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Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret ,Kenya ;aopicho@yahoo.com)

On 13th January 2014 Dr. Wafula Chesoli of Mt Kenya University, at Lodwar campus in the north western part of Kenya published a scathing attack against homosexuality in the Neighbourhood, a daily circulating paper of the River Delta state in Nigeria.Dr Chesoli justified his contumelious position against human homosexuality by basing his stand on the scriptural citations of the Bible. The Bible which  Dr. Chesoli has operationally defined as the word of God in  this article that he entitled Strong holds of Homosexuality ;Biblical Persapectives.Chesoli’s argument has a depth of Biblical groundings, however I beg to differ with him in principle, given the  scientific scintillations on humanity of homosexuality from the recent researches of health education and psychology.
Firstly, I humbly remember that about three years ago I also published an article in the East African standard which harshly condemned social and behavioral position of gay and lesbian marriages. This was when the Anglican archbishop Dr. Eliud Wabukala of Kenya had in a similar tone lambasted the archbishop of Canterbury for suggesting that there was need for the office of the gay Bishop in the Anglican Church. I strongly supported Wabukala in that I even called gay and lesbian behavior as cultic and satanic hence to be condemned with all forms of capital nemesis. Some of the contents of my article in which I condemned homosexuality are here;
Let us support Wabukala stand on gays and morality
(January 13th 2011 at 00:00 GMT; By Alexander Opicho, Eldoret)
Practice of psychology and Christianity operates on a universal principle of unconditional positive regard for all. However, there has been a twist in this convention when media in Kenya at the start of this week carried a story that depicted moral fortitude of Bishop Eliud Wabukala; who has out-rightly dismissed the idea of establishing the office of a gay bishop in the leadership of the Anglican Church. Wabukala has come out boldly on this against the strong currents in support of gay marriages from his superiors in the Church. The efforts by Wabukala befit all manner of felicitation from all of us who believe in morality as a basis of humanity. The basis of gay relationships is legalistic and political. African culture conscientiously discourages a cult of gayism. And in Kenya living as a gay is living in contradiction to the Constitution. These collectively fall in an agreement with basic teachings of Christianity. Gayism, lesbianism, celibacy and trans-species ****** behaviour are admonished by Biblical teachings. Gayism is social deviance that originates from degradation in ****** behavior; it is a state of ****** depravement. Read more at;
http://www.standardmedia.co.ke/?articleID=2000074879&story;_title=-Let-us-support-Wabukala-stand-on-gays-and-morality.­
Little did I know that as I was publishing this article two percent of my friends and my family members are victims of ****** behavioural disability, which we are calling homosexuality in the above juncture. As university teacher in the departments of social sciences where student populations is usually high, I again came to discover sometimes later that ten percent of my students always have disordered ****** or gender conditions. I found these to be substantial revelations that provoked me to carry out both desk research and investigative *** socialization researches into this bamboozling human phenomenon of homosexuality and other related disordered ****** behaviours.
The order of explanation would first require a position which posits that; religions both Christianity and Islam don’t have any intellectual nor social machinery to carry out a socially ameliorative process in relation to disordered gender and ****** behavior in any society. Their approach have been and would still be parochial in the sense that the only outcome to be achieved is prejudice, bigotry and discrimination with full harassment against Christians or Moslems with ****** or gender disability. Thus religion should pave way for other competent social players over this matter.
Dr Chesoli’s Position that the Bible is the word of God and the Quran is the word of Allah and hence those with physiological conditions in contrast to the word of God and Word of Allah are satanic, only to face wrath of God on the judgment day is simply devoid of modern logic. I want to sensitize Dr Chesoli on the fact that not every thing in the Bible is the word of God neither   every thing in the Quran is the word of God otherwise called Allah. To support my position before I just explain scientific position of homosexuality, I want Dr. Chesoli to learn that; 159 psalms in the Bible are poetries of Kind David, Kind David whose leadership was full of Machiavellian tricks just like the current leadership of Yoweri Museven of Uganda. The book of Job is theatrical and poetical literary creation of Moses. But not the word of God. This is so because the land of Uz in which Job lived is pure fiction. All papyrological surveys have never established geographical evidence of this land. The last part of the Bible is made up of 21 epistles or letters of Paul the benjaminite. Paul’s writings display eminence of intellect as a lawyer and a person schooled in the Greek classics of Homer’s Iliad and Odysseus as well as Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex.The idea that the words which Paul wrote was the word of God is not founded ,perhaps the last stage of Jewish casuistry.
Homosexuality has to be understood as lameness or disability like any other animal or human disability. I am aware that Dr. Chesoli belongs to the old school which only appreciated the fact that lameness is limited to physical, mental, eye and hearing impairment.However, this position is now scientifically obsolete. Humanity is now understood to be sometimes a victim of ****** lameness, intellectual lameness, emotional lameness, racial relational lameness and other plethorae of lameness to be uncovered, courtesy of science and research.
Like the condition of ****** disability can be heterosexual disability or homosexual disability. Heterosexual disability can be indicated by misfortunate human ****** conditions like; early *******, erectile disfucntion,oversize *****,undersize *****,frigidity,phobia of opposite ***, oral ***, **** ***,****** appetite for your own child, ****** appetite for your sisters, brothers, uncles or aunts, frigidity, small ******, abnormally big ******,insatiable libido or insatiable appetite for ***.
But on the other  hand  homosexual disability are often indicated in the perverted ****** behavioural positions like male to male *** also known as gay and female to female *** also known as lesbian, or female to male to female to male *** also known as bisexuality. We also have other ****** phenomena like celibacy, voyeurism, *** with non human creatures, *** with inanimate objects, *** with ghosts and *** with spiritual creatures like the one accounted in the Bible between Mary the mother of Jesus and an Angel Known as Gabriel. There is also *** with dead family members. Dear reader just accepts that the list in this line is long.
Now labeling above positions as satanic or ungodly can be misleading in the modern sense. The motivation for all the above behaviours is sensual satisfaction. But the physiological cause of the behaviour is few and far between. Some of these conditions are caused by genetic misprogramming or mutation; some are due to body malformation. Like having female reproductive system in a male human casing or male female reproductive system in a female human casing. But the sorriest part of this human experience is that victims of these conditions always feel that they are right human creatures in the wrong body from which they struggle to jump out but they have never succeed.
This is why the Journal of Pan African Voices known as Pambuzuka news has a platform for anti – homophobic journalism, which actually purport to promote social and intellectual awareness among the Africa societies about matters relating to ****** and gender disabilities. This journal strives to minimize homophobic positions like the one taken by Dr. Chesoli in a smokescreen of Christianity or Islam which will ultimately only end up as heinous violations of human rights.
An empirical position has facts that gender and ****** disability conditions is rampart in urban areas than rural areas and more rampart in industrialized or developed countries than peasant rural based countries. Thus logic will tell you that we have most gays and lesbians in America and United Kingdom than in Kenya or Malawi. This is why President Barrack Obama in an imperial stretch conditioned the govermenent of Uganda to make a legislation that favour gays and lesbians. This was also reflected three years ago in the United kingdom when David Cameroon warned the government of Ghana that if they don’t make a legislation that appreciate homosexuals then United Kingdom would not give economic aid to Ghana.Contextually,both Cameroon and Obama were wrong. We don’t use vents of desperate imperialism to manage a misfortunate social condition. We first of all begin by educating our people, then socializing the idea among our people then we finalize by positioning the idea among our people. Thanks for your audience.
Alexander K Opicho, is a social researcher with sanctuary research agencies in Eldoret, Kenya.He is also a lecturer for Research Methods in Governance and Leadership.
Abigail Madsen Apr 2014
It is time to revolutionize education
Because I am tired of memorization
Creation of nothing but the same
Desks behind desks
Staring at a black board
Bored of all the information
Citation after citation
And all for what
I’m tired of education
Because I don’t learn anything
Teachers preach
But no students learn
We try to earn the grade
But we only play
Play the game of school
This “learning” should be a tool
But instead were only being taught
How to memorize
To categorize
And to analyze
Words
Formulas
And answers
Never
Taught information
True helpful
Real world stuff
That is enjoyable
In the game of school the rules are simple
Stay quite unless spoken to
Sit down until forced to stand
Most importantly
Having an opinion is okay
As long as it matches the teachers
When we are born the first things we learn are to stand up and speak
As soon as education age hits us
We learn how to sit and shut up
To empty our individual cup
To listen and abide
To hide
hide opinions and stand aside
“because I am a teachers and this is education
and what I say goes
why
because I said so”
I’m tired of learning how to be normal
Because I want to learn how to be a bad ***
So why can’t I
And I don’t want a hundred for coloring in the lines
I want a zero for coloring everything but
Education is in groups
Smart
Average
And stupid
Not to be cruel
But its true
And believe me
You are judged on it too
But when looked at as individuals
-Something education discourages-
Everyone as smart
Because the only person you’re being compared to is yourself
That education
No any two snowflakes are the exact same
And no any two people learn the exact same
We have four different classes
English
Math
Science
And History
Four periods of sitting through plenty of worthless information
I wont listen to anyways so why force me into it
If I’m not interested
Why bother
Passion based learning is what we need
So I’m planting the seed
Seed of thought
In the minds of those who have power
Power to change education  
To a passion based formation
I will no longer allow educations dictation
To control me
It’s now time to see
What “Education” could really do for me
I guess I'm not here to make much sense
but now is the time for the system to pay their rent
rental space in my mind
consuming time
thoughts that are no longer mine
Pressed into my brain this idea of education
running this **** like some federation
can't get thoughts in between regurgitated words and facts
Well I think my brain has hit the max
Maximum capacity for the ******* you're spewing
I will no longer be chewing
your lies and conformity
treating different learning like a deformity
No longer an idea of teaching
but memorization
words on a page
Here in this developmental stage
all because they are going through some 'phase'
that makes them stupid
Most of us are fluent
So don't tell me I'm not smart
because I don't know the periodic table by heart
because I'm not well versed in trail of the court
don't tell me I'm stupid
Just because I'm human
That's something that is overlooked
by the ones forcing you to study the books
Unable to see there is something to be said about knowledge of life
Or even the knowledge
not to get
pushed over the edge
Because sometimes enough is enough
And believe me
this "education" **** *****
--Built off of one of my previous poems
Outside Words Sep 2018
tiny elves in my backyard on my stoop -
“PLEASE SIR, MAY WE HAVE SOME SOUP?”

running out from between blades of grass,
they shouted in unison with a burly crass:

“YOU MUST UNDERSTAND, IT'S A TUESDAY NIGHT,”
“AND TUESDAYS ARE SPECIAL IN ELVEN LIFE!”

“sorry sir, soup is not for elves; mommy said!”

“DON'T LISTEN TO THAT OLD BAT,
IT'S LATE AND SHE'S IN BED…

...WE COME TO YOU IN NEED OF NOURISHMENT!”

“but, I’m just a kid and mommy discourages it!”

i said in my biggest voice, for the 900th time
as they threw up their arms, like I’d committed a crime!

running around in a mass,
they ran back, with such sass,
through the leaves in a big hurry -
on a hunt for soup they scurried...
© Outside Words
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2016
it's scary what people want to hear,
i feel, nothing at all, to be honest,
whenever i think of fame
i feel all famous people speaking the words:
don't become even by our standards moderates...
szlafrok: bathrobe -
              szuja: lizard-like-homeless person -
then again chattering ratty too -
does that mean: if i write i'll
get a penny for a structure where a brick is
worth just as much to the letter, the word
           or the line or the paragraph?
                  cukier: sugar...
   for every brick i'll get a penny's worth?
      writing discourages you from dreaming...
only the most adapted
                   who get encouraged by
   advertisement and who fake writing will ever get
the technicolour coat of Joseph...
         writing erodes your perspective of dreams,
it actually censors your ability to do so...
    i hear them, make novels from their body-language...
        and get an itch... nothing finicky... just
barring without baritone...
      poet's alphabet st. - barring without baritone...
antinomy of anecdote... false impression memorisation,
nothing rubric bound nothing alphabetical,
         nothing Pythagorean...
      antinomy... and there was me thinking of
antimony...                  there's no cascade of the sound
encoding of b or of a...
    there's the alphabet... and then there's
the dictionary... na na mmm, ma ma nun..
                    so cool with it, fit-bit....
      or should i claim you a toyo-bot?
           a ******* Hamleys' jack-in-the-box
     chuckles?
            either way... it's all a strategic **** -
or a macaque - or mà-cá-qé!
         herald the surgeon!
             grave a in the first syllable?
a delay... let's term yhwh as surd invocations -
           mà! (and yes, exclamation marks
are part of the necessary progress -
   unless you'd prefer anti-German anti-compound
allocation of a word to be turned into syllable mince...)
         mà! alternatively that's non-ambiguous -
what's ambiguous is the second syllable...
   mà!... cà!     màcà!        it's almost like holding-off
*******...          màcà!
      and then there's the qé!        or for optical reasons
as well as for reasons for the priestly monopoly
written as macaque - my-khaki-haka...
  (haka is a dance in rugby by the new zealanders,
   and khaki is diarrhea brown, diluted brown) -
   it's almost Spanish in a sense, huh?!
   well, because it's not exactly queue -
  or: que(h)? i.e. qweh?
well yes, it's a monkey, a tiny little bonsai
of a gorilla... cute... funny... loves tea-bags
and sugar... great company on a hot Kenyan night,
gets pestered with slingshots by the courtesan
   "bodyguards" of a tourist hanky-panky free whiskey...
  the time those kenyan entertainer girls
came up to me i sorta wished to play the
white-guy-****-history-joke...
stood my ground, went to sleep on one of the lounge
chairs one night... could have been stolen by pirates...
and i kinda wished it, but it didn't happen...
   still, the application of diacritical marks to
define syllables... the grave mark above vowels is
a bit like "holding back"...
         for some reason i first wrote mà-cá-qé...
but i realised... the avalanche only comes with
the acute marking above eh!....
        grave markings means restriction, a holding back...
and by this i mean that when the acute stress is
added, no number of optically adequate spellings
can erase it...
     in this case qé for what's encoded as -que -
   and still the four surds appear whether invited or
uninvited - softened laugh, eh? as in the asphyxiating
form of breathing, and then relaxed: ha ha ha ha!
       then again, i'm wrong,
they call them macaque: ma-ca-qac....
         so as a good revisionist does:
                grave and acute without a macron:
      má-cà-qàc - ma-cac-cac - not ma... ca-que!
   macaque!          Fawlty Towers and Mánuèl...
i know... nothing - hairspray romance,
and a horse called dragonfly...
   macaqué! olé!              
                          mácáquè -
    for the love of u - or parabola...
                 truth be told? i'll never know!
why? because no one taught us the rules of how
or when to apply such demands!
   let alone semicolons or commas...
                   macaque - barbarism sentenced to:
ma       ca              qak
                or simply my kayak...
**** me... it's still a monkey whether you like it or
not taking a **** and calling that chocy part of
its inverted intestines' toad-stool.
  let's just call it a mácàq monkey... because
the -ue suffix is just getting unbearable, like
an umbrella unfolded in one's **** -
   and applying diacritics to a suffix of pure-vowels
is beyond missing an ******, and making
rationale (the part where you miss stating an olé -
the part where rational is elongated into rationál
or the non-diacritical addition of -e)....
and then they worried why people never punctuated
correctly... maybe because people never applied
diacritical marks that they went beyond,
and didn't punctuate correctly?
                       humpty-dumpty hmm hmm:
                   eggs St. Benedict's, and a falafel Sunday!
me? trying to invoke a vocab that transcends
the ******* cool, however condescending i can be,
without trying or eating rye bread to boot,
    and then wear a balaclava calling it a Gucci neckwear,
drinking rather than throwing Molotovs.
krm Sep 2018
I. Apply foundation in a tone more perfect than the one you're born with,
doubt that there's anything beautiful in the term "natural"
blot your lips with the cherries you deprive yourself of
and wonder, "What good is difference when it's not appreciated?"

stop reading this.

II. Forget how you were born;
every freckle,
every beauty mark,
every uneven line etched into your face are nothing to be celebrated.
Deprecate yourself, you are unwound and beg this world to shape you in its eyes.

skip this line.

Society speaks subjectively of happiness, but fill your head with lies
that we're all pretty if we can keep up our disguise.
The weight of this world upon your shoulders,
alludes to being big as too much to handle.
Curl into everyone's palm as if you're so fragile,
they have to pinch the skin on your bones with the thumb and index finger.

stop.

III. Draw on the perfectly plump pout, filled with nothing but
expectations of everyone else.
Your beauty is not a privilege for anyone,
but judgment that has defined your worth.

skip.
Emprises that market upon your insecurities,
admire that solemn face in the mirror
as the reflection discourages you
at the acknowledgement of any impurities

Start.

How To Be Beautiful Lifelong


Admire the history that lives within the heartlines of your palms,
how strong you've grown, once cradled in your mother's arms.
Disregard where it is you've come from, but how much further you've journeyed forward.
I. Apply the sincerity in your best friend's voice when
                        she calls the time you've spent together, beautiful.
Do not doubt the splendor that comes from wisdom.

II. Every wrinkle you've earned,
as time gives back to you from lessons learned.
Blot your lips during the release of laughter
as saliva mists through the air,
your joy so vigorous
the ghosts residing in the graves
regret no more.


You are as you should be,
a composite of everything that gives you life
and grants you purpose.
Begging for this world to love you,
there is no fault in this desire.

They speak of happiness as if
it's only a potential-oriented concept,
Do not let your heart surround the gossip
or it's golden armor become bronzed.

III. Draw on the canvas of existence
in the brightest of hues, in the purest of love.
Filled with nothing, but expecations for yourself
say farewell to the darkness
open the curtains to light.

Your beauty is magnificent
as your name will be transcendent.
In each day we decide to be ourselves,
the poise presents itself.


—V.H.
You. Are. Beautiful.
Anyone
who does not aid you
to be the Character you are
only helps to water you down-
to sell you out to their world.

Moreover, anyone
who discourages you
from being your Character
isn't worthy of your attention;
they are an enemy of your creative potential,
that is to say that they are destructive
to the you that would be;
the you that could be-
perhaps should be.

Be a Freak.
Break social rules.
Defy expectations.
Play the Fool
and own it, too,
lest the Fool own you.

What has the Fool taught you?
Have you been willing to learn?
Have you the capacity to teach?

Wouldst thou follow
Hermes, or Loki? Mercury? Thoth?
Or would they follow you?

*We need more Characters.
Fear not Card #0.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Fool_%28Tarot_card%29

-
Denise M Vazquez Feb 2012
tired of hearing "potential" in reference to me
cause i only hear it when i'm being squeezed
into a box by those who think they know whats best for me
its a wonder i haven't gone ****** from all the pressure
writer, lawyer, realtor, travel agent, hair dresser
i don't know yet, i don't know! yes i do want better
but how am i supposed to plan a career when
i can't see as far as my hand in front of me

i love everything! how am i supposed to pick one passion?
is my passion divided among a hundred interests lesser in value
than someones passion focused on one point?
i can't help but think so. and it discourages me even more

and its not just a career, job, and school
pulled in all different direction i'm everybodys fool
i  have to be a different me for just about every person i see
selecting aspects of my personality to fit the scene
its not fake its not phony. its reality.

i have friends in all circles, family in a whole separate ring
i can't share all the aspects of me or i'd spend my time
defending my thoughts, beliefs, and interests.
i am so tolerant, why can't people afford me the same luxury?

the worst thing is the fake smile and polite subject change
whenever a parent of a friend asks what i've been up to
when i can SEE it in their eyes, they are all thinking the same
that i've thrown my life away, that i'm not a good influence
anymore. nevermind that they've known me for years,
that i've set dinner tables with them, celebrated birthdays,
and survived puberty alongside their kid, my best friends.
all they can see is another college-dropout who is going nowhere fast

i lied... the worst thing. what hurts most is that they are right
i AM going nowhere fast and it kills me everyday.
and its more salt right in the wound that i know my parents
have the same conversations when they run into neighbors,
friends, family, and the "how are the kids" comes up
how did a 3.7 G.P.A. and a 1410 S.A.T. turn into a
20 year old with a P.O. and a record.
i know they love me all the same but i can't help but feel ashamed
i know they wanted, i know they expected... better

i've been decorating the same mistakes in different frames
so i can pretend they're not the same
but who's the fool when its you fooling you
and me hurting me by playing fast and loose
with common sense
Àŧùl Oct 2018
My Progenitor along my Father,
She loves me as if She'll take care,
Of me and my needs today & forever.

My Mother is an inspiration for me,
She has tasted success after toiling for it,
Harder in nights than in days totally.

My studies were Her priority in my school days,
She is no different in these different college days,
Never does She let her mind divert Her gaze.

My language skills, I inherited from Herself,
She taught me Hindi, English & Kannada,
I learnt and honed the Sanskrit by myself.

My German & French are elementary, but,
She never discourages me or calls my efforts,
To learn them both, with passing time, rudimentary.

My health has been Her top priority,
She ignored Her own & there was a difficulty,
Her knees gave away and needed to be replaced.

My Father loves me too but my Mother is special,
She left Her beloved Karnataka to marry my father,
Now She looks after my Father as I am alright.

I am lucky, very lucky indeed, that I have them,
She is a living legend married to Another,
This poem is more about Her and a bit about my caring father too.

My Mother taught me how to speak,
How to speak and how to live, not just once,
But along my Father, she taught it all twice.

My Mother, along my Father, defines God,
Probably this is the case with everybody,
But few realise it when Death makes a ****.

I have seen her weeping for me when I was unwell,
Now it's my obligatory duty apart from a natural one,
Her I shall make proud along with my father, not just once but always.
A slam poem that I wrote on 25 October 2018.
Place: Exhibition Unit, National Dairy Research Institute campus, Karnal
My HP Poem #1725
©Atul Kaushal
Patrice Diaz Dec 2014
You told me, told me that
This was never the answer
This was never a choice
It wasn't a choice

But when the dark comes to life
And you're nowhere to be seen
The world stops for a moment
And my heart skips a beat

Just one motion
The blood will drip
The tears will fall
You'd say that I'd want to do it more

The thoughts run through my mind
Wonder makes its way to my brain
But there's that one feeling
That helps to take away the pain

Just one motion
The blood will drip
The tears will fall
You'd say that I'd want to do it more

But that constant feeling
One that I am thankful for
Discourages me
It discourages me

Just one motion
The blood will drip
The tears will fall
You'd say that I'd want to do it more

But that emotion
Helps me through it all
That emotion
Makes me put it down

It makes me put it down.
CH Gorrie Apr 2016
One day you are born. You don't know anything. You adapt and adjust to the world and learn more and more. Your parents are, more likely than not, ******. They don't exactly know why they gave birth to you, but they know they're supposed to love you now. Your childhood years are formidable and promising. You show talent in sports, music, and mathematics. You go to junior high and get pimples and a ****** drive. You kiss a girl at a Violent Femmes concert at the Del Mar race track when you're thirteen. She's kinda fat and slutty, but oh well. You try really hard to not be included in anything at your high school. You do a lot of drugs. Anything will do, xanax, *******, ****, ******, ecstasy, morphine, ******, beer, it's all the same to you. You get arrested for some dumb ****, your parents help you. You stop doing drugs. You get really into music again. You start a band. You start writing a lot. Your writing is cliche and dry at first. This discourages you. You can't stop for some reason though. After writing hundreds of pages of *******, you write a line that is utterly magnificent. You go to work at a job that barely pays you, you come home. You dream. The money goes round. Your aspirations swivel about in a drunken stupor behind your frontal lobe. You dream. You wake. You eat, ****, and sleep. The money goes round. You eat, you wish you had someone to ****, then you sleep again. You keep writing and playing music though. You get really, really good. But the lash goes on.
Oliver Miamiz Jul 2016
An Island on a
Brink of collapse,
Leakages on our
national budgetry,
Cronysm and Inept
speeches seizes
Powerful seats.
Our national oil
Reserves Guzzled
down by twit Politicians
women Aspiring for
change by Denying
their Husband Conjugal
Rights.
Millions of unemployed
youths run Amok
causing a Frenzie
country-wide,
Anarchy spells Doom
across the
country.
State of Internal
security is a vital
sign for the Failure
of our current
Governments.
Reforms of national
cohesion and a new
constitution seems
like a Fantasy to
many Africans.
Our cumbersome
Judiciary procedures
discourages Investors,
so goes the Plea
of Desolate souls
in Africa.........
AFRICA'S future is bright with the right crop of new leaders!! But despite the fact of its immense and huge natural resources the continent still lags behind in terms of development and over-dependence on Foreign aid!
Q Jun 2013
His lips pull into a wretched smile
That used to make me follow suit
But as it forms around hurtful words
I know that, in truth,

He was always ugly
And I was just entertainment
He'd never see me equally
And I'd never be able to make him

He mocks all I can't change
And discourages all that I do
And I've not enough self-confidence
To counter the words he threw

How did I miss how hideous
This child of a boy could be?
As now, he's set the standard
Of my definition of ugly
Jelisa Jeffery Feb 2011
I** try not to tell you how I feel
No one should determine your choices but you
Farther from honesty I become
Lies aren’t told, but my thoughts aren’t portrayed
Unless you can dig them out of me
Every thought you have discourages you
No truth I could tell would save you from that
Cause the truth is, if you go
Everything would be hard for me, and you’d only feel worse
Jelisa Jeffery © 2011
Àŧùl Dec 2012
Is that because you have not experienced it,
Or due to the reason that you hear only bad about it,
Rotting & offensive stench of death discourages you, yes it does.

You would call me a mad man if I said that I've tried dying once,
But yes, definitely I've tried it once by getting my bike,
My helmet-protected head collided onto road.

It was because of the mishap I passed into a long sleep from it,
Or you may prefer to use the more appropriate word for it- coma,
Testing my limits & my loved ones for their love that I turned poetic.

Personality changes occur after a great emotional or physical upheaval,
So did to me, definitely was less bent towards this art form,
My people think I'm not me but someone primeval.

You & anyone who claims the otherwise to be true can confuse it to be bad,
With extremest pain for the self & the family of the one who dies,
But it's not their only confusion & not their only fear.

What we fear isn't just death,
It's the addictions controlling you & me,
Addiction of family, vices & oxygen made me win!
© Atul Kaushal
gd Jun 2014
I don't understand what I want.
I feel like I'm cutting through a layer of thick metal,
enduring the sound of scraping steel scratch from surface to centre
and I'm not getting through—through to you.

I talked about him today. Embraced his disappearance in my memory
and seemed to watch him walk away all over again.
I was washed with emotion and serene understanding
of some in depth sentiment that I only found intact with him.

And it just ******* ***** because I acknowledge my surroundings—
they're printed and plastered all over in bright reds and yellows
making room for summertime without the sadness—
yet some void remains sat square in the middle;

Some lost hope, unable to make sense of what exactly belongs there.
And I'm cutting through layers of other peoples' minds
to see if their context can create art with my emotions.
But it's nothing but dull.

It's all surface and no substance,
which discourages the complexity of my being
and causes the wind from the outdoor tempest to reach
the ends of my eyelashes and the edges of my clenched teeth.

What I'm trying to say is, maybe I'm expecting too much from you.
I'm imagining mansions and kaleidoscope chemistry
with sparks sputtering out of my mouth
in the form of stutters and laughs that keep me breathless.

But instead, I'm getting dying embers,
that come from the scorching coal path of my memories burning beneath my feet.
I'm expecting too much, but I can't risk expecting nothing at all
for someone who can't even make my fingertips tingle or cause my heart to race.

Especially because I know the feeling of awe;
especially because I've felt it all before.

gd
Lost in assumptions and conclusions
Living amongst influences and illusions
How easy it is to lose my sense of self

While drowning in other's expectations
That often discourages original creations
I consider just being like everyone else

But to go down a path already made
Starves me of the adventure that I crave
And an undaunted outlook I have not yet felt

I am a palette among paintings
Still in the process of creating
A new colour to call myself
Allison Knowles Jun 2012
It only takes words to form a sentence
It requires only thought to disect it
the importance of a theory sometimes staggers
because lazy people like me, are too down to test it
How many ways can we avoid waking up
until we can't open our eyes for anything
how many times will i dream a dream that discourages me
until I've figured out how to disregard it
Devil Atticman Feb 2019
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4am
I can't get you out of my head.
And no that's not a means to an end.
Its the start of a braceful beginning.
Or an irrotational sense of my state of mind which is questionable around this time.


3:52 and I'm still thinking of you.
If love is defined as constantly admiring anothers lyfe and worrying about their well being then why can't I call my feeling for you love?
Is it because you won't let me?
It seems the closer I strive the further I get pushed away.
It's like swimming to shore feeling you're almost there only to notice the waves swept you to a perilous trench,
Coated in black ink.
But no matter how many times I'm swept away by that tidal wave it never discourages me.
Because only I see that beautiful weeping mermaid alone on her glistening island of black ink.
Just let me wash it off.
And together we'll live in your treasure.


And darling we might not be pirates
But we might be peasants.
And I may not bare any sort of sensational fruit.
But I bare presents.
In the form of my love.
The strongest communication I can join your communion of common relation.
And together we'll strive for that feeling of common knowledge and shared intentions.
Common strife and shared dimensions.
Because we may not be peasants for much longer.
We've been plungering and sailing this ship of love long enough.
That I'm sure we're pirates with greedy ambitions.
And tedious repetition of unknown religions.
And one day we'll be rich off of this boat we've made from out love.
And one day we can stop sailing and settle down.
But until that day.
Our love is yet to be found.
So let's stop waiting around,
And set sail.
Kelly EC Jul 2016
I go back in time
When I look at a picture
And feel as I did even clearer.

Look at how happy
But shaking with fear.
Let's flip pages to now, to here.

The happenings behind his eyes
Are in the open and real,
In his actions, words--so surreal.

He's teaching me to drop my worries,
To embrace all valid emotions.
His logic completely discourages confusion.

"Can I love again?"
Yes, in fact, stronger than before.
It's spiritual, humbling--I'm unconditionally adored.

He's fearless and giddy,
Can't see my reservations.
He blindly removes them, my liberation.
Perveiz Ali Sep 2015
Human beings.....
In a race to change
The very definition of humanity,
Only to get baptized in insanity.

Politicians.....
Rhapsody of the Parliaments and Government,
To bring a system of popularity,
Full of hate and inequality.

Bureaucrats....
Mobilize the art of duality,
Impress the subordinates with cruelty,
Pave a way to ambiguity,

Media.....
Refines the art of deception
Brainwashing the public view,
Discourages insightful review.


Intellectuals....
Racing the horses of wishes
Full of illogical ideals,
Manipulates as treasure steals.

Teachers...
Busy projecting arcane results,
Doubtful about own native cultures,
Relishing the limelight like vultures.

Administrators.....
Passionate to be remembered, Names on streets and buildings,
Boards and Committee starlings.

Social works....
Administer the theoretical concepts,
Bridge the recognised social rifts,
Actuality is subjugation and wanton theft.
©Perveiz Ali
I hope you go where you wanted to go and find the peace and freedom you seek.
.
.
The mind is meek.
.
.
One speaks,
.
.
so that all can conceive.
.
.
.
These are rough times where the paradox be.
.
.
the separate-self finds others who are separate and share in that so called “wealth”.
.
.
.
Not you.
.
.
.
Not I.
.
.
I remember the times.
.
and yet we are content alone.
.
.
He and she had no archetype they just play the role of one when their vibrations were low.
.
.
.
He saw her like no other, .
.
.
.
Like the divine mother.
.
.
.
as if it was just him and her existing in this universe of contradiction and all it’s grandeurest moderation, they went against the currents and all that discourages transmigration.
.
.
.
I’ve watched you from a far and I miss every moment of it.
.
.
Guess I wasn’t raised to be civic,
.
.
We need no image just to help paint the image for others.
.
.
We’re just here,
.
.
and you take what you want from it.
.
.
I hope your in peace and find your brothers and sisters like you always told me you wanted to do.
.
.
Our duty,
.
.
to express words and not take anything too seriously.
.
.
I hope you’re happy together and can see how much you were loved.
.
.
.
Loved even by those who have never met you.
.
.
Maybe one day we’ll see each other again.
.
.
For in this life I will give everything I have, just for the purpose of giving.
.
.
Our thoughts are like vehicles in the desert.
.
.
We do not know where they came from or why,
.
.
it just needs a discerning eye.
.
.
.
If you find yourself in the dark, I’ll send you light and love to help you find your way.
.
.
Doves fly away above us, as we are bored of its reoccurrence. .
.
Is it strange that we seem content to others and yet our emotions are stuck by these under currents?
.
.
Do not get lost by a person’s surface...
.
.
.

Get lost with the wanderlust of their deepness.
.
.
If I die,
:
please tell my children I’m still alive.
.
Speaking through a person.
.
Speaking through a poem.
.
Involved in their ‘knowing.’
Pedro Garcia Jun 2016
***** white cap, once pristinely perfect but carelessly soiled by ignorant hands
chipping green walls, a gentle calming color breaking away piece by piece to flaunt its original ugly palette
Socks with holes, big and small, taken for granted and willingly allowed to continue in poor shape
generously filled bottles of cologne, unused and untouched, a dream presentability accompanied by aroma shattered by melancholy indifference
empty soda cans, an adoration for sweet sensation followed by a bittersweet regret in rotten yellowed teeth
grease stained shirts, a consequence of gluttonous irresponsibility as well as a tragic reminder of one's forgotten delicate care
wrinkled oxford shirts and lost pairs of cufflinks, to lose touch with formalities and absorb a lifestyle without need to dress with pride
this house has no coasters, tables are decorated with ring stains interlocking, each one the same short story: "whoops"
once glimmering and shining silver, tarnished and neglected, now shine dully whilst sitting idly untouched
hair is a tangled mess, face is chaotically barbaric, body is an instrument out of tune, a person whose had a falling out with biological pleasantries
where the ambition to improve becomes absent, an abysmal house suffers and low ambition discourages change of mindset
a ***** mirror, in it the reflection of a stranger, eyes with no spark and an empty expression
frankly, it would appear its visage happier than mine, our faces and our surroundings look the same but the cloud that looms over me cannot be reflected
Depression affects a person more than just mentally, digging yourself into a hole is easy, digging yourself out is not.
emmaa Jan 2018
i might have thorns
spikes
spines
quills
barbs
splinters
but i have them for
the reason
i have them is to protect
my heart is very dear to me
she keeps me alive
and so i try to return the favor
sometimes
i may do so too well
and in a way that prevents
hinders
stops
adverts
thwarts
discourages
anyone from
picking me
might be the worst decision
you could make
me do things i’d never even
dreamed of being someone’s
first choice
but those pesky thorns
spikes
spines
quills
barbs
splinters
they do a **** good job
to make sure i don’t get ruined
by someone who’d be afraid
of my
thorns
Amanda Kay Burke Sep 2018
I know I will get through this alive somehow
I know my heart will still beat
It is almost too inevitable to bear
Stuck in place, can't move my feet.

How can I stop destiny when broken?
Fix something that can't be repaired?
We can go upwards from where we
are
From rock bottom towards cleaner air.

Lacking strength to fly with broken wings
Rain and thunder remembered from yesterday
This is how I am pressed to face fears
Shards embedded, eventually I'll be ok.

May take awhile to feel intact
Threads tearing one by one
No longer perform efficiently
Discourages until I come undone

You saved your heart from misery
I learned and now my own I hide
It's much easier to be broken from the beginning
Then there's nothing left to shatter inside.
How do you break something already in ruins?
Cody Shull Jun 2016
I always shut myself down
Whenever you're around
On guard every second
Whenever you come into view
It's a problem that I face
Almost everyday
Maybe it's the ****** frustration
That's getting in the way
Maybe it's because you're extremely pretty
And it discourages me to find the right words to say
I've grown to adapt to my social flaws
I feel inadequate and inferior
I lack self-esteem
I am something, but feel like nothing
Nothing is what I have made for myself

Cody Shull, 2014
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2018
/
nietzsche was ****** and made mad for deeming kant's solitude as idiotic, based on his intellectual output... no wonder he found admirers akin to married men like heidegger who held their solitudes as based upon their duties, obligations... having read heidegger admirer nietzsche's solitude, he who ****** kant's solitude: look - a wriggling worm, turning in his grave... much easier to play the joker card of solitude when darting across europe, eh? much harder to play the solitude card, rooted in one place, being deemed more eccentric, than: MYSTERIOUS... that being said, i really only have to pose for a Y (sky below, a place in england and a place in poland), HH: chiral displacement... W: edinburgh; which kind of translates into the modern narrative of everyone calling everyone else stupid... i already desecrated the altar of the jews, in that, my "saviour" taught me nothing of the nature of "the", "father"... i guess (roman gematria) Y (25) + H (8) + H (∞) + W (23) means something... not to mention M (13), and of course little 11 with a little 3 and a big up 20 (λ, γ, Υ)... but i ask you... how many times, does it take a greek to hide iota? Θ (theta), one... Ξ(ksi), two... Φ (phi), three... Ψ (psi), four! ha! all it took the barbarians was a bot-pod.

you can tell of of israel, when the dome of the rock, falls.

never you mind, but don't have two
at the same time,
  once upon a time i had locks,
long hair,
        and the women used to say:
what girl wouldn't be envious to
have that sort of pony tail...
    ****... getting out of here...
     and now, post scriptum the year
of maturing ****** *****,
i can appreciate men joking
about me having a beard:
      don't worry, it's growing,
you can hear it rustling among
    the tall grass when the wind blows...
but never, god forbid, you expose
both extensions...
    it's either: long hair and no ******
*****, or it's ****** *****
       and a roman / ottoman haircut...
******, coin flip!
              heads or tails?!
                 and this is the part where
we cocktail insomnia with
       that acute sense of ingesting
alcohol...
                berserk frenzy of the type...
catch me on a spelling mistake
and i'll solve you:

   643 825 719
   579 164 382
   128 973 645
   396 512 478
   754 698 123
   281 347 956
   815 436 297
   432 789 561
   967 251 834...

you can solve that,
i can tell you why it so HaPPeNs...
    quantum grammar
name it whatever you like,
i'm already having to address
a revision of crypto-nationalism
beyond the anglo-franco sphere:
hell... load of **** is, really happening
in Poland...
       i'd whip the leaders who
cling to their dead twins
and blame it all on russia,
and not the fog,
           and not a drinking problem...

crypto-nationalism?
    i'm in the trenches in a foreign land
using a parasitical tongue
while everything else is going
smoothly: to keep the memory
of the child i once was, intact...
that's crypto-nationalism to me...
yes yes, and i'll dance naked next
time you try to IMPLANT
A REGRESSION MEMORY
of a colonial past my body,
my is bound to: REJECT...

  hell, should have seen her,
no six-pack of muscle, no 12 incher
and she was still bewildered
as to why that turned her on...

            inflate the ego to an equivalent
of an acid trip with english lyrics,
aah... deflate it with finnish folk...
  goes hand in hand...
       and some were born adrenaline
***** monkeys,
   and some were the ones
who: "apparently" elevated
conscious by digesting a fungus...
            well... that's history
wrapped up for sure,
  a nice christmas present,
  all glittery and amnesiac of
anything that might have
happened in any century that
does not point toward
a rhetoric, namely:
the oddity of the area of European
land, not affected by the black plague...
  
       is that like: people knew hygiene,
or really liked cats?!
  
           stray dogs teach
stray man how to coexist...
i.e. share the burden...
         you take the stray dogs away...
the homeless men are worse
off than if they were introduced
into a rehousing programme...
  **** the bureaucrats pencil pushin',
hussling paper maches...
      leave the stray dogs where
they are... the two will naturally
gravitate to each other...
   but hey... if it's going to be
doggy Ritz all of a sudden,
         and man: the push-over?!
i'm dry on what surprises
are coming...
                 vee'schtyrn e-u-rho-pa'h...
#crownprinceofsaudiarabiasenttosavetheboyracersofkensingtonhighst­reet...
       did i get something wrong?
               always the man-child,
never the *******,
what ******* complex?
                  one ****** is poor
and "requires" psychiatric
intervention,
                    like a snail needs
               canines,
while the other?
          never played with matchbox.

what a ******* sour grape...
            the patron saint of snowflakes;
who?
      crown prince mohammed bin salman...
snowflake... yeah i know,
no chance of snow in the desert
as such, but once in a while...

ha ha... #welcome yada yada ditto....
but seriously... doing this *** puzzle
had me thinking about spelling...
                 HHa and HaH...
                         # (obviously) -
                 ||| versus |/| vs.
      |//
                    etc.,
                                this 2 dimensional
cube is, hyper-geometric,
             because it's an implosion,
             i.e. when it's 2 dimensional
it's an understanding of trigonometry...
when it's 3 dimensional it's an understanding
of geometry...
      how would you represent
sine, cosine and tangens in 3 dimensional space?
but back to spelling...
           stray dogs teach abandoned
men a freedom that no polity that discourages
strays to be free can ever teach
abandoned men
  to reenter a polity...
                  in the east you can still
have a stray dog companion...
   in the west?
   crawl on all fours,
          bark... and you might just
get into the Battersea Ritz!
   (laid slabs on the roof of
the new extension) -
           i've seen the "cages"
the strays have to endure...
             very ******* far from
a Bombai ghetto, i have to admit...
    maybe Paris Hilton wouldn't mind
though...
                 and always, this persisting
personification of inanimate objects...
i can understand a personification
of animals... but sausages?!
               cabbages?!
                        i haven't smoked
anything but i says to him:
dude?! did that hammer just insinuate
i'm a nail?
                     blackout.
Psyche soaking wet with devout atheism,
this lifetime skeptic now tenuously
linkedin with Unitarianism
attests, said upbringing proffered,
mine credo, gestalt,

leitmotif, sans abstractionism
eludes elucidation, delineation, clarification...
some readers might
dismiss as absurdism
defying established dogma fixed absolutism

millenniums, would be hashtagged heretical,
and such cavalier blithe
apostasy, declared alarmism,
now - twenty first century
extant accursed as alcoholism

within various non
Western statecraft enclaves,
barely tolerating agnosticism
no fool to *******
proclamations antithetical opinionism

where condemnation to death
(I obediently, humbly, and gladly accept)
inadequate punishment,
cited on par relegated to alienism,
amoralism, antiestablishmentarianism...

never does this anachronism
loosely cabled with pioneerism,
(when ****** forests bedecked America),
a veritable wilderness, necessitated
quintessential self survivalism

knowhow long since forgot,
which dependence on consumerism
finds yours truly afflicted against capitalism
commercialism, conformism, cultism et cetera
more aligned with reliance on individualism

nearly an extinct species,
where anti materialism
betrays, cavils, and discourages ecocentrism,
versus profit motive maximization,
though of late environmental dynamism

aggressive representative thank you
Greta Ernman Thunberg regarding criticism,
nee opprobrious global ecological terrorism
mandating staunch defeatism
as stave bulwark

against criminal determinism
to wreak irrevocable traitorous dogmatism
predicated on tenets of egocentrism
brewed, steeped, and
galvanized in exceptionalism

of **** sapiens and expansionism
exclusive to said primate
that requires serious assessment,
asper bracketing craven
doctrinairism edified fundamentalism
granting humans unfettered expansionism!
Mohd Arshad Feb 2017
ang
Anger discourages one to be humble
Natt Feb 2018
Such a shame,
With no excuse.
Why do people hurt us with no use.

How sad would it be,
When...
Your family,
Your friend,
Blames you,
Discourages you,
Tries to make you go down.

What do we do?
We build up a wall.
A wall so high...
A wall so strong...
Shamelessly they continue.
Day by day,
Brick by brick,
They finally tear it apart.

Waiting at the front,
To hurt you once more.

Stay away,
Don’t interact,
These people will go away
And leave you at last.

Have hope,
For peace will return,

Stay strong my friend,
Happiness will return.
Anais Vionet Oct 2020
Yin
I see them in reflections - the orange juice glass at breakfast or my iPhone where they can pop, like notifications - I keep my phone face down.

They usually want to tell you something - how it was for them - their history. I discount these emotional messages - they come with the jester's assumption that I care - that I need the performance and will get involved.

“What are you doing?” My mom asks, as I’m taking all the shiny, mirror-like ornaments off the Christmas tree.
“The glare gives me a headache” I say, without stopping.
“Your Grandma does that too”, she says, wiping her hands on a Santa-themed dish-towel.
“Really?” I say, but I know that and I know why.

I started having nightmares, when I was in first grade. My mom thought I had an overactive imagination but when she described it to my grandma, she soon showed up for a visit.

Over the next few weeks my Grandma told me about our “gift”. About how we were both born on the same day, under a waning third moon, in Autumn. That we're both “Yins,” doxies (sweethearts) of the dead and that we could, at times, see and hear people who were between stops on their way to their after-lives.

That’s why the dead parachute into my unused moments from reflective surfaces. They can be anxious or in despair - when their death is cruel or sudden but I'm an adolescent - I'm in school - what can I do??

The presence of water discourages them - which is perfect - can you imagine seeing spirits in the reflections of your bath? EEUUUWWW!  You’ll hardly ever see me without a water bottle or polarized sunglasses - which seem to break-up the images. I'll not be smothered in other people's afterlives.
Growing up, I lived in China, my Huàn gōng (au pair) would entertain us with tales from Chinese folklore like wandering ghosts (You *** ye gui) and the Yins who could communicate with them.

— The End —