"fieldwork" poems - Hello Poetry

I take pride in my roots I take pride in my melanin And my ancestors All those who have persevered To get me to where I am today. I take pride en mi pelo rizo Gracias a Dios.. I carry my culture in my curls to The poetry that runs through my Veins rushing pulsing sweat on the furrow of thy lip beading ache of the toil in their fieldwork sweet azucar negra my ancestors blood was sweeter they still don’t want us here but some things never change but we are able and no beautiful ignorant person Will ever take that away.

0

Sep 5, 2018

Sep 5, 2018 at 5:19 PM UTC

croox

ringlets&coils&puerto rico

I take pride in my roots I take pride in my melanin And my ancestors All those who have persevered To get me to where I am today. I take pride en mi pelo rizo Gracias a Dios.. I carry my culture in my curls to The poetry that runs through my Veins rushing pulsing sweat on the furrow of thy lip beading ache of the toil in their fieldwork sweet azucar negra my ancestors blood was sweeter they still don’t want us here but some things never change but we are able and no beautiful ignorant person Will ever take that away.

23

If I were a man, I'd be free, To ask a woman out for coffee. But I'm a woman, I have to play coy, And let the fieldwork be done by the boy. I have to wait for him to make a move, And only show that I approve. I have to bat my lashes and display a pout, And behave like a human sized trout. When he leans for a kiss, I'll have to push him away, And blushingly say "not today" As a woman, society wants me to behave in a way, To be demure, dignified and flirt in a womanly way. But you know what, let society go for a toss, This woman here, is her own boss, I'm going to be direct and forward, And if that scares you, move along coward. I’m not going to sit around and wait, I'll be the one who'll ask you for a date, I know I know, guys love the chase, But hey, I'm not a car, this is not a race! God knows when you'll overcome your cold feet, So I'll be direct and very indiscreet, So if you like me, and I get the hunch, I’ll ask you out to dinner or lunch. I have no time to waste in decoding your hints, Deciphering your mind, your glances and squints, I'm not Robert Langdon, this is not a Dan brown book, So when you give me that interested look, I'm not going to ponder and over analyse, The mystery behind the movement in your eyes. And if you happen to reject me and say no, I promise to take it in my stride, Because I don't involve my ego, And let indecisive men hurt my pride, I am free spirited and emancipated, And do not particularly care if that makes you feel emasculated.

0

Oct 5, 2015

Oct 5, 2015 at 1:07 AM UTC

nayzjayz

Sorry, I cannot help it

If I were a man, I'd be free, To ask a woman out for coffee. But I'm a woman, I have to play coy, And let the fieldwork be done by the boy. I have to wait for him to make a move, And only show that I approve. I have to bat my lashes and display a pout, And behave like a human sized trout. When he leans for a kiss, I'll have to push him away, And blushingly say "not today" As a woman, society wants me to behave in a way, To be demure, dignified and flirt in a womanly way. But you know what, let society go for a toss, This woman here, is her own boss, I'm going to be direct and forward, And if that scares you, move along coward. I’m not going to sit around and wait, I'll be the one who'll ask you for a date, I know I know, guys love the chase, But hey, I'm not a car, this is not a race! God knows when you'll overcome your cold feet, So I'll be direct and very indiscreet, So if you like me, and I get the hunch, I’ll ask you out to dinner or lunch. I have no time to waste in decoding your hints, Deciphering your mind, your glances and squints, I'm not Robert Langdon, this is not a Dan brown book, So when you give me that interested look, I'm not going to ponder and over analyse, The mystery behind the movement in your eyes. And if you happen to reject me and say no, I promise to take it in my stride, Because I don't involve my ego, And let indecisive men hurt my pride, I am free spirited and emancipated, And do not particularly care if that makes you feel emasculated.

36

Sometimes I think back to the time we spent at school. Hard plastic chairs, short desks and shorter attention spans. We were children: Indoctrinated with dreams of quiet homes and large offices. Of fieldwork, pride and gold-gilt fame. We said that we would be doctors, lawyers, scientists, astronauts. Never-mind the adult's delighted laughs! We reveled in mirth and wonder. Now we say that we would be seeing doctors. Needing lawyers. Blood-shot eyes scanning tabloids that preached SCIENCE as if it were medieval magic. No, brother, correlation ain't causation. How wonderful would it be to someday see humanity dance among the cosmos? Weaving between invisible holes cut into the pitch vastness of space. Now we accept our jobs with a grimace and a sigh. Uncomfortable as they may be, we've got bills to pay and loans to ignore. We're all waiting for something to come after. After puberty. After degrees of debt. After— After we aged. Fragile from years of effort. Snapping our backs to the rhythm of our daily commute. I don't know what comes after, brother. But I sure as hell didn't sign up for this.

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Sep 19, 2017

Sep 19, 2017 at 2:23 PM UTC

ink-syndicate-poetry

After

Sometimes I think back to the time we spent at school. Hard plastic chairs, short desks and shorter attention spans. We were children: Indoctrinated with dreams of quiet homes and large offices. Of fieldwork, pride and gold-gilt fame. We said that we would be doctors, lawyers, scientists, astronauts. Never-mind the adult's delighted laughs! We reveled in mirth and wonder. Now we say that we would be seeing doctors. Needing lawyers. Blood-shot eyes scanning tabloids that preached SCIENCE as if it were medieval magic. No, brother, correlation ain't causation. How wonderful would it be to someday see humanity dance among the cosmos? Weaving between invisible holes cut into the pitch vastness of space. Now we accept our jobs with a grimace and a sigh. Uncomfortable as they may be, we've got bills to pay and loans to ignore. We're all waiting for something to come after. After puberty. After degrees of debt. After— After we aged. Fragile from years of effort. Snapping our backs to the rhythm of our daily commute. I don't know what comes after, brother. But I sure as hell didn't sign up for this.

18

I’m writing an essay on purging variables. It involves some fieldwork: today I’m going try porridge. Yesterday I tried soup and cucumber slices. Hypothesis: If I use a 2:1 fluid to oats ratio, it’ll be so ******* easy that it will barely qualify as self-induced regurgitation! Result: self-hatred, an electrolyte imbalance, a ******* sore throat and two hours of my life that I will never get back. (Once, I really wanted to purge an ice cream cone. Instead I was staring back at bits of a cheese toastie and salad, which I’d had before the cone. ***** sake. Bodies are weird! Or maybe the data I’ve been gathering on this pro-ana forum is unreliable? Citation needed.) I’ve got a presentation tomorrow on calorie deficits. If you want to have 35g porridge oats and 45g banana for breakfast then you must make it with 120ml water and 80ml almond milk! Or you could skip the banana entirely and Have 45g oats with a drizzle of honey. It’s as simple as that! This or that— If P then Q A scientific practicality! A logical fallacy eroding my sanity.

0

Jul 23, 2017

Jul 23, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC

pinkbox

BA (Hons) Anorexia Nervosa

I’m writing an essay on purging variables. It involves some fieldwork: today I’m going try porridge. Yesterday I tried soup and cucumber slices. Hypothesis: If I use a 2:1 fluid to oats ratio, it’ll be so ******* easy that it will barely qualify as self-induced regurgitation! Result: self-hatred, an electrolyte imbalance, a ******* sore throat and two hours of my life that I will never get back. (Once, I really wanted to purge an ice cream cone. Instead I was staring back at bits of a cheese toastie and salad, which I’d had before the cone. ***** sake. Bodies are weird! Or maybe the data I’ve been gathering on this pro-ana forum is unreliable? Citation needed.) I’ve got a presentation tomorrow on calorie deficits. If you want to have 35g porridge oats and 45g banana for breakfast then you must make it with 120ml water and 80ml almond milk! Or you could skip the banana entirely and Have 45g oats with a drizzle of honey. It’s as simple as that! This or that— If P then Q A scientific practicality! A logical fallacy eroding my sanity.

33

Conversation opened. 1 read message. Skip to content Using Gmail with screen readers in:sent Click here to enable desktop notifications for Gmail. Learn more Hide Move to Inbox More 15 of 184 BEYOND CROSSING LANE : TECHNIQUE ' TRAIL' TONGUE COUCH ALLENS Mar 8 to Daniel Beyond Crossing Lane : Technique ‘Trail’-Tongue Spiritual razor cope-chat blaze maxima known Rushcutters…’ Bale’s system of categories camp the rewritten Approaching subjects to mindset…’ Commonwealth among many of undertaking sacral privileges, possible to cover every technique and popular tendency to typing ‘anatomy of human psyche like the acknowledgement, spirit rings manuscript, startup for certain specific advisory patterns, great deal to the early nature man’s improvement view gainful occupation of answerable to the original mechanism helping creations own fieldwork Or through the marrying vision interests and knowledgeable acquaintance, dressers cord of imaginary adolescence indices historical supervision of corporate ‘body-bearer’ breadth inclusive, role of wife-mother places infinity, frontier individual bases continually occur, making generalizations vast of riding ***** Recognition of the importance, employment self-security benefits, Kept recipients non-vulnerable, populate populace of Creators Co-inhibits/ Bashful preferrals ‘Larger-Stream’…Lets Induction…Gaiety Rehearsal Foresights‘Product’-Alliance Rehabilitation Hypotheses. RETICENCE ZOE-POTENCY email : [email protected] +2348131914240 Click here to Reply or Forward 0.04 GB (0%) of 15 GB used Manage Terms - Privacy Last account activity: 28 minutes ago Details

0

Jun 13, 2018

Jun 13, 2018 at 8:25 AM UTC

SPEAR_LEGACY

Re-Engineering 'Instance Existence

Conversation opened. 1 read message. Skip to content Using Gmail with screen readers in:sent Click here to enable desktop notifications for Gmail. Learn more Hide Move to Inbox More 15 of 184 BEYOND CROSSING LANE : TECHNIQUE ' TRAIL' TONGUE COUCH ALLENS Mar 8 to Daniel Beyond Crossing Lane : Technique ‘Trail’-Tongue Spiritual razor cope-chat blaze maxima known Rushcutters…’ Bale’s system of categories camp the rewritten Approaching subjects to mindset…’ Commonwealth among many of undertaking sacral privileges, possible to cover every technique and popular tendency to typing ‘anatomy of human psyche like the acknowledgement, spirit rings manuscript, startup for certain specific advisory patterns, great deal to the early nature man’s improvement view gainful occupation of answerable to the original mechanism helping creations own fieldwork Or through the marrying vision interests and knowledgeable acquaintance, dressers cord of imaginary adolescence indices historical supervision of corporate ‘body-bearer’ breadth inclusive, role of wife-mother places infinity, frontier individual bases continually occur, making generalizations vast of riding ***** Recognition of the importance, employment self-security benefits, Kept recipients non-vulnerable, populate populace of Creators Co-inhibits/ Bashful preferrals ‘Larger-Stream’…Lets Induction…Gaiety Rehearsal Foresights‘Product’-Alliance Rehabilitation Hypotheses. RETICENCE ZOE-POTENCY email : [email protected] +2348131914240 Click here to Reply or Forward 0.04 GB (0%) of 15 GB used Manage Terms - Privacy Last account activity: 28 minutes ago Details

27

the evacuated court of my son’s illness. the blind man’s missing eyelid. the grief, the broth, the reacquired thrift. the dispersed body. the hotbeds of skeletal trauma. the dance music as mother’s chthonian darling. the sorrow method. the rhythm.

0

Apr 7, 2015

Apr 7, 2015 at 4:40 PM UTC

barton-d-smock

fieldwork

the evacuated court of my son’s illness. the blind man’s missing eyelid. the grief, the broth, the reacquired thrift. the dispersed body. the hotbeds of skeletal trauma. the dance music as mother’s chthonian darling. the sorrow method. the rhythm.

12