"homosapien" poems
The sky wept
the sky wept
the sky wept
the sky wept
while I leapt,
while I leapt,
well I leapt thru fire.
Gasp sigh perspire.
give me your tired
huddled and heavy laden
that loud light holds us up high
in his left hand and will be ********* man.
we'll be ********* man.
Harvest moon incited madness
granjero in a gas mask
destined
to manifest the liberation front.
watch me kiss the sun.
thirtytwo one, I am done.
canvas demon,
lower the lights &arise.;
like who wouldn't wanna kiss the sky...
Miss 'My,my,my' meet
Major fleet week
now yall dance and drink
each other's blood
doesn't that sound like fun
isn't it so sweet
wonder some
praise the priest
***** mothers ******* sons,
my lachrymose lack of passion
weighs a **** fantastic ton,
I wish someone would come &
divvy me a dole
of fresh faced inspiration
and vintage faded soul...
I am mobile homosapien.
I am not your friend
simply a lazy ally,
I reside in the unfunny pages.
Dated and bathed in flame,
given back to the air
where I came from.
humdrum funk,
under the ugly sun
feelin lovely in the slums.
Undone undone
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 12:46 AM UTC
The dichotomy of purgatory is sprinkled with the delights and disciplines of a fretful uncertainty and steam locomotives can sound menacing when their pistons seek to establish torque on those rails of pursued destination with mesmerizing force.
I know that time is like a fondling excitement, where constellations of perceived energy fields become intellectually categorized into mechanical parts of a metaphysical ******
Universal parameters of death may generate mischievous laughter, which resound throughout the silent galaxies of cosmological meadows.
I have to say that geometrical co-ordinates automatically invoke thoughts of plain paper and hot chocolate – small figments of homosapien pastures where grazing is not a realistic occurrence.
As we perceive the eternal impressions of epistemological nihilism, let us play the game of religious patience on this checkered board of architectural bliss.
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 10:46 PM UTC
the one drop rule
invisible blackness
black versus white
different categories of race
created by man for evil purposes
such as caucasoid negroid and mongoloid
this is a bunch of hooey
these words are just terms for
marginalising whole groups of people
by some smarty pant with a so-called degree
in anthropology and sociology
who gives people the right to classify other racial groups
I pondered it - anyway just blue smoke and mirror stuff
created by some racist people organizations and institutions
by creating racial and class division plus religion creating wars
thus
God created man - singular form
thus
God created man from the earth (black mud)
and no accident that we are made from one blood
oh yeah - Adam's blood
mankind is just a very large extended family - based on DNA
Europeans are not 100% white
they became white because of environmental adaptations
and they are no better that the rest of God's creations on earth
skin color does not make one racial group superior than another
this is just a head and mind game for social and political advantages
however everyone is a Heinz 57 mixture
White People are mixed with so much stuff - too
oh yeah baby and who is your daddy now
race mixing has been around
throughout the history of mankind and still
it will continue to mix races in the future
just remember this
the neanderthal mated on a regular basis with the homosapien
no race is 100% pure of anything
according to one drop rule - White are neanderthals too
this one drop rule is a silly and hidden taboo that is just plain ludicrous
God is a good God
God is neither Black nor White but He is a Being of Existence of every dimension
God is the all of everything - seen and unseen
God exist in every creation
God is a part of you and me
the will of God lives in every place
God is justice and equality
God don't speech hate and racism
God is love and peace toward all mankind
God does not make men slaves
God gives man the right to be free
God wants man to be inherit the earth and be good stewards
Well ain't God good no matter how you look at it
yes He is good - all the time my brother
yes god is good and everlasting
amen amen amen
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 10:31 PM UTC
This coffee-stained late night existence, an experiment
in progressive technocracy. An amazing, affluent proverb
of modern disfunction. So many late nights swilling the
mis-brewed staple of societal vampirism. Those forgone,
unsung antithesis of the conscious, diurnal homosapien.
To pretend problems non-existent, to daydream as that lazy
star sleeps, to truly feel sibling to the moon. Mood is the
monster that begat me, these creatures of the ambience of
dark. Nowhere - NOW. I give thanks to have finally hidden
from the beast that can't find me. I am what I decide, a dawn
of infinite potential, and the opportunity to spend an entire
night in preparation....
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 6:03 AM UTC
Love is like oxygenated blood which pumps through vascular decades of sensual experience.
Soaring upon the thermals of the Andes, the flight of the Condor reveals perspective of the land, where events are perceived in their complex entirety.
I am fully aware that music can be hypnotic in its ever-flowing stream of rhythmic nourishment. So, there are many parts which make the whole.
Therefore, in the height of our carnivorous quest for survival and intermittent gratification, let us bow in reverence to the many elements of vaginal rituals. It’s a rhythm and blues encore with wings which are not comparable to those of Icarus.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 11:10 PM UTC
Being a homosapien,
It's a trip my friend.
A little more brain than usual
That we're trying to figure out what to do with.
Letting it have it's way with us.
Believing everything it says.
Figuring out all life's "problems".
Wondering what our purpose is.
Thinking we are separated,
But can't handle being alone.
When you make yourself a victim,
You want to be rescued,
But you need to save yourself
Because only through knowing who you are
Can you know you're never alone.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 8:13 PM UTC
Ever get curious about
how important you are?
Whether or not
you're pulling your weight
or dragging the whole world down?
For every center of a universe
there are pounds of flesh to mask it
call it what you will,
Human, homosapien,
the individual,
or Norman.
This planet is littered
with biases,
and each one
counts just as much
as the ones that don't.
"I'm gravitating
towards the shiniest
object in the store"
We say to ourselves,
unaware our consciousness
is simply a loading screen.
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 2:19 AM UTC
Why, hell-oh Mr.Insecurity.
You look so attractive today,
much better than myself.
Your omniscient grip around my larynx is comforting,
you know,
comforting in the way that a tumor won't abandon you;
like a frenemy, a parasite,
feeding off of your good ideas and healthy tissues.
I love you
Mrs. Unknown Future.
Your surprises are so comical,
like a whimsical double homicide
and I am a mere rubber-necking piece of evidence
in your routine.
Dreary little Lonely comes along
stealing all the fun we weren't having.
Why must one be so selfish
with that which does not exist?
Not in spirit, nor in form,
not even in feeling or sound.
Just robbing one of the possibility of a maybe idea.
What if I wanted love?
Or a moment with the warmth of a grandma's homemade cookie.
You all rob me of the concepts I can not comprehend,
because i can not feel.
That is only a wish,
a lie,
because I do feel, too much,
but can not figure out
how to make you all leave me a sane homosapien.
May 1, 2012
May 1, 2012 at 11:05 PM UTC
What have we left of this human race?
Cynical, morbid, and mean; our time is wearing thin.
Most walking around with their lids down,
Drowning everything important out.
And we are all covered in unforgivable sin.
Can't you see that we are losing this race against our mother earth?
We should be taking her hand and walking side by side;
Celebrating in the sunshine.
But clouds are all we see;
Rain washing any hope away.
Over populating and swimming in a sea of pollution.
Taking orders from another lying soul,
Deceiving and powerful.
And these same souls dancing in the streets,
In celebration of death, ******* life from our country.
They claim to love a higher being,
But how long will this being love us back?
We have trampled all of our true intentions,
And taken advantage of all the beauty we were given.
There is nothing more cruel than a homosapien.
Can't you see the end is near?
You must wake up!
Jun 18, 2011
Jun 18, 2011 at 8:36 PM UTC
i was earth,
and you were homosapien,
you came,
you used,
you destroyed,
and now,
you are probably going to leave.
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 6:50 PM UTC
Thinkin' about the days
Of wayback
When I was just seed in my daddy's sack
Wish I could have avoided the capture
But then came the rapture
Opened up a new chapter and after
The math was settlin' in paradise wasn't friendly then
Since we took fruit in garden of Eden Who do you believe in?
Spirits witches God devils or djinns
Since I was born on earth
I knew I was cursed worse to worse
Why was I born only for my destiny
To end in a hearse I tried to nurse
My feelings but that wombs to deep
For the natural healing
Pain reaching sky's ceiling
It makes me wanna holla
Why we all chasin the dolla
Bustling and hustling
Everyday we strive for more
But still in end up struggling
Juggling over obstacles
And to make it it's gonna
Take a miracle
You see not many notice the change
Universe heals it's own pang
And shakes us off like fleas please believe
If you open your mind out of darkness
Let a shine
And watch blessing begin to proceed
So much pain madness surrounding my brain
Conscious higher than a plane insane
That most want the fame before game
Crime shame everything remains the same
Raw is an anagram for war
Understand words have power
And ya bodies will use it to store
Negative to positive meaning
We ghost in a shell I learned it well
Freedom is an optical illusion
Enjoy the fusion as my mind cruisin'
Pass the cosmos galaxities fantasies
And realities
I could manifest dynasties so lovely
But I'll just be
Lyin' thoughts preoccupied principles laid
My anger soon to explode like a grenade
Storming brigades thousands of brothers ready to raid
No longer afraid afros curls to ****** braids
Black nation wake up before we end up
Like the tasmanians not a homosapien
They can't break me in
I'm a brother that's a lost King
Long awaiting that's where my soul ties in
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 9:19 PM UTC
I draw things with feces
in dedication of my species
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
The helpless homosapien
creature of habit, and routine
A simple life of complex things
provide highs lows and lives completely fluctuating
Continuity that continually
Empties its energy in search
Of equilibrium
My Rambling mind
Doesn’t break or wreak time
It just rotates it
Resolves all problems with questions
Curiosity is questionable
Contemplate curiosity and questions some other time
Before you revolve and resolve
And your mind reminds you
Of something….
You
completely forgot
what it means
to have a ramblin’ mind
My Rambling mind
Doesn’t break or wreak time
It just rotates it
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC
It takes a lot to say nothing
I'm coming to find that my soul has been screaming my whole life
And I am just now able to translate its tongues
Into some sort of verbal *****
That a human could possibly understand
I have never felt like a true part of this socially structured civilization
I have never felt like a homosapien shaped by its surroundings, its perception
Instead I have felt like a source of energy that flows without molecular or even atomic ties to this universe
Confined to a physical form in a four dimensional realm
If you cleave away the ego, you can feel the infinite
I have so much more to say,
And I have struggled my whole life in finding things to say
That matter, that are relevant
And I've come to realize that my soul has been screaming my entire life
And I am finally able to translate the tongues
Into something meaningful to say.
You may not hear the divinity in the language I use
You may not feel the sincerity in my soliloquies
But I do, and my perception is what shapes my reality
And only I can save me, now
The selfishness in the selfless
And the hollowed out remains of the empath
I can't be the only one who hears this piercing noise?
And this sickness that runs through the planets veins?
The agonized cry of every species on the earth harmonized into the humming vibration some call the will of god
Our pain is ricocheting through the void we reside within
An echo chamber of screams
I do not believe in hell because it cannot get worse than this.
No, not this moment, you may have misunderstood
The progression of these moments will lead to an inevitable end
An end to end every beginning
I am not the only one who knows that the dead are just no longer physically present
I am not the only one who knows that humans are parasites
I am not the only one who can feel the agony of someone I have never come across
Simply because
Our souls all scream on a frequency
That only those who truly listen can hear.
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 4:02 PM UTC
Whether it's poetry from the streets or the stuff written in limericks on parchment sheets there's no denying that when a poetic Homosapien sets the mind to rhyming our brain patterns are odd because we use our pens to stitch up and heal our scars because we are poets. Our minds don't function like the rest of the world and in this verse it kept me from ending up in the back of a hearse whether by my own doing or because of this world's curse
But if course I care about the people that have influenced or helped me to become better, Midnight Writer I'm not just vintage I adapt to all weather, Miss Hillzy and Reamer, Queen, Aurora, Joana Ashby Drsjoke and blue star♥ Antipodean Product I love you guys and I hope page abuse carries us far
and from hello poetry Wolf Spirit, lady death and many many others I love all of you from the bottom of my twisted heart I hope that our union of words shall never break apart.
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 2:44 AM UTC
A poem with no form
Is like a cat without a home
A homosapien needs communication
Like a king requires a throne
A blatant infrastructure to remain fixated upon
Glued to a retirement package you've outgrown
Love fizzled away after several months
And now you are left with lumps of coal
Stuck in your throat like shadows in a hole
These drunken noodles are truly unruly
So we worship ancient poetry inscribed upon a bowl
Mar 10, 2019
Mar 10, 2019 at 9:02 PM UTC
I don't know,
If it's the sleep deprivation,
But I find that I,
Keep on contemplating,
I've had many conversations
With this reflective homosapien
Who keeps berating me
Well I hate him the souless satan.
I stare into his eyes,
Everyday, I try to compromise:
Just let me have a couple of hours
Where everything is fine!
I'm getting tired of his face,
Twisted ball of twisted hate,
But I close my eyes
He disappears!
Turn around quick before there are whispers in your ears!
When the sun warms,
And its the break of day,
The clock barely breaks a smile
Before he starts to chip away.
I should of learnt my lesson
But still I'm second guessing,
I say to myself "I do my best!"
But my hopeful thoughts are deafened.
I start to go and stumble,
Onto my humble abode,
Even though its just me,
I'm truly never on my own.
I creak on through the hall,
But restroom; I do not stop.
I try to avoid any shine
Because I know that is his home.
He's everywhere,
Staring at me in every room!
Compact disk, photo frames
And even through the back of this rusty spoon.
So I just don't bother,
I slip under the cover,
Sweet, blissful sleep I cannot commandeer,
Because he's always here,
Chipping away with whispers in my ear.
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 6:21 AM UTC
maps coloured in,
places where I’ve been
other maps show stolen land, places of war,
cemeteries marked with crosses
– plague cities black ringed
– places of pogroms marked pins –
arrows indicate migrationary trails –
outward from Africa monkey man to homosapien
the evolution of the thumb &
blind fishes
(the first restaurant sold primordial soup)
in Precambrian forests they hired
priests to baptise micro-chips before they left the factory
holy water sprayed from water pistols
– microchipped meat
you are a small blip on a map
on a map on a screen
on a screen in a room that doesn’t exist –
a small blip flashing
–
a liver made in a factor
a wooden lung
so many pills
she sounds like a maraca when she walks down the street –
rattle rattle rattle
– pills for all kinds of alignments
weight loss
erectile dysfunction
laser eyes
internal rot
diseased *****
side effects two many to mention
the Elvis shakes
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 4:23 AM UTC
The older elders have their superstitions,
Tiny rituals they keep under their breath
Spitting
Wards & incantations
Sweep of broom stick, and what the hex?
Is Grams commanding demons
“In the name of the Father
And his son Jesus!”
“To get out of this house?!”
We all have one of those…
The lost cause / loose cannon
Black sheep first cousin
Into ********** or something unacceptable.
Perhaps their smell or appearance?
But with all the many different kinds
Of races of people / faces
Painted, pierced, gold plated,
We are biologically similar
The Homosapien kin
Bleeding tribes, clans, houses,
Fathers and sons
Who believe in war for the higher cause$
All above us here below
How does that way of living persist
When the world dies in
Misunderstanding...?
But we tolerate our addict Uncle,
Alchy parents, ****** aunts
Lost siblings on
Suicide watch …
Because our humanity for family
Shouldn’t change what our eyes must see…
Can’t push brick mansions
But we all can climb those very walls,
It’s how we do family
(Together standing tall)
Love accepts without opinion
Without doubt or regret
No hate to have dominion
Peace be (Unconditionally)
And All the best.
How we do...
Aug 31, 2019
Aug 31, 2019 at 11:06 AM UTC
Due to popular belief, all homosapien life contains a treasure tucked away from the visual sight
to maintain a sense of normal
Most have been battered and ****** in an early tense, future and or present, that has damage the exit route for the treasure to emerge and introduce itself to life
I expressed my treasure that I can recall at an early age
Rapid with my text
Fun and fulfilling, giving everything I knew and thought
But like some, I became distracted. Engulf with the daily society and current events, I repressed my treasure revisiting it at inopportune moments
Some sing with their treasure, cleansing the souls of those who can relate to the words passing in and out of the ear
Some act with their treasure, giving the eyes a visual show of entertainment to please the soul and bring forth joy and laughter
Some create masterpieces with their hands, sculpting and manipulating material to construct beauties only achievable by talented palms
Some use words as myself to express the pleasures and discomforts seen and read about to produce jubilant documents to cure melancholy hearts
Many have gone without ever revealing their treasure, sharing it only in their company, isolated from the rest of the world. No particular reason as to why it was kept private
Few have impressed and obliged the world with their treasures only to be ridiculed and scorned only to praised once death has taken its place
Every treasure needs a muse
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 4:22 AM UTC