"disqualified" poems
A race between the Flash and the Man of Steel
This would be a competition for real
Who do you think would move fast?
Who would you think would come in last?
It’s a possibility in what could be
Imagine two Super Marvel’s in a race too see who is truly great
It would also show their sportsmanship in how they both relate
It would be a run to the finish
The winner being triumphed and distinguished
This wouldn’t be a race against crime
That story is another time
Flash moving at the speed of light
The Man of Steel feeling a bit uptight
The Man of Steel would be disqualified if he were to fly in order to win
But the Man of Steel coming from another planet, would that automatically disqualify from then
A canny detail
But the policy remains in order to preserver
It was Flash in the lead
The Man of Steel was maneuvering in proceed
Just around the bend
It was Flash being the champion at the very end
Well the Marvel Hero’s shook hands and are off to fight crime
This will be until the end of time.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 11:40 PM UTC
Let's play a new game.
One we've been playing for years.
Let's call it Hide, don't seek.
Hide your feelings well brother,
Don't let a girl find them.
Hide your secrets well sister,
Don't let that boy find them.
Hide those thoughts of suicide kid,
Don't let your mama find em'.
Hide those insecurities pal,
Don't let your father know them.
Hide that, hide this.
Don't let anyone successfully seek.
Write a poem, write a book.
Hide those words, don't bother to look.
Don't you tell the world your worries child,
You know very well this world is wild.
Save that poem as a draft, you ******
Don't you dare open your eyes you sucker.
Wipe those tears and fears away,
Forget your worries, forget to pray.
Hide the scars around your hands,
Don't let your teachers find em'.
Hide your lips, how dry they are,
Don't let your girlfriend find them.
Hide your dried up tears my love,
Remember no one cares.
Hide your hunger well my bro,
You know that food is theirs.
People that don't follow these rules
Will be disqualified by morning.
People that decide to break them,
Will be followed by deep mourning.
Starting now, you're one of us,
This is the game we play.
Starting now, you must hide, not seek
It will all be good some day.
But hide that little hope my friend,
For you know it shall not come.
And if you're scared at all my friend,
Just chug it down with ***
That's all we all can do now,
We can no longer tell the truth.
We all are now playing this game,
I call it Hide, don't Seek.
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 11:36 AM UTC
I'm being selfish.
Nasty enough,
To choose black over others
I've ignored the VIBGYOR,
Disqualified the barbie pink,
Resisted the purples n greys
Painted my dreams full of black.
Its sickening enough,
And charming too.
I've splashed this evil,
All over myself,
Engulfed into its secret.
Drowned in its depth-ness.
I dream black.
I think black.
I dread black.
I've discovered its power.
Unleashed its vigour,
Felt its character.
Surprisingly enough;
I've connected myself with the color black.
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 6:21 AM UTC
I see the sad color of racism not every other day
But every second of the hour, all minutes of the day
I see the serious mental and physical damages
That this cancer has done throughout the ages
And is still doing to our beloved human beings
The others treat our People like they are leftover beans
On a petty pet's plate. Our people deserve respect
Fairness, justice, equality, acknowledgement
Compassion, credit and better treatment
Our sisters are tired of being left out on the deck
Our siblings are often harassed senselessly, persecuted
Falsely accused and relentlessly prosecuted
At one time, they were hunted and hounded by the system
At other time, hindered and haunted by an organized medium
Created to attack, destroy, burn, ravage and annihilate
To embarrass, marginalize, ridicule, punish and discriminate
I see the color of racism, when the police for no apparent reasons
Stopped, frisked and handcuffed our homeless, our elderlies
Or our law abiding citizens, like it was open seasons
To hunt for mule deer or bears, who behave like enemies
Of the civilized society. I see the sick color of racism
When our people are not hired not for being unqualified
But because of their skin color; they're quickly disqualified
Dismissed, fired or terminated. I see the monster of cynicism
All golly minutes of the day. The arrogance is unparalleled
Beyond belief. The racists forgot that God only created one race
One human race, one human race, one **** human race.
Their false pride, their fake supremacy, their ignorance is unleveled
And their audacity is incomparable. I see the colors of racism
Not that I want to search for them, not that I want to find them
Most of the time, I simply cannot elude, evade or escape them
It is not easy to ignore the litanies of bad or negative mannerisms
The bigots easily function like virulent or venomous vipers
That **** out the emotions, and that destroy all positive characters
Our lives, Black lives, like other lives, are sacramental and important
And our contributions to the world are significant
I see the ugly and surly color of racism not every other day
But every second of the hour, every minute of the **** day.
Copyright © February 24,2015, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 1:07 AM UTC
I’m not a higher caste-class-Hindu-male,
I cannot be a mute spectator
with a censored mouth and
I don’t want to be a part of a
********* history
that plucked eyes, chopped limbs
and slashed throats.
I want to tell my tomorrows that
I believed in tolerance, patience
And human rights.
Now that makes me a rebel,
An anti-national, a threat!
That’s reason one- I’m disqualified.
Tell me the meaning of life, justice
and freedom my brother
We were the promises of Independence,
The revolution that taught the world-
Ahimsa.
I don’t like vegetables, orange-vegetables
my land exported
and we got back bananas from
the celebrated republics.
The meatless days left me hungry
I decided to fast, I got jailed
And I know someday these man-eaters
Would hang me.
I don’t speak Hindi, I have no money
I dared to educate and I’m a girl
Now that makes me disqualified.
I need a moral certificate, approval
and a stamp
Just because I have men friends,
I wore lipstick and jeans and I danced.
I’ve to pay a fine, apologize
and spill tears
Because I proclaimed myself a feminist,
A thinker, a dreamer.
Dear society, let me add some more,
I bunked all my moral education classes,
I’m an atheist and a post-modern
Daughter.
I’ve friends- **** hetero and bisexuals
And I eat beef, lamb and pork.
I’ve a tan skin, a flat nose, tiny *******
and a beer belly
I laugh loud, cry and yell at times
And I know there are people out there
Who wants to throw stones, cut my-
body parts and exhibit my remains in a museum,
They need to execute this handicapped
Because she asked too many questions.
Don’t offer me your chocolate-justice
to be denied the next appropriate minute
‘Right’ can never be a synonym to ‘legal’.
So that makes a wrong-carriage
or abortion.
I know I’m disqualified
Now it’s time for the execution,
Hang this heretic!
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
I've seen people who claim
not to suffer
cry in hotel bathrooms.
To be born without a heart
is merely practical, not fulfilling.
Those who suffer
have an eye for suffering.
As I've gotten older
I've come to understand
life is an exchange;
you lose something,
you get something.
That's a simple deal,
but no one tells you what to do
when something gets back.
Now you're stuck with an old friend
while you're a new you.
You love him,
but you can't stand him.
Guess I'm sorry for growing up.
But **** it,
give me my ghosts
and let them haunt me.
I'm sick and tired of numbing pain.
A gun only stops shooting when you stop reloading it.
Otherwise you've got generational trauma.
**** people who use their pain
as an excuse to hurt someone else.
**** saying pain made you who you are.
Those who glorify pain haven't healed from it.
We're all in a rush
to be disqualified from being human.
I envy those who are comfortable
with that position.
At least they've found something to hold onto.
Guess the rest of use just have to start over.
Call it a Perestroika of the heart,
call it tearing down the walls,
or don't call it anything.
Only thing that matters is to stop the bullet.
Jun 4, 2022
Jun 4, 2022 at 3:57 PM UTC
I was obsequious towards you.... opening up to you, I was an impressively sedulous suitor,
Didn't I constantly show my love; like a doting concubine,
yet never was I supposed to.
Did things I'd never wish to again do, You were always lethargic returning any affections.
You're constantly an exorbitantly cruel lover, on too many occasions you've left me; feeling, clinging, wishing & praying that your bitter tortures - would end.
Morbidly I'd crave you like a killer craves the death of his victim's.
Oh there's no end, no relapse or realse, my tormentor, my seemingly drug of choice--is you!
I sincerely felt a cordial love & dislike for how you've had me susceptible to this elegiac experience.
Unmerciful you cast away my heart and dealt my soul a mighty blow.
NEVER again would I be your willing victim, you're antipathies & archaic behavior leaves me wishing for a way out, since you've made me seem more like the enemy.
This love's a beautiful beast & so oblivious to my demise...
I'm still obligated....
I've vowed to stay, fight comes what may...
yet & still You make it clear I'm disqualified before a race could ever be won.....
Why?
My questions unanswered
as if I've never vocalized a retort!
IVE COME TO REALIZE THERE'S NO HOPE FOR ME
☆♡
Always Me Ayeshah ™ ®
K.A.C.L.N ©
All right reserved ®
Copyright 1977 - Present
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 8:03 AM UTC
As I began to climb the campus stairs,
All alone with a numb ache-
A depression blocked those minute vessels,
That carries my vital fluid that frequently thins.
A kind of a genetic disorder that robs me off-
All of my terrible hormones that loses competition,
A competition so heroic called youth,
That settles the score of my ****** life.
A physical length that reduces me to a dwarf,
Almost an intelligent ape that snubs too-
And cannot have biology with another species,
That adores a disqualified creature of its size.
What can make me happy?
What do I want then?
Shall I need those beautiful preachers of opposite genes?
Shall I claim their eminence in my life?
Or leave them for those eligible bachelors?
As I landed my nose in the campus pillars,
And nobody cared but me-
A stimulus recoiled and resurrected those minute vessels,
That carries my vital fluid that became viscous again.
Oct 29, 2010
Oct 29, 2010 at 2:28 AM UTC
When I was a kid,
folding chairs
were my kryptonite.
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 11:22 AM UTC
A Spring Evening in Paris with the Thieves of Love
They found each other in the good samaritan way you would try.
If you are not alluring, if you can’t get a reverie, there are other ways.
Ellen was drunk and left alone near St.Severin off the Rue de la Harpe
Where you can smell butter and garlic and mussels and iodine
From bistros open to the street. Anthony loved it that you could see that
Those bistros were happy and good. He wanted to be in one with a girl.
Ellen in mottled lamplight on the churchyard cobbles:
Freckled, brown eyed, strong in clean denim overalls and white T-shirt.
She knelt there sick and knelt also inside Anthony, in a lyric:
Not many chances like this in life. He nursed her
To her place in Billancourt. She was afraid on the Metro.
A drunken kiss of thanks at her door tastes of sickness and anise.
Of course he came back. A real man would come back for more thanks.
If it was his first chance in months.
She was brave, dramatically friendly, often in
The light that passes for candles on stage.
She had the fierce compassion that terrifies.
He had been disqualified from girls by anxiety.
They bought food, flowers and wine in the market
And walked and bought books from bouquinistes
And cooked in her room. He wrote at her table.
The white iron bed by the sunny window...
Who was this girl no older than Anthony,
Showing him friendship, making him grateful,
Showing him love,
" I like to do this,
Find one that I love, make something perfect."
Sneaky good love of stealth and cunning...
Paul Anthony Hutchinson
www.paulanthonyhutchinson.com
copyright Paul Anthony Hutchinson
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 11:37 PM UTC
*These flakes that fall - ever so effortlessly,
They bathe my mind with their peace and liberty - tranquility.
They have no rule and yet no precedence found
No law circumscribed - falling flawlessly upon the ground.
They cover the wildest desires of the woods and caves,
Turning these savages into bitterly cold slaves.
Snowflakes times billions, to and fro they blow,
Making fresh and clean of all they forego.
Hidden within the silence - a gentle song they bring.
Listen, listen can you not hear them sing?
They recover every note and they give their best,
Laughter, loving, so cold yet only the warmest expressed.
Beckoning me to play along so they can be obeyed,
I place one keyboard on the handrail I made,
Turn it on and listen intently to what they create.
Yearning to learn from my new classmate,
Random bolts at first with no formal design,
But somehow begging for me to join.
With another keyboard I listen and strain,
Allowing the snowflakes to quietly reign.
I close my eyes and touch the keys with their wise delight,
Saw searing sounds, honest and right.
In contemplation I feel their deepest of scars,
As they cover the memory of all the civil wars.
They moderate the worst of men, now disqualified,
Inclined in the balance taking them to the better side.
With calmness my fingers manage it well,
And my hands find no occasion to rebel.
Listen, listen can you hear the love as it leans,
Be careful Devil, the flakes will erase all your means.
Softly covering all those ill desires,
The good old cause revived, this their plot requires.
Darkness turns to a powdery white erasing all of everything,
Raising up the common-wealth, covering the evil kings.*
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 12:01 PM UTC
I see the sad and awful color of racism not every other day
But every minutes of the day
I see the serious mental and physical damages
That this cancer has done throughout the ages
And is still doing to our beloved human beings
Others treat our people like they are leftover beans
On a pet's plate. Our people deserve respect
Fairness, justice, acknowledgement
Compassion and better treatment
Our sisters are tired of being left out on the deck
Our siblings are often harassed senselessly, persecuted
Falsely accused and relentlessly prosecuted
At one time, they were hunted by the system
At other time, haunted by an organized medium
Created to destroy, ravage and annihilate
To ridicule, punish and discriminate
I see the color of racism, when the police for no apparent reasons
Stopped, frisked and handcuffed our homeless, elderlies
Or our law abiding citizens, like it was open seasons
To hunt for mule deer or bears, who behave like enemies
Of the civilized society. I see the sick color of racism
When our people are not hired not for being unqualified
But because of their skin color; they're quickly disqualified
Dismissed, fired or terminated. I see the monster of cynicism
Every minutes of the day. The arrogance is unparalleled
Beyond belief. The racists forgot that God only created one race
One human race, one human race.
Their false pride, their ignorance is unleveled
And their audacity, incomparable. I see the colors of racism
Not that I want to search for them, not that I want to find them
Most of the time, I simply cannot evade or escape them
It is not easy to ignore the litanies of bad or negative mannerisms
The bigots easily function like lethal venomous vipers
That **** out the emotions, and that destroy all positive characters
I see the ugly color of racism not every other day
But every minutes of the day.
One human race, one human race.
Copyright © February 24, 2015, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Mar 11, 2025
Mar 11, 2025 at 11:12 PM UTC
Now,
I’m no longer afraid to die.
For I crave and greed for death.
I want to reincarnate,
Not be disqualified as a human again,
Fare
Well
To be a cat
A dog
A bird
Or even a mosquito.
And hence, there is a courage to rebel all, to just be alive!
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
Typical male banter of which you think you are exempt- but you are not.
Like the chick on the couch who plays the dumb blond, you are part of the culture.
Like an unnoticed concussion, you stain our brains with blackened thoughts of ideal bodies and insecurities.
You reek of stale laughter and wasted physique as you try to preserve your **** strap membership card with failing qualifications.
Since your hot wives have stretch marks and wrinkles around their forced smiles you play your fantasy league ; padding your stats with disingenuous gestures of matrimony.
With a stiff spine, we humor your talents the way your mother did- her icy tailbone under Friday night lights and forgiving disposition for missed curfews.
You draw from those years like a cactus in the rainforest.
- soft soil - lacking roots and obviously out of place.
From above- you are an anomaly among the vines, masking your Cialis induced shaft by standing among real wood.
I hope you get cut down soon, all of you - turned into something better - like paper or a changing table for the sons we will raise to be disqualified from your clubs.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 1:57 PM UTC
lauren elise Normally I wouldn't instigate like this, but NFL players aren't simply taking a knee for the fun of it. If you want to go as far back as Normandy, let's talk about the forced migration of slaves to the United States, the colonialist division of African nations, and the pillaging and ****** that accompanied that. Let's talk about the forced separation of black families as they were sold off like livestock, the rapes of slave women, the beatings of slave men. Let's talk about the implemented indentured servitude after slavery was abolished, that kept free black people enslaved and poor because they had no resources, no money and no dignity. The lynchings and the discrimination. Let's talk about the de jure segregation that divided school districts, neighborhoods, and deprived people of color of access to equal education and job opportunities. How about the exclusion of black women from women's rights movements? They did not receive the same rights at the same time as white women. When segregation was abolished, how about the de facto segregation, the redlining, the defunding of black neighborhoods that sentenced them to poverty and disqualified them this American notion of "equal opportunity?" What about when the poverty and lack of education increased the crime and drug activity that has led to the mass criminalization of black communities? The school to prison pipeline? Think about the fact that people of color have not been legally "equal" to white people for even 100 years. The police brutality today mirrors the police brutality of the Civil Rights era. Everything that black people face on this day is a result of the dehumanization and discrimination that white people imposed on them from the start. This is not coincidental protest. This is not ungrateful. Our soldiers have fought for our rights from the start, but not always for the rights of people of color. Peaceful protest is an American right. Plus, let's not talk about disrespect for American soldiers and veterans when our very own "President" is the first person to disrespect them.
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 10:30 PM UTC
I am still your kind of beautiful
But not your kind of love.
You are still my kind of love,
But not my kind of "mine".
"I still want to be friends,"
Is like running a race and placing first,
But being told that something went wrong
And you are disqualified.
(I have been disqualified from your heart, I guess,
If anything at all.)
You were part of my world
And I was part of yours.
You're still part of mine,
But I fell through the cracks
When the ground shook and your world was redesigned.
I wish I could see the stars from here.
(I caught myself thinking that the stars were in your eyes,
And that I would rather see your eyes than see the sky.)
At least I am still part of your world, down here.
I content myself with the thought that it is better to
Have been forgotten here than to have been consciously eliminated.
I run my fingers over the molten rock, knowing that at least here
I can be (at) the centre of your world.
(It is a selfish and rather stupid thought that I don't necessarily agree with
But at least I am here
And not nowhere.)
I hate that I remember what day I (we) fell (apart),
But I can't remember what day we first kissed.
I can't remember what day you first said, "I love you".
I can't remember what day I first said, "I love you".
(I can't remember the sound of your voice,
And I hate that I can't remember what it felt like
To be yours.)
How do you go from first place
To "did not finish"?
How do you go from "in love"
To "just friends"?
(I thought things were going great.
How long had things been less than great on your end?)
I suppose one day weeds will choke the flowers
That were planted by your memory
And fertilized by your love.
And one day when those weeds die,
New flowers will be planted by someone else.
Perhaps the wind will stop whispering your name
In favour of howling someone else's.
The sky will take the stars back from your eyes
And I guess fill someone else's someday.
But for now it is all still yours and for you.
(I still want it to be yours but you don't want it anymore.)
Now I face storms alone.
The clouds yell and fight the way we never did.
(I never got to know what it was like to be with you
When thunder rumbled and lightning struck.)
Things are no longer the same.
I am no longer the same.
And neither are you.
We gave each other the world
Until you took yours back.
You are my kind of love,
But now you're not my kind of "mine".
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 10:41 PM UTC
She didn't even have the chance to finish.
It's winter, lady, less lady-like than before.
For every day in my past, I still do wish,
things hadn't changed, I loved you more
when you were unreachable. I lost sense
along the way, and now I'll never find it
back. She is not who I thought she was,
my glass could have shattered long ago.
Afraid of commitment, afraid to commence,
even though the chances are so small, fit
for a hospital of simple minds. It still does
make me reminisce the blow, although,
the signs say different things, my mind can
get to ease. After all that is my favourite plan.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 8:13 PM UTC
Atmospheric chaos erupts like wild volcanoes
This bottled creativity sparked a supernatural
Storm that has echoed just like ten tornados
That leave behind a silent, colorless wake
A spiritual crystal rainbow
Of deep plateaus breaking down missing traits
Dipping gently towards the lines of my dreams
Causing me to believe in many truths unseen
So I am left with one mysterious theme
To express the need
To be all that is found inbetween
Reality, fantasy and the enticing extremes
Within the confines of wires that were weaved
In such a way that I was swayed to believe
These schemes could ever reflect back to me
That I am and was made unnaturally
To be something otherworldy
Despite these
Mysterious glass trees that deliriously reflect back to me
Disqualified memories buried so subconciously deep
Now I believe in the dream
So I let it all go
Have faith I can hold
Tightly to the fluttering lace that my own
Wispy fingers have sewn
Into this skin that is dry like the wind
My consciousness now wearing thin
So don't let it go
Let it unravel to show
I will soon be sweetened with rain
Soon you will know
This storm will not be defined or decayed
Dismayed or maintained
Let the truth come, invade
False pain that will stay
Unless I make
One night of healing, so well handmade
It will replace the decades of feeling afraid
Of being awake
Of going astray
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 12:30 AM UTC
I was at school in a running race
and was first across the line
The feeling that came over me
was one of so sublime
I was at once up floating
on the clouds so high and free
When back to ground I soon came
as it was stole from me
Disqualified I know not why
they didn't even mention
The outcome was no medal
instead a week in lone detention
It was deemed that I had cheated
and was a pure disgrace
And a week of being on my own
would wipe the smile from my face
To say that I had been hard done
was surely oh so true
For what in fact occurred that day
I sadly never knew
Never was it in my mind
to defeat my friends by cheating
None of them objected,
it was solely parents bleating
My success was short and not so sweet
and has left me feeling raw
Which shows how deeply I was hurt
as it occurred when I was four
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 6:38 AM UTC
I feel so tired
Tired of trying to win
Im fighting a battle against myself
And i should just give up
Im slipping through the cracks that i made with my force
My anger broke down what was trying to protect me
I cant breathe; it feels like im suffocating
Im inside a box with no holes and i need to get air
I blocked every escape i had that was open
They closed up and locked me out
I can never get out, even though i created the locks
The keys are locked away somewhere inside my head
Im so tired of searching
Searching for all these answers
My questions just cannot be answered
I tried, and then i failed
I failed a test that i was forced to cheat on; & then i disqualified myself from life
I tried not to get hurt but my mind was the weapon
I bled from the inside out without a shield for protection against myself
In the darkness i was blind to fight
There was no light for my freedom to hide
It all came at me at once
I wasnt ready to fail from my own soul
Once it started, it just didnt stop
I had no time to breathe
I had no chance to speak
Fighting the fears
But i ran away
Fighting the lies
But i was naive
Fighting the darkness
But then i couldnt sleep
Fighting the pain
But then i bleed
Fighting the emotions
But then i cry
Fighting the emotions
But then i wanna hide
Fighting the emotions
But then i become angry
Fighting the emotions
But then its overwhelming
Fighting the emotions
But then i become anxious
Fighting the emotions
But then become hypertension
Fighting the emotions
But then i become lost
Fighting the emotions
But then i give up
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 2:33 PM UTC
Runners Run.
One stride at a time
One push at a time
One lap at a time
And when the climb is steep
when you feel like
you're losing ground,
then every stride,
every push, every lap
that leaves you in the race
takes you to your prize
And every time you stumble
only to regain your feet
that is a victory that is worthy
of your team captain
our captain, Jesus.
Boxers Fight.
One step at a time
One blow at a time
One round at a time
And when life throws
all it has at you,
all at one time,
then every step
every blow, every round
that leaves you in the fight
takes you to your prize
And every time you hit the canvas
only to beat the count
that is a victory that is worthy
of your champion,
our champion, Jesus.
And we will not be disqualified
from the prize.
Apr 18, 2024
Apr 18, 2024 at 12:21 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Don’t make a negative decision
On someone else’s religion
Based on what you might find
Inside the blogs posted online
And then be quick to criticize
Based on half-truths and lies
Without first taking a look
At that religion’s Holy Book
I’m somewhat confused
By what I’m hearing in the news
Muslims should be disqualified
Or have their access denied
From the office of president
And I know he said what he meant
But why are we listenin’ to him
When he doesn’t even know a Muslim
Holding the Constitution over religion
Suggests that we have the final decision
But don’t we say that it’s in God we trust
So what does that say about him or us
If there’s no place for God at the table
And the lack of faith is what makes us able
To discern what’s wrong from right
Whether to make peace or continue to fight
If we believe in separation of church and state
How did we enter into this debate
When it doesn’t matter what we believe
And that is the point that they misconceive
While pretending to be holier than thou
And determining who to forbid or allow
Into the highest office of the land
While the seeds of discord they continue to fan
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 5:16 PM UTC
ha ha,
they actually thought
they were qualified
doctors before
realising they
were disqualified citizens;
most were a bunch
of immigrants in Port Calais
attempting political
correctness limited
to only a vocabulary
they wished to censor
and still pursue educating people
in a language.
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 11:51 PM UTC
Once I ran, ahead of the time
They disqualified me
Then,
I ran, following the time
They again disqualified me
Now,
I’m running with the time
This time, they qualified me
But,
I disqualify myself
For,
self respect.
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 9:28 AM UTC