"exploited" poems
You've brought us closer,
Then made us more distant.
Made us more aware,
Then made us doubtful of ourselves.
Introduce us to more friends,
Then invited more enemies.
Given us more publicity,
Then exploited us.
Save us more time,
Now it's spent to be more busy.
Simplify our tasks just to make life more difficult.
You're an entrapping blessing in disguise.
Made us feel more secure,
Yet gave us more tools to break in.
You've become our new addiction,
Just a second without you,
Got us in technology withdraw.
You're a complication in simplicity.
There's so much to love you but also so much to hate.
Can't live with you or without you...
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 8:17 AM UTC
Young people can you feel the suffering?
roca wear, gucci, apple, facebook, mcdonalds, apple bee's,
honda, lamborghini, harvard, Community College
american express, pnc bank, walmart
Wage Slaves, ceos, owners, lenders, renters, indebtedness
Structural dehumanization, systematic mechanization
Exploited labor feeding blood to your hungering consumerism
Young people you are embracing MISANTHROPY!
Embracing the hate of your own humanity! Why the hypocrisy?
Wealthy children, poor children
Trying for enlightenment through education
Parents garnering wealth through the oppression of their victims
Parents garnering debt through the oppression from economic inequality
Still you invest and promote the only legitimization of your being: CAPITALIST UTILITY
Capitalism engineering unrelenting misanthropy
Vicious economic system discarding humanity
Perfecting the concentration and accumulation of wealth
With the expansion of human alienation and murderous competition
Prostituting your body to labor exploitation and consumerism
Where does your wealth end up?
multinational companies? financial corporations? military arms contractors?
Loyalty lies in their pockets, backstabbing everyday tactics
Killing you through the exploitation of your body
Because they know the birth of another proletariat or bourgeoisie can replace you
Entities, not human, how much have they bought you for so that you cannot see!!!
Beware of these misanthropic missionaries granting your body power and agency
When your body can no longer be plundered for profit you will taste tears and blood
Young people will you deliver your forefathers and fathers
From worshiping capitalist misanthropy?
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 12:56 PM UTC
I just want to ask one question
Is the human race obeying the mathematical rule called BODMAS?
Just a refresher...
Brackets, Orders, Division, Multiplication, Addition and Subtraction
We have created different brackets
where we enclose people like casket
He's black, she's white, they are rich,
those are poor, she's educated, he's religious, he's fat, she's slim... Brackets
People are treated differently
Based on the class that we've put them in
Some are raised to power like exponents
Others are trapped in like square roots...Orders
The segregation has only intensified our division
I don't fit in here, I belong over there
My group is stronger, those ones are losers... Division
Disunity and absence of love has caused
A multiplication of our problems
Threats, deportation, persecution
We don't like them, we'll bomb them
War, insurgency, terrorism, hate speech... Just problems Multiplication
Every second, our population is experiencing several additions
Our population keeps growing while
Our natural resources are being exploited
And depleting at a rate faster than our population growth
Our resources are experiencing severe subtractions
I just want to ask one more time...
Aren't we obeying BODMAS?
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 8:01 PM UTC
We like to be in peace
Lies disrupts the timeline of human beasts
Sending you to decision making feats
Making you think of an unchangeable decision
Life is full of actions requiring a question
Answers and choices
Whichever path you choose might leave you exploited
Everybody has a weakness, which might lead to stress
Emotionless people take advantage of any weakness
How a friend can save a life
Your best friend can destroy your life
Even though police are on the frontline
Some can create the stealth crime
Leaving so many people blinded with a fine
Who is that voice we found solace to confide in
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC
Hope, A dangerous thing I might think.
Wins wars, Kills thousands, influences stocks, Keeps people alive,
DRIVES GREED, inspires the young, slowly coaxes suicide,
starching the past and paves the futures paths.
It can be exploited and Used, broken and bruised.
Shining through the darkness while strangling the few.
Its rain every day.
The lonesome star peaking through the clouds on a dreary night.
It’s the glimpse of sun following the darkness.
Revolution is its son and independence are it its daughters.
IT’S LOVE
Knowledge that there’s more or that it’s all over, Knowledge of the Unknown.
Its leaving the light on when no one’s coming home
Its tears that are not wasted, every drop alive with expression.
It’s lingering scents of distant memories, people and places.
Its wanting. Waiting. Needing.
It’s all over. Or is it?
It’s Hope
Quite dangerous indeed.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 3:15 PM UTC
Nina Simone, occupying ears singing about bed and dressers.
Sparsely populated
young couple
Interrupted by saying amusements.
Only two stops
I know where to get off
I knew to mind the gap
I'm a responsible citizen
Voter with a valid railcard
Only two stops
Purchased a ticket
Only two stops
I can not throw up in that time
I can not clear my system of over-priced beer
A niche in the market
Exploited in the name of money Making let's just raise them
let's charge extortionate rates for an autoimmune disease
Paying to support a normal drinking culture embedded into the narrative
Growing by in the western world Listening to Nina Simone
Only one stop now you'd never know what life would be like
Without loud pop charts entertaining a few leaving the others yearning the return of ABBA when times were simpler and people cared about Eurovision and illegal music was your own
“Tickets please”
He seems awfully jolly for a late night shit-shift on Arriva Trains Wales
Who's making him work and why's he So ******* happy about it
Real extra effort! Soul sapping in my opinion
Last stop gotta get off.
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 3:16 PM UTC
_Under smoldering red desert skies
Earthquake-like tremors displace sand
And giant gears pulling wide treads give rise
To a towering, onyx colored machine of man.
A scientific prophecy once foretold
That the oceans and trees could be killed
And in its toxic love of black gold
Humanity granted this prophecy fulfilled.
It used to warm our bodies and minds
But now, our sun is something to fear
Our lives and colossal machines combine
And chances of survival remain unclear.
For military rule has exploited
Our natural will to fight and survive
They’ve usurped us and anointed
Themselves rulers of the inside.
What’s left of our once great society
Roams the Earth in onyx colored arcs
Scientists try to return Earth’s sobriety
As we wage war for oligarchs.
Terrorism between 3 arcs ensues
As each believes the one to solve
The problem of an Earth abused
Will become ruler by forceful resolve._
Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 2:19 PM UTC
It must be said
Once again
No matter how you tire
Of sin
And hopelessness
Where God lives
Is love
Understanding
Selflessness and wisdom
The Mahatma
Courage
Achievement
Humility
Without rank
Without ambition
Morality
Merit
Human
Determination
Dignity
Sacrifice
Pain
Patience
Kindness
Principle
Standards
Where oppression exists
There is no God
With power
Comes differences
Rank
Superiority
Predominance
Hierarchy
Religion
Patriotism
Nationalism
Jingoism
Legacy
Birthright
Force
Class
Pride
Privilege
Hypocrisy
Corruption
Humiliation
Indifference
Cruelty
Violence
War
All faiths
Should be considered equal
Before a God of all faiths
Acceptance
On Earth
You cannot **** God
By killing his believer
You cannot **** a believer
And be loved by God
No man or woman
Is subservient
To another
No man or woman
Is held above
Any other
All kneel before the maker
Worship
No man
No victory
No wealth
No fleeting beauty
Honor
Charity
Empathy
Tolerance
Diversity
Culture
Art
Justice
Freedom
Creativity
Fairness
Deference
Humanity
Where do you sit?
At the head of the table
Or at the foot?
What do you wish for?
Riches?
To be respected?
To be feared?
To be loved?
What do they say about you?
Do you know?
Do you care?
Are they fools
To be exploited?
Is life only for your gain?
Can you be trusted?
Can they count on you?
Or do you count on them
For your achievement?
For your glory?
For your power?
For your face to be carved in stone
Above men
And God?
Is that you?
Is that what you want?
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 1:28 PM UTC
We the citizens, who live as refugees,
We keep earning & see if our life is turning,
To the price rise, we lose savings,
Still we remain rock-bottom in standard of living.
We belong to the middle class,
Whose life always a breakable thin glass.
Our life remains completely unsettle,
Every second, life tests our mettle.
Life chases us with pressure, failure and useless lecture,
We are nurtured with a fear of future,
Happiness remains just a leisure,
Live with the unsecure & unsure present for a secure future.
We keep us busy and function,
We fear, when there arrives a function,
Towards happiness, we run as a pilgrim,
For the corporates, we become a mere victim.
We run like an athlete for salary, food and target,
For this globalized world, we are just a market,
Like hungry dogs, we wait for increments,
We keep running with bitter disappointments.
We live in own house, only in our dreams,
Our hearts cry with hopeless screams,
Failures remain our tutors,
Inability has turned us the irrecoverable debtors.
Our appearance has a rich look,
We have untold hidden burdens,
That keep us shook,
Keeps us forbidden and fear-ridden.
Low class think us rich,
High class always want us to be their *****
Politically neglected by the rulers,
Economically exploited by the rich powers.
We exhaust ourself for subsistence,
We remain victorious and satisfied only in our existence,
We lose our life to sustain in competence,
We run our life with a mere persistence.
More than the high class and low class, we suffer,
Our lives never progressed as governments differ,
All see low class with empathy and sympathy,
To our difficulties, we are looked with apathy.
On rich, we are not jealous,
Towards our aim, we are zealous.
Never think we are nothing,
We truly have nothing to lose.
We take risks to make history,
Our path is nothing less than a mystery,
You never allow us to come up,
But we are not going to give up.
Hello High class,
Never pretend to live like us, to exploit us,
Gone are the days, we remained fools,
You will stand a day as the super intelligent fools.
Before, we are hungry for food,
Now, we are hungry to rule,
Before, we feared to live,
Now, we are ready to win the world.
We are nothing! We are nothing
We have nothing to lose!
We won’t stop until having nothing could do nothing to us.
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 7:35 AM UTC
For your convenience
and mine, I am
kind and sensitive at times, just
enough to make you believe that
friends like me are
rare. That's why you can't make out when
I begin to
exploit you and it is when you begin to
notice, that I defend myself, say you exploited me,
dump you like I planned and
soon become a fake friend of someone
hapless and rare like you were, while
in the meantime you become like me;
perhaps that's why fake friends are not uncommon.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
High speed **** generation
warped minds
strong hands
unreality stimulating, simulating
digital lights flickering
images of *******
endless variety of every kind
on demand
what has become of us
what has become of touching, romance
creepy accusations because genuine human interaction is going the way of the dodo,
Oh, he didn't follow the smooth script, no chance man
Maybe your testosterone was spent elsewhere and your vibes told the true true
either way no *** for you
the youth exploited and exploiting, insane cycles
the itch, the tingle, the curiosity, the drive for more, dopamine release
My generation had the first ******** access
point and click
no barriers can stop that drive, rooted in youthful pubescent longing
we're sick
on the digital drug
Touch me instead
bath me in your ***
not this crude moving picture
Let me drink you, taste your juice, feel you slide,
touch the walls of your world, explode them,
show the limitless illusion to boundaries, kink, **********
stop watching, live it
chronic ************ robs us of the real intimacy,
don't drain your desire for me with this crude digital *******
just because its there
You can touch me, not your keyboard, not this plastic and metal
I suppose you can touch yourself,
but have the imagination to fantasize
and then make it real
share your life force with a human being,
not some rag to be thrown away
Rise to your lust, conquer the animal
make its power serve
make love,
not digital mental war
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 12:28 PM UTC
How have we come to need to pay for expression?
Perhaps because we get harassed and reprimanded by people we hold to be 'respectable'
(authority, parents, teachers, etc.)
when we're young for being wholly expressive
and so many people stuff it.
Then, those who don't stuff it seem somehow special or illogical for choosing not to stuff it.
Then, they're exploited by our glorious system to hand over the "rights" to sell the expression.
How do they expect to sell people that which originates from ourselves?
To sell people salvation from that which doesn't exist?
To sell them what they don't need?
To sell beauty? Happiness? Expression? Education?
In a word:
DECEPTION.
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 2:05 PM UTC
Locked in your fiery eyes i submit
naked, **** exposed to be exploited
by Your will i lay before you awaiting....
to begin Our intimacy
wanton to please
Breathing in the anticipation
i am frozen by Your hesitation
for i crave
Your touch,
Your lips,
Your embrace
in every rise of my *******
breathing deep
my thoughts creep
and time slows
In Your soul, i wish to peek...
Behind the lurking darkness in Your eyes
Is it love or lust hidden in disguise
i acquiesce
my forbidden fruit i wish to bare
the entrance to my sacred chambers
ripe with carnal desire
may it be Your pleasure
To imprint Your sting
forever seared
upon my redden flesh
so that it lingers in tenderness
long after Our journey
Your caress against my flesh
in piercing pleasure resonates
up the curvature of my spine
releasing infinite electric butterflies
i cannot hide
You plunge deep below the surface
infusing Our bodies as One
rhythmically in motion
edging each crest before plunging
deeper into the next
into the depths of brazen hunger
i want to surrender
though my growl cannot be hidden
‘neath the rumble of my heighten instinct
to soar in expletive exclamation
my animal within
my pounded thighs spread wider
below pulsating muscles
beating louder, harder, deeper
my cavity contracts
howling in blazed heat
i scream
through my glare
into Your eyes
of consent again, release me
in the allowance of your’s
entwined
Allow me to feel you
as you fill me
emotions untethered
in Your mind
Your body and spirit
The rapture of Your release
i capture
in my mind
my body and soul
anchored to my memory
Our journey
In gaping breath
We fall ...
Entangled in blissful euphoria
Your shivering body envelopes mine
a sweet embrace
a tender kiss
long has it been since I’ve felt such passion
i admit...
May 31, 2019
May 31, 2019 at 10:42 AM UTC
Dream Catchers, egg hatchers, baby Snatchers, **** wackers, lip smackers, online hackers, ***** slappers, hand clappers, exotic flappers, lazy slackers, suitcase packers, & back stabbers.
Hate & defeated, cheat & feel the heat. Too weak & petite. Tales of hell, wishes on a well, thoughts are things you can't always sell. Sometimes words can be lies liars tell. One day to your death to you fell.
Pass it on. I don't belong. Some people are wrong. Die. I won't cry.
Pakrat hoarders, pro choice aborters, two faced home wreckers, voodoo curses, retired lazy old nurses.
Deaf & Blind, racist & unkind, poor & unemployed. Broke & exploited. Dumb, old, ugly, & fat. ***** stinking rat. Piles & piles of crap.
College professors, real estate investors, coaches, cockaroaches, poachers, perverts & ****** meat eatting caravores. Bums & addicts drunks & fanatics, obsessive compulsive, stalkers too possessive, insane aggressive.
Author Notes :
Partially true, could be your family.
© Harmony Sapphire . All rights reserved,
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 3:34 PM UTC
Money is a **** producer, who mascarades as a professional film producer, promising fame and fortune to young girls in LA.
Money exploits us all, telling us to cry on his **** as he forces it down each of our throats.
MMM
Money talks its valuable poetry, cha ching as we take the money shot, the money shot, the money shot...
Blaw! we take the money and run. Exploited, every one of us carries this inflated value; running around with our heads chopped off.
Where did we put our heads?
Not a one realizing how.
We put our heads collectively in the sand.
Money talks, but we dont. Money walks, but we wont. Money marches, but we cant stand. Can't form a coherent sentence while we're getting ******
"If my dad finds out he will destroy me!"
"I won't tell."
Money wants us young, dumb, and full of idiom; and as the bubble bursts, we can't help but feel depressed.
Our faces are all over the internet. America the beautiful, I can hardly see your face behind the biggest, blackest ****
If you want to turn anyone into your own personal ***** first you got to get the money!
Money is king. But is he kind? Money is our god, but what kind?
Money money money, MONEY!
The lyrics of every rap song on the top 100
Can we get some hoes and some money that we can throw's up in here!?
It's what we all want, and its what we all fear. Money controls us and rules us without a peer.
Money replaces trust, it replaces common decency, and puts a friendly mask on the face of a murdering monster.
Money makes me sick. It smells like burning flesh if you read it just right, and put your nose up real tight, it can start to burn you too.
Roll a hundo, give Ben a sniff. Money doesn't care if you sell it off to buy drugs or a train wreck. Money isn't ethical and neither are you.
Money wants us all to bow down, and when we rise up, we look like monopoly men.
Give me some money and I can change the world into a paradise on earth; give your local bank some money, and our world looks like a shopping mall.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 7:39 PM UTC
A poet writes
about truths,
what is, and what is not...
a poet writes about nature,
people....the sun, moon and stars,
a poet dares to feel...to see the whole world...
A poet writes...
to vent his/her own shares of joy
of agony...and aches...miseries...afflictions
as well as those of the others'
a poet reads...sees through someone else's eyes,
face...words...voice...and actions...
A poet writes,
to euphemize the sharp truths and facts in life
make them less painful to the ears
to at least, soften the pointed edges of every trial...to hurt less
to pad the impact of a fall...from frustration and despair
and, through words...encourage one...to rise...when fallen...
A poet writes
to cite reasons...so a hurting one would believe again
have faith in life...in love...again
to reach out...to those who have gone far, in the dark
and take them back to the fold ...of the bright side...
A poet writes...
to tell the woes of those oppressed
the world over
those tortured...violated...and killed
of children abused
their future stolen away from them...
A poet writes
of how nature has been exploited...and maltreated
how human beings
would one day disappear,
how nature...would be around.......no matter what...
A poet is sensitive
observant
and vigilant...
A poet is compelled to see and tell all truths...
truths of yesterday...those that are here now...happening
and those of tomorrow.....and beyond...
All these,
A poet must write...
...nothing more
...and nothing less...
Sally
Copyright January 3, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[(())]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 8:08 PM UTC
Sometimes a man find himself
encased in a total stare.
Memories of the abusive one
whose aggressions he could
no longer bare.
No one would listen because
of the fact that he is
a man.
Nobody cared to go to his defense
nor tried to understand.
The gender card was exploited
and always on
full display.
Lies held against him will always
be until his abusers dying day.
Hurting inside because
the man forever lost
a child.
The abuser stands by watching
with an aggressive smile.
The abuser never cared
about nothing or the
damage she caused.
She was more concerned about
the good image to be lost.
What his child look like today
the man he just
cannot say.
He finds himself stuck with
the image of yesterday.
His abuser has purposely torn
away parts of his heart
for many years.
His eyes has never dried up
from the many tears.
Avoiding the abuser this man
had to be the one to pay
a lifetime price.
Escaping the claws of the abuser
the child became the
ultimate sacrifice.
Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 1:52 PM UTC
When you first arrived at my house,
I could see that warm, humble smile,
You said I looked so beautiful,
I'd felt all the worth while.
I had a thousand butterflies in my stomach,
From how attractive you looked that night,
I could only lay back and smile,
As we start our endless flight.
When I saw over 100 people at your friend's house,
I honestly felt overwhelmed and surprised,
Because I didn't expect so many cameras and people,
Awkwardly saying our, "hello's and "goodbyes."
But they all went to a different school than I,
As I stood there alone,
We weren't even on the prom bus yet,
I was somewhat on my own.
But my lover stood beside me,
Still uncomforatable and not fully content,
Because I couldn't fake a smile,
They'd made a huge dent.
You introduced me to everyone,
But I felt so lost,
Though you were beside me,
There was more love than cost.
When you grinded on me,
I honestly felt exploited and turned off,
Because it wasn't like you at all,
A boy who's always humble and soft.
What happened that night?
We were dancing together but your eyes wandered away,
I saw in you your insecurities,
And I'm baffled to this day.
You didn't have to impress other people as much as you did,
Becuase I just wanted to have the greatest time with you,
Because junior prom only comes once a lifetime,
And I focused just on you.
Is it me?
Or is it you?
Is it us?
Is it true?
But you never left me that night...
I give you my thanks and love,
Its not your fault that it was awkward,
Two hearts glowing,
From up above.
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 7:52 PM UTC
Intricate pattern of the night
Brought to life by silver rays
Close mesh of designs
Filigreed artistry all over
Softened sighs wake up desires
Splashing the colors of night
Dripping with passionate fervor
Both the canvases pristine
Waiting to be exploited
By the artistry of the suave artists
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 8:16 AM UTC
When the man at the hardware store asks,
what shade of blue are you looking for sugar,
to paint the walls of our hypothetical son's room,
I would have said heartbreak,
the same shade of heartbreaking blue as his daddy's eyes.
Ironic, because I would have rooted for a gender neutral colour,
an agnostic upbringing and a liberal education,
but somewhere down this erratic, dysfunctional relationship,
I stopped caring, or perhaps, cared only of you.
Since you left there's nothing to care about,
there's no you, there's no us, there's no motivation,
my priorities, values and aspirations are still maintaining a distance,
I'm feeling a heartbreaking shade of blue.
Like that one time I got high on dried out ****
I was completely aware of every stage of this breakup,
the shock, the disbelief, the sadness, the pain, the regret,
until it stopped.
The world has come to a standstill,
leaving me tripping between spring and snowflakes on the windowsill,
I'm not coming down from the high, or low,
I should have got you out of my system 4 years ago.
It's not a linear process, said my friend,
and I know what he means,
because for everyday I get through without thinking of you,
I spend weeks curled up in pain in bed or on the floor,
feeling a heartbreaking shade of blue.
Kept awake at night, weary, paranoid and deluded,
suffocated, drowned in despair, sometimes even in air,
in the shallow words, empty promises and plans made,
thrown into solitary confinement among hundreds of other people,
breaking me, when I'm already broken.
All while you stripped me of my dignity, intuition and optimism,
disregarded my needs, exploited my insecurities and wasted my heart,
I thought I knew you,
come to think of it, I don't think your eyes are blue.
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 8:44 AM UTC
Lamenting lost love
hidden behind harmonies,
(synonymous to symphony)
resonates absently.
Like making love
to a stranger.
Like you make love
to me.
Void of all passion,
like revenge of apathy.
Apathetic entirely,
the emptiness that fuels you
emphasizes decrees.
Standard-less standards
validate your need
to dismantle the mantled,
and devour the diseased,
to command and to seize,
to exploit the exploited,
and explore every scene—
every pelvis, and every scream.
How did I fall for such a—
loveless being?
Better yet,
How do I disintegrate re-memories,
Or abolish aplitic fallacies,
and survive soullessly?
(How must I do these things!?)
Here I plead
surrounded, unattentively,
summoning recognition
for the being
whom resides in me.
Resurrecting old wounds,
(chore almost seems daily)
almost seems like it’s alive,
like maybe one day
it might save me.
More likely, one day
it will concave me.
But without knowledge
there is no upset.
And no upset means
no you and me.
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 9:03 PM UTC
Priti Patel's quote on EU migration - whatever it was...
list of common surnames: cropper, cross, crouch,
dabney, dalton, daniels, eads, easton, eccleston,
fairclough, farnham, fay, gardner, garey, garfield,
haight, hanes, hailey, ibbott, irvin, isaacson,
jack, jackson, jacobs, kay, keen, kelsey,
lacey, lacy, lamar, macey, mann, marchand,
neal, nelson, neville... sure pati japati patel -
i'll be an albino in Gujarat
if your play the sitar in a sari;
but your name sounds a bit migrant
revealing, what a weird 'back of the bus'
you seem to stand on -
you want the Mongolians resurrected?
i swear we were being ousted in line
of what Queen Sheba said to Solomon:
'olive skinned throughout the geography
and the unwelcome green men on
sponged-knickers creaming for an ******
a french dessert...'
yes pretty prior, you found home on a
continent when half of the european nations
didn't practice colonial antics -
i guess it's easier to pick on them.
but with a Patel surname you sound british
already, the great experiment worked
the anaesthetic of former colonialism
numbed via recreational Ketamine use
really numbed the skull and jaw mandibles -
i hate, i hate being conscripted into
post-colonial affairs of "why it all failed"
what a waste of the urban hubs of
Manchester or Liverpool -
where once artistic expression thrived -
i hate these post-colonial societies,
it's as if they were castrated en masse,
and they're wondering why no one has a permanent
suntan in scandinavia - maybe the raw herring diet -
cinnamon up your *** magician's trick with
space between fudge of digestion, disappearing trick
but then the cough that blinds you sweetly -
i guess post-colonial nationalism wanted to
listen to non-colonial nationalism -
a former migrant like pretty plated smell
olive skinned exploited inversion of angers
but dunked a footstep into a trip-up
with non-colonial nations -
a bit like the greek bail-out - pretty patel
is a name least likely associated with migration;
you teasing the beast out?
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 9:33 PM UTC
He runs with unbridled joy
And eats every biscuit that he licks
His eyes light up with every new toy
‘Twas a beautiful world and he was just six.
Learning to make friends at school
Coloring books, catching crooks
Pulling ponytails, breaking rules
Big eyes that mesmerize with every look.
Everything was beautiful bliss
But soon this peace was destroyed
His innocence was robbed starting with an unwanted kiss
And the soul became cold, dark and void.
The evil one dimmed his happy fire
And unsparingly exploited his vulnerability
Used his body for evil desire
Repeatedly ***** him most ruthlessly.
That boy with the spark in his eyes is gone
Salty tears instead of the chocolate ice creams
Blamed god for everything that went wrong
But Alas! No one heard his screams.
He lies down exhausted
Nursing his wounds and scars
Waiting for the train to come around
He was spared to live long and far.
The evil one took everything that he had
But today he fights continuously
To spare others, his fate as a lad
Defiance to the evil one he shows tirelessly.
Because there’s one hope that leads him on
Wounds will heal, scars will fade
Remembering the pain, he cries alone
My son, I’m with you , do not be afraid.
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 6:19 AM UTC