"european" poems
Municipal Gum was written by Oodjeroo Noonecaal. Municipal Gum is about the changes in society and the tendency of people to want to control everything. Oodjeroo uses various techniques to convey this idea.
At the beginning of the poem Oodjeroo is addressing the tree. This immediately creates empathy for both the tree and her people. By the last line she has emphasised this with the pronoun “us” to show that they suffer a similar fate.
This poem expresses how life in Australia has changes especially for Aboriginal people. In the first half of the poem Oodjeroo is talking about how life was for her and others. It explores the changes in society and the displacement of the Aboriginal people from their land.
“Whose head hung…Its hopelessness”, the author uses this as further re-iteration of the immorality of the situation and by the use of analogy comparing the tree to her people to further emphasise the shame and lack control of that the Europeans have inflicted upon her and the environment.
Oodjeroo uses extended metaphor technique in the very first line of the poem ‘Hard bitumen around your feet’. This means that the gumtree has been placed in the city scape where it is suppressed and not allowed to spread out and be unique in its own way. This is clear and immanently direct link to the pain and suffering endured by the Aborigines post European settlement.
Oodjeroo uses vivid language to present these ideas. For example the use of the word castrated is very effective. The connotation of the word is very demeaning. With castration often comes a sense of a loss of pride and power. The word castration is symbolic of how Oodjeroo feels the European have treated Aboriginal people and the environment. Castration also refers to the fact that what is done is done. Nothing can undo what they did and the damaged they have caused.
Other symbolism includes the title “Municipal Gum”, municipal meaning community, implies that the gumtree belongs to the community. One of the vast differences between European and Aboriginal law is that Aboriginal people did not believe in the ownership of land or of animals and plants. Municipal Gum is a reference to the Europeans assumptions that everything is theirs to own and control.
The rhetorical question, “O fellow citizen, What have they done to us?” is the conclusion of the implications that have been made throughout the poem. Oodjeroo, is advocating for her people and all things wronged by the controlling behaviour of the Europeans. Rhetorical questions are used to provoke thought and to stimulate a pre-determined response. “What have they done to us?” They have “castrated, broken… strapped and buckled” and ultimately changed things to a point that they cannot be fixed.
In conclusion, Municipal Gum is a poem about the constrictions and change that the European invaders forced upon the Aboriginal community and the environment she believes that the Europeans have deemed themselves ever powerful and practice their power in a manner that is immoral.
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 7:47 AM UTC
Three Minute Warning
A messenger delivers
A three minute warning
As I lay in bed at 10:30 am
(Resting in preparation for,
not from, our oops, early morning hike).
Breakfast will be ready in 3,
Get your **** in gear or else
It will be cold, I'll be mad,
And you will answer to a
Higher Authority.
No problem cause I already know
All I need is two.
Splash water on my face
Now I'm presentable
enough to the human race,
current company probably won't be happy,
But I ain't telling her, are you?
Shave! You crazed?
It is a three day weekend,
Every day a July Fourth,
Celebrating freedom from the European tyranny,
Of shaving smooth every day!
Splash water on my head, count with me,
Five brush strokes as you can plainly see
Is a classic case of overcompensating
In my geling n' hair stylin'
Brush my teeth, well,
I hope 2 full minutes of rinsing with CVS
Green stuff, mouthwash, will have to suffice.
Blast my deodorant both sides,
Long and strong, wearin' now
My bold blue *** husk of musk,
Cause I am a very considerate fellow
Who happens to really have stunk.
Clean T- shirt and shorts,
Yes, clean underwear too,
Leaves me a whole minute to write this scribble.
My flip flop noises coming down the hallway,
Are the butler announcing our joint arrival,
Me and my poem.
Lest you think this is paean to men
Another grand male boast,
Be advised this ditty be writty
By a man who, while no longer gritty,
Just put jelly on his scrambled eggs
And ketchup on his toast!
Mmmmmmm there might be a poem
Lurking in that too...
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 11:50 AM UTC
**No Justice, No Peace
If we can't get it from the Court
then we'll take it from the Streets
No Justice, No Peace
**** the Police
and what you believe!**
Whatever happened to Revolution
Being the American way?
When your voice remains unheard
For which you suffer every day,
Your life is constantly stepped on,
Your rights keep getting taken away,
And in spite of the lies they spin to protect your oppressors,
You still keep the rage at bay
Because you are not
Above the Law
and neither is anyone else.
So taking matters into your own hands
Isn't going to help.
You entrust the justice system
to do what it's supposed to
Even though you know it never has
and is probably never going to.
But if you haven't done anything wrong and the Law doesn't serve you,
and only seems to defend the people who've already hurt you,
then honestly I think it's insane and completely absurd to
not only expect the People not to react,
but to honor a curfew.
**** YOU**
Do you hear us yet?
**** YOU**
Oh, it's inappropriate?
You don't wanna talk about it?
You don't wanna think about it?
You don't wanna deal with it?
Well guess what?
Nobody ******* does, nobody ******* would, nobody ever ******* could.
But for the people who don't look like you -
Aryan Beauty Standards
Hair of Gold, Eyes of Blue
Fair-skinned, light-skinned
European skeleton,
It was never a choice they had.
Oppression doesn't pick you
Based on qualifications
Any more than Privilege does,
If you think this case
Is not about race
You better check your Privilege, cuz.
I love my home, America
But I hate what it's become
Land of the greedy, home of the afraid
Kingdom of the Loud and Dumb
Slut-shaming, victim-blaming, race-hating, race-baiting
Sensationalization of the worst crimes in the nation
Religious intolerance, homophobic misogyny, blatant racial discrimination
Can't get with it, can't hang
At least not in the lynch mob sense
I am blown the **** away
at the grievous absence of common sense.
So when they lit those flags on fire
in the center of the town
*I understand, and I can't blame them
the flag is truer up in flames now*
And if they so decide to burn
the city to the ground,
*I understand, and I can't blame them
I would wanna burn it down*
**No Justice, No Peace
If we can't get it from the Court
then we'll take it from the Streets
No Justice, No Peace
**** the Police
and **** your Beliefs!**
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
Ah! Another hero
Washed with bleach
Like the Son,
Who is only holy
When rinsed of his
Melanin.
I wear a white coat
That browns in sunlight -
It appears the moon and I
Will be good friends.
How deep must I scrub
To rid my pores of
The southeast Asian sun;
To wash my hair of Pacific salt?
(Even my mother painted herself
With a European brush).
How can I know myself
When denied the magma
In my blood?
It's of no fault of mine
That I've been stripped
Down to resemble a
Colonial caricature -
I've been taught
The victories
And learned
Medals are smelt
In white gold,
But mostly
I've been told
That mixtures separate
And I am mostly
Creme with a dash of coffee.
A shame!
Us beige babies must be
Assigned colors
As if palettes were for paintings
Not people -
My family tree has
Cane fields and apple orchards,
So don't act like
You're surprised
When I mention
White isn't the only
Color of my skin.
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 9:37 PM UTC
**** a polar bear's funky ***
**** a racehorse's **** with Heinz Tomato Ketchup!
**** a donkey's ****** ***
**** a male camel's **** with Hoisen sauce!
**** a cheetah's ****
**** a cheetah's ****
**** a cheetah's ****
**** a cheetah's ****
**** a European bison's smelly ***
**** a woolly mammoth's **** with Miracle Whip!
**** a snow leopard's *** with whip cream!
**** a hyena's spermy ****
**** a cheetah's ****
**** a cheetah's ****
**** a cheetah's ****
**** a cheetah's ****
**** a llama's ****** *******
**** a panda bear's spermy *******
**** a sloth bear's bootyhole!
**** a greyhound's musty *** **********
**** a cheetah's ****
**** a cheetah's ****
**** a cheetah's ****
**** a cheetah's ****
Polaroid, see what develops
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
Once I undertook a journey,
upon the very face of our entire world.
To view for myself the many pictures,
and written descriptions in all the geography
books and History Classes, National
Geographic magazines and movies seen.
A Quest to see with my own eyes what
I had only experienced second hand.
In my mid twenties, like a dream,
one foot in front of the other,
I went about exploring.
I sniffed and tasted the scents of foreign lands,
Incense, Sage and Frankincense, fish curry,
fried snake and even monkey brains.
Walked in lush Jungle Bush and Desert sands,
Along the shores of Islands and the coasts
of many lands.
Heard the voices of 30 divergent Dialects
and cultures, smiling and laughing with
the families and children of all of them.
Set beside the fires of primitive tribal men,
heard their chants to their gods above, the
moon, stars and the sun, the ocean, the land.
Clapped my hands and moved my feet in
their ancient mystic dances.
Drank their tea, Kava or whatever they shared
grateful for their offered unselfish brotherhood.
Stood on the flanks of the tallest Mountains
in the world, on my toe tips, to try to see the
face of the God of my youthful teachings,
disappointed when I did not see him, or Her.
Found instead an inner tranquility, imparted
to me by Red robbed Monks from within their
chants of Peace and wise earthly enlightenments.
Strolled the cobbled streets of two thousand year
old Cities. Walked among the ruined remnants of
nearly forgotten once great Civilizations.
Explored Modern European Citadels' of wealth and learning.
Over time rode on planes, ships, buses, backs of open trucks,
Horse pulled carts and human drawn rickshaws, taxis, subways,
rented motorcycles and cars. Walked perhaps 1000 miles.
In all a journey of the mind and heart lasting three years.
And why you might ask, "What qualifies you as a pilgrim
of any kind, to travel so far, and wide?"
"What was I looking for, what did I hope to find?"
All indeed, fare questions.
When a boy, I read a simple five word line,
“Seek and thee shall find". Curiosity and
Horizon Lust compelled me.
The next obvious question you might
ask is, after all that; “What did you find?”
That answer is very simple,
I found myself.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 7:14 PM UTC
In the last months of March 2014,
Soldier Othello the Moroccan moor
Was in Stratford-upon-Avon at the graveside
Of William Shakespeare the English bard,
He was observing the anniversary
Of Shakespeare and his European brother Cervantes,
He had in his pocket another charm and amulet
Given to him by his paternal grandfather,
This time round not a charm for love portion,
But a mystique totem to raise the dead from dusts,
As Othello himself has hitherto over-matured
Above the painful torture of *** with aristocrats,
He has left it for the Jewish aristotrash; Frantz Kafka,
Whose torturous appetite for *** with German women,
Was the sorriest eyesore of his thespic efforts.
Like Jesus at the grave of Lazarus
Othello groaned by shouting; William the son of John!
No response, he shouted again; Shakespeare the bard!
Then the mystique powers of Othello’s amulet
Electrified Shakespeare back to life,
What is your problem you black moor,
The ***** of Morocco, the soldier
Who beguiled Desdemona into betrothal,
Not because of glory of your work,
But due to charms of your love portion
Bequeathed to you by your witch mother,
What brings you to my sepulchre,
For only to perturbed my purgatorial peace,
What brings you!?
Questioned Shakespeare the bard.
Am no longer the moor, blackness is class
But not the race, as race is bankrupt,
I come here to salute you with good news,
That your European brother, Alfred Nobel,
Currently rewards thespic bards like you,
Whether black or white, blue or green,
The ***** bards from the natural forest,
He also rewards, so wake up and pick the prize!
Retorted Othello in virtue of truth,
And also tell me the native bricks
Of your beautiful architecture;
Where and how did you mold thy bricks?
Your brown English bricks that walled your culture;
***** clown, leapfrog, mercurial, oxymoron,
Falsitafity, Shyllocking, colleaguery and window,
Cauldron, graymalkin, woo, betroth, infatuation and so on.
From underneath his sepulcher Shakespeare broke
A violent gaggle of laughter as if he was ten English skeletons,
You Othello you are still a beautiful moor
Whose foolishness time has not condemned to oblivion,
You are as a fool as I created you ; I will only teach you
One brick, the window , that you go and put on
Your wind disturbed African huts,
Put the wind door on your hut,
And be flexible in your tongue
To give it English elegance
Combine and shorten wind and door
To get your cultural brick of; window !
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 9:39 AM UTC
what my forays into online dating offered me that wasn’t s*x; european coffee beans, a film camera from the 70s, a workshop on ceramics, chicken parmagiana, bottles of blueberry lemonade, thai food that isn’t spicy, help with calculus homework, notes on gen chem, all the Star Wars movies, a book about magic: the gathering, a ride to an nba game, museum visits, nature walks, impulsive road trips, stories about their exes, silly anecdotes, photos of their pets, quality memes, awkward hugs that felt good.
such small intimacies, never blossoming into something bigger yet still imbued with meaning..
filled with what-ifs, if-onlys, and almosts.
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 10:32 PM UTC
There's a Russian fairytale of snowdrops in January
a girl meeting the twelve seasons in human form
who lead her in the middle of winter to where snowdrops grow
I never thought once that I'd live in a land where snowdrops grow in February rather than in April
& where the snowy winter has become a memory
& where in my childhood we weren't able to buy sauerkraut & pickled gherkins done the way we liked
yet which now has become more international
& where people smile & say ' sorry' to you politely
if you tread on their feet
as if their feet were the problem
& where time is measured by the Big Ben & Greenwich
instead of by the Kremlin
& it always rains in summer but there are rarely any thunderstorms
& people holiday in places like Majorca & Benidorm
if they're working class
& France, if they're middle class
& where I went to a public ( private) girls' school
& wore a red uniform
& sang the hymn ' Jerusalem'
believing in this green & pleasant land
with all my heart
until I left & came back again,
this time, an adult, a European
living through the British recession
& shocked at the newly hostile attitude to migrants
yet even now when I see those snowdrops
in February
my heart soars & I'm back living a fairytale
a child in wonder
just as before
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 8:51 AM UTC
There's a skinny European ballerina dancing for me in my room
And I don't know what to do
Her eyes a piercing blue
There's a pretty European ballerina dancing for me all alone
There's a feeling in my bones
A burning kept in stone
There's a single European ballerina dancing for no one but me
The only thing I see is
Her radiant beauty
There's a lovely European ballerina staring me in the face
My demons held at bay
Transfixed by her grace
Burning brightly as I
stare at the dancer divine
My eyes are full of fire,
aglow in the darkness of night
In the light
She catches my gaze in her sights
My pretty European ballerina
Waits for me to cross the line
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 3:40 AM UTC
And now there would come a time
a swift sharp clock on the bed
Blaring its little chime in between the hard bells
Like an angry little arm
Charming if not for the alarm
And everyday I slap the face of it
Like an unwanted *****
And she is silenced
Quick unlike
Said chick
But I am a cruel guy and have no sense of wet and dry
Nor cool or heat
There's nothing bothering me
Time just ticks off and I laugh at it
But my cells divide and turn into little old protoplasmic men
And yet I am not called upon them
Because they are stupidly designed and I have no sympathy for arts and crafts
No masterman
who failing to raise his hand
Clams up
With such poor artwork
Slap that ***** in the dilapidated sistan
Now In San Francisco
Where the alley streets stink of ***
And the European facades are just that
Crumbling
Poopy
And full of ****
And what yet are they dreaming to be?
The church that survived fire
Great conflagration
God didn't make a rainbow at the end of that,
Now did he?
He's a water-sign
Dolt
And water only jolts your mind
When it scatters true light,
Ain't that right?
But it's all the same
Just different hues
And the news
Isn't new
Just Blaring and yelling
And speeding television crews
Riding their stories
Up and down the many stories
Trying to build a city of angels
On a bituminous hill
Shills
No life skills
And I walk the city streets with a ugly old leather
Brief
Casing the joints and rolling my own
Unhappy and alone
Kerouac and the dreams on the monangular input where the triangular avenues meet
And he has no road
While airplanes shake their jets on the tarmac and trebuchet into the air
Going god knows where
Seeing a new piece of the sculpted pinball
Perpetually trapped in the machine
How bout Nippon
Or Hangujin
Or Han Chinese
Or Berlin
Anywhere but when
A little ways along the state
Of "in"
All these strange things
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 3:00 PM UTC
There once was a black man... Old at heart, he fought verbally and accordingly with bold words, which abbreviated and arbitrated great art! He spoke of activism. Not just racial, and economic racism. He fought against demonic injustices for you, yes, made me see. He stood for principles of non-violence. Acknowledged corrupt government
mileage, European knowledge and college. A philosopher, teacher
and preacher as well as a civil rights leader. When he spoke his words of fire indeed chiseled and inspired. Causing some to conspire and also perspire! Born January 15th 1929 in Atlanta, Georgia. Named in honor of the German protestant Martin Luther. Bachelor of Arts
degree in sociology. Making a mark in doctoral studies, systematic theology. June 5th 1955 This King married Corretta Scott in Heiberger,
Alabama for many to see. Proceeding with four children: Yolanda, Martin Luther the 3rd to be! Dexter Scott and Bernice to increase the peace. Despite the European police, the movements and stressed
protests, the silence, ****** and racial violence. The segregation and interrogations in force, instead of integration of course. Black mishaps, lack of differences in relapse perhaps! Plagiarized and slandered, demised by some of the wise. Accused of communistic ties. Blinded
by others’ eyes and of our world’s twisted lies. Montgomery, Georgia
bus boycott, 1955 was the year. However, forever in disguise, our fear of tears was apparently adhered. From here to near, also all those dear. Mere letters he wrote, from Birmingham jail I quote! From the slums, some of sums, hail and prevail! A creation prevailing into a deriving and thriving nation. Mr. King’s vision of a dream, mission,
opposition, optimism and truism, on our wars, welfare and more. I suppose this sounds honest and fair. Mr. King’s theories and worries in emotionalism, evangelism, humanitarianism, racism and socialism. Nobel Peace Prize won in 1964. Regretfully, you may have heard of this before. Government conspiracies and indecencies. Assassination
and discrimination, allegedly, by James Earl Ray. On April 4th, I
almost choke, because for him, his blood did soak. Some thought this **** was a thrill or forced by will. Others still procrastinate in hate! However, forever Martin Luther King was and still is one of the late greats.
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 12:53 PM UTC
/*h'americans can call it a striptease, but in amsterdam, with legal self-employed prostitutes? we call it a cocktease: because you'd really visit amsterdam for the **** these days?*
isabella: the french psychology
exchange student -
hung up on her ex-boyfriend -
really in anime movies -
and that american i competed
with on an edinburgh pub-crawl
for freshers -
and lost my virginity to -
probably the only time
i had the ontological parameters
of your atypical man -
"hunting", competing -
oh so, so, enthralling....
(spot the irony mingling with
ridicule, when people "know"
how the modern man behaves,
with his caveman predecessors:
dragging a woman
by the hair type of cartoonish
depiction) -
the other fun time i've had
encounters with h'americans
was in Soho -
two colts, texan tourists asking
for directions,
or where this or that place was...
it almost warmed my heart
hearing that twang
of the tongue...
perhaps someone from arizona?
that has that - "mid" western
twang of the tongue
added to the bite...
snub the Boston high-mind
eloquence, like:
you really really want
to sound european...
never mind...
people say that water is tasteless...
hmm...
so last night i was heating
up one arm of scissors...
and sniffing it...
then licked the other arm of the scissor...
what's in water again?
minerals... a subtle presence...
magnesium, potassium, iron...
you name it...
so yeah... water is... "tasteless"...
eisenzahn that i am.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 12:04 PM UTC
Wake Up Wretched World,
I assert my Indigenous heritage
I self identify
With the ancestors of my continent
Identity afraid to articulate
Culture, unknowingly belonging to me
Cycle of shame now shattered
Product of love, hatred, lust, and desire
europeans plundering my mother Latin America
In chaos and violence, my skin's pigment
Has been engineered through the mestizaje
Of my Indigenous forefathers
How could I not forget my lineage
When the historical legacy of modernization
Has been to massacre the consciousness
Of where my people really come from
Erasing indigenous pride
Making Paisano and Indio
Synonymous with poverty and alienation
Insulting the humbleness
State of hunger you've left us in
Original lineage within me disturbed
So you push me to ambiguity and embarrassment
Not white, not indigenous?
Pure indigenous brothers and sisters silenced
Not an exploitable consumerist market, not in your campaigns
Not benefactors of your philanthropic development tactics
Bodies too costly to abuse, no reason to bring them
Into the neoliberal multinational corporate circuit
Constantly driving them off productive land
Because they choose to assert their identity
Live in collective communes, not owing you nothing
Waiting for them to make barren lands productive
So you can take those lands too
Not capturing an obscure history, these are not colonial times
This is the legacy of the european presence entering mother Latin America
21st century still defiling Indigenous cultures to civilize and modernize
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
The name Theodore has its Greek anthropologies, Jewish anthropologies and also Germany anthropologies. The Greek anthropological perspective of The name Theodore indeed has something to do with the gods.However, the Greek way of looking at life was a frustrated thinking.To them everything was a god. They had a plethora of gods; utopia,cacotopia, Thespis, muse, clio, calypso, and Theodore was a half a god like Gabriel who impregnanted Mary on behalf of God as Joseph the cuckold carpenter patiently looked musing the ballad of a cuckold peasant . So Theodore and Gabriel were godsend.I have not delved to know what it means among the Jews, But am aware of the the cultural and anthropological surroundings of the name Theodore in Germany . It is a name of a male person signifying extra-masculine behavior. I also write poetry in Deutsch, so i know substantial cultural values of the people of Germany. Like in this case the modern social naming systems . I am aware of the anthropology of this Deutsch nomenclatural position.Why would link this name to Greeks but not Germany may due to some silent social and emotional disposition in Europe that the English speaking Europeans have a soft spot for the Greek culture.While at the same time they become victims of high adrenaline level when exposed to anything Germany. they always get repulsed when the word Germany is mentioned.So one's thesis on nomenclatural values of the name Theodore depends on which side of European consciousness one is found; is it Germany friendly consciousness or Germany threatened consciousness? The dystopic component of the name Theodore is purely cacotopic with zero element of utopia , as extra-masculinity is a swine of engendered civilization all the times.
Yours
Alexander k Opicho
NB/ i kindly invite Theodore to come to Kenya so that we do a joint research on the Swahili perspectives of the name Theodore, in Kiswahili the name Theodore is subverted to bwana tadayo
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
Manning up in Texas
Geldof overdose
needles at the bed stand
starlet comatose
California dreaming
killer meets demise
hurling in a taxi
puke fee on the rise
Fighting in the Gaza
Jordan's holy war
rebels on a mission
Jihad underscore
The North Korean riddle
pales in grand design
crisis on the border
planes fall from the sky
Cooking on a deadline
tempting tapenades
herbs are in the spotlight
wines that give a nod
Google maps the body
DOW at record highs
Uber comes to market
corn is on the rise
Apple on its earnings
Caterpillar dead
European sanctions
banks have **** the bed
Clippers threaten boycott
Longhorns follow purge
Lynch is out of training camp
James is on the verge
Leinart taking *** shots
coughing up a lung
lions take a licking
fans are throwing dung
Another day in Vegas
Primm from A-Z
rolling out an ankle
a flying SUV
Quiet tempting spaces
made better by design
multi color pea coat
silence fuels the mind
Stabbing in the subway
goat caught in a well
apes are selling tickets
(but leave behind a smell)
Puberty on trial
a man without a head
teachers feel alone
lets take them to the shed!
Jonah's tomb destroyed
wreckage in Mumbai
Sugar Daddy sites
Freedom 85
The immigrant debate
Russia's mounting toll
unions on a mission
heads are gonna roll
Beaches for the nudists
hotels on the cheap
the best generic brands
a list you have to keep!
Planning your estate
questions from the camp
a mansion up for sale
where once they filmed The Champ
Midwives threaten action
aboriginal act
truckers want concessions
that train has left the track
Sharks are found in Fundy
a prized but perilous catch
food we love to hate the most
an irrefutable batch
A family on the brink
I want my kids to fail!
politicians drains all hope
a ban on Israel
Follow out each headline
let the columns be your guide
all these things did happen
the day that Newhouse died
Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 10:29 AM UTC
this makeshift democracy
yearning endearing
breeding festering aristocracy
petrified on the sidelines
black hispanic asian european
the manifesting minority
which built this republic
political policy withered to marrow
echoes of Washington
fade in graves marble halls
politicians etches unsheathed
to feast in bribery sorts
the gleam of monetary value
blinded patched pockets
burning the fabric
to be later devoured
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 5:16 PM UTC
oh right...
back in h'america it's called
patriotism -
but 'ere, over, Here -
it's called nationalism...
back on the old continent
where and when all politics
is far-right mantra
and then you have
your Victoria and Abdul -
love the curry...
but like the **** said...
i'd prefer the aura and sauna
of the...
don't get me wrong:
i love the food...
but watching the Indian caste
system?
of Indians employing slaves
to build their upper-middle-class homes?
more tanned?
oh, you mean the Sri Lankan
or the Bangladeshi poor ********
sorry... i thought all slave
owners were white...
no?
oh...
alright...
**** you then!
because?
next time you ask...
i'll do what the Nazis did to the ********
i'll twist the star of David sideways...
exposing the prayer mat
and an opened book...
and, as far as i am concerned,
Islam is equivalent to the bubonic plague...
now...
compare the geographic literature
and spot the quarantine areas on a map
that constitutes Europe.
i'd rather die...
than fiddle with a phallus for
a taste of the Arabian quasi
harem orchestra of... absolute...
********
Arabian women?
fat hands...
their hands are too fat...
they have to inter-breed to
get rid of their
farmers' market of
fudge fingers and knuckles...
Arabian women expose
what is the most **** aspect
of a woman's body...
their hands...
Arab women have pork chops
for fingers...
and i'm not even sorry
making this observation...
fatty extensions
that you wish could at least
succumb to the esteem
of a pork head terrine.
Arab women can wear their niqab,
or whatever the hell they wear...
one problem...
FAT..... HANDS...
FAT.... FINGERS...
hell, hide them...
these women are worth half the erection's
worth in the *********** market of
feminine hands...
Arab women are no possessed with
geisha hands... porcelain architecture...
they're not tender... slight, polite...
the hands of Arab women are
the hands of European women...
who have a legitimate sway on arable
land, that is fertile with either
potatoes or cabbage;
well...
fat fingers eager to harvest ginger
(roots) -
what can i say...
no matter the diamond,
or the European *****
the hand is still looking
readily available to milk a ******* camel.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 8:32 PM UTC
EVERY LITTLE FISH CAN SWIM
1893
saw the beginning of me.
I was born
in a railway carriage
between somewhere
and somewhere else
in an Europe that
would change with the map
the lines redrawn
by War
some unpronouncable
European nowhere.
A barrel *****
was playing a tune that
would soon be forgotten
on the station platform
when Mamma and I
arrived
at our final destination
the train breathing like a dragon.
Its whistle
cutting through time.
Later I would remember
a little wooden acorn
at the end of a string on the blind
tapping against the window
as if it were admonishing
the dawn demanding
entrance to
the room when I was three and
pulling the blind up and then
pulling the blind down.
"Shadow people"
thrown against the wall
would not survive
a morning.
All night they chattered
amongst themselves
prowling the room
that was holding me.
Debating whether to
eat me now or later.
"Beings" merely made from
the edge of a wardrobe or
a chest of drawers
the brass **** at the end of
my bed where clothes
thrown over a chair
made them come alive
I believe
in them until
I was nearly seven.
Too scared to ***
in the porcelain ***
wetting the bed
to the anger of Mama.
And now 1963
will more than likely see
the end of me
as I am
and the mind
that created who I was
offers me these
fragments of insignificance
that amount
to being a life.
I laugh as Noël
Coward warbles
in his shellac'd world
forever singing
"But I can't do anything at all
but just love you!"
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 5:57 AM UTC
I want to live in Europe.
I want to run in the Bavarian Forest.
I want to be left in the English rain.
I want to feel the Russian Frost.
I want to skate in the Alps.
I want to feel the French Luxury.
I want to taste the Belgian Chocolates.
I want to sleep in the European Palaces.
I want to feel the Papacy Monastic.
I want to feel the taste of French Cheese and Scottish Whiskey.
I want to hear the Italian Piano.
I want to read English Poetry.
I want to hear the Spanish legends and don't forget the olive there !
I want to feel the magnificence of the Parisian Events.
I want to swim in the Danube River.
I want to be inspired by the fascinating paintings.
I want to be amazed by the beauty of the churches there.
I want to read about the greatness of the European History from there.
I want to search in The Vatican Stores and Warehouses for answers I was looking for.
I want to dream about reading the books that have been hidden in the Invisible Palace of Books in Berlin.
I want to walk among the shelves of The National Library in London.
I want to go shopping in the streets of Paris and Milan.
I just want to be European,
I want to live in Europe.
- Shilo
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 11:50 AM UTC
I am just like you, except there is something stopping me
Racism; Stunting me from the same opportunities as any other person
Being an outcast, a black sheep in a world of white sheep
Due to the melanin in my skin, a feature everyone has that is skin deep
I come from the natural essences of meticulous hair products in my hair
Used to tame my true being because it looks ***** when in reality my hair is but of African descent, as am I
As I walk past you, you give me nasty looks as the smell of my tamed curls wafts to your nose
I walk like you, talk with the same tongues as you, see like you do, and have a soul within the vessel of my body and hear the same way
Only the things I hear and see are not kind or compliments about things I wear or how I look
Instead, I am met with hateful eyes, pointing fingers and a raised voice
I am judged for anything I do: my native tongue, my natural curls, and the color of my skin
You look at me with belligerent eyes, your hands moving around symbolically to create a point
I am just you, just with many differences between us and a whole different world; yours without segregation
I am just like you, I can express how I feel in different ways just like you can
I can create music with my tongue and I can create a dance with the rhythm my ancestors blessed upon me
I can create a sketch or painting with my hands to express the tragedies segregation has caused
I move my feel methodically to the words of God himself, which uplift my conflicted soul in desperate need of prayer
I am just like you, except my world consists of using “colored” bathrooms and sitting in places only for “colored” people
Is the reason that I am called colored is due to the color of my skin, which is unnatural to your European eyes?
I go to church just like you and believe in the same ten commandments just as you
If there’s one thing you should know, it is that I am just like you; I am human
mbm
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 12:12 PM UTC
Disgruntled bleached paper
Enveloped with it's poison
Perched delicately between ****** lips
Slowly devouring youth & beauty
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 7:03 PM UTC
He's found himself in the closet
After he lost to himself in a game of tic-tac-toe
And tied his lobster bib tightly
Then hid his cheat sheet, for the pop quiz he knew was soon to come
It's curtains for her
She let the cat out of the bag
And now she's up **** creek with ****** for paddles to go **** herself with
Right in the birth canal
Then we'll auction off the ******
We'll pass them off as European defibrillators
Maybe some extremist will want them
If we spew out enough mindless dribble
The All Time Shit-Show is about to begin
We have
The Chronic Masturbater
The Hypochondriac
And The Pathological Liar
It was either sometime yesterday
Or sometime tomorrow
Or was it sometime today?
That you were all going to make fun of the boy with the cleft lip down at the laundromat?
Out of the three of you The Pathological Lair sticks out like a sore thumb
I can tell he was the runt of the litter
Who always bites off more than he can chew
I see the Hypochondriac has convinced himself he has eczema
He rattles off all his symptoms
Inordinate filibustering
Now there's the Chronic Masturbater
He looks like he's over the hill
He's only twenty one
But the blue circles under his eyes and the deep defined lines on his forehead denote his inelegant aging
I sign all your lives away in my horrible cursive
And now you belong to the ragtag trigger-happy posse of gun-jumpers
My billfold his happily filled
So I must go do some reconnaissance
Spy on those who have quit their day jobs
The fish out of water
You must find that thing that really rolls off the tongue with a nice ring to it
******
*******
*******
*******
No...
Go hang youself with dental flossed you home-schooled fool
Indentured servants we're just an after thought
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 4:27 PM UTC
.*i'm still an advocate of caesarean section... i believe in animal rights... it's just plain cruel exposing a European ****** to a pan-African phallus of a fetus head **** isn't it **** "technically"? **** me... forget the ******** **** the latex... the ****** ******* one pregnant women ************ and talking Freudian implosion will do.*
personally? i hardly think
******** **** is what men turn
to when excavating
***********
ever watched
pregnant
women
************
while filming themselves?!
ever watch pregnant women
film
themselves ************
ever?
in the beginning there
was the word,
and the word was god...
you hear the talking
of pregnant woman ************
**** me...
who the hell needs ******** ***
when you can **** off
to a pregnant woman...
jerking off, talking *****
paradoxes of Freud
about her yet to be born
son
watching her **********
who the hell needs
******** ****
just watch a pregnant woman **********
oath of god...
hand on my heart...
it doesn't actually encompass a
desire for intricacies of latex...
just a pregnant woman
************
*** mad... *** mad...
*** mad...
******* *** mad as hell...
Freud? pale as an uncooked
pancake dough...
the **** that comes out
from the mouth of a pregnant
woman ************
believe me...
i ****** off to one of them doing it
helpless.
nice try... thinking
a man would turn to ********
***********
can't turn to more ********
****
than a pregnant woman,
************
while talking, Oedipal,
*****
try... try, ******
try to bash that fact out
of existence!
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 10:49 PM UTC