"enslavement" poems
When you know who you are and find out who you are not, how can you bother sleeping at night? When it holds us down and it’s done dreaming of the enslavement of billions because it has come to life inside our minds. The days’ endings are coming and seem worse with each passing slide of childhood memories and tearful age. Who you know is so tired. Each and every of the billions’ voices is stifled.
“I know my heart and I love my family. They give me joy though I watch them suffer every day. Of racial profiling, religious hate and sexism. I pray the young will be spared my fate. So I pretend not to see and enjoy all my moments with them because all I can clutch, keep my control of is now, is this very moment. Now is all I can see. No influence on my future comes from me.”
© October 27th, 2013
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 11:11 AM UTC
Fear and uncertainty
are the bane of humanity
poison to the populace
yet, with knowledge
they can be conquered.
But tamed social schemes
proposed by powerful people preying
on those who feel powerless
are detrimental to all human beings.
So, in the face of the unknown
my brothers and sisters
accept the enslavement
giving in to the higher force
that does not exist.
Faith persists
And flourishes
in the realm of fear
and uncertainty.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
I have a dream! I have a dream,
To the racial discriminators, said Martin Luther King,
I have a dream! I have a dream!
To the evil-creating economists, I warn and ring.
Globe witness hunger, inequality poverty and unemployment
The world turns out to be bitter,
To all of you, I write this letter.
To create a world relieved from these and turn better.
I am a mad aspiring economist, a fool,
Searching for the right tool,
You turned the world with full of mess,
People are left with nothing less.
To the world, you gave theories,
Pushed us into a vicious cycle of injuries,
About your theories, you boasted,
It has created a few ruling and bloated.
Most of you worked as economic hitmen,
Turned victim laymen to fighting gunmen.
To the realities, your theory is distant,
Served no solution to the dying peasants,
To the few, we remain a psychological slave and servants,
Tuned our lives to a depended migrant.
With your development lecture,
You have killed the entire nature,
In the name of ventures, corporates turned vulture,
Hunted and looted our generations’ future.
We lived a self-reliant community,
You killed us with imposed liability,
Our lives are now placed in intensive casualty,
The word that remains imagination still is equality.
We lost our humanity and identity,
In your eyes, we are just a market and commodity,
Your play with scarcity, was a mere futility,
We finally became a society, filled with atrocity.
Your useless lectures of development,
Put us under frightening & irrecoverable unemployment,
For a few, you got us into a deep-rooted enslavement,
So, now for you instead, we make a replacement.
To my questions, you neglected and ran,
In your eyes, I am foolish stupid common man,
To you short-sighted range,
I say I will bring in a change!
Today, I may remain lower and mere viewer,
A day will come, where you will stand to answer,
Writing a new rule, I would seize your beloved positions,
This will be my lifetime mission and ambition.
I say with all my limited experience,
I will put a test to all your conscience,
Are you just a fat-big corporate’s hand?
With people will you always stand?
I am not an economist,
I am neither an egotist,
I proclaim! I proclaim!
I am a revolutionary economist,
I know you will fit me a label,
I am sure I will be an economic rebel,
A rebellious economist.
I dream a world without huge inequalities,
I dream a world free from imposed liabilities,
I dream a world without poverty and disparities,
I finally dream for becoming an economist with no ambiguities.
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 7:43 AM UTC
There is a time in a person's life when that internal clock will ring
when a higher force will wake us from our slumber with a sting
having been given individual trials, we hope we'll do our best
but we are insensitive, overcome with laziness, a desire for rest
The little things in life, how so often we take them for granted
quickly losing touch with reality, and becoming disenchanted
thinking we can forge relationships, with the blinking of an eye
failing to feel the hurt we cause others, with our final good-bye
We, as human beings, must first come to acknowledge the truth
the problems we all hide in our closet, they started in our youth
but the error of our thinking, is clear and can only be addressed
when we're willing to accept the fact, that this life is only a test
Attempts at self denial are truly futile, because you remain unchanged
accomplishing nothing, only from yourself will you become estranged
an endless light of healing must be released, to that location unknown
thereby removing that which blocks our thinking, our heart of stone
Your mind is your cage, only if you desire, you can set yourself free
don't believe in the lies you're told, you can be what you want to be
if you never give up, you alone will be able to preserve the true way
by choosing your destiny, no one else will, because this is your day
Liberate yourself from the enslavement, transitory passions of the day
either stand up to the pressures, or you'll just find yourself blown away
you must trust your heart as it knows the truth, and it alone will succeed
choosing the only real path, that path from where the light shall proceed
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 4:21 PM UTC
a:\>_about_race_
oh, back in civil rights times
i would have been right
beside you fighting...
oh, what the hell you mean?
there-s no such thing as
racist police,
the conversation
should be about
black-on-black violence...
besides if he pulled up his pants
he wouldn-t have been profiled then
sure, mlk was killed in a suit,
but he was speakin' wild, man...
oh, and besides, i don-t see race,
i have colorblindness...
except if a poc gets a job over me,
then that-s the only
reason why they hired him...
why do we talk about racism,
it doesn-t exist, for
godssake can-t you see we have
a black president...
oh, please don-t play the race-card,
besides no one is more discriminated
against than we are...
oh, blacks shouldn-t say the n-word,
just cuz of how dreadful it sounds
oh, since we are best friends
can i say 'nigga' now, huh?
you won-t let me say it???
that-s discrimination! things are
different now, you are no longer
in enslavement...
catch up with this nation,
catch up with the times,
this isn-t about race,
why don-t you admit it?
just because i-m white doesn-t
mean i have privilege...
i mean open your eyelids,
i know blacks never got
indentured servitude
but for a second,
can we focus on the irish?
they suffered too, even if they
won-t subjected to
the same **** kidnapping,
mental breakdown to force subjugation,
and violence.
sure we always ostracized black people
but y-all put y-allselves on an island
y-all will get more respect if y-all just
stop embracing your race, your heritage
stop calling yourselves black
and african-american,
just call yourselves american
stop complaining,
and just be silent
i don-t like talking about race
so much controversy surrounds it...
you know the only way to stop
racism is just don-t talk about it.
j:\>_j_c_c_
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 6:56 PM UTC
You silenced my voice for all those years,
left me with scars and a face full of tears -
and you took me to a place that was the definition of Hell;
I spent each day living a nightmare that suffocated me well.
All the while my soul was blackened by the darkness of the evil acts placed upon me;
I became a wreckage and all that was left of me was black debris.
I waited for an escape and freedom as the survivor and accuser;
but I was merely a prisoner of my childhood abuser.
Now I'm like a daisy growing in the cracks of a pavement;
growing despite you keeping me within enslavement.
I've risen like the fire that ignites my bones;
and my eyes are no longer dead but shine like gemstones.
I am no longer the broken girl I was back then;
I'm stronger, wiser, braver - and I am whole again.
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 2:33 PM UTC
Enter Pygmalion
Sculptor of my flesh
Firm hands of a man
Desirous of himself
Ego outstripping
Lust driving
Hard stone chipped
The night sounding
Like an uneven clock
Tic tic tic with nary a toc
And the outer shell of my existence
Slowly fades
Chunks and
White marble dust
Removed to find my bust
My curves
My lips
My stony eyes
Fake garbs
With hard wrinkles
My shoulders sanded to perfection
Carefully crafted collarbone
Body finally fully formed
The master Artisan
Find his own enslavement
Obsession with his own creation
Thus all other loves pale in comparison
Perhaps that is the curse or fate
Of all true Artists
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 11:43 AM UTC
Swimming in Shadows
swarming in from my soul
Talking to thieves that
taunt us to trust.
Drinking down danger
denying death's desire
Forgetting full-well I'm
floating in fire
Ignoring iconoclastic images inked in my eyes
Hoping hypnosis helps
heal humankind
Dangerous dance
done dozens of days
Easiest entry, eternal enslavement; extracorporeal existence engaged.
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 5:29 PM UTC
season's come and go
my yin yang remains constant
through rain and sun
through death and life
the compass remains fixed
frozen in place
searching for a horizon whose existence is uncertain
my famine and abundance
once leveled the scale
now my famine is overwhelming
like drowning but not able to die
but forced to relive the process of death repeatedly
plagued by the natural need for love
it cannot be removed, destroyed, ignored or exchanged
left unattended it grows desperate equaling to enslavement
still sea worthy i follow my compass
hoping for the storm to end and the shore to appear
i no longer wish for the treasure just the glow of land
a dream
a wish
a star that dies in the black sky
unknown, lost among the billions and billions
never to be remembered
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC
i’m the man who’s gonna wake up next to you
slipping away, a non-starter, her leg crosses over mine,
a right sided shakedown shackle, adhesion flesh as
tough as old yellowed scotch tape sticking stuck
no escaping, a known 6:00am risk when you sleep with
a pre-advertised holy roller, twist and turner woman,
making you into an unofficial woe-man (too)
left hand grabs the lamenting instrument, the beat up iPad,
to record your enslavement, a distraction from the bladder’s
faint morn winking at you with a Cheshire grin, muffling a
chuckle, at a predicament wonderful familiar, but unresolvable
this situation, a category of life’s small measure of annoyances,
invokes the wordy title, and a write-down list of pluses and minuses,
which I’ll spare which o’witch be the longer list
poems are where you find them, under your nose,
looking out a city bus window, but sometimes like flypaper,
they just come unasked and stick to you, the separating of the skin,
like a too tight bandaid, ain’t worth the pain and freedom gained
later, share this missive and her suggestion, she will prepare an
NDA (a non-disclosure agreement) or adopt other strategies like
pushing me out of the bed without warning when i am typing ,
to witch and to wit, reply,
ah!
another poem commissioned, and
*perhaps, name change too, needed,
making love in the morning*
12/14/19
Dec 14, 2019
Dec 14, 2019 at 1:40 PM UTC
lightning, thunder
pummeling droplets of rain
vicious, forceful hurricane winds
sweeping, spinning
swept violently away
whipping, ******
dragging me
a helpless rag doll
tugged around
- by my ravaged soul
dizziness, nausea
fractional-seconds, flashes of light
circling; bewilderment
world rushing past
lost in this predicament
having been carried away
so far away
prisoner of this whirlwind
fearsome, raging tempest
powerful and raw
mercilessly desecrated
mindless ****** of innocence
inescapable prison walls
captive of this sociopathic entity
hopeless enslavement
****** over-burdened
foul irony, my fate
- my only companion
pressing, constant reminder
I AM TO BLAME
chained to my own
passionless, encroaching storm -
this loathsome
jerking, twisting, spasm-wracked
hurricane monster
a destroyer -
- my destroyer!
homicidal goddess of obliteration
that I have made
I am my own
storm slave
Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 10:28 PM UTC
At the apex of the Empire State Building
Beneath a resilient misty gray sky,
A perfectly dreary day to die
She's at her lowest low
In heeled shoes a mile high,
Youthful skin, but nothing behind dead hazel eyes,
Rose red lips which never spoke their mind,
A purse full of pills she'd rather leave behind
Beneath rich chocolate curls,
Helena's madness quietly unfurls
Her courage to jump, her fear of death
Weighing the outcome of future incomes
Against the agony of piling debts
She came down from her delusional high
When daddy's substitute for love called money ran bone dry
With the sky the limit, her mind is trapped
By the lie they told Helena as her life was mapped
Line by line they fed her from birth:
"A scholarly piece of paper and a lovely figure will define your worth
Choose wisely little princess, or your life will be hell on Earth"
Turning her back to the street below
Her courage to end it begins to grow
She closes her empty hazel eyes
Cranes her neck towards the sky
And whispers "Death do you hear me? No longer am I shy"
In her delusion she heeded Death's reply
"Come now dear angel, let's see you fly"
A rush of adrenaline was met with demise
Now nourishment for the maggots and the flies
Antidepressants mimicked the body of their owner,
Fractured bottles, tops open, pills strewn all over
Beautiful bones shattered against the pavement
Released she was, from her own mental enslavement
Trickling down the drain, carried by unrelenting rain
Into a New York sewer towards the darkness below,
A bright crimson flow
Quenches the thirst of a starving rat king
Entangled in thirteen tails as he lay dying
Grateful is the king to Helena's sacrifice
For he is trapped in this sewer and awaits his own demise
A glimpse he tasted from the world above
Bitter-sweet is the blood of a girl without love
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC
And in this moment, this one infinitely ceaseless moment
there was bliss, euphoria and a love component.
For when he spoke of his heart and it's spiteful opponent,
I found myself yearning for his loves atonement.
A smooth criminal and a family man, he stunned me into amazement
with an astonishing smile from love lost in a previous engagement.
So in my quest to free his heart from her empty enslavement,
I will cherish our moments in memory of this open arrangement
And live without reason in my journey to his loves final attainment.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 10:30 PM UTC
F*ck you for encouraging me to take out more than I needed
F*ck you for not explaining the difference between subsidized and unsubsidized
F*ck you for judging my eligibility based on my parent’s income and not my own
F*ck you for pretending to look out for my best interest
F*ck you for making me decide on whether to pay you, or go to the hospital
F*ck you for harassing me via phone and email
F*ck you for transferring my loans to a different company
F*ck you for asking for money back BEFORE I graduated
F*ck you for asking for money AFTER I graduated with NO job
F*ck you for asking for MORE money after I got a job
F*ck you for transferring my loans to a different company (again)
F*ck you for suggesting a 30year repayment plan
F*ck you for the high interest rates that negate the payments I was able to make
F*ck you for adjusting my repayment plan without my consent
F*ck you for suggesting a lower monthly payment as I crept toward full repayment
F*ck your shoes with the belts on them (Boondocks)
And F*ck Donald Trump
This is America sucka. The land of the free, and home of the brave
Not the sea of debt and house of enslavement
So, Fck you from the bottom of my heart, and if you call me again I’m gonna slap the sht out of you
Goodbye forever
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 5:41 PM UTC
Something feels wrong about walking on pavement
When I could be skipping through fields of grass
Something's wrong with economic enslavement
When we could be carelessly letting time pass
Something's wrong with perpetual warfare
When all we desire is love and peace
Something feels empty about likes and shares
And something feels wrong about racist police
Something feels off when politicians speak
With their lies, misinformation, and deceit
Something feels wrong because we've passed our peak
We're on the decline and it tastes so sweet.
Something feels wrong with the passing breeze
As if the air knows what's coming next
Something looks wrong with decaying trees
They too understand that we are hexed.
Something feels wrong in my dark twisted mind
Something feels wrong with this dark twisted Earth
Something feels wrong about being kind
Something feels wrong about having no worth.
Something feels wrong about dragging
along
And it'll all feel wrong until the day I'm gone
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 3:38 PM UTC
But how else can one explain,
More or less, with disdain,
Frolicking with your oppressors?
Taking selfies with suited emperors?!
At a loss for how quickly we forget,
The many tyrannical years of enslavement,
The ****** of the motherland on a budget,
Killing brilliant minds for continued enthronement;
And fifty-eight years down the poverty line,
Not one thing learned at all,
Only to bow, grovel and crawl,
To a shameless monarchy, cruel and devilishly serpentine.
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 9:14 PM UTC
We are a generation,
Indeed, a nation,
Raised upon foreign warring.
Scapegoat aggravation.
Bushes and *****
Clamoring for horror and hoarding.
Conspiring against a population,
I watch through youthful aging.
With my childlike eyes, I see
The target they're blaming:
Afghan families having more
in common with me,
Working class American,
Than those transparent heirs
With the world's wealth and arrogance,
Ordering for the villagers' obliteration
Through boys from our nation.
We are a generation raised
On media sensation
Of militarized devastation;
Animal exploitation;
Technological manifestations
Providing privacy infiltration.
Material attainments;
Mental frustrations;
Fiat debt enslavement;
A nation entranced by
Senseless parading.
Tempting decadence and
Announcements with no evidence.
The September bounty of edifice
That fell with no hesitance
Still echo its unfounded,
Preemptive pretenses.
This murderous reign;
this senseless parade;
Advertisement cyclical
in their game of charades;
Dog on a chain;
Famine causing no pain.
Permissible opinions
To be solely maintained.
The damage, the waste,
The heinous race and class chase.
Oppression remains thoughtlessly dangerous,
As moral responsibility brings no attainments.
Chowing down on maimed millions
Bellowing from enslavement.
Fortunately, elder,
Rothschild, Rockefeller, or
Those above them whom
Remain blackened, faceless:
Resistance shall come
From all places, all ages.
Such as this generation of mine
Inheriting increasing complications,
With the type of America
You wish to keep in rotation.
I'll carry the flag containing
Your mistakes as a symbol,
To remind those behind me
What not to rekindle.
To the Boomer who stews
In your white collar suit,
Still refusing to shake
Your destructive pursuit,
Still asking me to lick
Off authority's boot:
Growing up in this nation,
With childhood innocence,
I grew increasingly aware
Of the land of such ignorance.
I had such thoughts since
Early adolescence,
I was not blind to larger lessons.
Only since supported by
Actual, factual supported confessions.
To the Boomer tied to his convictions,
Now will you see-
That isn't going to work
For us or for me.
I'll bring to this world
Whatever I please.
Which so happens to be
Truth, justice, and peace.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 1:20 AM UTC
o i so often feel fear
and I'm inspired that
thus I do not have a living
me nowhere on the body and in the shower
that by the same token I'm not alive and not at all
that I do not feel life in myself
just enslavement of emptiness
only black and at the same time
bright white only death
so often so often I feel something
all the time feeling feelings
they do not have a huge end
a thread that never stops
I do not know what will stop him
Is the birth of death what is one thing
does death in general exist on earth
but still it was never in the world
was only the light in the world from which
we will never and never never leave
14.09.18
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 3:25 PM UTC
wonder what this can sounds like when
i crush it against pavement
wonder what an ant thinks about
when he hears the word 'enslavement'
wonder what a star sounds like when
it's streaking across a night sky
wonder what your hand feels like when
it's held tightly by mine
wonder what a car sounds like when
you and i are ******* inside it
wonder what your smile feels like
and how your spit tastes inside it
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 5:55 PM UTC
This time is precious,
every moment infectious.
One minute in a parking lot,
parking cigarettes in the dirt,
outside a library no less.
And from one minute to the next,
shaking hands with a councilwoman.
Just her presence,
was a good omen.
This is a community meeting,
ahead of a strike,
on May 15th.
Our fight?
Our cause?
Wage parity.
The resource vitality,
of every worker,
and every family.
Every human deserves dignity.
Repeat it with rapidity.
We are all created equal.
This is a civil rights sequel.
You can't survive on $7.93
And if it were up to me,
No job would pay less than
FIFTEEN.
The rich can't inoculate,
what they didn't anticipate.
Fry cooks, cashiers, drive-thru tellers,
(these ain't no "bums" or beggars!)
They met up with activists,
and labor leaders.
They've walked off the job
and into the streets!
They've come out,
to take a stand,
to shake off their chains,
and make some demands!
$15 and a union!!!
If you haven't taken notice,
I don't what you've been doin!!!
I hope McDonald's, Wal-Mart, and retailers galore,
value the profit-producers,
running their stores.
The notion upon which,
both capitalists and socialists can agree,
is that labor produces value according to theory.
The media are watching,
in case you need reminding.
Watching you rake in BILLIONS,
while paying and STEALING,
POVERTY WAGES.
We call this condition,
hard-working ENSLAVEMENT,
with pay-as-you-go debit card "paychecks"...
And all this "part-time"
just to make sure workers are best
nickel'd and dime'd!!
But what you don't seem to understand,
is that this movement is long overdue.
Do we need a historical inflation review?
And this $10.10 business?
Please!
What is this 1993?
You can't sanitize,
Baptize,
nor televise,
this struggle.
These are a people who've had enough.
'Ya Basta!' they say! 'Enough is Enough!'
Enough struggle,
enough hustle,
Enough putting in muscle,
and your time, and blood,
and sweat and tears,
many with children,
many for years,
without a pay bump that keeps pace,
with the basic cost of living these days.
Still a minimum wage,
of only $7.93?!
I say 'Ya Busta!'
if you ask me.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC
Celebrate your corporate-create version
of this holiday as you have your break from work -
you deserve a day off from your grind -
but don't
talk about how great America once was.
When?
Don't talk about how this "represents"
freedom
"for everyone"
It doesn't.
Red,
white,
and blue
for the blood of my people
the skin of our invaders
and Creator weeping while watching
the sky so vast above us.
Red,
white,
and blue
to distract you from the events...
the genocide,
the slavery
that led you to the freedom you have today;
patriotism like a blindfold over your not-so-kind eyes.
Remember those in mourning
over the many great losses Native tribes
& nations
have experienced
in the name of freedom.
This so-called once great nation
was built
on the graves of my people,
the backs of another
and still we cannot mourn without words -
slurs -
like redskin and squaw and ***** and savage
the list goes on
being thrown our way.
For choosing not to participate
or celebrate
the genocide of our own
the enslavement of others
the harassment and murders and hate
of people of color
all in the name
of stealing this land,
we are deprived of our right
to grieve in peace.
So what is freedom
if not given to all?
Think about that instead of the beer
in your back yard;
think about that while we smudge
while we honor our veterans.
Just let us mourn.
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 9:34 PM UTC
He opened the binding of The Weeping Book
curiousity piqued, he needed to look
but how he wished he had never seen
the horrors therein that were so obscene.
The guilt of man along the passage of time
senseless slaughter without reason or rhyme
each page he turned ill had been done
by book possessed he ventured on.
The **** and pillage of those years before
children the victims of violent war
races were mixed, the one good thing
vicious hecklers of bigotry sing.
On and on through the pages now
the hurt caused pain behind his brow
saints and sinners all listed here
their sins for all to see quite clear.
He saw the vilest sins of history's pain
enslavement of those for other's gain
let loose man's done some terrible things
hope's voice is quelled by vicious stings.
The Weeping Book so perfect in name
from front to end it's full of shame
and he a priest of noble birth
would find before day's end, his worth.
No water passed his lips, nor food
his mind so troubled by soured mood
and then the page on which he gazed
revealed the future of a man gone crazed.
No change could he make to the book
transfixed at his poor fate he'd look
and as he pushed the dagger deep
as fate revealed he went to sleep.
The Weeping Book then slammed tight shut
till guilty man next came and put
his hand upon the tome's dark cover
then his sad fate he'd soon discover.
©Joe Wilson – The Weeping Book…2014
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 3:36 PM UTC
Merely a silhouette with its head cocked to the side, arms reaching out, stretching through the majesty in knives, and stabbing spots into my eyes.
I rise to burn
Feel to learn
For the better of my vendettas
Steady hands
On humbled umbrellas
Of sedatives
And other derivatives
Of my dissatisfaction
In lacking patience , I repaint the pavement, and face it after lacing spaceships with the enslavement of my basements, and place it in my heart.
Spiraling in slimy things
In lucid dreams
I'm asleep
Walking amongst the dead
My demon brings
The corpse of kings
In sheets
From battered beds
I am said
To have slithered
With the best of men
Drained and bested
In the molested
Ingesting of entire
Settlements
Not to mourn
As i warned
In subtle hints
Most would whimper
As i rinsed my hands
Of this
Varmint ****
And moved on with it
I get what i got coming
As im drumming
The anthem
And humming
With phantoms
Tandem
To alchemical
Dreams
Singing
In romantic strings
Scrutinizing
My advertising
Of fiends
Leaning in
To scream
I awake unclean
Seeing
Differently
Than before
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC