"descendents" poems
Born a King
Born a Queen
Born a Slave
Born into freedom only to be
Caged
Shackled bound confined
Scared
Caged
Far from the Motherland
A people
Made sculpt molded
In her image
Brown earth
Yellow sun
Mahogany dark
Like the stone unyielding
Proud like the Kilimanjaro
Minds open like the plains
Of the Serengeti
Free
Only to be brought here
Caged
Used abused overwhelmed exhausted
Caged
Thrown away when aged like broken toys
Broken minds broken spirits afraid of our own image
Caged
Here we stand today with all the technology the worlds knowledge at our fingertips
Caged
Brothers’ sisters’ fathers sons’ mothers’ daughters’ families ripped apart
Torn at the seams no village to be seen
Caged
We are at war with violence ignorance rage
A horrible legacy indeed ……Caged
Our once proud people afraid to face the future
We are creating to our shame the same source of fear ignorance and rage
In our most valuable assets our jewels our destiny
Our children
Our vision
In our cage we destroy each other
We are racist in our own race
We defame denounce deplore each other
Are we comfortable complacent satisfied in our cage?
Our history tell us no our descendents tell us we shouldn’t be
They say to us we have no limits boundaries restrictions
They found the keys to the cage
They urge us they encourage us they push us in the direction of the stars
Come out of your comfort zones
Embrace hold tight pull it in
The spirits of Our Kings Our Queens Our history
Teach if you can learn
Learn if you can teach
Open minds hearts souls
Receive your freedom
Unlock the
Cage.
Free! Liberate! Unshackle!
Black history is not a month it’s your life.
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 4:26 PM UTC
Senescence begins
And middle age ends
The day your descendents
Outnumber your friends.
4.2k
the cascade of clear blue falls even in the midst of the furvous night
the call of a bird echoes cross canyons composed of ages of old
the glint off amber cliffs calls to the reflection of ancience
floors of sandstone riddled with stagnant ghosts of footprints
these paths were once walked by those larger than life
we search for purpose radiometrically
estimating the desperation in the dating
allowing our hearts to sink to an endless expanse of unexplored sediment
grasping onto the aching for the pleasure beneath the pain
self decay feels natural at the bottom of the ocean
peace comes naturally while disappearing into pieces
it will find me upon the return of the rogue daughter to the expanse in which she belongs
may my atomic descendents one day hold the fossils of my being between their fingers
let the earth shake under the feet of whom possesses my bones
and let them keep digging, let them excavate all of us whole
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC
Dear Grandad,
I wish I could take cancer,
and punch it in the face;
And every disease and drug that poisons the body and soul,
I wish I could drag to a grave.
See, those are the things that took you away
For years, when you were out of my life.
But I'm oh so glad that at your last,
you won the battle which was your strife.
Jesus there to pull you to his chest at your final breath,
You made amends with a call to the One on the Mainline.
I loved every moment when I got to see you again,
The time between these reunions nonexistant,
Outshined by the joy of spending precious time
with you.
I'm not God but I wish you were here for another chess session.
I wish you were here so I could steal a bit more wisdom.
I wish I'd had that chance to see you hold my children with love.
You were my last Grandad and I never got to meet the other one.
Now you're both great men who've been spirited away by that sweet angel of death,
Only residing on this earth in the memories of us,
the one's you left behind for to Heaven you've gone to rest.
If I didn't have a job to do here I'd pray for God to take me next.
Dear grandad I'll miss you,
and you'll continue on in the stories We tell your great grandchildren
generation after to generation, every one of your descendents.
Every story about you teaches forever what is best to bet
on in life. After all you've played both sides.
And yet managed to tell my father no lies.
And managed to raise my mother like you, wise.
Truly you were heaven bound and heaven sent.
Through a fantastic wide round trip
you made it to those golden gates of heaven.
And on that note, dear Grandfather,
This letter, like you, will meet it's end.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
heiress to the strange castle,
Francis ascended the high stone stair;
her ancestors had lived here from the beginning of
the country's history;
her family was older,
its history vivid in the dark of time
to those descendents
who were Francis' immediate family
all fallen to old age & death
except she youngest of the brood;
inheriting Frankenstein's Castle
the first place she went was to her
ancestor's laboratory,
long disused, old fashioned
& out of date, but flipping the
high-voltage switch bringing
the whole place to light & life as the thing
moved on the table & rose;
the doctor's last project
before being driven mad in the arctic sea,
the woman, who upon seeing young Francis
falls madly in love; Francis
seeing the gleam in the monster's
eye takes the time to get to
know her body & the monster likewise
got to know hers;
two beauties came out of the gray castle
looking like a pair of princesses
in the sun broken through the permanent clouds
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 11:26 PM UTC
Here lie the sweet, arrested buds
scorched by a sudden frost.
Withered now those unborn blooms,
sweet scent forever lost.
Reposing here, such shrunken bones
descendents will forget
lie undisturbed in silent tombs,
promise untested yet.
Here we find unyielding knots,
perpetual sand-swell dunes,
thorns that pierce the unaware,
scars thickened over wounds.
Should they reside in endless peace,
not see the light of day?
These dusty relics locked within;
the things we didn’t say.
Dec 23, 2010
Dec 23, 2010 at 12:40 PM UTC
Sturdy as the mighty oak, I withstood
drought, deluge, dishevelment, deliverance
my once vibrant leaves became crisp,
shattered, scattered, veins crumbled, crumpled
all that was left ... gnarled old roughened bark
revitalized, I am now trod, that old tree,
sawed, sanded, slatted, varnished
to perfection, reflection of owner's pride,
care is given to keep me supple, strong ...
cover me not; let my beauty shine,
sparkle and please all who see me
In the vast oaken families of ancestors,
descendents, those yet to root, while
our beauty be ****** out of rich soil
to praise the God who created us
we joy in our present, treasure our past.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 11:49 PM UTC
Lord
we came
in the
belly of slave ships
where
our
African People
were forcefully
kidnapped abused
***** murdered
and tortured
before and after
the long journey
to the New World
even though
we are
the
direct descendents of God
Children of The Sun
Black Gold
the
aboriginal man
the lie
spread around
the world
the curse
upon
the
Children of Ham
oh
Lord
we
come a mighty
long way
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 8:39 PM UTC
Wide rolls, down the window, they're looking in
Away from the walls, lights off, **** i feel like i never win
But i have to realize, there's only 1 winner, the rest is his dinner
Pleasantly, things have foregone me from me reaching the desert
Am i the main course, or something sweet, (horrible) the dessert?
But i swerve right left,
Write from right to left til the words leave and i feel right
But not for anyone else, just me
Until the quill can only be written in blood for my will
In testament, i digest powers from the unknown
Where do they come from?
Spiritual in a Physical world
Mental in a Cultural world
Why do you all do that?
Descendents descend from the heavens and rise from hell
The ruse is over, we can break it all apart
No it's not a trap, everything can be turned around
This is no race way with a racecar going forever left
If that was right, i would have left this world a lot sooner
If that was true, blood will follow the heros and martyrs
If that was false, happiness would be the easiest thing to obtain
If that was left, then someone else will take it
Monotonous leaves me livid
And boom baps bang better because ******* love it
But why, we teach to love the intricate and shun the fundamentals
Uniqueness is slowly waning, more people popuate the world
They ask you, "how are you different?"
But I've been feeling the same
Since i was a little kid, since i had that big bib
Teeter totter on this stool, toes dangling off
Foreshadowing the rest of my body
But my shadow casts a bigger picture on the scene
Playing with the steering wheel on the highway
Letting go, and it going from left to right,
Ending up sideways
I do do it.
I need to cut it, out.
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC
I think I will
zip line across the creek,
there are some people over there
I'd like to meet.
I smell patchouli
& hear music,
voices giggling
& I think I see
flowers
in their hair
& they're covered with mud.
Surely they are
descendents
of primordial peoples,
look at those dreadlocks
& luscious curves,
young boys
with
their
pretty girls.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 8:33 AM UTC
"Inside she writes a side of herself
She won't let me see
Such a hateful little girl
Her little book is her whole world
It's all there in her little book
And I can't help but wonder"
-The Descendents
I was finally going to show you a poem today
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 3:45 PM UTC
Born I live,
happy and free.
Roaming the houses like a chimpanzee,
but I'm a Gecko, how can that be?
I chase after the insects and all pests that be,
for the sake of my stomach, and friends-that-be.
Eventually I grow,
a long tail and a ***
larger than the biggest cockroaches that roam.
I live completely peacefully,
no **** to be seen,
nor scaring the daylights,
out of the family with me.
My life is short,
but I am happy.
Insects and friends,
who always join me.
The same family every day which I see,
giving me a job,
and leaving a warm house for me.
I live in peace,
up to my end.
Living and leaving,
a legacy to defend.
Passing the torch on to my descendents-to-be,
I close my eyes,
never to open them again.
May all that know me,
by sight or by scent,
live happily like me,
to their own life's end.
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 8:19 AM UTC
We descendents of the grave eternal
But I the betrayed below heaven’s gate
Thy body shall be left decayed
as the tormenting vultures watch from above
My skin begins to crawl as maggots feast upon my flesh
Blessed is the raven among doves
for grim is his world but clings to that he loves
Autumn burns as I lie beneath the crescent moon and as ashes become thy fate
death shall grin.
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 2:20 AM UTC
They say love is varied and comes in many forms
I have tasted it’s sweetness and survived it’s dreadful storms
Aloof and lost in a world of sin
What is it that that connects us and makes us kin?
Could it be that we all have a story to tell?
Or that we’re all descendents of those whom first fell?
When I think of Adam and Eve who fell from grace
Who brought about suffering and pain in their disobedience, to the human race
What thoughts she must have had before that knowing bite?
What thoughts he must have had before joining the tide?
What do we do that defines us a people?
If only we realized we’re all totally equal…
All of us crazy to the very core
Trying to hide the shades that make us roar
We are but human, one and all
Yet we brand people based on their position
Just adding to the black and white addition…
Why can’t we love each other is it that hard?
What makes you treat the next person like something you can discard?
Is it me or has the world gone mad?
I’d take anything over this hell and be glad
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 2:32 AM UTC
The descendents of the unwilling few
Affection is there but it's never reach them
A killer whale stuck in a stagnant pool
Made by the ruling Harmony
They're not ready for reality
They're not ready for the real you
Understandably painful
Utterly colonial
Yet here I am loving you
Nov 17, 2021
Nov 17, 2021 at 10:32 AM UTC
Courtesy food pantries
Saint Eleanor's Saint Mary's,
Our Daily Bread,
the missus and yours truly (her spouse)
well stocked with good n plenti of
soap, shampoo and detergent.
Spongebob squarepants
would be in seventh heaven,
where sudsy clouds (resembling
Mister Krabs, Plankton,
Sandy Cheeks, Squidward, et cetera),
would drift across celestial vault.
Gratitude bequeathed to prophets of virtue
benevolent good samaritans
who trend righteous true
to the calling of helping hands who renew
faith (mine) in goodness of humanity
assisting not only yours truly
and the missus, but people
from South American country named Peru
or even indigenous tribes
accorded recognition comprising
population of inhabitants occupying New
Zealand, offered reparations
under the Treaty of Waitangi,
a process of reparation allowed
Maori to be fully recognized
at political level in lieu
of unfair practices inflicted upon
original occupant loosely similar
to descendents of long lost tribes of Israel,
endowed with (pure tin) pride
wishing I too could call myself proud Jew,
nevertheless attraction manifests destiny
(mine) someday to learn Hebrew.
Courtesy atheism more so Unitarianism,
I need not adopt
an explicit dogmatic, fanatic, humanistic...,
lunatic, narcissistic, puritanic... paradigm,
but only tout poetic justice (mine)
to recognize laudable traits
linkedin to orthodox faiths,
albeit rationalistic rubric
that caters to selflessness
for no other reason
than allowing, enabling, and promoting
random acts of kindness
without any forthcoming great expectation
downplaying remuneration,
no matter destitution begot mein kampf
hard times living within bleak house
slight hyperbolic exaggeration
poor as a cheesy church mouse poet.
Lemme coast to a fitting conclusion
bringing reasonable rhyming blather
originating courtesy me noggin,
within which wool doth gather
thus I a halt and
dial down philosophical lather,
cuz most likely
ye dear reader would rather
experience palmolive oil slather
preparatory to full body massage.
Dec 16, 2021
Dec 16, 2021 at 8:39 PM UTC
Two broken branches in a cave
Both are just stories
Lies
Built by slaves
For slaves
A Golden book about a lost puppy
Men try to gather other men
Toss women into a lake,
and spit on them!
**** on them!
Worthless!
Both just stories
Both worrisome works written weakly by left handed men.
Barely men, I say!
Barley had more importance than paper penned by them!
Jews and gentiles...
Worthless spit
Of man's self importance!
All descendents of the same two arbitrary arses
Who made a break for a planetary
Singularity.
Cell division ******* by partisan politics
The very miracle of humanity ruined
by worthless people who couldn't
Feed themselves outside of a boxed lunch
But it's just a hunch...
Take Jesus off your cross and live.
Or, you can die....
Two ***** and a **** I don't give!
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 3:11 PM UTC