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"demonstrating" poems
awakening with the gradual rise of the subdued heather hued sun a palpable spectral silence permeated the air the anticipation of celebration intercepted by an enveloping phantom black malaise hiding in obscure shadows the terror of the twin towers final doom elucidated quivers of melancholic nuances rippling through the greying vicinity my birthday september 11th a tuesday my night to sing at abravanel hall with the utah symphony unable to serenade death our voices remained indubitably silenced in hushed wistful reverence ensuing 9/11s channel somber sentiments cloaked with annihilation while dark visions occupy smudged iphone screens this anniversary i will dissipate despair transmuting dark despondency splashing all with lucent petals of delight i’ll live this day with passionate intensity and those subsequent with equal ardor ferociously painting back the light i will raise my voice with effervescence and sing in wild abandon for my precious brothers that were lost demonstrating devotion through a refusal to be silenced by fear bestowing honor with a conspicuous message that love wins ©2016janetaylor
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Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 6:22 PM UTC
9/11 birthday
Angry Pen, Angry Pen, oh how I hate you Angry Pen I wish you'd do some changing Cause you're the only one demonstrating sin You make me angry, Angry Pen I know the writing can't begin If you're too angry, angry, angry, angry You're a raging pen And sometimes, I just wish you'd disappear Don't get me wrong when you're happy, I love to have you near And when you're mad, well It's a sad thought, cause it's never been this bad But when you're mad I trail off like the tail of the rat And it only gets worse Sometimes I just wish you were in the back of a hearse I want to put you to death Put you to rest And I don't mean to curse But you **** me off angry pen This pain isn't something I deserve But Angry Pen, I don't understand, why you have to be so cross Were you created that way or were you just taught and if you want to be that way, well, then I'd rather you not Because of you angry pen people think I'm a slob Angry Pen, Angry Pen How you nauseate me pen I don't mean to be hating but I think I feel a changing wind You used to make me angry I used to think you were demonstrating sin But that seems to be fading Because I wrote this poem with the so called 'Angry Pen' -Slang
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Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 7:12 PM UTC
Angry Pen pt. 1
The tractor stands frozen - an agony To think of. All night Snow packed its open entrails. Now a head-pincering gale, A spill of molten ice, smoking snow, Pours into its steel. At white heat of numbness it stands In the aimed hosing of ground-level fieriness. It defied flesh and won't start. Hands are like wounds already Inside armour gloves, and feet are unbelievable As if the toe-nails were all just torn off. I stare at it in hatred. Beyond it The copse hisses - capitulates miserably In the fleeing, failing light. Starlings, A dirtier sleetier snow, blow smokily, unendingly, over Towards plantations Eastward. All the time the tractor is sinking Through the degrees, deepening Into its hell of ice. The starting lever Cracks its action, like a snapping knuckle. The battery is alive - but like a lamb Trying to nudge its solid-frozen mother - While the seat claims my buttock-bones, bites With the space-cold of earth, which it has joined In one solid lump. I squirt commercial sure-fire Down the black throat - it just coughs. It ridicules me - a trap of iron stupidity I've stepped into. I drive the battery As if I were hammering and hammering The frozen arrangement to pieces with a hammer And it jabbers laughing pain-crying mockingly Into happy life. And stands Shuddering itself full of heat, seeming to enlarge slowly Like a demon demonstrating A more-than-usually-complete materialization - Suddenly it jerks from its solidarity With the concrete, and lurches towards a stanchion Bursting with superhuman well-being and abandon Shouting Where Where? Worse iron is waiting. Power-lift kneels Levers awake imprisoned deadweight, Shackle-pins bedded in cast-iron cow-shit. The blind and vibrating condemned obedience Of iron to the cruelty of iron, Wheels screeched out of their night-locks - Fingers Among the tormented Tonnage and burning of iron Eyes Weeping in the wind of chloroform And the tractor, streaming with sweat, Raging and trembling and rejoicing.
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5.2k
Tractor
The tractor stands frozen - an agony To think of. All night Snow packed its open entrails. Now a head-pincering gale, A spill of molten ice, smoking snow, Pours into its steel. At white heat of numbness it stands In the aimed hosing of ground-level fieriness. It defied flesh and won't start. Hands are like wounds already Inside armour gloves, and feet are unbelievable As if the toe-nails were all just torn off. I stare at it in hatred. Beyond it The copse hisses - capitulates miserably In the fleeing, failing light. Starlings, A dirtier sleetier snow, blow smokily, unendingly, over Towards plantations Eastward. All the time the tractor is sinking Through the degrees, deepening Into its hell of ice. The starting lever Cracks its action, like a snapping knuckle. The battery is alive - but like a lamb Trying to nudge its solid-frozen mother - While the seat claims my buttock-bones, bites With the space-cold of earth, which it has joined In one solid lump. I squirt commercial sure-fire Down the black throat - it just coughs. It ridicules me - a trap of iron stupidity I've stepped into. I drive the battery As if I were hammering and hammering The frozen arrangement to pieces with a hammer And it jabbers laughing pain-crying mockingly Into happy life. And stands Shuddering itself full of heat, seeming to enlarge slowly Like a demon demonstrating A more-than-usually-complete materialization - Suddenly it jerks from its solidarity With the concrete, and lurches towards a stanchion Bursting with superhuman well-being and abandon Shouting Where Where? Worse iron is waiting. Power-lift kneels Levers awake imprisoned deadweight, Shackle-pins bedded in cast-iron cow-shit. The blind and vibrating condemned obedience Of iron to the cruelty of iron, Wheels screeched out of their night-locks - Fingers Among the tormented Tonnage and burning of iron Eyes Weeping in the wind of chloroform And the tractor, streaming with sweat, Raging and trembling and rejoicing.
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55
As a ginger, I'm inclined to say fox. I've always had an affinity for those cunning, red canines. But if it's just for a day then perhaps something a bit more adventurous. I suppose I would choose to be a cheetah. Fastest land animal in the world, agile, and speckled. Nobody messes with a cheetah. Not because they’re so hulking or intimidating— just more fascinating than terrifying. We travelled to South Africa once, my family and I. As a tribe we chased wild creatures down with cameras in jeeps in a raucous yet hushed thrill.   The cheetah was one of the few animals that eluded us. Perhaps having never seen one up close is partially what draws me to them.   Mysterious, as well as evasive, with an "I don't give a **** attitude. They only eat every so often because catching food is such a feat. When they do hunt however, it's one of the most spectacular things in the natural world. It's why places that sell tv's show footage of cheetahs running in slow motion over and over on a dizzying loop; demonstrating how clear the pixels are in the plasmas. It's mesmerizing. Their feet move too fast and fly over the dirt, honed in on whatever poor gazelle or kudu they're after. If you're a cheetah that is your body, your thin bones, your rapid heart and beating paws that make you move in such a blur. To be a cheetah for a day is feeling and knowing the difference between machine and muscle. Humans have found ways to fly, and people regularly move faster than a top speed of 75mph. But how sublime it would be! To be solely and purely responsible for that unparalleled speed just for one day.
0
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 6:18 PM UTC
To Be an Animal for a Day
As a ginger, I'm inclined to say fox. I've always had an affinity for those cunning, red canines. But if it's just for a day then perhaps something a bit more adventurous. I suppose I would choose to be a cheetah. Fastest land animal in the world, agile, and speckled. Nobody messes with a cheetah. Not because they’re so hulking or intimidating— just more fascinating than terrifying. We travelled to South Africa once, my family and I. As a tribe we chased wild creatures down with cameras in jeeps in a raucous yet hushed thrill.   The cheetah was one of the few animals that eluded us. Perhaps having never seen one up close is partially what draws me to them.   Mysterious, as well as evasive, with an "I don't give a **** attitude. They only eat every so often because catching food is such a feat. When they do hunt however, it's one of the most spectacular things in the natural world. It's why places that sell tv's show footage of cheetahs running in slow motion over and over on a dizzying loop; demonstrating how clear the pixels are in the plasmas. It's mesmerizing. Their feet move too fast and fly over the dirt, honed in on whatever poor gazelle or kudu they're after. If you're a cheetah that is your body, your thin bones, your rapid heart and beating paws that make you move in such a blur. To be a cheetah for a day is feeling and knowing the difference between machine and muscle. Humans have found ways to fly, and people regularly move faster than a top speed of 75mph. But how sublime it would be! To be solely and purely responsible for that unparalleled speed just for one day.
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13
Lo siento por el dolor que te cause. Lo siento por todo lo que te he echo. Por causarte mucho dolor en el corazón.   Por no demostrarte mi cariño por ti. Lo siento por ser cobarde. Por dañarte.   Por hacer tu corazón llorar todo por mi culpa.   Lo siento en verdad por todo. Mi corazón me duele de tanto llorar. Siempre fuiste esa persona que admiraba. En ves de decir mi padre o mi madre, te elijo a ti. Porque siempre estuviste ahí por mi cuando nadie lo estuvo. Perdóñame por ser una mala persona. Te quiero mucho. Perdóname por no demonstratelo como lo debía. Me escondía detrás de mis miedos. Se que algún día ya no estarás.   Tomarás una decisión. Se que esa decisión dolerá pero todo fue por mi culpa. Por no haberte cuidado. No te merezco. Perdóname por todo. Perdoname por mi existencia. -------- I'm sorry for the pain that I've caused you. I'm sorry for everything that I've done to you. For causing so much pain in your heart. For not showing my affection towards you. I'm sorry for being a coward. For hurting you. For making your heart cry because of me. I'm really sorry. My heart hurts because of too much crying. You were always that person that I admired. Instead of saying my father or my mother, I choose you. Because you were always there when no one was. Forgive me for being a horrible person. I love you. I'm sorry for not demonstrating it to you like I should of. I hid myself from my fears. I know that one day you'll no longer be here. You'll make a decision. I know that it'll hurt, but it would all be because of me. For not taking care of you. I don't deserve you. Forgive me for everything. forgive me for my existence.
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Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 3:29 AM UTC
Lo siento..por todo.
Lo siento por el dolor que te cause. Lo siento por todo lo que te he echo. Por causarte mucho dolor en el corazón.   Por no demostrarte mi cariño por ti. Lo siento por ser cobarde. Por dañarte.   Por hacer tu corazón llorar todo por mi culpa.   Lo siento en verdad por todo. Mi corazón me duele de tanto llorar. Siempre fuiste esa persona que admiraba. En ves de decir mi padre o mi madre, te elijo a ti. Porque siempre estuviste ahí por mi cuando nadie lo estuvo. Perdóñame por ser una mala persona. Te quiero mucho. Perdóname por no demonstratelo como lo debía. Me escondía detrás de mis miedos. Se que algún día ya no estarás.   Tomarás una decisión. Se que esa decisión dolerá pero todo fue por mi culpa. Por no haberte cuidado. No te merezco. Perdóname por todo. Perdoname por mi existencia. -------- I'm sorry for the pain that I've caused you. I'm sorry for everything that I've done to you. For causing so much pain in your heart. For not showing my affection towards you. I'm sorry for being a coward. For hurting you. For making your heart cry because of me. I'm really sorry. My heart hurts because of too much crying. You were always that person that I admired. Instead of saying my father or my mother, I choose you. Because you were always there when no one was. Forgive me for being a horrible person. I love you. I'm sorry for not demonstrating it to you like I should of. I hid myself from my fears. I know that one day you'll no longer be here. You'll make a decision. I know that it'll hurt, but it would all be because of me. For not taking care of you. I don't deserve you. Forgive me for everything. forgive me for my existence.
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47
The clock disserts on punctuation, syntax. The clock's voice, thin and dry, asserts, repeats. The clock insists: a lecturer demonstrating, Loudly, with finger raised, when the class has gone. But time flows through the room, light flows through the room Like someone picking flowers, like someone whistling Without a tune, like talk in front of a fire, Like a woman knitting or a child snipping at paper.
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3.3k
Empty Room
I'm all for peace and the hippie days   We were the children of the 60s, layin' about and lettin' our hair sprout   We were influenced as much as we influenced others   Flower power didn't work, maybe it's just the American way, no doubt   Turning over all the apple carts, should've just turned the other cheek my baby   Some say, I went too far, is it because, i've got such a rebel heart? Maybe.   Hippies have survived since the caveman days   Sometimes hiding behind societies blurry daze   Never wanting to upset the nations orderly ways   Always demonstrating for their true beliefs in a cloudy haze.   Now it feels like I've been jabbed, with a poison dart   So deep down inside my experienced, but innocent rebel heart   That 60s biz was just our breakfast and we hadn't even got to lunch yet   If I was a new gen baby, I could still show others love and peace, I bet   Give me a chance at showing you, that I'm not that different than you   Go ahead, ask me questions, there well overdue.   Hippies have survived since the caveman days   Sometimes hiding behind societies blurry daze   Never wanting to upset the nations orderly ways   Always demonstrating for their true beliefs in a cloudy haze.   Not changing my ways, but adapting my ways, is what I need to do   I'll listen to others and always take your cue, to try and remove the venom for you   It might not happen overnight, it could take a while, alright!   Maybe I'll go with the flow or maybe wake-up in a sweat, in the middle of the night   Let me get my groove back and things will change, we'll go back to the start   Just forgive me and always remember, I was born with this rebel heart.   Hippies have survived since the caveman days   Sometimes hiding behind societies blurry daze   Never wanting to upset the nations orderly ways   Always demonstrating for their true beliefs in a cloudy haze.
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Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 5:31 PM UTC
Blurry Daze
I'm all for peace and the hippie days   We were the children of the 60s, layin' about and lettin' our hair sprout   We were influenced as much as we influenced others   Flower power didn't work, maybe it's just the American way, no doubt   Turning over all the apple carts, should've just turned the other cheek my baby   Some say, I went too far, is it because, i've got such a rebel heart? Maybe.   Hippies have survived since the caveman days   Sometimes hiding behind societies blurry daze   Never wanting to upset the nations orderly ways   Always demonstrating for their true beliefs in a cloudy haze.   Now it feels like I've been jabbed, with a poison dart   So deep down inside my experienced, but innocent rebel heart   That 60s biz was just our breakfast and we hadn't even got to lunch yet   If I was a new gen baby, I could still show others love and peace, I bet   Give me a chance at showing you, that I'm not that different than you   Go ahead, ask me questions, there well overdue.   Hippies have survived since the caveman days   Sometimes hiding behind societies blurry daze   Never wanting to upset the nations orderly ways   Always demonstrating for their true beliefs in a cloudy haze.   Not changing my ways, but adapting my ways, is what I need to do   I'll listen to others and always take your cue, to try and remove the venom for you   It might not happen overnight, it could take a while, alright!   Maybe I'll go with the flow or maybe wake-up in a sweat, in the middle of the night   Let me get my groove back and things will change, we'll go back to the start   Just forgive me and always remember, I was born with this rebel heart.   Hippies have survived since the caveman days   Sometimes hiding behind societies blurry daze   Never wanting to upset the nations orderly ways   Always demonstrating for their true beliefs in a cloudy haze.
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30
~and for Harlan, who loved this one best~ *"for tandem is the ever-changing, graying color of their fierce attached tenacity" waking/walking in careful pacing regular lock steps, like new cadets, counting cadence, in perfect silent, almost motionless, except for the minuscule quivering of slightly parted moving lips these two elders, still now plebes, freshmen but of a latter, graduated stage, demonstrating robustly the slow shuffle-along, a well practiced dance conjured 'in tandem' her arm, crooked in his, his other hand, in protective custody of a knight's armored chain glove encasing hers, he, shuffling just,   a precise, intended half-a-beat slower lest she ever think that she, ever be a drag upon him hair, his, threaded with daily, new arriving grays, proudly accepted as the privilege of graceful aging hers, disguised with periodic outings, outings for the hidings of life's bookmarks, conceding nothing ever to time's lunatic desire to separate them modest in dress, styling hints of  pasts' elegant, the man's hat defiant, daringly jaunty angled, a small scarf to handbag knotted, matching his Windsor knotted tie the passers-by, all smile,   the signal charm of an end game processional, thinking so sweet, yet mine eyes detect more, something hardy and radical a fierce, fierce fierceness, both fighters in the resistance, armed with tandem tenacity, ground given, but only inches surrendered, wounds resisted by scar skin toughened by the caress of ions bonding under the pressure of atomic level mutuality worn out, well past Purple Hearts, no capitulation feared, to the ever changing, enemies' new disguises, they, a two person platoon, each, having the other's back and I burst into tears on the street, a train of out loud moans, even groans emitted, like a string of perfect pearls breaking, clattering on an asphalt terrain weeping not from visions of the inevitable, sighing not from the certitude of a cycle's uptime ending* but jealous furious by this reminder delightful, angry at myself, for having lost so many wasted years, mine, the loss greatest, for absent was the fierce tenacity of tandem
0
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 8:41 PM UTC
Tandem: The Color of Their Tenacity
~and for Harlan, who loved this one best~ *"for tandem is the ever-changing, graying color of their fierce attached tenacity" waking/walking in careful pacing regular lock steps, like new cadets, counting cadence, in perfect silent, almost motionless, except for the minuscule quivering of slightly parted moving lips these two elders, still now plebes, freshmen but of a latter, graduated stage, demonstrating robustly the slow shuffle-along, a well practiced dance conjured 'in tandem' her arm, crooked in his, his other hand, in protective custody of a knight's armored chain glove encasing hers, he, shuffling just,   a precise, intended half-a-beat slower lest she ever think that she, ever be a drag upon him hair, his, threaded with daily, new arriving grays, proudly accepted as the privilege of graceful aging hers, disguised with periodic outings, outings for the hidings of life's bookmarks, conceding nothing ever to time's lunatic desire to separate them modest in dress, styling hints of  pasts' elegant, the man's hat defiant, daringly jaunty angled, a small scarf to handbag knotted, matching his Windsor knotted tie the passers-by, all smile,   the signal charm of an end game processional, thinking so sweet, yet mine eyes detect more, something hardy and radical a fierce, fierce fierceness, both fighters in the resistance, armed with tandem tenacity, ground given, but only inches surrendered, wounds resisted by scar skin toughened by the caress of ions bonding under the pressure of atomic level mutuality worn out, well past Purple Hearts, no capitulation feared, to the ever changing, enemies' new disguises, they, a two person platoon, each, having the other's back and I burst into tears on the street, a train of out loud moans, even groans emitted, like a string of perfect pearls breaking, clattering on an asphalt terrain weeping not from visions of the inevitable, sighing not from the certitude of a cycle's uptime ending* but jealous furious by this reminder delightful, angry at myself, for having lost so many wasted years, mine, the loss greatest, for absent was the fierce tenacity of tandem
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85
No one's perfect, a truth that's always told But goal and motivation is his stepping stone Short term and lifelong sets made him so mold Now he's infront of the crowd, sharing his story alone Giving inspiration to maidens and lad Showing the angle of sociology that life is fair Life is unfair to him, life is unfair to her so don't be too sad You're not the only one who has a problem to bare He also pointed out inequality and discrimination How it blocks the bridge for other races How it removes peace and harmony to His creation And gives them lesson on how to live with other faces Demonstrating how to nurture the plants Striking to everyone the beauty of every tree Realizing that nature is best and independent It could survive without us humans who's killing it continuously Encouraging them to go out of the world Stepping out of the front door of their comfort zone Letting them know the lenses and view of words Giving them the experiences that the society can provide like what's in Dale's cone
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Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 5:26 PM UTC
My one Educator
The sun shines on us all, as well as the rain Torrential downpours of pain, we lose and we gain We veer into cliched territory to verbalize our response to more tragedies that a lost world continues to offer The signs of the times the Holy Text forewarned becomes ever more visible...except to the blind and the Scoffer Why does the blood of the innocent and unknowing continue to shed for the next man’s awakening of his own imminent flatline? At times I, picture myself in someone else’s fate, how would I have handled myself in that same place? How would I have responded with bullets suddenly flying around me as potential dead bodies surround me, in that unexpected moment of truth...which characteristic would have ultimately found me? cowardice...or courage? I find myself at times discouraged by my struggle with self-assurance in knowing that my demonstrating answer would have been in the latter rather than the former How many times have we entered into a school, mall, concert venue only to have a passing or pressing thought enter into our conscience only to ask “what if I’m not supposed to make it back out alive”? I often wonder if Rachel Scott struggled with these internal inquiries in the years, months, days, hours, final seconds before she stepped foot on that columbine soil destined to receive her call to became a maytr for the Gospel she lived...and died for. What exactly are we dying for? Are we dying to self? Or because of it? Whether our final earthly breath is due to a natural cause or one unsuspecting...what are we dying for? Many people will not be able to answer that question…until it is forever too late...
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Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 4:12 AM UTC
What are we dying for?
The sun shines on us all, as well as the rain Torrential downpours of pain, we lose and we gain We veer into cliched territory to verbalize our response to more tragedies that a lost world continues to offer The signs of the times the Holy Text forewarned becomes ever more visible...except to the blind and the Scoffer Why does the blood of the innocent and unknowing continue to shed for the next man’s awakening of his own imminent flatline? At times I, picture myself in someone else’s fate, how would I have handled myself in that same place? How would I have responded with bullets suddenly flying around me as potential dead bodies surround me, in that unexpected moment of truth...which characteristic would have ultimately found me? cowardice...or courage? I find myself at times discouraged by my struggle with self-assurance in knowing that my demonstrating answer would have been in the latter rather than the former How many times have we entered into a school, mall, concert venue only to have a passing or pressing thought enter into our conscience only to ask “what if I’m not supposed to make it back out alive”? I often wonder if Rachel Scott struggled with these internal inquiries in the years, months, days, hours, final seconds before she stepped foot on that columbine soil destined to receive her call to became a maytr for the Gospel she lived...and died for. What exactly are we dying for? Are we dying to self? Or because of it? Whether our final earthly breath is due to a natural cause or one unsuspecting...what are we dying for? Many people will not be able to answer that question…until it is forever too late...
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13
I'm a big girl with a big name I love whole-heartedly I think with my brain And when people ask Am I'm suppose to feel shame? When they don't ask the background when they over hear my name Misspelled or misheard To them it all sounds the same there's no history Just black culture, no change I don't roll my eyes just for attitude I do so because your opinion is annoying and possibly insane Not to mention rude I don't roll my neck to be ghetto It is an expression of my frustration at the ignorance that you are demonstrating. And I don't speak slang because it's the only words I know But it's a reminder of how my ancestors were forced to live with as little education as that yet still have so much more to show And when I dance it's not to show off my body nor break my back But to tell a story with my hips so that you'll never forget that I AM DIFFERENT AND I AM PROUD And my skin color shouldn't have anything to do with that now It's 2014 Not the 1800s anymore Never again your down low ***** But people keep assuming before I even open my mouth That i have no future No good upbringing Since when were "ghetto" names defining Well, since when were they not But I will walk with pride across that stage Only time you'll see my face on the news is for something great Because I'm a big girl with a big name I love whole-heartedly I think with my big brain I feel no shame I just smile because I know one day People will know my name It's not the 1800s anymore It's the year 2014
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Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
2014
I'm a big girl with a big name I love whole-heartedly I think with my brain And when people ask Am I'm suppose to feel shame? When they don't ask the background when they over hear my name Misspelled or misheard To them it all sounds the same there's no history Just black culture, no change I don't roll my eyes just for attitude I do so because your opinion is annoying and possibly insane Not to mention rude I don't roll my neck to be ghetto It is an expression of my frustration at the ignorance that you are demonstrating. And I don't speak slang because it's the only words I know But it's a reminder of how my ancestors were forced to live with as little education as that yet still have so much more to show And when I dance it's not to show off my body nor break my back But to tell a story with my hips so that you'll never forget that I AM DIFFERENT AND I AM PROUD And my skin color shouldn't have anything to do with that now It's 2014 Not the 1800s anymore Never again your down low ***** But people keep assuming before I even open my mouth That i have no future No good upbringing Since when were "ghetto" names defining Well, since when were they not But I will walk with pride across that stage Only time you'll see my face on the news is for something great Because I'm a big girl with a big name I love whole-heartedly I think with my big brain I feel no shame I just smile because I know one day People will know my name It's not the 1800s anymore It's the year 2014
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41
I find you in a room of a hundred walls where you can’t find yourself. You presume you too can find me, but I can’t feel it. I move my feet towards you and scream: “I EXIST. YOU EXIST. I EXIST. YOU EXIST.” But you don’t seem to slightly hear me. Your eyes still pitch black, darker than the night but glittering and shimmering brighter than a million constellations. Does that indicate a near burnout? Or are you still in the process of combustion? Maybe you’ve exploded many light years ago but the aftermath is still demonstrating in your eyes fierier than ever. “Insignificant.” You mumble. “I exist, you exist.” I weep. “I exist, you exist. But do exits exist?” you smirk, and I no longer want to exist.
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Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 4:59 PM UTC
Do Exits Exist?
[sweet pungent synthesis] always with dank hysterical women demonstrating the distilled liquid elixir of their many years in isolation. they are the nitrogen-rich followers of an ultraviolet shrine, such is a photosynthetic life-form, reacting/enacting/enhancing. they reach for holes in the moon & on four-legged fumes carbonize seeds into sons and daughters. birth/ life. all flowers ache forth to display color and/or their varietals of hairy oil content. to dip psychotropics, thus the worship of brain frequency and light. fresh progress, the sugar crystal compounds impacting, intact, and swollen. trichomes, like huddled little masses of grandbabies bowed upon the ridge. she drips in dance and derives her form from properties plucked by time, by moms, and pops. to discover is to find purity in a moment. pure travel/ pure death. this growing force, this apparition of sound within me. organics. organisms bound by great beauty and failure. sense not the vivid panic, or the shock of last black, but hold true to an inner joyous/outer motionous, tessellation that is, this fluttering of us. us suit of hearts. suit of leaves. the fusion of two bodies far beyond substantial pressure.
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Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 7:35 AM UTC
cannabacchanalia
I am sorry for your pain but I am not the cause and seeing how you've treated me I think I know what was Dishonest in your ranting as you're girlfriend and not wife no wonder why he shies away from unrelenting strife Accusing without evidence eschewing private mail you castigate me publicly as illogically you rail Behaving with much cruelty demonstrating zero class you couldn't solve a mystery if it bit you in the *** 18 Jun 2015
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Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
To the Woman Whose Man Was Not Faithful
**Shallow stones skipping across the water careful not to penitrate the surface...maintaining a suave demeanor All to careful demonstrating a perfect front for the crowd, always pleasing... Class clown turns bullying into a comedy skit humiliating the girl in the corner who is homeless...If he only walked a mile in her shoes Thoughtless and unbound acts of the most popular, always shunning the one's whose crowd is smaller Its not easy being the underdog, the less fortunate...outcasted by societys cruel intentions bound from a silver platter**
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Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 8:25 PM UTC
Outcasted by appearance
My existence hunches on the surge of homeostasis, Peeking through botany and paralyzed life. These skeletons are coated with flesh, fluid, and cells, An integument the size of my being in spitting distance, Admitting natural flaws with debeaked drains and Demonstrating actual emotion with rearranging face. Narrow wings without sails are flapping noodled, Desperately escaping living reality into paradise In the black eyes which can travel with no hesitation, Development always unfulfilled at clipped appendages. An ordinary watcher devours the ghost souls in limbo; Gravity allows a wallflower to soar away through diverse emptiness.
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Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 2:43 AM UTC
Winged
The following statements of truth were brought to you Not through, but circumnavigating fated parameters Of insane, yet normative, largely uninformative Mechanisms that formally give birth to ******** And instead, strategically splicing said bounds with Ideal variables derived from the courageously quixotic, Unrobotic, and outraged agents of, and for, capital Real: The train of corporate reasoning derails so fast To follow is to snap the head backward, Far past angles within measures of pleasurable fit And open gates to deluging tangled circular Failures of logic that trick and co-opt the proletariat. We are Present-Ambassadors with broken flux-capacitors Demonstrating a consistent tendency toward error In efforts to obtain diplomatic access to a future where The same reemerging deficits do not manifest unfixed. One of said deficits may include all positive freedoms. For the record, it shall be noted that civil society Currently arrives implicitly to find it compliantly fine To promote systems of labor designed to illicit behaviors That will eventually undermine the actors of exhaustive work And make benefactors of those complicit in crime. As case studies of this paradoxical paradigm, we observe Nations signing trade agreements aligned with Selling more of the goods whose extractions have Cataclysmic exactions upon locals contracted not to resist. Those who take issue with this are directed to appellate institutions. The projected scarcity of over-consumed poisons causes fear Which leads to faster hoarding and more ex(t/p)ensive death. Thus, most human behaviors presently inflate pricing, popularity, And rapidity associated with committing system-wide suicide. As shackle-some power consolidation bends toward a transnational peak I hereby slide-tackle these forwarded trends, seeking goals of the rational.
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Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
For Consideration
The following statements of truth were brought to you Not through, but circumnavigating fated parameters Of insane, yet normative, largely uninformative Mechanisms that formally give birth to ******** And instead, strategically splicing said bounds with Ideal variables derived from the courageously quixotic, Unrobotic, and outraged agents of, and for, capital Real: The train of corporate reasoning derails so fast To follow is to snap the head backward, Far past angles within measures of pleasurable fit And open gates to deluging tangled circular Failures of logic that trick and co-opt the proletariat. We are Present-Ambassadors with broken flux-capacitors Demonstrating a consistent tendency toward error In efforts to obtain diplomatic access to a future where The same reemerging deficits do not manifest unfixed. One of said deficits may include all positive freedoms. For the record, it shall be noted that civil society Currently arrives implicitly to find it compliantly fine To promote systems of labor designed to illicit behaviors That will eventually undermine the actors of exhaustive work And make benefactors of those complicit in crime. As case studies of this paradoxical paradigm, we observe Nations signing trade agreements aligned with Selling more of the goods whose extractions have Cataclysmic exactions upon locals contracted not to resist. Those who take issue with this are directed to appellate institutions. The projected scarcity of over-consumed poisons causes fear Which leads to faster hoarding and more ex(t/p)ensive death. Thus, most human behaviors presently inflate pricing, popularity, And rapidity associated with committing system-wide suicide. As shackle-some power consolidation bends toward a transnational peak I hereby slide-tackle these forwarded trends, seeking goals of the rational.
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33
US President Trump declared Jerusalem to be the capital of Israel. How brazen. He dare not hide his allegiance with thugs, war criminals, terrorists, thieves, heartless creatures, shall I go on. He corrupt enough to give ownership of a capital rightfully belonging to Palestine to blood thirsty Zionists. People all over the world protesting, demonstrating, showing their resistance to Trump's nonsense for more than a week now. Most of the protests reactionary. Although the protests are purposeful and necessary, ongoing consistent proactive resistance is what is needed. Regretfully is what is lacking. Keffiyah, donned by many following Trump's wicked declaration. The garment of solidarity with an oppressed land and oppressed people & a resistance to ongoing Zionist colonialism & criminality. Buy One, Wear One, Speak up with One. Educate with One. Avoid being reactionary with One. Be proactive with One.   Long live Al-Quds. Long live Palestine. May God always protect the Holy Land. by Najwa Kareem
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Dec 17, 2017
Dec 17, 2017 at 11:35 AM UTC
Palestine: (Al-Quds) Jerusalem, Worldwide Protests & the wearing of Keffiyeh/Kufiya
some of our teachers were awful nice and the harbour of sweet peccadillos (having to deal with us every day would make anyone crazy..) and i suppose they took refuge in their insect collecting in abyssinia.. (pasttimes tinged in the exotic and a nod to the sadistic..) but  love of keats and wordsworth (etc)... miraculously remained undiminished.. (while demonstrating lethal aims and a plethora of different pain.. one used the leg of a chair and another gave his weaponry girl´ s names.. i guess they were just as bored as we were how the season´ s waxed and wained..) they still retained their soulful natures a wonder of testament to the great genius of elliot yeats and so forth..! their fundamental faith undimmed...
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Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 8:40 AM UTC
some of our teachers were awful nice
Being so heavenly minded and of no earthly good is a dichotomy of attitude to avoid, as one must and should. Solutions to Life's problems become evident with clear thinking, when grounded on divine principles for the purpose of practical living. The Standard has been defined for all Kingdom residents - Walk in abundance, be a blessing to others as shown by Christ's precedent. By making a positive impact and demonstrating God's Love, we're enabled to reach all people for their inclusion into Heaven above. Author Note: Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
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Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 6:13 AM UTC
Poem: No Earthly Good
Table salt without pleasing flavor is useless, like a weak Christian lacking “good works”; for the World is in need of divine examples of how to live within the Kingdom’s framework. There are many souls craving spiritual waters, to have their endless abyss of thirst quenched. Are we testifying of God’s Love to reach those in strongholds- where they’re firmly entrenched? Unless there are obvious and significant change in the personal behavior of our everyday lives, the World will have no real motivation for faith when there’s no evidence of transcendent lives. We’re still called to be the salt of this planet, demonstrating victorious lives as saved brothers; As Christians, we’re supposed to add loving flavor. We’re responsible for generating thirst in others! . . . Author Notes Loosely based on: Matt 5:13; Jam 2:14-26 Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
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Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
Poem: Generating Thirst in Others
Emergent and forming I feel a storm is imploring that soon without any warning you beg to cross a line Every time, nothing is sacred but sacramental complacence is marked as roles of the shameless Mean to skip a line another time? Is this too rough and obtuse for a cutie like you to boost the power line? Number 9, completion is power and stricken chords every hour proceed to timeline devour those daily entities I do decree that opposition to me is free and withered beatings to meetings, detours and dealings understanding demands of variable plans is held by the hand that feeds the depleted need I see it from every angle, the tangle, the multishifted frame though it dangles, I can't be stuck in my own head when I see the reflections of me in the treasure it jangles, brings into focus where my head fell to float in the moments set to wrangle, pull it in, dwell upon the good and discard where it hampers new fangled notions like truth effusions of love and devotion are swallowed up in the daily ocean of noise traffic, the more verbose, Graphic dispatches matches blasted disasters dashed and rash past distractions amass magic attacks balanced Secular motion entwined with metaphysical potions, divided what is your quotient? It doesn't add up in this moment. Interpersonal, intergalactic, universal assertions disturbed by verbage of outrance Message mismanaged mischief mallaeble mayhem managed maganamously mallicous mannered when I would proclaim them. Members materialized meriting masturbatory movements and monetized malappropriation I have no patience nor pathos for indiscriminant egos demonstrating a tangent as canon and paralyzing progressions toward psychic visions of heaven, eyes as the cosmos, and pressures upended. I'll cope with associations disastrous and tainted, but keep in my visage all that scratches my lenses I know far too much to be content with the situation, but far too little to shatter falsehood's intitiation
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Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 5:53 AM UTC
Dammed Stream of Consciousness
Emergent and forming I feel a storm is imploring that soon without any warning you beg to cross a line Every time, nothing is sacred but sacramental complacence is marked as roles of the shameless Mean to skip a line another time? Is this too rough and obtuse for a cutie like you to boost the power line? Number 9, completion is power and stricken chords every hour proceed to timeline devour those daily entities I do decree that opposition to me is free and withered beatings to meetings, detours and dealings understanding demands of variable plans is held by the hand that feeds the depleted need I see it from every angle, the tangle, the multishifted frame though it dangles, I can't be stuck in my own head when I see the reflections of me in the treasure it jangles, brings into focus where my head fell to float in the moments set to wrangle, pull it in, dwell upon the good and discard where it hampers new fangled notions like truth effusions of love and devotion are swallowed up in the daily ocean of noise traffic, the more verbose, Graphic dispatches matches blasted disasters dashed and rash past distractions amass magic attacks balanced Secular motion entwined with metaphysical potions, divided what is your quotient? It doesn't add up in this moment. Interpersonal, intergalactic, universal assertions disturbed by verbage of outrance Message mismanaged mischief mallaeble mayhem managed maganamously mallicous mannered when I would proclaim them. Members materialized meriting masturbatory movements and monetized malappropriation I have no patience nor pathos for indiscriminant egos demonstrating a tangent as canon and paralyzing progressions toward psychic visions of heaven, eyes as the cosmos, and pressures upended. I'll cope with associations disastrous and tainted, but keep in my visage all that scratches my lenses I know far too much to be content with the situation, but far too little to shatter falsehood's intitiation
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20
A tumultuous existence The malady of my soul She smiles, her moist lips Ready to strike you down With viper’s wine And I? I look on, pierced through the stomach As the blood starts seeping out Demonstrating her victory, and my loss. That notorious **** Even now caressing your eyes And stealing your tongue And I? I find myself fleeing once again Flying from my own tomb That wears your gravestone. Call forth a eulogy Her name is dead.
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Apr 28, 2011
Apr 28, 2011 at 4:33 PM UTC
struggle
A: Admiring everything done by the lover B: Beautifying all habits of the lover C: Caring always enough for the lover D: Demonstrating love to the lover E: Experiencing pain of the lover F: Flirting exclusively with the lover G: Glorifying all qualities of the lover H: Holding hands with the lover I: Inching closer towards the lover J: Joking sufficiently for the lover K: Kindling the flame with the lover L: Loving every bit about the lover M: Moving together with the lover N: Never-ending love for the lover O: Obeying with wishes of the lover P: Praying for success of the lover Q: Qualifying in the eyes of the lover R: Reinforcing trust with the lover S: Softening preferences for the lover T: Trusting forever in the lover U: Understanding words of the lover V: Valuing all the feelings of the lover W: Willing to always help the lover X: Xenophiling always with the lover Y: Yearning often to be with the lover Z: Zooming in on the positives of the lover
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Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 6:11 AM UTC
Alphabets of Ideal Love