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"forerunners" poems
1995 saw the start of Generation Z, the ‘iKids’ with a knack for this new-fangled technology, Millennial 2.0, caught in the limbo of the World Wide Web development and Rose Gold iPhones. They say we’re adaptable, but apparently we can’t make our own decisions about anything. They say that we don’t care about anything except for our tiny little screens, but they forget who put them in our hands, and they forget who they run to for help when they forget how to troubleshoot. They forget what kind of technology we need to keep sustaining life in the Information Age, Caught in a crossfire because Yeah, we’re 90s kids—but the 90s never really actually ended until 2006, the only difference between two decades being how much neon versus how much chrome, and just how expensive accidentally opening the internet app on your mom’s blackberry phone was. We’re nostalgic for all the things we can’t quite remember, and half these high schoolers weren’t actually born until 2000 or 2001. Most of us aren’t old enough to even remember 9/11, nothing outside of the news clips that our teachers show us in history class every single September. I was born in the same year as the Columbine shootings. The United States has not been at peace for a year of my life. We are always fighting— fighting for everything. Human equality, posing arguments about micro aggressions and refugees, seeing the inhumanity in the past that we’re living. None of us are older than 21, under such hard scrutiny while Baby Boomers Wave 2 still run our country. We inherited the Millenial’s exhaustion, the generation before us spending our childhood fighting for all the things that we have never really believed in. Fairytales. Generation Z. The ‘iKids’ who are going to one day be making leaps and bounds with technology, the generation to nurse this dying planet back to health, Millennials 2.0 who know how to learn from our forerunners’ mistakes, who know how to adapt from Sidekicks to iPhone 6S Plus in less than a decade. We’re the kids who have realized that fun is found in safe spaces rather than invading each other’s personal spaces. They say we’re too sensitive, but at the same time they claim that we’re desensitized. And I thought we were the generation that couldn't make decisions.
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Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
generation Z
1995 saw the start of Generation Z, the ‘iKids’ with a knack for this new-fangled technology, Millennial 2.0, caught in the limbo of the World Wide Web development and Rose Gold iPhones. They say we’re adaptable, but apparently we can’t make our own decisions about anything. They say that we don’t care about anything except for our tiny little screens, but they forget who put them in our hands, and they forget who they run to for help when they forget how to troubleshoot. They forget what kind of technology we need to keep sustaining life in the Information Age, Caught in a crossfire because Yeah, we’re 90s kids—but the 90s never really actually ended until 2006, the only difference between two decades being how much neon versus how much chrome, and just how expensive accidentally opening the internet app on your mom’s blackberry phone was. We’re nostalgic for all the things we can’t quite remember, and half these high schoolers weren’t actually born until 2000 or 2001. Most of us aren’t old enough to even remember 9/11, nothing outside of the news clips that our teachers show us in history class every single September. I was born in the same year as the Columbine shootings. The United States has not been at peace for a year of my life. We are always fighting— fighting for everything. Human equality, posing arguments about micro aggressions and refugees, seeing the inhumanity in the past that we’re living. None of us are older than 21, under such hard scrutiny while Baby Boomers Wave 2 still run our country. We inherited the Millenial’s exhaustion, the generation before us spending our childhood fighting for all the things that we have never really believed in. Fairytales. Generation Z. The ‘iKids’ who are going to one day be making leaps and bounds with technology, the generation to nurse this dying planet back to health, Millennials 2.0 who know how to learn from our forerunners’ mistakes, who know how to adapt from Sidekicks to iPhone 6S Plus in less than a decade. We’re the kids who have realized that fun is found in safe spaces rather than invading each other’s personal spaces. They say we’re too sensitive, but at the same time they claim that we’re desensitized. And I thought we were the generation that couldn't make decisions.
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39
The bonfire was loaded With exiting tales Our forerunners legendary Exploit's these daggers Cut deep trenches in Our mindseye we felt Like the next generation Of wrath true tales from A culture of devil worshippers Yet the tongue's wielding The blade was non the wiser Our innate minds chewd Every word our lives Satan's Recycling bin two five ten Deaths and many generations After we now realised that We have to cut out the blade From these forked tongued Folk tales that whispers filth Unto the unsuspecting ears Of our beautiful children Heroism emenating from The subculture of criminality And gangsterism must no Longer be tolerated it have savaged The Innocence of young lives For far too long
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Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 4:45 PM UTC
The Devils tongue
# My father said believe in nothing My mother told me everyone will do you wrong I thought to be taught a wise lesson Sang along this song for far too long Wasn't sure I'd know how to forget or how to move on My father cried only once My mother never stopped her tears Are we just vessels to be filled with our forerunners' endless fears Of a life that is begging to be lived Just to be dead on arrival at the piers My aunt said do what's asked of you In the end no one could tell me how it's done I jumped off the boat of broken ones and got washed up at distant shores unknown Though since then I saw many bright suns never has anything clear been shown Endless days of wondering endless ways to go on pretending always kneedeep in my head, always pondering and how fiercely I'd like to be defending the fragile insides of my chest but I let them keep plundering hearts and hopes are constantly breaking and mending To this shell I'm bound for now my heart is cold and my ghost is still in awe of what I haven't found sitting on my mind's windowsill wishing for a wind of change. May it be profound. #
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Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 9:24 AM UTC
This ghost haunts itself
Long I followed happy guides,— I could never reach their sides. Their step is forth, and, ere the day, Breaks up their leaguer, and away. Keen my sense, my heart was young, Right goodwill my sinews strung, But no speed of mine avails To hunt upon their shining trails. On and away, their hasting feet Make the morning proud and sweet. Flowers they strew, I catch the scent, Or tone of silver instrument Leaves on the wind melodious trace, Yet I could never see their face. On eastern hills I see their smokes Mixed with mist by distant lochs. I meet many travellers Who the road had surely kept,— They saw not my fine revellers,— These had crossed them while they slept. Some had heard their fair report In the country or the court. Fleetest couriers alive Never yet could once arrive, As they went or they returned, At the house where these sojourned. Sometimes their strong speed they slacken, Though they are not overtaken: In sleep, their jubilant troop is near, I tuneful voices overhear, It may be in wood or waste,— At unawares 'tis come and passed. Their near camp my spirit knows By signs gracious as rainbows. I thenceforward and long after Listen for their harplike laughter, And carry in my heart for days Peace that hallows rudest ways.—
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2.2k
The Forerunners
We shall speak, and by speaking loudly and fervently enough, we shall be heard. We shall be heard, and by being heard, we will be dismissed as the lost denizens of a failing society. We shall be dismissed, and by being dismissed, we shall not disappear quietly into the night as our forerunners have done. We shall be branded "Communists" & "Traitors", and in doing so we shall aquire the attentions of those we aim to educate. We shall not be silenced, and by refusing to be marginalized into a portion of "freaks and outcasts", we shall be known. We shall not be paid off or coerced into "negotiations", and by maintaining unity, we shall be outlawed. We shall not accept the scorn of those whose power seems unassailable, and in so doing, we shall be feared. We shall not accept platitudes and half measures as answers to our grievances, and in so doing, we will be persecuted. We shall not accept a world where our worth as human beings is measured by GDP, and in doing so, we will become that which we seek. We shall not accept that "Some people are better than others", rather, we KNOW that liberty is born from knowledge. We shall speak, and by speaking, be heard, and by being heard, we will effect change, and by effecting change, we will be victorious.
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Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC
We Shall Speak
Ancestral healing appealing my thought Your forerunners leading lives in relation Looking into the battles that have been fought Looking into the events worth celebration You forerunners leading lives in relation An affinity for the homogenity Looking into the events worth celebration Releasing all the creativity An affinity for the homogenity The pain that helps us all to see Releasing all the creativity the courage to continue and be The pains that help us all to see Looking into the battles that have been fought The courage to continue and be Ancestral healing appealing my thought
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Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 6:03 PM UTC
Pantoum - Ancestral Healing
The old gods watch in muted fury, their statues abandoned to live on shelves instead of temples, seen as reminders of a more ignorant time, when men needed guidance more than truth. Men now believe that they know better — their god of science has replaced his forerunners: those who guided Man in his early days. Those who weep in anguish, but, forgotten, can no longer even speak.
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Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 12:53 AM UTC
Voiceless
From the incrimination of the whole they gave us a paved road to nowhere the Victorian homeless cougars have only recently found their hearts (undoubtedly to the honkys) and who escaped for the sky was not alive or sopping or green this miserable workplace over the edge for butcher's lines ~was not raven black the spoons or forerunners (from dazzling peninsulas) left alone off the center of the parking lot the real city of buggy stalled wanderings ~was not flesh stained off the front of private beaches stood resplendent bottoms sprung off low ebbs for the dark world and our fathomless silences trumpets and banjoes and electric mandolins are thrown from the solitude ear studs and obscurity out of the footsteps of spontaneous supporters the vital blood arrayed without moonless stasis and desert buckets woodlands unkempt against the mountain run halted plains straightened after the catch ***** martinis and stiff bowlers valley the single marcher shetlands and peasants see clear to the horizon
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Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 9:56 PM UTC
First To Enter
This is my monument My body of work My Legacy You are the fleshy materials through which my design is fulfilled Your bones are the structures upon which my palace resides Your hearts are pulverized into crimson paste The walls are smeared in this grotesque essence The ceiling drips with remnants of your soul Feel the foundations shake and the rafters shudder They tremble with the radiance of my power, of my sheer magnitude I am the architect of demise The carpenter of unequivocal destruction I bathe in blood and mark my creations similarly There is no escape from the Pandora’s Box that is my psyche I will transform and transcend this world from its shriveled forerunners Bricks of sinew are lain-held together by tendon They reflect the solidity of my resolve They are reminders of my Legacy For after all Genocide is my Magnum Opus
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Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 8:54 PM UTC
My Legacy
Gutsy-tyrants In a black sky; people of politics, With darkened and gruesome policies; Monitored by moons their enemies, With the heart of a tiger in conflict. Thugs and forerunners of Boko-haram; Hijackers and defaulters of Greenland; Foolish wise men and corrupters of mankind; Ye all, are engineers of bloodsheds . Due to the crying bloodstream of the innocents, The forest of the three-wise-men died away... And the heaps of grace in Heaven hollowed heads; Because nature necked nails like one who's gone astray. In a black sky: people of politics, Murdered kingship and belted tyrants, Politicians wrecked worthy warriors... And sojourn into complete catacombs of crisis ©AUTHOR KELLY JUUZ [A SALIENT PROLIFIC AUTHOR...] 08/08/2017 08:52AM
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Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 4:57 AM UTC
Gusty tyrants
Blame it on the wine and on the roses This is the city of angels Blame it on the killers and on the embezzlers This is where they come to rest, so let them rest This is where they come to die, so let them live Sup on wet flesh and sip on sweet blood Grip green cash and step on the graves of the forerunners They built this land and these angels are not yours Sinners, unite. Why blame it on the virtues?
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Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 1:12 AM UTC
Earth City
So I was thinking aloud I was thinking about All the evil in the world And I had my doubts To an extent of losing words I don't know if that's allowed   I was thinking of Pandora Sent by the gods to humankind, but failed to see the best of both worlds Her disobedience laced curiosity unleashed a plethora Of all kinds of evils, vices that no words Can describe. And taught my feet To follow in her footsteps   In the beginning there was perfection In Zeus' higher Domain. Prometheus caused distortion, Stole fire In a bid to assist Mankind A gesture that Zeus would resist And bestow a punishment of some kind Eternal ******* with a rock And sent an eagle to mock And with its beak poke at his liver Forever I am many steps behind this offender But our boats are harboring in the same dock   Does it not tell the all too familiar story Of retrogression, so inexplicable Of evils that come before glory Only to pave way for peace that is never reachable     I was imagining Atlantis And how it must have been the epitome of perfection The ultimate Utopian sensation Only to disappear, something seems amiss. Yet nonexistent is that eminence in the present All dwelling in the ocean's depth, death so imminent No more footsteps, no more hands Just faint footprints among the sands   Yes I was thinking of the reasons for all the unhappiness That remains mystified, All the heart breaks That never seem to be justified, The feelings of emptiness That can't seem to be fulfilled, And how the days of old reveal What it was like in the ideal Two halves conjoined Separated because they challenged the gods Failing to avoid Eternal incompleteness against the odds Who am I to wish for change My foregangers never even gave me a chance   Speaking of change It probably doesn't exist Not then, not now Like prisoners in a cave, Plato tried to reason All we see is a shadow Of reality in and out of season And when we do see the light Let alone the enlightened. Blinded still We may,we might, We most certainly will Fail to realize our ignorance Fail and never see the glory days  We are forever losing our feet Falling head first Supposedly moving forward, but realizing the worst We are steps behind, following in the footsteps of forerunners we'll never meet   Miss Fit
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Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 8:13 AM UTC
Of feet and footsteps
So I was thinking aloud I was thinking about All the evil in the world And I had my doubts To an extent of losing words I don't know if that's allowed   I was thinking of Pandora Sent by the gods to humankind, but failed to see the best of both worlds Her disobedience laced curiosity unleashed a plethora Of all kinds of evils, vices that no words Can describe. And taught my feet To follow in her footsteps   In the beginning there was perfection In Zeus' higher Domain. Prometheus caused distortion, Stole fire In a bid to assist Mankind A gesture that Zeus would resist And bestow a punishment of some kind Eternal ******* with a rock And sent an eagle to mock And with its beak poke at his liver Forever I am many steps behind this offender But our boats are harboring in the same dock   Does it not tell the all too familiar story Of retrogression, so inexplicable Of evils that come before glory Only to pave way for peace that is never reachable     I was imagining Atlantis And how it must have been the epitome of perfection The ultimate Utopian sensation Only to disappear, something seems amiss. Yet nonexistent is that eminence in the present All dwelling in the ocean's depth, death so imminent No more footsteps, no more hands Just faint footprints among the sands   Yes I was thinking of the reasons for all the unhappiness That remains mystified, All the heart breaks That never seem to be justified, The feelings of emptiness That can't seem to be fulfilled, And how the days of old reveal What it was like in the ideal Two halves conjoined Separated because they challenged the gods Failing to avoid Eternal incompleteness against the odds Who am I to wish for change My foregangers never even gave me a chance   Speaking of change It probably doesn't exist Not then, not now Like prisoners in a cave, Plato tried to reason All we see is a shadow Of reality in and out of season And when we do see the light Let alone the enlightened. Blinded still We may,we might, We most certainly will Fail to realize our ignorance Fail and never see the glory days  We are forever losing our feet Falling head first Supposedly moving forward, but realizing the worst We are steps behind, following in the footsteps of forerunners we'll never meet   Miss Fit
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65
The first rustlings are upon us forerunners of the impending storm the lull lulling lullaby quiet all creation cradled in its song.
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Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 11:25 AM UTC
lullaby quiet
reality can turn evil in an instant your thoughts & mine are what keep us distant with my whole heart & soul I embrace our free land for our courageous soldiers and my great liberty I will stand to the forerunners of self-will run riot stop pointing to the sky in his eyes you are the Pontus Pilate you're venom like an open sore on a ******
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Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 5:43 PM UTC
No Fans Left
Travesties of tragedy There was once beauties in my land, very fruitful from clouds to sand, And advocates of bossmanship rode-in; dust of sands began to cry in sin. When nature refused to be caged; walls of my nation began lying in heaps of ruins, When gold could not find a path for seizure; Calamity of integrity clash will flood amidst entities. Goddess of "what-else and priestess of "pretence"... all I have seen lurking around our honeyspace; For knights of blood is our rulers in distress, and forerunners of seven-headed mistress. Again, when nature refused to be caged; politics became carnival of blood splash, When peace, love and unity rejects immunity; female wombs will contest for "the best weaponry arsenal" . ©AUTHOR KELLY JUUZ [A SALIENT PROLIFIC AUTHOR...] 30/07/2017 01:49 PM
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Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 11:48 PM UTC
Travesties of tragedy