"entitlement" poems
He wrote of the light of the world,
a testament, a lamp to illuminate
the place from which he came —
I saw his lighthouse coalesce
out of the cloaking mist, its blade
shearing the sheath of darkness.
I inhaled the dusk bloom scent
- Four O’Clock Flower, Poinsettia, Frangipani -
beguiled by a road, undeterred
by calls in the night, the rain, the unknown way.
I sang with one thousand night-drunk tree frogs
proclaiming an equatorial cycle to the stars,
choristers intoning a chant of existence.
I rode balanced between
the cycling engine's torque and the
reflective cast of my foreign skin.
I felt the grip of ignominy constrict the stir
of my drink, amongst hands toasting
the crush of entitlement’s bearing.
I walked where people dwell, and stop
to greet and tell news of the market
or of their nets, bearing the sea’s returns.
I savored the song in his speech,
a seasoned stew, unshackling the tongue
to ring like the steel of a drum —
a tapestry unfurled: a world
paced by sirens of wind and wave,
embroidered on the earthbound side
of heaven's abiding blanket.
Copyright © 2017 Gary Brocks
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 4:46 AM UTC
*I began
as an accident, but what I know is no accident.
I sprouted up
in rural America as a white girl-child so what I learned was learned through white girl-child eyes.
I grew to become
a liberal white queer woman so what I perceive is through liberal white queer woman’s eyes.
I thrive
as a creator, a dreamer, an artist, so what I experience is experienced as a creator, a dreamer, an artist.
Who are you to say what I merit?
Who are you?
You began.
You sprouted up.
You grew to become.
[I hope] You thrive.
Who am I to say what you deserve?
Who am I to say?
I am me to say.
I am not to say
for you.
You are not to say
for me.
For you are to say
for you.
and I
for me.
And that,
dear friends
should be no privilege.*
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 1:00 AM UTC
Once not long ago
In the vile state of Utah,
An evil wizard
Impregnated a feral cat with
Mormon seed.
In no time at all,
A litter was born
And all of them died
But one–
Mittens the Kitten.
Mittens grew up with a sense of entitlement
Because the evil wizard filled his head
With the Mormon scriptures.
When Mittens would catch and **** a mouse,
The evil wizard would pet Mittens
With a vigor that was borderline
Inappropriate.
Mittens was bred to ****
In the evenings,
Mittens would enjoy a bowl of warm blood.
Sometimes it would coagulate,
But Mittens loved his blood.
He lapped it up
With a a vigor that was borderline
Inappropriate.
Mittens was bred to ****
The evil wizard was a Harvard Business Grad,
And since feline-humanoids were not accepted
At Harvard Business School,
The evil wizard taught Mittens
All that he knew.
Mittens soaked up the knowledge
With a vigor that was borderline
Inappropriate.
Mittens was bred to ****
Some years went by and Mittens
Became a successful business owner.
He would lap up bowls of
Other people's business
With a vigor that was borderline
Inappropriate.
Mittens was bred to ****
Fast forward to the present tense
(My personal favorite tense)
And Mittens is running for president.
He uses his magical smirk to cloak his lies
So that naive voters might believe that
They should vote for this cat.
He smirks and he lies
With a vigor that is borderline
Inappropriate.
Mittens was bred to ****
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 9:07 PM UTC
Leaving the seduction, comfort and sins of suburbia is no easy task
For those spoiled to the point of sickness.
Privilege and entitlement.
Sadly, unable to survive...
Where are we?
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 5:48 PM UTC
The entitled ones:
Snotty, stuck up, rude
Nasty, spoiled prudes
Your misery, their fun
Loosen up your buns, entitled ones
‘Cause I am in no mood
To harbor your attitude
And snooty snippy sayings sung
The desk between us that which divides
Does not right you to be snide
Entitled ones need not apply
Entitled are entitled nigh
The ones who earn entitlement
Are the ones who give respect
Possessors of this enlightenment
Such respect is what they’ll get
Treat your servers as you will with such level of pomposity
But understand that I abide by way of reciprocity
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
Chainsmoking menthols,
creating clouds on parade.
Living in the dark;
frenching hurt that I've made.
There's a sadness in my comfort
and a comfort in my sadness.
*** fame, ******* down
commercialized madness.
I don't dream of pornstars
as much as I dream of clothes.
Videogames to escape it all,
carbon monoxide through my nose.
Too good for this and that;
entitlement at an all-time high.
Doing television to help me live,
or maybe to help me die.
Spotify for the masses
beating in my brain.
Youtube and pornhub
to make me feel the same
as the lost I compare to myself
and the celebs I want to be.
I want to be on edge, rich, validated;
I want to live in a fractured harmony.
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 1:51 AM UTC
The devil sat upon his toasted grieving red throne
Gulping his tongue, the devil never stressed
She seduced his powerful taste
He knew she was a lost soul, out of control
She was a walking mess, who was taking her toll
He had no business taking a hit to his statured entitlement
He promised to distinguish her from the rest, implicating a battle every dawning blue sky
His threats do not scare her passion to fight
She's a rampage with braided hair and an innocent glare
Zip up your sweater vest, here comes Hells pest
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 5:01 PM UTC
We do **** culture in uhmerica.
What is uhmerican culture anyway?
I'll explain:
it's like,
irrationalized entitlement,
moral decadence on every side
of every fence &
sick narcissistic pride
to be parasitic,
a louse *******
the life out of
the whole **** planet.
Men who have
everything
still die from depression.
Women who call
freedom co-decency
bold faced oppression.
**** first question later.
Hermits complaining
about the rain when
they know **** well
they don't even go outside.
Everyone lies to
everyone lies to
everyone lies to
everyone lies to
everyone.
See?
It's a cycle.
A spiral.
Maybe it'll go quiet
into the night, or
maybe it'll ignite
the whole **** planet.
Has anyone else noticed
the rise and fall of
Napoleon & the Romans?
How every worldwide empire dies?
In a fiery gust of embarassment
that was the special from the start.
I've grown numb
to the disgust I felt
towards everyone else &
the fact that they're all
kind of beyond helping.
Now I'm just waiting
for it all to fall apart.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 3:58 PM UTC
Dark chocolatey skin bears the flag of red
Coloured, a sin; these feelings are cultivated and bred
So they're brought to toil on white soil
Reminiscing the scent of their native land, the sweet patchouli oil.
As they trudge through barren land, lost hope and ****** soles mark their path
This coloured discrimination instigates fair feelings of wrath
A helplessly agitated mind and yet they stand still
With wistful eyes, devoid of their free will.
At night, they sing to themselves songs of a land far away
As they drift off to a restless sleep, dreaming of being back there someday
Scalding feelings of entitlement and vengeance have taken birth and clouded minds
Working on indigo and cotton fields, on merriment and mirth have been drawn white blinds.
No matter how clean the records, the message is loudly heard
"When looked upon as a blue jay, you can never be a mockingbird"
These words passed down through generations deny them their say
Day to night and night to day but time couldn't change the black man's dismay.
Wanted is colour in life but shunned is coloured life
This clash of colours holds no value, only adding on to people's strife
So while i stand here trying to fathom out the meaning of it all
I hope, someday, realisation will take down this coloured wall.
May 9, 2021
May 9, 2021 at 2:31 AM UTC
Regarding entitlement
What is really true?
Look at the contract;
What are you entitled to?
Who told you what,
When and where,
And why should anyone
Besides yourself care?
What are the terms of
This entitlement scheme?
Are they exactly as
Precise as they seem?
What was promised
That you feel cheated?
Is there an inheritance
That has not been treated?
Are you an heir or else
A member of royalty
And thus deserve to
Have absolute loyalty?
Are there lands and deeds
You feel are owed you
Or is it just that you feel
Everyone is below you?
It would help you and us
If you could narrow this down.
Do you feel you own everything
And everyone in around?
Do you feel we should bend
And bow as you pass
And that maybe we should
Kiss your noble ***
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 6:45 PM UTC
Don't you chirp at me.
Eyes closed, the sun stabs her in the mouth.
The taste of fear fills her face as everything come back;
she vomits a good while,
memories stirring and playing themselves in the tune of a forgotten sea
(cause times are changing and that's just what they do).
spit. trust. trust. spit.
Waves crashing against a wall of recollection in a way
that is meant to be kept for the punitive and the exiled.
The train blares outside somewhere
fuzzy focus dissipates quickly
and this slowly comprising function of clarity
comes to a screeching halt as it begins to pour in.
In some state of bewildered entitlement
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 2:40 AM UTC
raised after 1994 post-apartheid
i was thought ultimate freedom is a birth right
more so to the previously dis-advanced
i had freedom, i thought
till i met the big un-penetrable white wall
the descendants from apartheid
racism covered by nice words, teaching and helping
meaning we govern you, you are incapable of self govern
a wall that claims land for a 'superior race'
claims entitlement as payment for teaching and helping
a wall that destroys the human soul
drives the light from eyes
dries young people's bones
a wall that butchers equal to the inquisition
salt, cayenne, lemon rubbed into emotional wounds
"a stolen ox is eaten and forgotten,
but stolen land remains in the eye"
martin Luther king wrote the dream speech 1963
that dream is still just that, a dream
words on paper
hope in the eyes of non-whites
but no closer to reality
the white wall holds
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 3:26 AM UTC
Peak temperature water levels fake diagnoses white psychopaths starving hunger jingoism violence [systems that deprive us] guns entitlement shots fired accidents grief/mourning choking hazard corporate mascots corporate favoritism corporate bailouts corporate people ideology without monitor nationalism patriotism conservatives patriarchy murder-rape-suicide victim silence lack of conviction religious ********** false history infant mortality job insecurity invisible hands trickle down economics union busters corporate police brutal police evil police secret police debt bankruptcy foreclosure homelessness lost confused prisoner criminal banker war preparations propaganda ballots commercials advertisements campaigns money power puppets figureheads armies genocides **** bomb gas fire no survival violence wealthy lawyers assassinations heart complications death sleep.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 1:40 PM UTC
We seem to gravitate towards coffee shops, even those who don't like hot beverages find themselves there. I suppose it's a good place to let go your baggage. Lose yourself for five minutes. Loosen up and unwind. That's hard to do even on a good day. The world always has an agenda that needs seeing to. Rather selfish of the Earth to be honest, and quite damaging to your self worth. You can't be at it's beck and call 24/7. But we try to, dear God do we try. Of course this leads to us burning up rather spectacularly. Giving, worrying, stressing, doing. Until we are left smoking, steam rising like a freshly made coffee. But nothing is fresh here. Burnt coffee. Unusable. No longer capable of the great feats we once were. Like the world had chewed us up and spit us out when we're no longer useful. What a ******** But what can you do to stop a ******** Not much as they are inheritly selfish - deep down in their very core, nothing but molten arrogance, festering beneath their skin this sense of entitlement. That is what it is. You can't change the world from what it is. Just as much as you can not change who you are. So take five minutes and go to a coffee shop. Lose yourself in a hot beverage. Watch the steam rise and be thankful it isn't yours.
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC
Together we swim,
Skin touching satin skin
Fingertips grazing knees and thighs
As my engine of a heart enters overdrive with glee
Her breath keeps me alive against the strain of our instincts
My breath catches and my body contorts
Until I am suddenly entangled with a hooded figure instead
His heavy limbs pin me against the wall and his hands greedily search through my home
I realize I am being robbed but
He's not a stranger
His lips warm my neck and I choke on his telltale cologne as his hands hastily break through the deepest closets that house my innocence, my treasures, and no matter how sternly I refuse, he shoves through the doors until he finds exactly what he wants
I thought it was hidden
I thought it was safe
I thought it was mine
He smiles and lavishly thrusts his hands into my special box
Thanking me,
Between heavy breaths,
for giving him access to my prized possession,
To my heart
But
when he asked for a taste
I refused. But
He insisted and
Kept pushing
Pushing
And pushing against the wooden door until it splintered and snapped and he could enter with
Or without
My permission
Once inside, I had no choice
but to let him manhandle my possessions,
I can never again close that door that He broke
To fulfill his needs and
To satisfy his craving
Although he leaves with satisfaction dripping from his palms
I know it won't last forever
His hunger will return again,
Stronger.
And no matter how much I invest in new locks
and thicker blockades around my special space
He has already stolen a taste of the core of my emotions that
That door served to protect
He will return again,
with a sense of entitlement to my insides
And I won't fight back
Because his sweaty palms and greasy skin have already leaked onto the pieces
Even those he had not yet touched
My pure and personal secret now leaves nothing but bitterness on my tongue and stains on my body
And now,
I still feel his hands, not hers
I hear his breathing
Feel his weight pressing against me,
His hands destroying my body
I become hysterical and
Tears burn my eyes and stain our sheets.
I see the panic in her eyes
She doesn't know
She doesn't know I'm ***** and broken
She doesn't know why
And I can't
stop
crying
She's scared.
I would be too
But I'm dead inside.
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 4:25 PM UTC
*****
Let's face it,
You're honestly
Pretty Basic.
Don't call this racist,
Cause that's not the case, *****
The Issue's
Not Racial
There's a cultural Basis.
There are
'Basic White Bitches'
Of any Race
you can find
in LA
(which, by the way
Is every single race).
Everyone who's not a basic white *****
can spot a basic white *****
Caucasian or not, it's
based on Identity
not Color or Shade.
You're not an Oasis
of cultural expectations,
and you have no idea
how your Entitlement
is Enabled
but it's okay,
Cuz you see, Babe,
The rest of us still need to
Assimilate into
The Culture that made you.
And as bad as this may
Make you feel, I'll just say
there's a good chance that this
is the only form of 'Hate'
you'll experience
Today.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 1:14 PM UTC
There are flowers springing from my bones
in places they were never planted
fracture my skull and call it apathy
I say pain is a better road than dying alone;
can't you see the way my vision is blurred,
squinted too long at the sun now I think I've done damage
burned holes in my corneas before the age of 21, but those are just
surface things, right?
the road feels a lot longer when the cold air hits all my soft spots, like my neck so I cover it up
pooling all my efforts into growing thicker blood that will keep my skin warm
;keep kissing bruises on my arms, thinking that love will heal each new halfhearted attempt at self-sabotage
or manage the leftover evidence;
did somebody forget their brakelights on?
I'm trying to figure out how to get these needles out of my head
rocket science, learning to reverse detonate what might be left
in my system
system check, leaving sticky residue
behind me in my heavy concave tracks
softly trailing back
gotta learn to do it right the first time before I backtrack
my ears ringing like a sound clap;
bringing up old war wounds like we've lost gives us some sense of entitlement
things we don't want to lack,
leave the last stack
where I can mull over the aftermath
digging graves for those who are still alive,
burn my skin tonight
burn it right off my bones so I'll know I'm alive
still kicking like the second round
the afterthought that realizes what went down the first time
don't let me out of the house tonight,
god knows what I might find.
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 11:40 PM UTC
I knocked on society’s door,
Hollow footsteps through the crevice of civility,
A ***** welcome mat with a broken doorbell;
No visitors wanted who were not invited,
And understanding was buried under the porch.
In Law’s front yard,
picketed with ire and arrayed with disorder,
Olive branches strewn across dry grass,
lay an empty briefcase marked in leather.
Gavel and irony betrayed her whimsically.
Garden beds in front of Understanding;
Plundered of roses and wanton petals.
Bland stems wilted amongst the weeds.
Relinquished of entitlement; water led
Towards apathy and entropy instead.
A house of Perhaps: vacant,
Open front door to empty rooms.
Leased to opportunity but vacated in days,
Renovations procrastinated; mocked by
The neighbor of dismay and wry.
Ignorance paved a new driveway,
The unanimous watch of Lively Cul-de-sac;
Gated community with hopes of manicured
Lawns and pools. Procreated in the minds
Of not wild men, but surveyors.
Mar 6, 2012
Mar 6, 2012 at 4:17 AM UTC
Take your pills, open wide
Swallow it with your pride
It’s a cure, overdose
Keep your head down and your mouth closed
We’re so
We know
We’re shallow
I know
You can call it narcissism
You can blame it on materialism
Our delusions, indecision
Children of the Great Recession
Update status
Pop a Xanax
There was texting
Now we’re setxing
We have the gall to have a sense
Of undeserved entitlement
We’re over educated and unemployed
Apathetic and annoyed
We’re so
We know
We’re shallow
I know
You can call it narcissism
You can blame it on materialism
Our delusions, indecision
Children of the Great Recession
Pictures reblogged
Arteries clogged
Kandi kids
Digital natives
Anxiety, can’t concentrate
As obesity permeates
What will happen? Time will tell
And remind us of Y2K and when the towers fell
We’re so
We know
We’re shallow
I know
You can call it narcissism
You can blame it on materialism
Our delusions, indecision
Children of the Great Recession
Lets the bass drop
Generation lost
It’s hard to live
When you’re hypersensitive
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 5:30 PM UTC
raised after 1994 post-apartheid
i was thought ultimate freedom is a birth right
more so to the previously dis-advanced
i had freedom, i thought
till i met the big un-penetrable white wall
the descendants from apartheid
racism covered by nice words, teaching and helping
meaning we govern you, you are incapable of self govern
a wall that claims land for a 'superior race'
claims entitlement as payment for teaching and helping
a wall that destroys the human soul
drives the light from eyes
dries young people's bones
a wall that butchers equal to the inquisition
salt, cayenne, lemon rubbed into emotional wounds
"a stolen ox is eaten and forgotten,
but stolen land remains in the eye"
martin Luther king wrote the dream speech 1963
that dream is still just that, a dream
words on paper
hope in the eyes of non-whites
but no closer to reality
the white wall holds
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 3:26 AM UTC
Talk incessantly.
Dwell on temporal affairs.
Ask friends for advice; ignore it.
Air out perceived problems constantly.
Respond defensively.
Never take criticism at face value.
Write off whoever won't humor you.
Accuse others of misunderstanding you.
Build your lifestyle on whims.
Presume entitlement to *** for "being nice".
Choose an inappropriate diet for your body.
Avoid personal responsibility.
Refuse to own your failures and errors.
Justify behaviors that create conflict.
Rationalize unfruitful thought and action at all cost.
Dismiss what contradicts your prejudices.
Compare yourself to Jesus.
Insist on your specialness.
Insist that others acknowledge it.
Don't communicate your expectations.
Blame others for your bad choices.
Fish for compliments.
Use sentiment to ply others.
Use sentiment to ply yourself.
Subject anyone to yourself
while the above applies to you.
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
fem in isms,
i imagine Sapphic eyes:
bad *** advert coruscates elite
fairness sensing slavish blind
in gestate calm affirm
in genders More numerous of Windows--
Superior--for Doors--
O harsh judgement foiled,
as a foil, as unknown truth
foil-doubles in the brow,
abject symmetry to systemize
a fertile lack of sterile barrenness,
i am a mediatrix rend,
nirwaan, hijra wonderment aside
from transemotion's ground swells
demeaning to be understood.
i celebrate and face the same
to be what paperwork tests being
normal being, freely chosen
atom each belonging moves
an asterisk of paths
of mutate art of nature social darwin maze.
i imagine Sapphic eyes,
ginko soft they pile up all cobble
memories themselves concretely
cloistered fame
spray of salty waves,
macho screams symbol
for dismissal ease
for tearing at an inner unsaid war
with lists offense of proper taste
to what posterity intends
an undulation womblike seeming nourish safety sounds.
i imagine Sapphic eyes
past
debauched
meanderings
where hyster-clarity rejoins its titular
and reliable escapisms curl the lips
of maleness found
here and there smile sneer love
i imagine Sapphic eyes
linguistic pirouettes
congest that wisdom nonetheless
the moment passed on to a
feigning truth in pretty rhyme
ornamenting time with fine meter fine
vernacular chimes peter in
to juggle perspectival paradox,
redichotomize the twilight idols,
resolve the conflict like a dawn
Aurora,
i imagine Sapphic eyes
running plastic with Alaskan wolves,
toga floats to snow
to let us see the purest fairness form
a ****** circle,
Hypatia ascends from tenebrous grave,
Impregnable of Eye is pregnant now
with Wollstonecraft revered
in liberation's fount
families held exemplar gaze of
Taylor, ****** Cady,
Anthony resanctified
to vote entitlement's
empathic origins, waxen mold
of nascent categories,
narrow hands spread wide to panoply anew
the manifest evolve in true unknowns
Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 11:56 PM UTC
There's this guy who constantly gives me grief online
as if I need a reminder that I am not funny or smart
that I am incapable of posting any story without his remark
as if he should impart and bestow all of social media
with his divine and seraphic academia:
what is with that?
He posts comments about how illiterate my poetry is
how it doesn't follow the rules; the do-nots and the do's
pontificates how its not properly punctuated
as if I should give up altogether and just shine shoes
and forget trying to construct sentences
just wander in the carousel of nebula's
eternally seeking the tentacle of enemas:
what is with that?
This guy enjoys winding me up like a persistent hobby
the reverent devilment of sadistic entitlement
pushing my head under water for a digital baptism
that I should thank him for his rhetoric enlightenment
as if he was blessed with a correspondence talisman:
what is with that?
This isn't even a poem.
I am letting off steam like an overused kettle
fed up of his mortar forever rammed in my pestle
the temples are raging and my brain is just draining
to explode on cue on the next digital heckle
the cracked and broken vessel
into a vengeful steam-driven projectile:
what is with that?
This, < here > , is my only escape
and creative cathartic vent
I'll post this lament
with the stench of discontent
and tag his name and then just wait
for his feverish malcontent
that I should dare to
prevent his God-like dissent:
memo to self
to a digital antagonist
and his verbose verbal cyst
and the keyboard of twists
when you push
sometimes you get
a big shove back
so don't be surprised
by my riposte
and this poetic attack.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 8:56 PM UTC