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Cartwright Mar 2010
I don't know what you want me to write ,
but you say write what I feel and /or
consciously need to express,
Towards
You,Me,
or any feeling within maybe even this
desolate world that we live in and
yes I say desolate because of the economic
sways that we go through,
the depressional phase of their so called
life that they want us to go through.
Controlling us to a point were we rely on their tarnished ways;
instead of forming to our traditional ways of life
they were so how they say simple when
WE know ourselves that slavery even in this day is no easy task.
We would love to be C.E.O's,
wake up tomorrow with our banks and pockets full of cash
so our babies and selves can have all we ever wanted to be
Lovers,
Haters,
Pimps,
and Playas.
We hate what they do to us,
but we wanna be just like them as well they hate us common folk
but they want our lives and traditions
our concurring beauty that attracts power,
great deeds and reoccurring needs to do better
to be determined no matter what the cost
we all criticize the other w/o knowing
that we wanna be each other.
constantly changing the rules of our life
to coincide with each others.
White, Black, Hispanic, Asian:

Whites: wanna Dance like us, wanna clean like us, wanna be us and most of all wanna steal/concur us.

Hispanics: wanna work as hard as us, make love like us, do what we do and as well party like us.

Asians: wanna be freaks like We are, wanna play by traditional wars and compare their rules
to ours with this blunt phase of battle called KUMITE were we all war against each other to prove
to one another who has better strength;
see they even want our strength,
they also wanna dance like us and steal styles of our ancient Beauty of Us

Blacks: we are Bold Beauty, no doubt about that but some of us do as Whites, Asians, Mexican do
so are all of us living by our
tradition as we claim to or only some of us.

overall I'm not being Racist,
Communist,
Or Prejudice
I am being me a Liberal;
One who Lives by what works for me,
That takes the Ideas and methods of living from each
and use these objectives as a tool...
They say were the United States
but are we really UNITED especially in the way we
Love,
Live,
Work,
and Play.
well!  
                                         Tomorrows another day.
Christopher Nathaniel Cartwright
Copyright © 1983-Present
ConnectHook Jul 2017
cerebral diarrhea
versus verborrhea
unpunctuated disequilibrium
generates opprobrium
unfree verse
fettered or worse
verbal *****:
bomb it.
confessional purgings
depressional urgings
emo-bingeing over unrequited love
makes this poet go off / out / above
Just a little ditty inspired by 90% of what I read at HP ☺
Sorry I'm so judgmental but "I gotta be me"

https://connecthook.wordpress.com/
Kiamm Dec 2021
The serenades of morning birds
Makes me regret scathing words.
The past will always be;
The future we'll never see.
But the present has a beauty
Not marred by depressional sooty.
Taylor Shaw Mar 2018
How could you do that to me? I trusted you with so much. I now sit up at night and wonder what things would be like if I had never met you. Would things be different for me? I believe, that I would be someone completely different. I cannot go back in time, although I wish I could. You invaded my ***. Stole the kingdom that was unguarded at night. Those guards stay awake and paint pictures of you. Always pictures of you. Paintings of that night. I wake up and those paintings are still wet in my mind. Still wet and glossy, never dry. The guards in my mind, now stay awake in order to protect me from the haunting past and untold stories that will forever last. It feels like forever. Me trying to glue myself back together. I am finally together, but when I look in the mirror to only find that you can still see the rough cracks at every seam. I am still broken, even when I dream. My kingdom that was unguarded before, now has a guard at every door. The windows are now covered by curtains, in hopes of hiding my sad burdens. The mirrors are shattered and so is my heart. The kingdom that was once happy, is now casted in the dark. When I know go swimming, I sink to the ground, because of the depressional shackles on my ankles that keep my forever bound. My kingdom is now haunted, with only nightmares roaming the halls. The guards lonely paintings are now hung upon the walls. That mellow sound you hear, is my hurting heartbeat. Can you hear the small thump of pain in every beat? It sounds like a broken grandfather clock that is stuck in time. As it sits there broken striving to chime. The villagers that once sang in song, now stay in their beds wondering what went wrong. They longed for the happiness that filled the streets and hearts with joyous song.

— The End —