"imperialist" poems
Freedom At Kannyakumari
“The destiny of India is molded in her class-rooms”
Kothari had no confusion; no vision on the fusion-
of the East and the West, as Swami Vivekananda’s vision,
“The comingling of the East and the West will dawn a new Era”.
As tissue culture, transplantation or cloning
we Indians imbibe the Western Culture;
or as G.M cotton or brinjals,or tomato
Indians are produced, transmuted
destroying the very indigenous genus for material growth.
Ayurveda is preserved not in Sanskrit but in English letters, now !
Followers of Lord Maccaulay as obedient servants,
by experiments,bring up Indians only in blood and colour-
in every other respects-Europeans
(using imperialist - capitalist media);
poor sycophants ,for a visa,
the Indians: now , turn to the West for light,
leaving the bright light under the Urn;
cry for a way of progress, safety and food;
and beg:once self reliant nations as cells of a body
No retrospection or introspection,
only putrefaction, hence , no resurrection.
On August 15th ,at Kannyakumari beach , beside me,
a bare body of a woman(my sister?) lay asleep;
I witnessed at the starry cold mid-night:
the surging sea spitting frothing snow
upon the black rocky *******
protruded, greasy, mossy. bare but fair ,
ever young at the feet of Bharat-matha.
Wet in the salty breeze , from the foul smell of death,
I walked and walked searching shelter,
but no room for a single son with meagre wealth.
The tourism net -workers with the thirst of mosquitoes
hummed around me with highly rented room offer-
source of tourism exploitation- I bargained,
till, morning red balloon rose up in the Eastern horizon
cleaving the vapours of the sea,
when , thousand tongues chanted Gayathri;
then , the locals thronged around the woman on the shore;
somebody among them, staring blear eyed
as the police jeep and the ambulance arrived , bewailed
“O! Gayathri, my darling, O! Gayathri…” Unsoothed.
The chanting and the yelling dissolved in the breeze
that passed by the Vivekananda rock, afar, south
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 3:50 AM UTC
I was born Of a broken family.
Surviving on the skills,
You taught me.
Now I stand in the valley.
Beside the red stream.
Awaiting the arrival.
Of the Dov.
My daggers twirl in my hands,
As I dance with zeal.
Brave but reckless.
Because of youth.
I await thy path,
I must pursue.
The journey ahead,
Will be new.
I am Imperial,
Daughter of the wolves.
My home was Solitude.
Skyrims Capital hold.
I travel this weary path,
Adventuring beyond death.
I doth not fear you,
Dragon of hearthfire.
May my path pay,
The debts of my partners.
They deserve better,
Than the blasted Jarl.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 8:37 AM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
There are more and more misfortunes in the world
Known to you dear people in your diverse conditions,
But my life and experience has taught me unique lessons
Of kindred to befit me Elizabeth, a daughter of Zinjathropus
Hailing in the savannah desert, Turkana County of Kenya,
I have graduated in to a single lady without test of marriage,
As desert men look at me in their irritating impotence,
**** clothes wrapped around their slender waists passing on me
Like a dog passing on American dollars; cursed be desert men,
I thought my beauty of dark African complexions will give them a ****** tease
But to my chagrin; desert men have a fear of beautiful ladies
My conscience tells me that my beauty is an eye sore to them,
I thought my bulging hips will entice them as is a promise of fertility
Leave alone not to mention my concupiscent ****** warmth, uhmmm!
Desert men have dared not to see and appreciate my **** bossom,
They often pass on me driving their donkeys and emaciated carmels,
I thought my ***** sharp pointed ******* assign of virginity
Will call them to me into a treat of love, affiliative love,
But sadly enough; these dudes are erotically blind,
They they nonchalantly pass on my **** *****
Wielding a begging bowl in their ***** long hands
Running like drunkard chimpanzees going to Oxfam stores to beg for food,
Cursed be Oxfam an imperialist agent, it has crashed flat
The testicles of our desert brothers into ****** insensitivity,
Oxfam has made African desert men to beg like Hebrew lepers
Other than standing up on their feet to feed their women,
Normally as men would do from the sweat of their brow,
I thought my education will attract them to me,
To love me with those romantic University kisses,
But desert men have crude cultures and slavish religion
They rebuke girl child education as if it is a devil,
Oh my dear God of the forsaken desert ladies
Of the forsaken African daughters,
Take me out of this ****** desert
Take me out of the city desert of Lodwar,
Take me to the equator line and give me a husband,
My eggs are pretty ready to conceive and sire children
Sons and daughters for your own glory O almighty God,
Take me out of this ****** desert,
Where no man treats a modern woman,
Take me out of here and give me a fresh man of my dream.
Because I have known from today;
It is accurse to be a woman in Africa
It is a curse to be a beautiful lady in African deserts
It is a curse to be a woman graduate in the African desert
It is a curse to have ***** ******* in the African desert,
O! Help me God.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC
He Lead the Chinese people against the Imperialist Japanese
Chiang symbolized China's resistance against Japan
In 1938 he received the title of Tsung -tsai (party leader)
For 8 years he kept 2/3 of the Chinese people
And 3/4 of the Chinese land
Free of the Japanese
He was fighting a defensive war
Against a more powerful Japanese army
He believed in one China
In his life
He hoped to restore the unity of China
Committed to Confucianism
A united strong prosperous stable society
Is achieved by freeing up the industrious economy
A mixed economy
With a strong central government
With noble firm leaders
Keeping control
His vision of China is reflected in modern china
Much more than Mao's
He hoped for a modern Confucian China
His vision is closer to China than Taiwan
The interview asked," Would the Chinese people be better off
If Chiang had won and ruled instead of Mao?"
Yes, the thirty million people would not have died
And China would not have suffered the setbacks
In their education and economy
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 6:26 PM UTC
Willingness...
in all its variability,
X factor
as convenience for
better
and worse.
Illusion,
delusion
more about self honesty
our willingness towards in same way.
Organics not the issue.
Imperialist fractals spawning still.
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 9:05 AM UTC
MY DEAR HUMANIST
You are an imperialist
He is a terrorist
You promote cold war
And declare unilaterally real war
He does the so called holy war
Both of you stretch it too far
He kills the people indiscriminately
And you discriminately
Saddam Hussain and Bin Laden were once your friends
Ultimately they became your rivals
Saddam was hanged by you
But Bin Laden still eludes you
You have the riches and power
And feel as if you were the law giver
UNO and the World Bank bow to your power
But the terrorist could demolish your tower
You divide and rule the world
He terrorizes it with his deed and word
Do you know how many people you murdered in the war?
None has stopped your inhuman actions so far
You make friends with one state
The neighbouring country your buffer state
You call yourself a great democrat and humanist
We know you are an imperialist
And worse than a terrorist
You never listen to the pacifist
Dec 27, 2010
Dec 27, 2010 at 6:33 AM UTC
This is no love poem
No love, no art work, no poem
No music nor rhythm
But of images
Of farmers exultant
Though they break their backs,
Or their bones creak,
With every slash of their sickles,
The heavy strokes
Wounding light in the fiery heat of noon,
The gaunt-faced sons of earth,
Bringing home harvests of gold
To the people's granary,
Where no greedy landlords are in sight.
For centuries, the land robbers
Had squeezed their souls dry
In constant toil.
It may be that their time is up.
But this is no love poem
No love, no art work, no poem
But of history
Of workers milling around a lingering twilight.
Pounding their hammers with their might,
Ecstatic at the thought of freedom,
Yet battling still, long dreaded ills
Of feudal ******* barratry,
Imperialism
Storing up for the people’s cause,
Building a new commune in the new place
Freed from the landlord-minded President
From the imperialist ogres
Of IMF-World Bank and Uncle Sam,
The warmongers,
From oppression
And poverty and wretchedness
That, like a python, had wound
Around them to the end.
But this is no love poem
No love, no art work, no poem
No fictive tale but of radiant truth.
As throngs of men
And women march
Out of their homes
With new-found hope,
Gathering strength
As from a blasting storm,
Defiant now of lying saints or heroes
Or of murderer Presidents
Who speak with forked tongues,
As the throng march out into the streets
Flooding the cities,
Ready to offer their lives for freedom
To them would come such happiness,
Such love
No poem would express,
No art suffice to render.
This is no love poem
No piece of art, no song
Only a sense
Of how it is to tell of battles won,
Of folding in to feel the surge of triumph
Though brief perhaps,
Within this flashpoint moment
Of the people's war.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 6:24 AM UTC
genocides and near genocide
against indigenous First Nations
(the rest hard pressed to reservations)
centuries of race-based chattel slavery
against African populations
(then Jim Crow and segregation)
triumphalist imperialist expansion
justified as Manifest Destination
(the Empire of Liberty as obligation)
Unjust expansionist wars
against Mexico, Vietnam, Iraqification
(the injustice given theologization)
Some call this USA! USA! USA!
I call it abomination
(and now Trumpism is its culmination)
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 1:09 PM UTC
We tied a knot in heaven
and left it there
suspended in the air
unaware of the care that lent there
we stare, bare of emotions
for those we sent there
prematurely
surely it was god’s plan
between that ISIS and
the American man’s man
but wait
I don’t rate the
Wests lack of responsibility
they attest not to the culpability
and without an ounce of timidity
suggest that their
interactions are near
the vicinity of humility
when really Iraq
was left gutted like a
listless fish
to be added to the list
of countries
America and Britain not great
Felt the need to mend
not with gentle hands
but with the bayonets hate.
left without infrastructure
a poor suture on
a shambling wreck
Iraq limped on
to suppurate into civil war
which we condemn and abhor
but somehow haven’t the
nous to implore that we have been here before
The imperialist shadow looms like
a hound, as we espouse civility;
Irony abound.
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
Nothing better than I chance to show you how I’ve froze over hell givin’ Beelzebub a chill,
Your fables hold little weight when you try to justify their existence as long as I continue dissect your deities,
Not that I am entitled but I can careless about how you explain yourself without the brain,
I’ve been broken and forced to put the pieces back together because I’m not ready to embrace the oblivion without a say,
Without of a chance to reciprocate what you didn’t do for me,
I’m telling you to **** yourself till I fill in your grave,
Get ready son for your vacant destiny,
I’m done with the mental constraints of your needs,
I’m fed up with taking a beating for the ignorance that breeds,
Your about to bounce a check that will leave you dangled at the neck,
Not a threat but I didn’t oppress the armed of ancestral resistance,
That desk can’t keep you from the reach of those who believe in unconditional independence,
And you know why you walk a thin line,
It isn’t because of those nickels and dimes you earn overtime,
It isn’t because you drive home to a white picketed life full of lies,
It’s because you know if one of us grabs a mic we might turn to the tide, the next chapter of this species existence,
Making you extinct,
You think daddy’s inheritance will let you pass any Bill,
But it only takes one to change the tone,
One to alter the course of ****** fostered governance,
Not suggesting a Reich’s renovation,
Or an imperialist’s intervention,
But an interruption to this Nation’s corruption,
**** your principals, **** what your father’s told you,
It’s our turn to mend this debilitated democracy,
To end this domesticated atrocity,
So sorry not trying to foment insurrection,
Just asking the children to picket your legislative lickings,
The documents you pen in order to silence dissidence,
But I’m not going to fear old men with millions,
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 1:29 PM UTC
This is the story of a world at war
From ‘39 to ‘45
The second world storm
It all occurred with Germany
Japan was there, the world was scared
To storm the beach of Normandy
Power struggle with no regrets
Imperialist japan with minor fits
Lashing out to focus on three
“America, China, and the Soviet please”
This led to begin in a new world war
With 2K killed at pearl harbor
The holocaust powered even more
To be ****** to death, until ‘44
June 9th, and yards to go
200 stretched from land to coast
10,000 men that made the march
Across the beach, into the marsh
A revenge that tastes so bitter and sweet
For the surprise attack, on the pearl harbor fleet
The event that took our country to war
It paid with bloodshed, 10,000 hearts torn
And when D-day ceased, and the smoke parted clear
We dropped upon 2 cities
Our own 2 tears
That revenged the fallen
And vanquished the feared
The axis fleet, now defeated and gone
They dispersed their union
For ****** was wrong
And what of Japan?
Well they restored their towns
From their cities destructed…
A full 2 miles around
And to this very day
We weep for the wept
That adopted our tears
And ended up dead
296 billion in debts
At least in today’s dollars and cents
For a country whose heart
Was torn to bits
60 million…
If that’s what it takes…
To conquer the axis…
Their lives, they gave…
...And the war, they won…
...And won from their grave…
And on opposing sides?
To win or to die
Japan, Germany, and Italy reside
With 16 million casualties
They pounded on Poland
The sacked the Soviet
They fought the French
And got all the way to Greece even
They never left the Netherlands
They were the bane of Belgium
They never gave up Norway
Or the liquidation of Luxemburg’s location
They caused a sort of havoc
Everywhere they went
They threatened the world
With everything they sent
They tried to take the Jewish and the handicapped
To hell
And ended up bringing on themselves
A hellish, brutish, world
This is the story of a world at war
From ‘39 to ‘45
The second world storm
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 10:23 AM UTC
I'm nothing more than a delusionist, making you see things that don't exist.
In this imperialist nation, i'm something more than an extortionist, making my money off these
stolen and sold-souls, taken from anyone who resists, 2 birds with one stone - i collect these broken bones
and use them as collateral against these religious drones.
I am a little less than an illusionist -
my hand's being faster than some people's witts.
The cards i clutch within my mitts.
Dealing out the hands i think should exist.
Counting these cards with little trouble, i'll put out some cash and make it double
Apr 2, 2010
Apr 2, 2010 at 10:28 AM UTC
L'heure verte
The mountains. The heaps of their bountiful gravels, and earth, and soil, large oversized masses of half-frozen water teetering on the precipice of subzero masculine ******* Francophilic cleavage jetting out of this deserted white pastoral dressing. The inaugural bawl, wanton fixations of putting the imperialist foot on every spot of tree, each and every shrub, until the limbs' cast reaches each dimple that foliage braves, where that blue eagle of patriotism dredges its claws to form every river, rill, estuary, creek, channel, flume, littoral, and waterway where the iron-rich gullies once brimmed in the interamnian basins, rich crimsony waters riffling through fruitful and extravagant aquifers. Beyond that, where an inexplicably feral wind rips vines from their dendritic housings, where barely an eye can see, this place of exsanguination and abysmal phytocide.
At the end of this lamentable torture, only a desert of human interest remains. There is no reason to laugh, or smile, or cheer, or put a leg up, to call on a friend, or to have ice cream. There will be no more ice cream. There is only the loathsome incredulousness and avarice in the semblances and familiarity of those with whom we thought we once knew. Little can ever be known, for there is much to gain in the absence of knowledge, and even greater that can be acquired in the alms of wisdom through patient examination and thorough silence. Here on the buttes and cornices, the thwacking gavels of evil power deities throw down their lust for more and soon become adjoined to these grand discrepancies greed mistakenly loses to a lack of awareness and to self-aggrandizement.
Power is the weapon of inexperienced wielders. Passion is the immortal frequency that is worn by artisans and artists, poets and painters, it is the business of quietness to learnedly evolve to protect our tomorrows from personal needs, but to instead preserve the integral parts of society. The words of languages, artifacts, and cultures, rather than the skeletons of ****** and the deeds of possession. Each who sleeps knows their bedfellows to equally be at peace. For no wealth can exceed that of comfortable pillows, soft quilts, and sheets. We are all the same while we sleep.
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 6:52 AM UTC
Corsican born, and an emperor mighty indeed.
Who from obscurity came up to prominence,
who from French shores the attacks of armies repelled,
who had at his disposal, Europe's resources,
who to Saint Helena from French shores was expelled.
Of old Italian nobility he was seed.
Shortish in height, yet towering in ambition.
Military genius of the highest distinction,
whose military strategy is second to none save
Alexander. Whose courage is held in reverence,
whose cradle at infancy was kept in a cave
from strong invading imperialist French forces.
He gave up an empire so vast at Waterloo;
A threat to the memories of his victories past.
Mighty Napoleon, who at Austerlitz excelled.
You did on the beautiful older Josephine cast
your loving eyes, which were hypnotized with passion,
yet focused on so lofty an ambition.
Not even your love for her would rival your love
for world conquest, for which you assiduously strove.
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 1:46 AM UTC
Every poet is a fake
eyewitness, peddler of make-believe hearsay,
A conveyor of love he never knew
in a city he never saw in a way to make you
feel the passion as if it were true,
He is an air-brusher of reality,
Thus a proselytizer of the Absurd:
That you can paint pictures with words;
That you can travel by verbs;
That you can conjure nouns by saying them;
That you can lead several lives within your only one.
Every poet is a fake
taxidermist, seller of second-hand stuffings
of souls that were never alive
Every poet is a fake
imperialist, would be explorer-cum-colonizer
of the terra incognita of your mind
Every poet is a fake
poet
Aug 31, 2020
Aug 31, 2020 at 11:03 AM UTC
If memory serves this was a special branch of the
Militaty U.K.
Those boys came to town to play.
Weekend rabble loose on leave.
Ready set by the truckloads.
Bully mother ******* in jungle boots.
Ready to blow a few months pay
And whip anyone's *** for looking the wrong way.
Rowdy and loud.
Imperialist ******
Long on swagger short on ****
Eh mate got any sisters about?
Asked one blatherin putz as he stimbled about.
Every now and then one strayed from the pack
Drunk and disorderly. Four sheets to the wind.
Well... he kept close after that.
I was about 8 when I became aware that
The big loud men in kilts and fatigues were men
On a mission an ill wind.
but victims of power same as we.
God save our gracious king
God save our glorious king. God save the king
Send him victorious.
Happy and glorious.
Long to reign over us.
God save the king.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 10:09 PM UTC
Leningrad in the spring of '81
Now that was a spring break
Sans the Florida girls
Three nights there
Two more in Moscow
The hotel room in Leningrad
Two whole days of *******
The bosses wife
And the knocking on the doors
By the military dependents
"Keep the noise down,
Knock that off" they plead
"Don't you know what time it is?"
I have no other memory of Leningrad
Because I never got to see any of it
The best time I ever had
in Moscow, the buildings, so grand
I just wanted to take a picture
and was surrounded by guards with
guns
Really big men with very big guns
Upon a pat down the KGB found
A pack of cigarettes on my person
"American Marlboros" he exclaimed
While passing them out to his buddies
"Here, try one of ours" he states
while offering a Russian version
of the same product/not the same product
I choked on it "see" said the cop
"You Americans RICH"
Comrades, have you seen him?
The great imperialist
The man who will destroy us
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
I stole some underwear on a whim
but also cuz I didn't have much money
more than most tho
Someone told me they stole cheese
People put avocados through as potatoes cuz they're not affordable
I knew someone who paid for about a third of the bras they took and stole the rest so that they would be a more affordable price
Maybe things shouldn't be cheaper but wages should definitely be higher.
Our hospital is dying with the people within,
the concrete flakes like dying skin.
We spend $3billion dollars on defence annually.
I saw 'we' when I never chose that, I would never agree to it.
They say 'defence' when it's an imperialist war project by the West.
I wonder whose suffering is propping up whose suffering and
how all that suffering is propping up someone else's profit.
I wonder how sufferers might forge some sense of solidarity
and overthrow the poor mongers, the war mongers together.
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 3:12 AM UTC
Look at the Canyon
Wonder how it got it's start
Grandioso Splendor
It is Deepness
and spread far apart
From just a trickle
off the ice that was so cold
it burnt the earth apart
Make a libretto like Mozart
or just laugh a lot
Ignorance spreads
like a wild fire
Others create art
Pretend you're my friend
but in the end I can see
Through your finely disguised plot
She came to me a kitten so cold
I had to hold
and warm her heart
Her beauty that of skin deep
as it turned out
she really didn't have a heart at all
Nothing there but
deceit, vengeance, & cruelty
Everything beneath
the acts of humanity
An Icy stare
so cold
It burns a hole right through your soul
A man-hating *****
kills and robs millionaires
Trains middle school kids
all the hatred that they deserve
Because of what her father did
She can't let go
And all the men she loves
Pay for all her sorrow
An Icy stare
So cold
It burns a hole right through your soul
I tread muddy waters now
watch now
hear what I know
Imperialist or Socialist
appointed - no choice
That is what we get
Supposedly a free place
Isn't a free place
even when we pretend
Cops **** are children monthly
and the army does the same
and we just watch the t.v.
we haven't any brain
to stop and change
the wrongness
that's been going so insane
take a look old faithful
we can time you
and we know when you blow your steam
with every time in wonder
of it's gleam
Well look who started Lucy
beating five old kiddie brains
and lookit charlie water bomb
We look up to them
We love the way they look
in technicolor
or so were we trained
Burn it down
burn their world
someone has to make a change
I turn the mirror on your faces
say "look at what you have done"
You cry "No Fair. we can't look.
Don't make us, please"
What comes around still goes around
Miss Meunter are you done?
A trickle off the ice
so cold it burns a hole
on planet earth
The waters now so low
they flow then dry up
like the old
An icy stare
can cause a glare
that burns a hole
because it is so cold
so cold
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 6:20 PM UTC
Each long lost dream
of conquest in the
ashes of history
is buried.
With it lie the
cracking bones of
sacrificial pawns
forever to oblivion
consigned.
Celebrated as nothing
more than the unknown
soldier, who for the
ambitious and self-centered
imperialist, gave his own
dear life.
A soldier unknown who
gives his own blood,
to elevate his general
to history's indelible
annals, decomposes to
oblivion with neither
a name nor an identity.
He spills his own blood
for a glorious title on
his chiefs to be conferred.
His valiance, bravery and courage
are all to his commanding
general credited,
who in unmerited triumph,
robs him of his military
ingenuity.
Dishonoured in death,
his unidentified remains
are crammed with the bones
of others like him, in
catacombs of mass graves.
Whilst his imperialist
general, to whom he
gives a name in history,
gets interred in splendour,
in a stately and Palatial
mausoleum.
Feb 29, 2024
Feb 29, 2024 at 4:22 PM UTC
This war started long ago with your great grandfather,
The difference being he was fighting to stay,
For the same reason you're fighting to leave...
He was fighting for this home which no longer is,
For the gods you now call pagan, for the culture you deem fake,
And the minerals, now heavy jewels around your neck.
This war started long before anyone thought it would,
When the iron snake started wriggling from the coast,
Spreading its poison across the land, carrying modernity with it,
When they killed the protesters of Tsavo and called them man-eaters.
This war started when Kinjikitile failed to save us from the fire spitting sticks,
When nyungu ya mawe fell, when the imperialist found the trade routes.
This war started long ago when your ancestors developed a taste for salt,
And were told to give away a few of your kin to have it...
This war started with that book that you believe in,
the one that speaks about sticks turning into snakes and people walking on water.
This war started when your great grand Uncle believed and collaborated,
even long before that, when the kabaka agreed to split this land.
This war started when we accepted the names the colonialist gave,
to our lakes, our rivers, our springs and then to our children...
Yet here you are pumped up like this war has just begun...
Jul 30, 2023
Jul 30, 2023 at 4:19 PM UTC
Your tendencies to feed us white lies make some feel safe.
You know that, but the truth is: no one is safe from you.
Indiscrete imperialist nations
taking over each other,
yet they are so discrete
dropping bombs on the innocent
and saying “bon apetite.”
**** your sugar-coated ideals
blind-folding the already ignorant eyes
distorting my views of human kind;
making me wish I wouldn’t be
a member of this primitive, violent race.
Beasts with the dangerous advantage
of intelligence; feeling superior to
all life on earth, even each other.
Beating each other over colors,
Beating each other over ideals,
Killing each other over pointless
emotions produced by chemicals in the brain.
Behind the curtain of our repetitive lives,
lies the world so easily hid under the glass,
but people turn away from the truth;
afraid to realize
that you are driving us to our Doom.
Dancing in the rain of freedom,
instead of drowning myself in
the priceless, suspending ocean.
In your perspective,
complete freedom is too much
to handle, but I sit here
writing my thoughts, delivering the truth
Of the freedom within ourselves;
while you think of ways to give us illusions
of choice and freedom
that prevent us from discovering
the truth within ourselves
and releasing the truth behind your masked self.
Shoving in our face free buttons
that say, “Freedom isn’t Free.”
War is a business!
So of course,
You want us to fight to be free.
Apr 8, 2010
Apr 8, 2010 at 4:14 PM UTC
There is no ceasefire, not in Gaza, not in Lebanon, not in Sudan,
but only genocide...
aggression...
war...
blood...
slaughter, and pain.
The West Bank continues to be under siege... met by tanks, death,
threats...
Families are met with bullets to their head.
The children are met with amputated limbs.
Children are left orphan... and forgotten.
Communities are met with too many martyrs to grieve...
Where is this ceasefire now?
There is bombardment in Yemen too, directed by the West like a true imperialist.
If one dare to rise up and resist, are met with an iron fist by the international colonizer community, given consent to **** with no impunity...
Dare the amputees speak....
Dare the bullet to the head speak...
Dare the orphan speak....
Dare the resistance speak of their own pain...
There is no ceasefire, but only genocide.
Where is this so-called ceasefire now?
Nowhere in sight....
Where is the anti-war movement?
Nowhere in sight.....
What happened to the anti-war movement?
Nowhere in sight….
Mar 17, 2025
Mar 17, 2025 at 8:07 AM UTC
In America
White supremacy
Rules
Domestic and abroad
The wallet is clutched
By a white hand
Usually male
White supremacy
Is not talked about
Post-race era
In the middle of
The new Jim Crow
"White lives matter"
They scream
We know
Turn on the TV
It's all we hear
Sacrifice yourself abroad
For the white imperialist
Because don't you know
Your life doesn't matter
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 1:01 PM UTC
They have turned us over their tongues a thousand times
And scattered us all over the world until we are dust
No one would believe us and even if they did,
The world does not need another love story
Men are dying in Gaza
Men are dying in our backyards
So it doesn’t matter if I am dying inside
There are bigger things to fight for
I cannot even win the war against myself
There is nothing worse than the guilt
Of not being able to live outside of my head
But you still calmly make tea in the kitchen,
Quietly covering up sharp edges
Until I’m ready to throw up the pills
I know I am not a worthy cause
But you take time to keep my demons at bay
Until one day I could join you in a demonstration
Taking on actual demons like the capitalist pigs and imperialist America
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 5:38 AM UTC