"disadvantaged" poems
My poems are my children, more or less.
I care about them, want them to go far,
would like the world to love them as they are.
Or would it help if I could maybe dress
them in fancy words, improve their accent? Yes,
though a judicious measure of sobriety
might give my work commendable variety.
Alas, they're disadvantaged from the start,
these single-parent children of my art,
and I can't blame their failings on Society.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 1:41 PM UTC
Her name is Chang Champoo,
translated as ‘Elephant Pink.’
Met on the street in tourist Thailand.
9 years old.
6 months pregnant.
A beggar in an urban landscape.
Hungry,
grabbing sugar cane from my fingers.
Desperate for food.
Destined for an early grave.
“Where are you from?”
A question to her mahout,
in Thai hauled from fragments of memory.
“The border.”
Seemingly obtuse but not really.
Only one nearby.
Burma.
Elephants,
born in captivity,
used in logging,
now unemployed.
Teak forests of old but a distant memory.
Did I only fuel her belly
buying over-priced sugar cane?
Or did I also fuel
rampant exploitation
of disadvantaged animals?
Not everything in life
Is black and white.
Sometimes it is grey,
This night it was Pink.
How could I refuse her sustenance
when confronted by those
mournful pachyderm eyes.
The question lingers…
Jan 11, 2011
Jan 11, 2011 at 1:55 AM UTC
servants to society they roam
with blank, controlled minds,
meaningless obsessions fuelled
by selfish desires, unkind.
grandiose, pointless gestures
declaring nothing,
self-importance derived
from insistent buzzing.
absorbed by devices
holding existence hostage,
vacant stares, virtual prison,
lack of interest and knowledge.
Protected by the guise of
communication,
slowly ripping society
from its very foundation.
engrossed by nothing that matters,
materialism, image,
being flattered,
pretentious clones, lifestyle fictitious
there’s always a bigger picture,
but they’re preoccupied, pernicious.
disadvantaged by modern living,
people can be untrustworthy,
people are unforgiving,
misleading technology,
cruel traits heightened,
an entire race
believing we are enlightened.
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 6:47 PM UTC
When is the final round?
Conception Semesters Birth
Sit Crawl First step
Crèche Primary Secondary
Bachelors Honours Masters
Junior Senior Manager
Lust Love Family
Unemployed Gainful Pension
Plan Experience Memory
∞
When is the final round?
Field Farm Fort
Tack Gravel Tar road
Rural Remote Urban
Wood Rock Concrete jungle
Developing Established Revitalization
White Multi racial Black
Conservative Liberal Decadent
Pretoria Tshwane Tshwane Metro
∞
When is the final round?
Bushmen Dutch British
Colony Union Republic
Native Settlers Previously disadvantaged
Undiscovered Developed Commercial
Subsistence Commercial Corporation
Oppressed Equal Masters
Apartheid Democracy Socialistic rule
Logical Confused Insane
Oct 23, 2010
Oct 23, 2010 at 1:48 AM UTC
Blank canvases that inhale and exhale
with motives to live.
That's all we are
painted by Biology
a gamble in the darkness of who wins the lottery of appeal.
Sometimes we are created
using the best paint brushes
a stunning color palette
other times we are thrown together
extemporaneous products of failure
slapped on with crippled fingers
that lack inspiration
deprived of just the right shade of beauty.
I am a sculpture of proof
a hurried project
nose recklessly placed on the center of my face
cheeks not rosy enough in the frigid winter
disadvantaged with an artist who must have mistaken pink for blue.
My body is an accident
worn with tears after erasing and retracing
time and time again.
My past is scattered with ugly ripe bruises
maybe from tussling too roughly with life.
My soul
is the only thing
that is not of Biology's creation.
Soul is something I have dug deep into
with two frantic hands
before pulling out a heart beating gold
swollen with optimism
warm with love
spilling with kindness
stronger than beauty.
I am perfect
because my soul
is louder than my body.
I am beautiful
because never mind Biology's snide remarks
I am flawless
because despite my luck
I am a work of art.
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC
distance.
disaster
disadvantaged
disfigured
disappointment
disconnected
disappearance
displacement
distance.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 4:59 AM UTC
In order to be succesful you must be a fool…
Thats the worse advise you can get ever..
I am so hurt after i got an advise like that…
Maybe i dont get the message right, help.
Being stupid means letting other people oppress you to get succesful,
I stil dont get it…
Steve Biko ” THEY HAVE TAKEN A BRIEF LOOK AT WHAT IS, AND HAVE DIAGNOSED THE PROBLEM INCORRECTLY. THEY HAVE ALMOST COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN ABOUT THE SIDE EFFECTS AND HAVE NOT EVEN CONSIDERED THE ROOT CAUSE. HENCE WHATEVER IS IMPROVISED AS A REMEDY WILL HARDLY CURE THE CONDITION.” From I write what i like the chapter We blacks…
The sad part is even after 19years of democratic freedom in South Africa, some people wont change the State of mind about racial oppression it stil exist especially more in work plaće enviroment…
For someone who grew up Free, born Free generation stil put the whites superior and continue worshiping them to be superior than the other fellow nlack brothers grow up…
I am a fighter, i refuse to sell my soul to please fellow White brothers for favours of better treatment because of my dark Colored skin…
Its a sign, with the more knowledge i am equiping My self with for better and my space of democratic freedom and rights, i will succed in life…
For all the previously disadvantaged people they went through some tough time and cruel struggle…
For instance the “72 Hour Clause. A clause in apartheid regulations which controlled the movement of African from one district to another.”
Those people struggled but they fought dor equality. Now that we have equality you stil wanna plaese a fellow White brother with all the previllages you have.
I my self i know that through struggle that i encounter in life i learn more on survival and live to tell a story…
Im dissapointed already about some of the side effect of the past but im not ackwoledging racial discrimination nor even allow it to happen infront of me with a mute sense…
Can’t you see the light!
Its sign…
For all the unprevillaged people the is no succes without a struggle…
From the struggle you learn how to survive and live to tell a story…
Don’t water a thorn tree and expect an apple…
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 2:41 AM UTC
I am diametrically : opposed to the closure of night shelters,those helping hands that reach out to the disadvantaged,the homeless and those who have been savaged by circumstance.
What cost,the chance of some warmth,conversation,the realisation that all is not lost?
But
'we've gotta picka pocket or two...' Tory blue and Labour too,both are guilty in the dock.
The judgement said, 'we only followed where others led'
We have a way today to pay and finance those in poorer circumstance,we only have to open up our hearts and give a chance to them,the Women and the Men who have hit the harder times.
I've been there,done it,read the book and it is shit,don't let the press steamroller you and make you believe it could never happen,it's true it could be you out there,
and I don't care who you vote for but I don't like you if you close the door on those less fortunate because you've got more.
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 11:45 AM UTC
its all in the family business
saving people
killing things
but what happens
when the saviors
need to be saved
weve both been to hell
and back
passed through heaven
with the help of loved ones
you even traveled through purgatory
and battled your way back to earth
we are expected
to be unbreakable
because thats who we are
its our legacy
but we are only mortal
and highly disadvantaged
against our demons and angels
so i think this time
i wont be able
to save you
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 4:07 PM UTC
Slipping through the willow curtain
Easing among the leafy overhang
Green sheltering cloak that sways
With an invitation to be my guest
I pass through, broaden my peripheral vision
Turn my cheek and my eyes lock
Pulled toward fierce or friendly
Mottled door, camouflaged grey as a stone
I swivel to listen before leather soles
Respond and move me without guard
I feel fear, uncertain to obey my instinct
Ruining the scene for the ticket holder
The choice it seems is taken from me
Though temporal, the entrance hides...it is coy
The gatehouse of resistance clangs
Its repertoire stumbles but my vision
Knows its route....the pathway falls away
And unwillingness encircles me like a bear hug
I cannot turn or go back, the door makes way
To tumbling steps gaining their advantage
Driven pathway recedes and I stalk the
Shadowy shapes that spill out to paralyse
Locking me to the wall
Solid and comforting yet stalling
The dreaded moment of choice
Invites its gangsters to dine with me
The here and now overwhelming
Its clues forlorn and disadvantaged
Rounding the dark corner of courage
I strengthen my resolve, and
Claim the light I so desire
It throws open a vivid saffron
Vibrant colour penetrates, seeping into me
I wade through this maze of superb
Splendour and I am feathered to the ground.
Book in hand … I gaze toward the.....
Willow Curtain
Jul 10, 2012
Jul 10, 2012 at 11:44 AM UTC
*The injustice of this bit deep
Into her consciousness
Quite illogical to be so disadvantaged
A rough night....
Another death
That spelt failure in another case
Stripped by the willow
Serene in her calling.....
Secure in her sanatorium
Her slumber were as troubled
As those of Shakespeare’s King Richard the third
The night before the battle of Bosworth Field ...
Night wore on
Noises died down
As she sought some sleep
Quite the sensation....
That came between
A perfect repose
Heaven only knew
Then near darkness
Other disturbance emanating
With no flashing lights
She was playing on the wing
She was sure about that now....
She was bolted into the room’
As the Taurus had been shot down
With her unborn child
Playing on her mind
Diagonally in the dark
Books were everywhere
Notebooks with meaning
Hearts of evil...
He must be very near!
Near in time
Near in distance
Ready comprehension
Was At hand ...
What did he have in mind?
Moving to Milan
The eternal city of life....
If Nero had lived here
The roof terrace
Would be burning ...
What revelations lie ahead?
To our damaged life
Poetic justice
one more time
somehow someway sometime...
Will she live or die?*
Debbie Brooks 2014
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 10:22 PM UTC
De elevating power might
seem a futile task for a mere
earthling, disadvantaged by
stature, and of course due to
being under surveillance from
an altitude beyond reach, of
even, the imagination.
Such being the predicament
of an elderly Weasel inattentive
to the hidden dangers from an
intemperate predator soaring
directly above, just waiting to
profit from this evident dotage.
Down swooped the winged
carnivore, availing of surprise,
up-draught and velocity, it
quickly sank its talons into the
side of the disabled animal
and rose triumphantly into
the empty sky and high.
But just as possessions fall through
fingers, the winds of change were
about to reverse the tide of misfortune.
The stunned carcass, which only seconds
previously seemed as though was dead
as dead could be, suddenly posed a
problem for its captor (in flight).
Immediately, there was a notable change
of direction and a notable drop in the
flight horizontal, the big bird was visibly
in trouble, the Weasel had sunk its teeth
into the undercarriage, securing itself
from being released of the foot spikes.
The underdog was not going to go down
without a fight and there was nothing,
absolutely nothing The Eagle could do,
no negotiation, no solution other than
land, because The Weasel was not going
to let go and The Eagle was loosing fuel.
Efforts to dislodge The Weasel proved
nugatory, yet, The Weasel was prepared
to **** the Eagle in flight, a pyrrhic victory
is as democratic as one could wish for.
The Eagle had no option, down it came,
flew low along by the tree tops in an effort
to detach itself for The Weasel.
The Weasel availed of the Hobson Choice
and released itself from the breastbone
clambered on to the branches, making
its way out of the tree.
Meanwhile, The Eagle after a huge loss
of blood, left a trail along to forest floor
for The Weasel to follow
Ps.
The leech Eagle ended up in College Road
Sligo where it has a nest.
What became of it, is still unknown, but we
are sure, that The Weasel has not given up.
This is the Fable of Free Travel.
A pass given to the author by
a Government agency in Sligo
Ireland, and taken away with
no explanation.
Apr 29, 2019
Apr 29, 2019 at 9:33 AM UTC
That kid you make fun of with a mental disorder
Has all the maps laid out
Waiting to see how life plays out
You keep laughing
Because your life will be a comedy when people laugh and point at you when you make a mistake
And you turn around to see nobody stand up for you
Yeah, it's hilarious isn't it?
You never know
Stephen Hawking made the world listen
Some of the most gifted are the the most disadvantaged
Our greatest gifts are the words of support and refusal to make demeaning behavior
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 4:52 AM UTC
Why am I so guarded?
Emotional defense on ********
Too scared to hurt or be hurt
So relationships, I readily deter them
Jumping through situations like a temp taking any employment
Treating ***** calls like an active soldier ready for deployment.
Missing something,
Just don't know what it is,
Treating women like thots
That's me being the kettle calling black on the ***
Just wanna be friends
Like Musiq
But I'm the soulchild of a disadvantaged generation.
Why shouldn't I abuse it?
So lets just just hook up, hang out,
Netflix and Chill
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 9:01 AM UTC
Evolution set us on the wrong path
Being about the survival of the fit.
Which means shortage crucifies
Those who are disadvantaged,
We can never become wholesome.
To evolve the good in us
Many try for justice but usually
Regardless of their own decline.
Most don’t realise the guilt cut,
So much is just genetic code.
This is the lesson humankind comes to
Learn on the presipise of its own demise
But in reality it has always been too late.
Lonely, desolate it creeps along the beach
Cradling the possessions it collected in life.
Love Mary x
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 1:11 PM UTC
I’m done with sitting around
waiting for life to guide me
through a meaningless existence
as if things just happen.
hoping for problems to work
themselves out, regressing
to the safety and comfort
of nothingness,
doing nothing,
being nothing,
options have plagued the world,
so vast and unattainable that you’re
overwhelmed by choice,
disadvantaged by practicality.
expectations appear formidable
until you realise that most
lead a nine to five life,
hypnotised by the norm,
the mundanity is too much.
how do you begin to transform
a life that is settled in its routine?
to chance and hope without a
tangible end goal
then one day you realise
your meaning in life.
individual,
unique,
so precious and perfect
you must savour it,
cherish it. delve into
the world of possibility.
not everything works out.
truly there is no overarching
meaning to existence
but when you find your own
as different and quirky as it may be,
embrace its madness and
then you will be free.
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 8:02 AM UTC
My jeans ripple strands of faded
ponds curling around criss crossed
legs. The arc of my back hanging
over college ruled notebook paper
and I am sitting in the nook under
the staircase because I do not like
explaining to people why I am
so
*******
awkward.
And I might still try to die but if I
do not, I do not care all the same.
The air in my mouth is slightly stale
and seeping through the crevice of
my lips, like a draft, but they purse
tighter and I could almost hear my
breath beating against the back of
my teeth. Yell at me and travel your
voice close enough to cling to my
disadvantaged self-esteem and far
enough to send postcards when I
think I have had enough of this place.
If you want to talk too, I guess that
would be okay except my thoughts
are louder than you, so let me please
monologue
your
ear.
You can tell me how disproportionate
our relationship is after you help me
salvage what is left of my rationality.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 3:26 PM UTC
I close my eyes and imagine
filling the ocean between us
with stones
stepping, one by one, over the water
as a child, I would skim pebbles with my left hand
disadvantaged and weak
I am now as I was back then
unable to reach the better half
of me
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 1:22 PM UTC
Freedom is somewhat limited
In a so-called democratic society
At times, people cannot truly tell it like it is
People cannot vote freely
Without some restrictions or some stupidities
In order to weaken the disadvantaged
Even though the US first amendment guarantees
Freedom of speech, freedom of expression
To assemble peacefully, freedom of religion
Freedom is not what it is
It is not how it is articulated in the glossary
Freedom is relative, please
Do not say fire vociferously
Or yell gun in the theater
At church or in the street corner
You will be prosecuted
Freedom is not what it should be
It is not what the US Constitution intended
It to be
Freedom is somewhat controlled and limited.
Copyright © 2016 Logerie Hebert, all rights reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several books of poems.
May 15, 2025
May 15, 2025 at 7:43 AM UTC
I don't understand how someone so strong
Could think they are so weak
When they deal with way more bull
Than anyone should ever deal with.
I don't understand how someone that handsome
Could think they are that much of an abomination
When they have hated themselves way more
Than anyone should be hated, particularly him.
I don't understand how someone so amazing
Ended up so strong
So self-loathing
So anxious
So depressed
So misplaced
So disadvantaged.
Oct 23, 2019
Oct 23, 2019 at 11:31 PM UTC
And 1 will let you know, | in the middle of the city,
of the country to remember the least power: |
because then 1 will be killed in the second female's
shadow, which is advanced, the friendship
that is necessary for the opportunity
to take them to morning breakfast is a feast,
however, the day of feast, silver, and all the tables
is the Lord, the daughters, the law, and the great tongue
of such a tree, which begins, in the face of overt prostitution
over the period of the boy's development
is looking to the ward council leader, to an angel
and to a city that can
be avoided, | a writer who writes a letter,
and a police officer who sleeps
in the sun with a light of different kinds,
understands the mothers, they think he is
At the right hand of the cosmic fire, and the beaches
and to increase the strap of the left,
and gradually, will add when set in light [light]
is clear because it already started its start disadvantaged
and the income received from the Asian girl girl
who collects snow from tradition evenings
loved to talk, and Venus, and temperatures from the T-T;
And 1 will let you know, in the middle of the city,
of the country
to remember the least power: because then 1
will be killed in the second female's shadow,
which is advanced, the friendship that is necessary
for the opportunity to take them to morning
breakfast is a feast, however, the day of feast,
silver, and all the tables is the Lord, the daughters,
the law, and the great tongue of such a tree,
which begins, in the face of prostitution
over the period of the boy is looking
at the ward council leader, to an angel
and a city that can be avoided, a writer who writes a letter,
and a police officer who sleeps in the sun
with a light of different kinds, understands the mothers,
they think he is At the right hand
of the fireplace, the beaches and to increase the strength of the left,
and gradually, that will add up when set in light [light]
is clear because it already started its start disadvantage
and income received from Asian girl girl who collects
snow from tradition evenings and loves to talk, and Venus,
and temperatures from the T cells;
he took him away from death the slim look
with socks,
socks, and he saw the lifestyle killing the men
who went through a selection of teachers;
he took him away from death the slim look
with socks, socks,
and saw the lifestyle | | killing men who went through
a section of the teachers
|||| | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||\\\\|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||\\\\|||||\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 9:38 AM UTC
Our educational system is not serving our disadvantaged communities.
Public schools are funded by their respective communities' income because the taxpayers are responsible for helping provide money for schools.
This means that areas with low income are receiving less funding.
Without this funding, the schools are unable to hire more educators resulting in larger class sizes. The educators are also left with less funding for educational resources such as text books and supplemental materials. Extra curricular activities get cut completely.
These schools in disenfranchised low income communities are performing worse across the board and because of this their funding is being cut drastically.
We need educatiomal reform.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC
Switch over to a new provider
They all turn you off in the same way anyways
Can't you cut the poor and disadvantaged some slack?
Money doesn't grow on trees you know!
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 10:03 AM UTC
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