"elites" poems
There came a time in the history of Nigeria when she dreamed for independence,
There came a moment in the history of Nigeria when she groaned to gain freedom from the British;
There came a season in the history of Nigeria when she desired to obtain independence from her rulers.
The moment when she groaned for independence,
The season when she was ready to groam freedom;
The moment when she desired to be independent as a country.
The moment when she seeked her elites to stand up and fight for independence,
The season when she awaited the voice and appearance of her freedom fighters;
The moment whe she believed that independence was ready to answer the call of nature in her country.
The moment when she believed to find freedom and independence which as that missing part of her that made her a complete country,
The season when she trusted and believed in the treasure called independence;
The moment when she hoped and desired to be called an independent and sovereign nation in the history of the world.
The moment when she was expectantant of the mother called independence,
The season when nothing meant anything to her except for the father called freedom;
The moment when she still believe to be an independent country despite foreign exploitations,
with the understanding that she could still stand up on her feet as an independent country.
She believed that someone who understands her tears and passion for freedom and independence,
will arise and fight for her freedom knowing that he will never bear to see her travail in birth for independence.
The elites she knew not but believed was out some where fortiing and preparing themselves for independence and fight for freedom.
Independence she waited for like an expectand mother of a child,
Each step she took was believed to bring her closer to freedom and independence.
She believed in freedom and independence for her country and it's occupants, and not
colonisation and exploitation from the British colony.
She believed in fighting for freedom and independence than dying a coward,
She believed in her elites efforts to obtain her independence and sovereignty.
She expected her elites to stand up and rage for independence to freedom and sovereignty,
which they did when the opportunity and strategy came for them to uphold.
She believed that destiny will bring her independence and freedom,
when the hour of liberation from exploitation comes.
She believed that her pains and heart beat was felt and understood by her elites.
The name independence she was passionate about and the fame freedom she was desperate about.
The memories of colonisation she groaned to erase and the histories of exploitation she desired to filtrate.
The name independence she struggled to uphold and the gain freedom she strived to unfold.
Before her moment of independence,
she strived to make full proof of her countrie's ambitions,
she sort self asset and not self liability.
She seeked and desired independence and freedom from exploitaion which she got.
Her dignity and hour as a country was restored on that fateful day of October 1, 1960 whe she gained and famed her independence and freedom.
She believed in independence and freedom which she got.
The death of her elites and freedom fighters was never in vain.
This is Nigeria At 53 and she is still a sovereign and independent country.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 4:28 AM UTC
The beloved country Africana can boast of is Ghana. The manana of Africana black star is Ghana A nation rich in culture and natural pasture.
Its nature reflects the creatures’ caricature
We are black reflecting our true beauty.
And we are packed with captivating ability. The typicality of our nationality brings unity. Who knows whether our safety lies in our variety?
This unity amidst our diversity is our reportage. About twenty-four million are surviving in our age. Over sixty ethnic groups and fifty-two major languages. There are hundreds of dialects which are to our advantages.
In W/A, Ghana records the highest percentage of Christianity… Yet the modernity of our sanity portrays minds of malignity. But the fraternity of our humanity builds our community. The variety of our morality and privity builds our society
Who said Ghana cannot be capaciously superfluous? We have the very illustrious and exuberant resources. The elites and the voracity are harnessing the recourses. The destitute remains poor and the gentry linger the forces
Our democratic government is an African paradigm. Our peaceful political regime is of no pantomime. Who of course would help us measure corruption? The whole nation would have tensed up to eruption.
If not the gargantuan wayomelogy of the wayometer. Who knows whether the next tool would be attameter? Who wouldn’t love to be a proud Ghanaian to enjoy our hilarious fila and jargons tongue can employ
Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 7:52 PM UTC
The yellow light illuminated from the street
I left in utter defeat
I couldn't handle the elites
Im sorry for being so obsolete
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
To elaborate on what Chris Hedges (the liberal who loves to play radical during uprisings) wrote in the Occupied Wall Street Journal concerning the goal of the Occupy Wall Street movement: “The goal to us is very, very clear. It can be articulated in one word—REBELLION. … What the elites fail to realize is that rebellion will not stop until the corporate state is extinguished.”
To that, I say this:
If you are sick and tired of living in the land of the 'free',
in the land of plenty,
while you see injustice
and poverty
and suffering,
then stand up.
Join a local chapter of Occupy,
join any progressive group.
If you don't see these things,
PLEASE WAKE UP.
READ, look and listen,
to the world around you,
rather than a TV, an Iphone,
or some talking head.
The deep inequities in life exist for a reason.
Capitalism, that oh so familiar 'greed is good' mentality.
We have to transform it totally,
beginning with a plea for rebellion.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 8:48 PM UTC
With the magical banner held high
invoking the crocodile rain of oppression by elites
of greed by leeches and bacteria, amoebas and suckers
oh come all come one, join our revolution against dark powers
Oh.. who in rightful mind could refuse
off she went to hear hot propaganda of those high and mighty folks
who took food from baby's mouth and live likes kings in our homes
fed in Le Cordon Bleu a'la Rouge with lashings of aspic fabrications
Without hesitation she swallowed all up,
I'm in and I am an Activist show me the culprit, what can I do
all for one, one for all, that parasite deserves miseries and doom
Easy comrade sister, get to know him and help us do his head in
It's a sport for us that elitist blood sucker
just get under his skin for us, let's play his mind and infest his head
report back to us, inner knowledge is power and we're fighting a war
comrade sister, our hot Activist marched forth on with vim and vigor
comrade sister wholly followed her brief
though soon saw things weren't as the revolutionaries presented
conflicted and confused she felt pity for a rare icon held in gallows
but the majority carries the vote and all is fair in love and red war
At her cost and with a wretched heart she gave her all
did as she was told and played her part as a true comrade in line
Solidarity she give to the fight, was mean and nasty as demanded
It's them or us they say and see comrades I give my services to you
all
No medals for Comrade sister, no epaulette yet earned
rather at her cost her privacy invaded and smears throws at her
tales of dark deeds and loose morals hung on her in dark corners
yet that poor heroine fought and gave so much blood for the cause
where is the honour amongst thieves and knaves
she did all that was required of her
told the lies she was made to tell and played the game as taught
stood at the barricades and ****** her guilt and conscience
yet they still don't trust her for paranoia rules them all
Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 3:31 PM UTC
Planting excitement upon us,
My daughter asks how to thin the beets.
"When the plants are three inches tall,
Pick the weaker ones and pull them up,"
I say. "You'll take out two thirds of the young plants
So the rest can grow."
I see a troubled look upon her face,
And realize what I find in myself....
The teacher's quandary:
Picking whom to keep,
Whom to cull...
We put our love into them all.
Watching for first and tender shoots,
Celebrating as the fledgling leaves appear,
Not thinking of a time ahead,
Dreaded time to thin....
Teachers are reluctant to cull,
Building emotional connection,
Providing loving direction,
Promising success to all....
Then come the standardized tests,
The team selections,
The popularity contests,
The invitations to slumber parties,
The division of elites,
The rising of divas,
The rostering of first teams...
The separation of pariahs begins,
The promise we made to early learners ends,
Superiors, exultant, drown out the tears
Of those left standing by the fence,
Excluded from the chances to advance.
Standing in the seedling beds,
Spring breezes rustling tender leaves,
I turn to Kate....
"It's never easy....
But if we don't thin the beets,
The beets will not develop
Beneath the leaves."
These damnable analogies arise
Infrequently these days,
And I am standing in the dirt,
Black soil upon on my hands,
Wondering about survival of the weak,
The treatment of humans and young plants,
Pondering humane ways to honor every student
In which I am investing...
Wishing I could see the end of high stakes testing....
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
I hear your words through the confusion of the bubblegum jungle
Exploding and annoying syllables layered helplessly on the walls of graffiti infused concrete trees
The Rush St. preachers wailing sounds
of the end of world
"The apocalypse is coming, GOD be with y..."
Abruptly interrupted by another city ant walking by..
"Go to hell, you mother ******
The preacher whispers to himself
"May God have mercy on his soul, Amen"
White City elites with turned up noses
on their Michigan Ave stroll
"Snobs" central passing by the homeless
as they whisper for change
sitting next to their leaky cardboard mansions
******** clad ladies of night
selling their *** to married men,
to whom are seeking to expel their worries
between the legs of the fallen
"Take that harder, harder"
Echoes of moans from the alley way
Cash for a minute of pleasure and gone
This bubblegum jungle will chew you up and spit you out
It doesn't seek retribution
It's only seeks hunger
Feeding off the weak and nimble
Leaving your bones on the bent and deserted sidewalks of the White City
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 1:22 PM UTC
twitters and tweets
pictures are sweets
keeping you hooked
on the tabloid elites
just out of bed, hair on his head
matted and messy, way better than said
your public is waiting and verging on vexed
"stay tuned for more selfies", you casually text.
stand by the mirror and pose for your followers
leading them into the worship of men
drawn to the sight of your bare naked belly
this bowl full of jelly is quaking, and then
this one, her *** just after the baby
she's worked out like crazy, perhaps she just clazy
spray-tanned and bare butted
tattooed and nare studded
back in the crack but her tact has been share gutted
no worries, it all comes around
in some hotel bathroom you click at your Iphone
like all of the rest of us, yet so alone
trying to snap one both **** and manly
the wife beater t-shirt, the boxers and phone
we can't really blame you, your business, your life quest
but fashion is funny right down to the jewels
both earlobes sport earrings, just like mommy dearest
whatever your pleasure, some little girl drools
and she scantly clad there, for all of her viewers
could not give a **** about "ahhers" or "ew'ers"
but don't stop, you're on top and making your money
and laughing right back, since we're also quite funny
we once wore our hair all pulled up or with mullet
thought no one was laughing, we knew we were cool
and now all the stuff which we wore gone forever
or passed off as costume, just vintage, old school
where somebody bought it from some smelly thrift shop
and wore it again with a sense of true style
the polaroid pictures we took at the bus stop
that camera is back and will be for a while
Stand at the mirror and smile for your camera
not really getting that folks can be odd
some are perverted, while others disturbed
and still others are cranky and smelling like cod.
Someday you'll grow up, a mommy or daddy or maybe
a granny once shaking her *****
or maybe a pop-pop
and scoff a their moptop
and laugh with your grandkids
it all comes around.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 9:12 PM UTC
Met an old friend A
He says women are the greatest vocabulary
AWESOME , AMAZING , ARDENT, ARDAMANT
And Look what B has to say
BEAUTIFUL, BRILLIANT, BODACIOUS most women are
CHARMING, CALM, CAUTIOUS, COURTEOUS
Women are THE FINEST DIAMONDS in the sky
Complements D, DASHING, DEAR, and DILIGENT to be exact
EASTERN ELEGANCE, Western ELITES
ENERGETIC, ELEGANT, EMOTIONAL
E is right women are EXTRAORDINARY
FLAMBOYANT, FUN, FUNNY, FANTASTIC F says
Women are central FIGURE of FAMILY
G- GREAT, GRACEFUL, GENTLE
H- HAPPY, HELPFUL, HANDY
INTERESTINGLY some women are IMPATIENT
JOYFUL they are, K- head of KISSES
LOVING, LOVEABLE
MARVELOUS symbol of MODESTY
NEAT, NOBLE and very NICE
Women are pretty ORNAMENT
women are PRICELESS PRINCESS
Women are QUEEN
Women are RARE gift
main source of SURVIVAL the human being
women have true spirits of love
women are a peaceful UMBRELLA
women are the VALLEY of love
women are WONDERFUL WATER,
women are XOXO
women are egg YOLK, bad cholesterol but you eat THEM
last but not least
ZEALOUS women have great ZEAL
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 9:39 AM UTC
*Electric Fire
Liquid Desire
Purged Mists
Lost Restrains
My mind was born in dark abysses
From destructive rebellion inside of me
I see the world in colors of traitorous death
I can feel a brotherly hand of the devil
I've thrown off the shackles, shackles rounded by the thorn
I've killed the weakness, weakness designated to commoners
The covenant signed in childish ignorance
Broken as a fruit from paradise garden
I've entered the palace of free hellish elites
Living behind a grey, wormy nest
I've cut the umbilical cord, an umbilical cord filled with venom
I've thrown away my memories, cursing all the past.
20-05-2015
02:55 AM*
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 9:42 AM UTC
They smile, and they attend social functions and are in pages of
a city's social diary, a mockery of a democracy
the Hearsts and the Bloombergs and the others rolling in it
so their aging women can have too much plastic surgery
because time happens to the elites, too, and cancer and unhappiness
and the smiles hide the discontent and the slow death
and they are afraid of us, can't bear to be with us, this other species we are
and once, with my now X, at a fundraiser for his elite boarding high school
I listened to a pretentious speech that was so intolerable
underneath the canopy of a white tent in the middle of a gigantic field
with every grass blade evenly spaced and the same height, and the soil
filled with nitrite.
And the speech ended and the applause served as cover, like brush and I ran
out into the open air and flattened the springy grass
and I walked away because I could take no more
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 12:28 AM UTC
those powerful bankers
they who have much clout
are financing the ultimate destruction
which shall inevitably occur
cards are beginning to fall
those who've been dealt
unimportant suits
shall surely die
those who are most fortunate
shall be dealt cards
most high
they'll seize every ace
the bankers issue out
there will be a select few
who'll have ownership
of the planet's vital resources
the elites
shall take
all they can obtain
which will leave
nothing for the masses
on our planet with which to sustain
talk is becoming louder
an event most prophetic
shall shock the Earth's inhabitants
hear the reverberating
the tremors are starting to roll
the circle of Illuminati
shall be in control
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 7:55 PM UTC
the idea of the mosque
is a mask the cowardly tea bag-sheeple
wear to hide their trembling fear
IT IS EASY TO CONFUSE
AND MAKE LITTLE CHILDREN
AFRAID
if you believe one word spoken you are surely demented
these politcal monsters
these rich and powerful elites
have their tea bag puppets
"on the string"
as they continue to destroy the world
Sep 2, 2010
Sep 2, 2010 at 5:17 PM UTC
November 1974- 2025- Sonnet 75.
The two of us re-married
RDD=BBA JPC=ASG, we became one
my first true love and I again;
one of countless times
rddbba style.
Joy and happiness
is all we know
as we lay beneath the starry sky
One promise fulfilled at a time.
Our pain is nothing
but distant
and faint memories.
Our boundaries know
not a single enemy.
Not a single foe remains
alive.
Our friends are
a legion elites.
~~~~
By:Karijinbba
All rights
(Thanks for reading love you all friend or foe)
Dec 21, 2023
Dec 21, 2023 at 1:17 PM UTC
The Court Jester
Spinning
twirling
with you by
my side.
Within the elegance of mirrors and
reflections only the graceless could
see. Skirts and suites and smiles and
masks, many, many masks, with finery
of the aristocrats, the lovelessness of
the gentry.
Dancing
laughing
with you as
my guide.
Ballroom floors are marred by
glistening fans and jewels, adorning
elites and children, the adults joking
and the innocent conversing seriously,
with their hands carefully crafting the
facade only dreams
can bring.
Embracing
kissing
your light-hearted sighs
while writing
our simple end.
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 10:23 AM UTC
The Strid, at ground level, seems
A calm stream. A peaceful bath.
None foresee being swept into
My roaring depths, trapped under current and crag
I want to merit photographs, but
I am midday with overcast skies
The light isn’t quite right, the
Scenery you see seems trashed
I picture myself behind the wheel of
The steel frame of a 1967 Chevy Impala. Black and
Worn down from its time in domesticity
Its escapee driving fast, kicking up dust, so
He can never look back
Praying the engine doesn’t clunk or thrash
My heart is the library of Alexandria
Endless tomes taken from open trade
Open to few, elites within not knowing they’re kindling
An empire of knowledge gone to waste in
A night of passion and fire
My mind lives in Constantinople
Unbroken walls build in fear of failure
I am the fire in that city, uncontrolled
I consume myself from within, and
My walls crumble
Prized relics of pride swiftly settle
Kicking up dust at the bottom of the river
The bosun yells “man overboard!”
Too late; they’re trapped
Under current and crag.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 12:55 PM UTC
Familiarity was a safety net I was unconsciously drawn too.
I reaked civic and utter independence,
But as I got thrown to the curb of life I found my self more twisted than a cork in a wine bottle.
I think about fear more than I actually should.
The thoughts of the future consume me and my being,
"I'm destined for greatness, I know I am, I know I am."
I say it out loud all the time, but little do the eyes around me know that, vaguely do I believe it myself.
Eyes are constantly watching me.
Me.
Me.
With hopes of success, and the temperament that I am meant to be great.
A thinker for the world,
A healer for humanity,
A lover for hope.
As eyes watch god,
My vains bleed fear.
I want to believe.
I want to be.
I want to.
I want to.
I want,
But why do I believe I can't.
The mind is a tricky thing in our classist world of upper elites.
Who's bound to break the boundaries into a world of power.
Who's bound to make a change.
My mind is my epic failure,
and my most distinguished enemy.
My subconscious screams "failure, failure, lose, lose, lose"
My willpower struggles to hold on as the elitist feet of silver knocks me off my horse.
I'm in a epic battle, but sometimes I forget with who.
Is it with me?
Is it with the epic power of this world?
Is it with fear of the future?
Who am I, if I am not adequate to myself,
To my being,
To my heart.
When did I get so lost.
And how did it happen?
Why isn't that rain no longer makes rainbows?
When did lemonaid become bitter?
How do I believe in my hopes and dreams?
Am I weak that I'm afraid of the unknown?
Am I weak because I fall to the feet of lust?
Am I weak, or am I really strong because of the knowledge I gained along the way?
My wine tastes bitter, and aged.
My mind grows tired,
My heart reeks pain.
Silently I stare at the wall because there are no windows or doors.
Silently I sip my bitter wine,
and silently it tastes aged.
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC
Two a.m, the taste of alcohol lingers in my mouth.
L.A. at night is a walk unsecure, as wolves come out into the cold.
These green neon eyes of predators approach.
Nightfall creates a ghost town. Darkness, a companion of loneliness.
The city is its own wilderness, I watch my step or risk losing my identity. Desperate to escape but poverty is a frustrating trap that can make one break. I can only imagine the life of abandoned corpses, sleeping next to churches, after constant battles of defeat.
Here come the police sirens, protecting the elites, the security force of oppression and brutality.
Where does love fit in this city? It is like love has been removed to save a few dollars and polluted fog put in its place.
I get why people would give anything to hold onto someone at the end of the day.
A city advertised for dreamers but the nightmare of those that do not make it to the spotlight.
I continue to fight despite no handouts.
My memories shaped by experiences in these streets.
Reminding me of what I am made of.
I will walk in this misconceived city, still breathing, persevering, until I have reached my destination.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC
How could I,
The double-faced
WHO’s current leader,
On par with
A chieftain
Brigade general,
Tightlipped attend
My diabolic
Party’s funeral?
Though for
My criminal
Party’s tragic end,
Bereaved,
I have to sob,
I must labor
To garner
The pity of
The credulous, elites
As well as
The mob
Round the globe.
At the same time
Dollars I have
To underwrite
In a bid remaining
Impish junta members
Beef up their might
Armed again
To wage a fight!
After ENDF’s law
Enforcement operation,
“I know not
The whereabouts of
My nephew,
In Micadra’s massacre,
Who might have
Victimized a few!”
Blood is thicker
Than water
Thus about
Genocide victims
Why should
I bother?
By defector as
I’m also
A victimizer.
I forgot
I’ve to seek
A scapegoat,
Though it was
The junta
Who released thugs
And cut throats
Before defeat
So that
They could
Run amok
To wreak havoc
**** & looting—
I will dish out stories
In order hints not
To the gun the smoke!
If handsomely paid
Some media outlets
Could reverse the talk.
Feb 11, 2021
Feb 11, 2021 at 11:09 AM UTC