immer - but as said... die Eisen Hakenkreuz... the iron ******** with India sleeping into a populace of over one billion - the Roma beggar playing the Accordion while the ᛋᛋ men marched to a drumbeat of *wo wir sind da geht's immer vorwärts, und der teufel der lacht nur dazu! aha, ha, ha, ha, ha!* insomniac buggers, with amphetamine injections while the opposing side tamed a lack of courage with alcohol; these beggars with the amphetamines like the Luftwaffe and the caliphate soldiers of twins Syria and Iraq among the bookmarks of the 21st century, conspiracy theories and 24 years without sleep after the Vietnam war - ingesting serotonin tablets to provide the natural equilibrates of sleeping.
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45
I’m a walking insult. I’m a piece of **** I’m a ******* mistake.
 No, that felt too dignifying.
 Is that more than what I deserve?
 Did that make you laugh? Your jokes describe me too well. 
I nod with every letter said. 
I feel my face flush scarlet
 So ashamed I change —
 real defining clue of myself —
 like a snake skin sheds. I want to be dehumanised. 
I want to be violated 
I want them to forget me. 
I want to be an empty vessel. 
I want to slit my throat. 
I don’t want your warm affection. Now my dreams echo hollow. Every night, my head against the pillow, revising every morsel I swallowed, hoping there is no tomorrow —
 As I walk to join the hanging bodies in the gallows. They laugh and frolic in the sun with their slim waists. You say I’m kind. Considerate,
 but I just want your validation. 
I’m a narcissist to the core. 
Hope I’m not the bile in your throat, 
or the acid that burns your hollow heart. 
Did that make you laugh?
0
May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 1:47 AM UTC
Did that make you laugh?
Petty, petty liars With their pretty fliers Promising relation Of dehumanised formation Asked, given, but not forgiven. Taken, gotten, but not forgotten.
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Jul 19, 2021
Jul 19, 2021 at 3:48 AM UTC
Demons were now.
.                 Therianthropic's       Netanyahu stated that Gaza is a      "city of evil", where Yoav Gallant,        (Israels defence minister said),    "is populated with human animals”.    This year, on October 7th, which     was Palestine Liberation Day, the      dehumanised escaped and met        the beasts outside their cage.
0
Nov 28, 2023
Nov 28, 2023 at 9:30 AM UTC
-------Poem for Gaza------
Auld lang syne after the midnight of 31st December 2016 the world stopped short the New Year to usher in-- every past century met its end hopes blown to the wind 'A happier world we seek' a slogan on every heart pinned only to come into rude wakening for man's nature would not change power, greed, violence, conflict and war was the bane of the times---strange in the midst of so-called progress and mankind claiming to have come to its own? To the same cry of despair the tragedy and the desolation to succumb 2017 will lead to year 3000 before long what would be the outcome? the century is sinking fast--verily-- a thousand times worse would be the sum the young would no longer have dreams the old would have seen it all and be emotionally dumb nature would have been dehumanised and lost all her beauty savagery and destruction would replace every calm.
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Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 1:40 AM UTC
THE DYING OF CENTURIES
Sickly sweet odour of cheap perfume hangs in the air. From the third floor widow she stares wistfully to the street below. Crowded with shoppers, lovers, diners and meanderers. Clutching brightly coloured bags stuffed with all manner of trivialities. She turns away, surveying her personal hell. Crimson taffeta bedding creating a gaudy yet stark centrepiece against stained grey walls. Where men, one after the other set sail on a voyage paid for by the hour. A far cry from her childhood dreams - oh the naivety of youth!... She smiles a bitter smile....her reflection in the mirror tells nothing of the angst deep within. Of the dreams now crushed...hopes scattered like the petals of a dying rose. The road ahead desolate and bleak. No sweet memories to carry with her from the path she walked before. Emptiness and blackness.. hidden by the thin veneer of the street girl. The provocative clothing and makeup distraction enough for the men who seek to forget. Her body a welcome release from their comfortable yet mundane lives. Caring not for the flicker of sadness and desperation they see in her painted eyes. Seeking only to quell their own thirst, before their return to middle class suburbia. Gaze carefully averted from the track marked arm that reaches out to take her fee. **** already calling her phone, eager for the next client to take his fill. Needle at the ready to pump her vein full of mind numbing poison. Desensitised and dehumanised, his control absolute. She longs for the release that only death can bring. Even that is beyond her reach, her movements watched around the clock. Shoulders slumped she replaces the bed sheet. The door opens and once again she smiles her empty lipstick smile. ****** drenched mind now dull, compliant. Ravaged body, skeletal thin.. still of use.. for now. Before she joins the others that were so casually used and discarded. Their bodies wrapped in black plastic and weighted down with stones. Cast out to a watery grave..... In death comes sweet release.
0
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 1:11 PM UTC
Number 5 Cheap Street.
Sickly sweet odour of cheap perfume hangs in the air. From the third floor widow she stares wistfully to the street below. Crowded with shoppers, lovers, diners and meanderers. Clutching brightly coloured bags stuffed with all manner of trivialities. She turns away, surveying her personal hell. Crimson taffeta bedding creating a gaudy yet stark centrepiece against stained grey walls. Where men, one after the other set sail on a voyage paid for by the hour. A far cry from her childhood dreams - oh the naivety of youth!... She smiles a bitter smile....her reflection in the mirror tells nothing of the angst deep within. Of the dreams now crushed...hopes scattered like the petals of a dying rose. The road ahead desolate and bleak. No sweet memories to carry with her from the path she walked before. Emptiness and blackness.. hidden by the thin veneer of the street girl. The provocative clothing and makeup distraction enough for the men who seek to forget. Her body a welcome release from their comfortable yet mundane lives. Caring not for the flicker of sadness and desperation they see in her painted eyes. Seeking only to quell their own thirst, before their return to middle class suburbia. Gaze carefully averted from the track marked arm that reaches out to take her fee. **** already calling her phone, eager for the next client to take his fill. Needle at the ready to pump her vein full of mind numbing poison. Desensitised and dehumanised, his control absolute. She longs for the release that only death can bring. Even that is beyond her reach, her movements watched around the clock. Shoulders slumped she replaces the bed sheet. The door opens and once again she smiles her empty lipstick smile. ****** drenched mind now dull, compliant. Ravaged body, skeletal thin.. still of use.. for now. Before she joins the others that were so casually used and discarded. Their bodies wrapped in black plastic and weighted down with stones. Cast out to a watery grave..... In death comes sweet release.
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