"elders" poems
That which I discovered a Beat Squire
A Potential who I Trust can be Friend
As sincere as the News he respires
Giving you Updates which does make us Bend
Kaibigan, should you show the Numb Male
Which Ingredients we are truly made of
He chose you. That alone should just prevail
And Rice the Staple makes your Friendship oft
I mean this Good Thing. Being at your Best
And Youth such Buddy could ever provide
Live out this Stage well. Far from what the Least
Full-Cupped Elders think they could just Advise.
My Part is done. Decisions are your own
This Future is yours; Make it well-known.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 4:19 AM UTC
.
*
Do I have a tongue,
Can I speak too?
In this strange world,
Am I a human too?
Do I have a heart,
Can I live too?
In this strange land,
Am I alive too?
In the midst of Oblivion,
I search my visions,
I once used to dream,
As a young teenager,
In Sea of Paro s
I try to remember,
The faces of people
I had once lived with
Father, mother, brother
Of all those people
I had once called family.
I came here as girl,
I am shared in the family,
I born plenty children,
I am sold and re-sold
In and around
To any men who
Can afford to buy,
I am kept but
Seldom married,
Each street have
it's own paro,
They all have
But the same story.
After some years
I cease to exist,
For the people
Who bought me
I am an old cattle
Who no longer
give them pleasure,
I am now a burden
A liability soon
To be shedded..
They don't throw
me though,
They leave me alone
In a small room,
I have become a mother
Of a girl or two
I have new family
But no identity
fits me ever,
When I come here
I became a Paro,
When my times up
I die a Paro!!
Paro is short for
Pardesi, a foreigner,
I am the girl
Bought for men
From another land
Into there land,
To born son's
For there motherland.
This is ordeal of
A soul that once lived,
Now it's just a body
With no role,
No fiction this
It's a real story
A reality of some
Distant land !!
That land for you
Is so very strange
Where eight young man
**** a pregnant goat!
And the strangest
thing is they
go away and
Roam scot free..!!
Soon the elders in the village
Will have a big meet,
They will give compensation
To the owner of the goat,
And free from the sin
There precious young boys
The martyred goat
Will also have new name,
And so it will soon
Be christened to
A new species of
"Paro"-
a first of it's kind
A Welcome from
an animal world!!
And so I ask again
Do I really exist?
What form of life
Do I have here?
In this strange land
Are they human too??
Does even a little atleast
A thing called
Humanity exist???
*
Sparkle in Wisdom.
1/8/2018.
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 6:32 AM UTC
Malnourished children
Them sunken eyes.
Impoverished families
With no supplies.
Homeless and begging.
No safety net.
Jobless youth
Riddled with debt.
Neglected elders
They deserve more
Our society, crippled with knees to the floor
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 7:08 PM UTC
Dope, money, and hoes [x9]
[Verse 1: Da$h]
Ain't write it, thought of this when I was drunk driving
Like I had a license, been swerving through the intersect
Just to make the ******* wet, breakfast: yac and cigarettes
Feds about the only threat, spit nasty like my throat is strep
She working at the pyramid, shake her **** for some bucks from Tut
Pharaoh to the marrow, Cleopatra roll my dutch
Dour blunts they double stuffed, got a ***** stupid chopped
Used to squad these faggots' wives, the ******* that I used to pop
Wear the **** I used to cop, respect your elders lil *****
Ain't even of age to drink, I get your ** to buy me liquor
'Linquent **** I live for it, they tryin but might die for it
These drugs got my brain, money got my mind finding fun in crime
******* love my rhymes, to be honest I love their mouth at campuses
Looking for talents just like I'm a college scout
Ask her what she shout, I’m ashin' her on the ******* couch
[Verse 2: Da$h]
Dope, money, and hoes, getting dope money from shows
She sniff her coke then she blow, **** it, I don’t judge it though
Sugar free, no love for sure, just put 'em on Sepulveda
Benefits and bank rolls, all a ***** really want from her
And when she bring it back, call my brother hit the trap
Invested in a couple packs, will probably see a couple stacks from what he talkin
Money hulking like Bruce Banner
Panarama day dreaming, While she downin' my ***** on camera
Life's in action, piping, smashing whatever you call it
Smoke a 'Port and I'm off but they ******* think I lost it
And my dog facing blunts while I feed my pups bath salts
Infiltrate my castle, take your face like it's a mask boss
Pass raw flesh and bone, money long like small intestines
Homes I'm taking breakfast, long as getting checks involved H´z *****
Cause if you ain't know, AraabMuzik
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 12:16 PM UTC
**Festivals of my
land are**
Filled with
The brilliance of colors..
The elegance of attire..
The resonance of lights..
The flamboyance of richness..
Of
The essence of laughter..
The sense of happiness..
The fragrance of love ..
The immence feeling of Joy..
The exuberance of festivities..
The relevance of celebration..
The Perseverance of culture..
Its all about
My Motherland....
My India..
Yes !! Its that time of the year
When 1/7 th population of the world
celebrates
The Festival of Lights..
On the dark night of No Moon ..
The whole country is filled
with lights..
From earthen lamps and LEDs
To
Celebrate the win of
Good over evil..
To celebrate
The homecoming -
after the win..
The brightness of lights..
The purity of air..
The brimming faces..
The laughter echoes..
Elders, kids, adults
all come together,
To fill the land with
Sparkles and Divinity....
Diwali it is !!
Diwali it will be !!
The festival of love..
The festival of respect..
The festival of sharing..
The festival of caring..
The festival of loving..
The festival of giving ..
!!!
**
Sharing,
Caring,
Loving,
Giving....
The young kids rhyme..
We teach them by action,
That we want them
to remember...!!
Happy Diwali..
The festival of lights..!!
**
Sparkle In Wisdom
Nov 2018
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 8:43 AM UTC
seductive decay
on summer days we
rode down the river in our ripe age,
careless if the rapids swept us
into their deadly dustpans,
the black hole of water,
the possibility aroused us,
perhaps because it seemed so far away.
and next to the river,
the appalachian townsfolk wandered the deep grass, they
gathered here to see the circling folding-tables,
buy the spread of goods,
the goods are masks.
the masks are of old folks’ faces,
cartoon-like, goofy comic characters in the funny pages.
masks of rubbered wrinkles, permanent,
bulging eyes, whiskered ears that never stop growing, with
an elastic band, you can become an elder.
old age attracts the crowds,
i have a fascination with it myself,
picturing all the stories that have
taken elders to the present,
it’s hard to fake being wise
when you’re forced to think for years.
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 11:36 PM UTC
*let the sun beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dream
i am a traveler of both time and space, to be where I have been
to sit with elders of the gentle race, this world has seldom seen
they talk of days for which they sit and wait and all will be revealed
talk and song from tongues of lilting grace, whose sounds caress my ear
but not a word I heard could I relate, the story was quite clear
all I see turns to brown, as the sun burns the ground
and my eyes fill with sand, as I scan this wasted land
trying to find where I've been
pilot of the storm who leaves no trace, like thoughts inside a dream
heed the path that led me to that place, yellow desert stream
my Shangri-La beneath the summer moon, I will return again
sure as the dust that floats high in June, when moving through Kashmir
oh, father of the four winds, fill my sails, across the sea of years
With no provision but an open face, along the straits of fear
let me take you there*
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 2:19 PM UTC
I hear stories of an ancient land so pure.
I see photographs of bluer than blue skies
over a lake of molten gold.
I drink kahwa flavoured with almond and saffron
and add honey, sweetened by bees from the valley,
my hips swaying in a crewel work on wool skirt.
I hear songs of freedom, I know people who fled.
The muezzin prays for peace over bloodstains and tears
while children still play under walnut trees.
Clouds gather to pray at Shankaracharya Temple
on a mountain dipping its toes into water
while empty shikaras speak of visiting ghosts.
Mothers whose eyes never tire, looking over the sunset
for long lost sons; wives who still lay out their husband’s
slippers on a carpet with frayed edges.
Postmen deliver letters to addresses long abandoned;
a generation of elders, eyes of agate, gnarled fingers, brew tea
surrounded by memories of children killed, daughters *****
I write for all people who live in war.
I write for the age of innocence to return.
I write for soft rain to wash away sin.
I write for the return to reason.
I write for peace to flutter gently through groves
of apricot, almond, apple and walnut.
Feel the pain. Hear the refrain. Smell the emptiness.
This is now. This is now. This is not in the pages
of a fading history text. This is now. This is now.
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 7:25 PM UTC
&
Then ?
& ........
( (
• •
) )
( we fly together ! )
• •
Little girl
Child of the forgotten grace and promises made
By the ancient Elders
///
The picture of a child / seed planted purposefully
In the DESSERT
Watered by LOVE
••
Humanity is broken open
And it is crying aloud
The MYSTIC BEINGS come
From out the SHADOWS
And await
For its YOU
who MUST appear
/:/
( the first angel )
•
IT IS YOU WE NEED
••
From out the prostituted gore
Of this abased and abusing treachery
Called OUR WORLD
/:/
We shall STAND OUR GROUND !
( the EARTH is ours )
••
Understand
Your Worth and your Power
Are the same
GOD's NAME IS YOUR NAME !
///
Is there PURE AND PERFECT LOVE HERE ?
Yes ! Yes !
Yes indeed
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 2:03 PM UTC
It is the way my traditional head cloth covers my head artistically.
Giving me a sense of a gracefully hand made Crown.
Passed on from generation to generation by
My ancestors from all corners of Africa.
It is the way my hands flatter when I narrate a story.
Giving me a sense of articulation.
Pride, dances through my veins.
It is the way my body moves to rhythm from hip to hip.
Shoulders momentarily shaking to the sound of unique beads woven Shekere.
Legs aggressively moving to the talking drum.
It is the way I speak to my elders with respect.
Knees on the floor when taking or giving them something.
Sweep the compound when asked to.
Adherence of instructions turn to turn.
Heritage moves with me in one accord.
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 8:29 AM UTC
Respect our elders, for we'll be the same one day
with wrinkles, forgetfull and hair of silver grey
But apart from the old wrinkle
in the eye there will be a twinkle
As the old ones dont hold back on what they say.
Then they smile and deny what they have said
Have no remorse or feelings of guilt in their head
Nobody minds if they blow raspberries galore
or gulp down the sherry and then ask for more
I dont think being old is nothing to fear or dread!
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 6:01 AM UTC
Africa, Oh Africa!
Africa, Oh Africa!
My Motherland,
Why not take pride
in who you are?
When you converse,
You use the language of the West.
The offspring of the same parents,
And still use the language of the West.
Your own children try to distance themselves
and dress and talk like
Those from the West.
Your airwaves are filled with music,
Fast beats, foul language
and heavy metal from the West.
Even the food you eat
All processed and purchased
From the West.
Your fields are dry.
You laugh at traditional foods and ceremonies.
You have forgotten who you are.
Your heritage cries out
From the depths of the tombs
you're filling up with immorality
and your self-destructive ways.
You despise who are,
You ridicule who you are,
You try so hard to change
Who you are
Your heroes and comrades
In entertainment and politics
In the community, the society
Have been overshadowed
By those from the West.
Remember them,
Revere them,
More so alive than after death.
Resurrect Ubuntu,
Show a little compassion
For a fellow who needs it.
Stop the hate, tribalism
And racism.
This path of destruction
Will get you nowhere.
Let peace rule in the Motherland.
Respect your elders,
Salute the teachers
Who try to lead your youth
In the right direction.
Teach your children well
Violence is not the way
The pen is still mightier
Than the sword
Eradicate illiteracy
End child labour and
Marriages.
Honour, love and protect
Your women and children.
They will give you respect
and happiness in return.
Follow the footprints
Of your forebears.
Live in harmony with
Yourself.
Africa, Oh Africa!
Africa, Oh Africa!
Take note
Before it's too late!
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 6:41 AM UTC
Oh Generational gap, a cancer of to all mankind. The father of lack of communication between the young and the old. A difference brought about the tastes and values.
The pain faced between young and aged but can’t be touched. It started by 1960’s the decades of revolutionary change. It cut across the world in values of *** religion and civil rights. The disease the emerged earned its self a name by social scientists. It then became “Generational Gap”
I would love to quote a man of great thoughts, Alexis De Tocqueville, who commented that;
“Among democratic nations, each generation is a new people” I have come to appreciate these words.
When I walk down the streets noticing the rising incompatibility existing in our society
Though I admire the old days when the old and young associated freely, working on the same farms
Grandparents telling stories to their little ones; what a lovely society they had.
With the invention of television and computers some families were bonded in communication
While others live in agony especially the illiterate.
The old desire different designs from the youth, whose trends change per living day of nakedness
Young people prefer working in executive places like offices compared to the donkey farm work considered to be for the old
Another cause of generational gap is decay in morals; the young people feel like they know everything and don’t like to be corrected thus taking information from old people as outdated, young people finding lots of hardships to great their elders
In the field of music elders prefer oldies and more preferably educative songs, and as for the youths they delight in Hip-hop and dancehall, am sure those present here can testify to this a term with no disco dances makes us dull students.
When it comes to religious issues, youth find it a burden to go to church and if they offer to go they prefer it to be in a club way. Praise and worship accompanied by jazz unlike the old days where drums are the centre of music.
Cultures in this way have greatly faded away; the trend of western culture has flamed up the world.
Drugs and *** are a hobby and celebrated amongst the youth, yet *** to the old was for companionship and co-creation.
But when we came to medical technology we all applause in general, young or old there is easy treatment, use of scanners, and medical facilities cuts across.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 7:58 AM UTC
Millennials at Work and War
Scorn not the snowflake who stands watch for us
Now thrown into the existential struggle
Surrendering their youth and taking up life
They muster in the fields and factories
And in their elders’ undeclared, shadowy wars
Uniformed in an unappreciated sense
Of duty and dignity while scorned by those
Who take their ease upon the couches of sloth
And fling cheap mockery at millennials
Who take up tools and work and love of life
Sometimes to die in deserts still unmapped
While generals dismiss their casualties as light
Despised as snowflakes by keyboard commandos
Who never got closer to any war
Than a John Wayne ketchup-bloody movie.
Some work long double shifts through university
In a sawmill, shop, or fast foodery
Only to be dismissed as slacker layabouts,
But expected to trust those who condemn them
For not being the greatest generation
As defined by those who never served at all
And while being criticized they will grab
A quick cup of coffee for the night shift
Staffing the hospitals and police patrols
That keep their sneering critics alive and safe
They drive the trucks, they man the ships, they work
They drill for oil, these useless millennials
While idlers lounge long in the coffee shops
And YooToob computered jokes about them
Millennials have no time for coloring books
Or comfort animals or revolution
For they are weary with study and work
The best of them make no demands, but, sure
A little respect, hard-earned, would be nice
If only the scripted singer-songwriters
Would pack up the tired old stereotypes
And see millennials as they truly are
But darkness falls – they must go back to work
On the eleven-seven, the graveyard shift
They do not burn draft cards or Medicare cards
Instead through work they illuminate this world
And build it up with continued sacrifice
Scorn not the snowflake who stands watch for us
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 4:39 PM UTC
every single line on my body holds a memory
i’m usually embarrassed
the weird stares i get or the occasional questions from elders who don’t understand
sometimes people will even joke about it
or this one time a girl from my class told everyone i do it for attention
and at one point it might have been for attention, because i wanted someone to notice, to save me from my anguish
i always did have this obsession of being able to turn my mental pain into visible hurt
now i simply try to put it into words
and so when the sun comes out and the heat strokes start i try to cover them up
but at one point it got too hard to hide
and even though i’m better now, i’ll always be marked for life
i’m branded by my nightmares
but the monstrous marks tell a story
i’m alive and i’m full of memories
and even though most are bad, there’s a reason i’m here to show them
Apr 5, 2024
Apr 5, 2024 at 2:26 AM UTC
Words, thoughts, like chords;
Sewn, printed, onto paper.
Works, strewn, unwanted;
Taken to ground like ashes.
Owners forgotten, children;
Stained, broken, like old dolls.
Worn, exhausted, crippled;
All to become their elders.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 3:56 AM UTC
I've yet to discover what my path is.
I've yet to understand my emotions my thoughts my reasoning behind my reactions.
I am unsure why elders say i should act my age, I do not think one can act a certain age, I think my maturity should not be associated with my age.
I am aware of the world, at times to aware for my own good, it scares me where this world can wonder to which part of the forest will societies majority take the rest of us who cant escape.
I am yet to finish these thoughts i find there is no time to but i know it will be done soon.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 8:42 AM UTC
In the golden times of his age, no one ever sought a way more beautiful,
Because no one taught them that their path,
Was different.
Days,months ,years were all full of unexpected happenings.
Besides we were all born the same way.
He woke up , dashed through life just like his elders.
Laid in the midst of a beautiful middle sun,
He watched his skin dry, with no earning for his hardwork
Besides life is for living
Just a walk home, he rushed his memory through,
A series of his lineage and realised it was a whole
Miserable pattern of dreams shuttered.
Running for a ward or two , he paced to his next neighbour
Just to see if , thoughts could match into a hope.
He lost it all, because neither did they understand his feeling.
He changed direction, and sought for rescue in this unknown land.
Just like heavy pours through a stream, he has never looked
Back, because his dream was his own.
Running at a faster rate, he wishes all the sunrises would remain to replace the dead ones ,that left him poor.
Today, he is on a strange path, which only him can relate to,
Because dreams don't have shadows, you either walk with them or remain together with no one leading.
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 2:39 PM UTC
I tromped across North America a few years back
Following the Mayan Elders
Listening to the powerful Lakota Brothers sing songs of mourning and joy
Building community
I was following a White Cherokee
We created clan
I was motivated by the teachings of the Anishinaabe
And represented Thunderbird Clan
We stopped in sacred spaces such as Serpent's Mound
And Cahokia Mounds
We peered briefly through the veil; Samhain
I followed the red path and eventually found I had always been on it
I met Hopi and Navajo elder's
And my friend Sea, a pipe carrier brewed a special tea
I was gifted tobacco that had been grown from seeds
Recovered from an iceman's medicine bag
She transmuted the ancient tobacco into a tea
By folding it into a sweetgrass and cedar brew
Sea gave it to me in a basic stainless steel carafe
Every time we drained the carafe
I refilled it and the essence was just as powerful as the previous brew
When I finally caught up with the Lakota brother's in Sedona
Their voices were raw
We all were
I shared the tea with them
So much magic on that journey
The joy on those brothers faces as the tea reached their throats
I gave them the carafe and told them
It was the gift that keeps on giving
Their thankfulness has been the gift that keeps on giving
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
Living this life is unpredictable until the end;
conclusions of the statement are only made from opinionated experiences.
At the dawn of birth, there is "choice"
and "choices", are for better or worse.
There is an expression that goes,
"everything is likely fifty-fifty in choosing",
consequently believe it to be true.
Humanity exemplifies a just way of living,
in an understanding that people make
poor decisions due to the life they may
have been brought up in, however,
this life is full of petty mistakes as we know it,
some unfortunate souls are born into a dysfunctional
or broken family and others of a different situation i.e.(poverty).
This could cause unjust mannerisms
that occur in the daily lives we so often face.
These situations very freely throw more
than the average curve ball growing up.
Sadly, I ask that we feel sorrow
for the majority of individuals
with an intention that in reading this;
it would justify some clarity in my eyes through yours.
With clarity, let there be a world in heartthrob,
which could potentially change mankind towards purity.
A very specific conclusion led me to this;
When a man struggles at his own destiny
because of his nature vs. nurture,
his good along with his bad leak like a salivating sieve.
However, his “good” shows his mentality
and lust for life, yet his “bad”,
shows his incompetence relating to
a moral dignity for the greater good of living (if unfortunate).
As this revelation evolves,
humanistic mannerisms slowly slip away
in a young society and fade from
the common core values we once knew from our elders.
Surrounded by an ideological critical society,
a fear trembles for our youth has no future
in a sense for they may be too deaf
to hear their state of “consciousness”,
to the extent of being blind to see their own “actions”.
"The unknown spectator of our world;
is the light beyond the dark,"
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 12:17 AM UTC
I AM FROM NORTH PHILLY
FROM SMALL STREETS, VACANT LOTS
AND PEOPLE WHO AREN'T THAT FRIENDLY.
I AM FROM THE WISE FAMILY
WHERE THANKSGIVING IS ALWAYS AT GRANDMAS
AND WATCH OUT FOR MOM ON YOUR BIRTHDAY
I'M FROM MOVIE NIGHTS
THE SCARY ONES THAT MADE YOU JUMP
AND THE SENTIMENTAL ONES THAT MADE YOU CRY
FROM SPANISH FOOD ONE NIGHT AND JAMAICAN THE OTHERS
I'M FROM LOUD MUSIC
AND "CLEAN YOUR ROOM!" SUNDAYS
I AM FROM WRESTLING WITH MOM
AND TRIPPING LITTLE BRO IN THE LIVING ROOM
I AM FROM RELIGIOUS ELDERS
AND GRANDPA BEING IN BED ALL DAY
I AM FROM MAGAZINES ON THE WALL, SHARED BEDS AND DARK CURTAINS
I AM FROM NORTH PHILLY
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC
Thankful for hardships, thankful for strife;
Thankful for those who have come into my life:
to show me the good, and show me the bad
how to be happy, how to be sad;
Thankful for lessons that have made me stronger
For holding out hope when I thought I couldn't hold on any longer
Thankful for family and thankful for friends;
For knowing which ties to break and which fences to mend;
Grateful for failures and faults and misgivings
Thankful to know I am human and living
Thankful for lies which turn into truth;
Thankful to elders who remember their youth;
Thankful for times when I think I have nothing;
And thankful for realizing that nothing's still something
Thankful for memories, dreams, and things still unclear;
For things that retreat for a time and then reappear
Thankful for those who used to be here
And the ability to hold those folks who are still here_ near
Thankful for earth, oceans and heavens above
Thankful for knowing the meaning of love
Thankful to know when I've stolen the sky's blue
That I can turn around and give many more thanks just for You.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 9:57 AM UTC
always take your shoes off before you cross a threshold
you've been carrying your dirt around with you
leave it at the door
wear your face mask
wash your neck
ask for no sugar
hold yourself center
this city's crazy, child
be grateful for the sun, and getting to be outside
buildings do not satiate the wild within
when the sun kisses your face, feel loved
don't drink the tap
try to keep your bones intact
keep your eyes open
wear a helmet
this city's crazy, child
speak and laugh as loudly as you want
set the bar high, so that growing up doesn't make you silent
the world should know that you are here
you're so beautiful
wash your dishes
sweep your floors
grant your own wishes
lock the door
this city's crazy, child
try not to breathe in the fumes
don't go to school for something you don't love! ....
or do
who am i to say
but from what i can see,
you have patience for your elders, child
i wish they had patience for you
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 2:44 AM UTC
I admit the Pressures you Three must pass
Your own Barometres took quite a toll
From Stubborn Demands your ****** Peers had
Compel you to Shrink and keep on a Roll
But there are VALUES; Those Trusted Elders
In Humble Present their Words will sure Guide
All you need is some Time for yourselves, Brothers
Such that its Petals will unwrap for your Sight
Kind and apt Admiral! May your Shoes fill
Set their Braces to walk they know can Trust
So even if Hooties make Milk-Thoughts spill
A Shielding Light to soap their Dunged Shells, must.
This is just an Advice. Again from a Friend
Whose busy Torrents tries to Help does rend.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 2:57 AM UTC