"demonization" poems
Goodbye.
Yesterday, tomorrow
the life before was.
I’ve met you before
*as we sat down
i watched worlds align
in your movements
and stars become
black holes
in jealousy
you are beautiful
you are beauty*
we drank the night
to day;
dizzy, star-struck,
watching time stop
in our swaying movements
*too bad
she couldn’t hold her liquor
our drunken timelines
intersected
in stumbled
introspect
skipping steps
i enjoyed
our spinning thoughts
and tongues sharing
aged language
alongside new bottles
until i was forced
to watch her phase
in and out
of herself*
that moon *****
must’ve had more
than she could handle,
because the next day
there was a new face
on her course,
wasting happy hours
shouting sad times
to morose microphones,
*if you fail
to sing
your anger will
leave you to scream
and shout
similarities
stunningly simple*
masking taxation of
tie-ins’ infusion inbreeding,
demonization of sharing similarities
left time socially awkward
and unacceptably indulgent
of the mindless self
*tonight i will
join myself in song
it will be a hymn
rhythm saved by him
we’ll circle ‘til its begin*
we’ve refin
Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 4:54 PM UTC
moments and tales that kissed the world.
These Are My Words
they weave.
These Are My Words
fireflies flew.
These Are My Words
tried and wrapped my fist.
These Are My Words
face free.
These Are My Words
being brave I saw demonization
These Are My Words
bravery loved dance
These Are My Words
dignity denied darkness
These Are My Words
flying constant
These Are My Words
she likes treason
These Are My Words
busted mouth and bruised cheeks
These Are My Words
an old flower leaving
These Are My Words
wrong school
These Are My Words
here comes young weight
These Are My Words
a thing called justice
These Are My Words
blue skin and ***** air
These Are My Words
god in his infinite wisdome
These Are My Words
placed a heart here, now -
These Are My Words
breathe and seek consequence
These Are My Words
hide hands
These Are My Words
thank god for your deluded bliss
These Are My Words
but inside she wonders
These Are My Words
dark and bittersweet
These Are My Words
moments that only meant deceit
These Are My Words
work through change as I clench teeth
These Are My Words
gnash and outlive those old memories
These Are My Words
she is a rude stringy blonde beauty
These Are My Words
looking, yes, looking
These Are My Words
years later
These Are My Words
she thinks faster and has out ran
These Are My Words
the villainous monsters make mistakes
These Are My Words
leaving her with her one and only gift
* **
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 7:55 PM UTC
This isn't a poem
this is a protest
This isn't equality,
it's injustice.
America the brave
America the free,
Where were you,
When he said, "I can't breathe?
How are we
the leading examples
so rooted with prejudice,
it's time to turn tables.
How does one be such a threat,
at one hundred and thirty five feet
that they must be shot, Six times,
It a miraculous feat.
Since when did murderers get off
without trial,
I mean even Republicans
won't give denial
America the brave
America my foot,
where were you,
"Hands up, don't shoot"
Its not all lives matter,
we know the white ones already do,
it's about giving others
what they're due.
Black lives matter,
Martin Luther King
gave his speech fifty years ago,
yet we're still fighting.
Have you heard the policemen,
they have no remorse,
the literal demonization,
and its going to get worse.
unless we can stop it,
and I'm hoping we can
Mike wasn't a thief,
this god forsaken land.
How are we so quick to judge,
Russia, Korea, China and more,
yet we **** innocent people,
and racism soars.
You want change,
you're blaming Obama?
Change it yourself,
Family means ohana
Yeah that's A children's movie,
but wait a moment yet
we could learn a lot
from children I bet.
They don't have biases,
they're only three
in their small minds
everyone's free.
But thats not the truth
It's cold and hard,
just the bodies
of a bright future,
Mike Brown
of a boy with a hoodie
Trayvon Martin
of a Twelve year-old boy
Tamir Rice
of a husband and father of six children
Eric Garner
You won't be forgotten,
as long as this world I'm living in
as long as it goes on,
you'll always be thought of
and what might've been.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 12:31 AM UTC
It's been a year since my suicide attempt. Right now, I'd be in the ER waiting to find out which inpatient clinic I'd go to. One year. Since, I have escaped from toxic people and shifted from an old self. One year. What do I have to show for it? Emotional outbursts? A nicotine addiction? Abandoning my creativity? A battle with a psychological addiction to psychedelic drugs? What does progress look like? What does it mean to reconstruct yourself? A building torn - that's what I am. A prairie, a forest, which has experienced a wild fire. Beyond recognition, I deface myself - as if to erase myself and destroy the things I like. What does progress look like? Am I getting there? In my view, progress is not always seen by you directly. It is not our job to determine if we make progress, but, by the value of people and situations in our lives, we will have it be seen. To do things for ourselves is wonderful. But, what does progress look like? It looks like making giant leaps forward - and then three steps back. It looks like dipping our toe in the water, and then wanting to dry off. It looks like it's perfect, but actually not. It looks like a broken toy fixed with expired super glue. Who are we to determine progression? It's an obsession of the mind for us to think that progress means we must always be fine - that we must be perfect. If I have a million irrational thoughts in a day, does that make my one totally rational thought insignificant? I think not. If I spend one day totally upbeat, productive, and happy - are my sad feelings any less valid? No. So, progress looks like this: admitting to yourself that sometimes we won't have things together completely. We acknowledge it, think rationally, and move to the next focus. Progress is not total immunization of our quirks, but it is less demonization for how we work. Our brains - they want to help us survive. The brain gets confused among irrational thoughts and can jump and put us in an emotional turmoil jeopardy. But, be kind to yourself. Be kind to the "miswires" in your brain - because it cares for you and wants you to survive. Strive. What does progress look like? I'm not sure if I can see mine - I'm not sure what it totally looks like. But, maybe, look in a mirror. See yourself - the reflection of desire. Aspire to be who you are, judgement free. In a sort of clarity, you can see. Ask yourself:
"What does progress look like?"
It looks a bit like you.
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 9:02 PM UTC
And she was there in that old school.
Like air.
Soft and sour.
(To her) Puberty made her face fat
(To us) it made her turn to skin and bone.
(To everyone) Who cares?
And even though she could not see it
She was darkness among light
And yes she was rude and moody
but she was also trusting and a true beauty
She was young when she was loved by the wrong person.
Looking for justice in a cold world
And she was a constant source of demonization
For her stringy hair, her ***** clothes
And her weight.
And her mistakes. As if they were any better
She tried to be brave.
But bravery only comes to those who have a reason to be.
And one night when fireflies danced
And the moon kissed her pimpled cheeks
She tried to fly - leaving us behind
She wrapped her fists around death and kissed the mouth of dignity
Because in that moment before she crashed
She saw the rare and infinite
And…
She wrapped her fists around a flower and kissed the face of God
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 6:56 PM UTC
and the long day breaks open and lo!
lo!
the tiny child street explodes
with rage and bombs
and this
(of course)
is why
some get rich and some stay
poor
(and die)
-----
labeling one
"pathetic"
(the new demonization)
excuses everything
and makes heroes of
the pathological monstrosities
being proudly bred
in a world not fit
for anything but the garbage dump
(and america)
----
the child sings
and appears
in minute form
momentarily existing
before
the bomb falls and he is gone
Aug 30, 2011
Aug 30, 2011 at 8:29 PM UTC
Courage constitutes not the overcome but confrontation of fear
Necessary it is desired for the descending climate of evil here
Blotted out will be the light if left unprotected from the shadow
Thus the saviour must arise with given the resonating glow
Thrashed be the innocent by the machine of evil from the world below
Lest the valiant face the darkness with intent of casting the final blow
Foretold has always been the legend of the oncoming storm
The clouds that curse the earth with shade is such the norm
A storm of venom, infect shall it deliver to all that is living
A storm of full anger to decimate all of which is unforgiving
A storm of desert fume to starve the earth of all primitive need
A storm of wash upon the mind shall be cast on all inhabitants' heed
A storm of all evil confined in one to pursue the Creator's throne
Chaos shall delighted the evil be in the world become overthrown
Not will fear always gain the upper hand, for it has the flaw of pure
Infection residing in the wound can withdrawn be with the cure
Folklore speak of the brave that shall one barrier the evil from earth
Helpless will be defended by and evil be bind by the valour-sworn girth
Must the wielder of justice fight one shall with the hellmonger be engaged
Come shall the battle across the plains of distant will the two sides be raged
Fields will be torn by the blood and fires of the opponents' result in war
World's fate in either of the competitors' hands shall decision be with horror
Titans of good and evil shall one of either side face the bitter smite
Demons will plague hell or angels shall embrace heaven with might
Sword of the effort will accomplish completion or total destruction
Handled by good will the sword enact the bringer of the peace nation
Handled by evil will the sword further cover the land in demonization
Substance given to this reason will the legend league with the hero in part
As darkness owns a force so brute yet no match for the cougar's heart
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC
The devil's desire is to lure you from God
with his terrible tricks and his lies,
just like circumstance pulls me away
from the Heaven I see in your eyes.
Deceit filled my head; "He's a rebel,"
they said. "He's a monster, and worse yet,
a devil."
Yes, you don't fit the norm,
but I feel safe and warm
when your arms hold me tight.
The arms they warned would steal me at night.
And steal me they did on an evening so wild.
They cried out to you, "She's only a child."
They failed to see the truth of the matter,
continuing on with their idle chatter.
For in truth what you'd takes was rightfully yours.
I wasn't a captive locked behind iron doors.
I'd given myself to you with no hesitation,
just as you had offered yourself up with no reservation.
And you are no demon.
No, you are an angel.
In your eyes I've seen
the land of the faithful.
All their attempts at my evangelization
have only resulted in their own demonization.
I flee from them into the night,
where your arms hold me close and tight.
Their words are like chaff; the wind blows them away.
I no longer listen to the things that they say.
I will walk into the Promised Land,
but in my own way, we two hand in hand.
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 3:29 PM UTC
You were not a profit
A margin set wide
Applied in sleight of hand
Applications , as all implications
Imply that we have begun
Ripping apart at the seems
While dispatches twine
Like a run away vine
In, around and down the middle
of all those dead end truths
and cobble stones
Wherein lies
those alternate routes
The endless drone of what
I...DK - is the disquieting noise
Made....when...the rubber does not
Meet the road!
All success in a business sense
Requires a bit of hustle , some muscle
Applied by the leverage gained
Maintained by liberal false promises
Cloaked and contained
in the conmanservatude
by blind faith idolatry
False pride and emonumental
Brigandage and deminionization
Demonization and Condamnization
That spread like some rare disease
Across not only our own nation
But around the whole misbegotten world
So no profit upon us obliques
Any more than will be
visited upon those resolute parallels
Who seem so blind, walking along
All of one mind, and inclined to
Absorb the blows, sing the praise
I do not know how they cannot see
The ship would sink , the markets close
Without them as his orphan
His common stock slowly slipping away
Diminishing returns are not his concerns
That lays more to the valuable blue chips
Because it's easy to see facts are facts
Took you and me and our hard earned common cash
To pay for those inherently smarter 2% ers income tax.
Someone has to and its not just us snowflakes paying..
Oh forget it! they still can't hear a word they themselves are saying
They can't hear us
Donald the DeDuck tion
Spent extra for sound proof glass on the clown bus.
Jul 4, 2019
Jul 4, 2019 at 8:08 AM UTC
if there is nothing human
about humanity
what's to save
it's not the pandemic
that keeps us separate
it's the dehumanization
and the demonization
the demoralization
we heap upon each other
no poet
can survive the lack
of friction
between their lives
and the lives of others
this artificial suspension
of everyday life
wrapping ourselves
in tight-lipped tolerance
or inflamed outrage
does nothing
but extend the isolation
the flimsy rope bridges
that cross the chasms
of derision
sway in the winds
of anarchy
those still able
and are willing
to communicate
must.
Jan 21, 2022
Jan 21, 2022 at 12:49 AM UTC
The untouachable stars twinkle and above the stream
They glisten as do a thousand diamonds
The stream gently flows as does silk through hands
Although cold, it refreshes and soothes all who embrace it
A cool breeze lifts you up into the sky
You see the treetops as reminders that there is more above
Each tree slowly waving goodbye through the wind
All the constellations greet you with a sparkle
The nocturnal animals come out and play in what is thought to be the dead of night
They sing and dance for the joy of life
The animals truly appreciate the wonders of night
At first there is silence
By listening closer you hear the insects
The insects despite demonization enjoy the night as well
Fireflies light up the area while cicadas play their song
You may also hear the howling winds
One would say they are haunting
If you truly listen you hear momentous stories
The stream speaks nonsense expecting you to interpret it into beauty
The night smells of what can only be described as relaxation
Some say it's cool like a frozen pond
Others will exclaim it is that of fresh dew condensing
Whatever it is to you is opinion
Every opinion of smell, sight, or hearing is correct nonetheless
The night is wondrous
Some choose to slumber come nocturne
You can find me in awe at the beauty of what is simply known as night
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 1:28 AM UTC