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"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.
0
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 7:47 AM UTC
Municipal Gum
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.
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9
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...
0
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 11:50 AM UTC
Three Minute Warning (A True Story)
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...
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49
**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!**
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Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
Injustice (Warning: Offensive)
**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!**
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74
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.
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Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 9:37 PM UTC
Mixed Doesn't Mean White
**** 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
0
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
**** Cheetah's ****
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.
0
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 7:14 PM UTC
. . . . . . . . Seek . . .
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.
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53
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 !
0
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 9:39 AM UTC
OTHELLO AT THE GRAVESIDE OF SHAKESPEARE
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 !
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58
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.
0
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 10:32 PM UTC
“dating apps aren’t that bad”
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
0
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 8:51 AM UTC
Snowdrops
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
0
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 3:40 AM UTC
Ballerina
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
0
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 3:00 PM UTC
That ******* from Pastebin or 10it or whatever
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
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68
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.
0
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 12:53 PM UTC
Poem Entitled: "Martin Luther King"
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.
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11
/*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.
0
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 12:04 PM UTC
water is, "tasteless" (eisenzahn)
/*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.
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51
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
0
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
Indigenous (Abducted Consciousness)
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
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37
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
0
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
poetic dystopia and the name theodore
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
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4
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
0
Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 10:29 AM UTC
The Day That Robert Newhouse Died
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
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84
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
0
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 5:16 PM UTC
Democracy
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.
0
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 8:32 PM UTC
karma
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.
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92
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!"
0
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 5:57 AM UTC
EVERY LITTLE FISH CAN SWIM
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
0
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 11:50 AM UTC
I want to live in Europe.
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
0
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 12:12 PM UTC
I am Like You
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
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22
Disgruntled bleached paper Enveloped with it's poison Perched delicately between ****** lips Slowly devouring youth & beauty
0
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 7:03 PM UTC
European Dessert
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
0
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 4:27 PM UTC
Smitten
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
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45
.*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!
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Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 10:49 PM UTC
**** revised...
.*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!
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