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Vani j Aug 2016
I am the product of lost civilization;
hanging in between circles  of  modernization ;
who tells
Whether its rising or setting of sun  or globalization
The era of bindis
Or glamorization
Of going to Pubs
or piligrimization
Of  mothers going to kitty parties  
and  of socialization
Of works of Picasso's    
Or hussainization
Of  belief of gods
Or Sensationalization
Of act of democracy
Or  just rationalization
Of laws of science
Or limitization
Of acts of defiance
Or patronization
Of loss of love                        
Or dehumanization
Of views of people
Or individualization
Suburbia I’ve given you all and now I’m nothing.
Suburbia three hundred thousand dollars December 1, 2001.
The cost of living’s too high.
We’re all just waiting around to die.
Suburbia when will you unlock your gates?
You've thrown away the key.
You won't even bother to read me.
Suburbia when will you pay attention?
When will you remove your mask?
When will you fall apart?  
When will you fail to live up to your standards?
Suburbia why are you so ignorant?
Suburbia why don't you feel guilty for your privilege?
Suburbia when will you evict me?
I’m sick of your strict covenants.
Why can't I paint my house yellow?
Suburbia after all it is you and I who are white.
You’re sheltering me.
You made me want to paint my skin black.
Can you meet me half way?
Somewhere in between these walls and freedom.
I’m stuck in the middle and I can’t get out of you.
I don’t think I’ll make it out alive.
Will you release me?
Are you telling me the truth?
I will find it.
I refuse to give up.
Suburbia stop pushing I know what I’m doing.
Suburbia your welcome sign got painted over.
Your people have given you a new name.
Suburbia I am sentimental about your driveway on Sunday mornings.
Suburbia I used to be a Catholic when I was a kid and I am sorry.
Suburbia I have blamed you for my depression and I am not sorry.
I challenge you every chance I get.
I've written myself out of you for thirteen nights straight.
I lost my virginity on the first night I snuck out of your house.  
My mind’s been made up since then.
You should have seen me reading Thoreau at the edge of your lawn.
My English teacher thinks I'll write better poetry once I leave.
I won’t stay here for longer.
I have un-American dreams.
Suburbia I still haven’t told you what you did to me.
I'm addressing you.  
Are you going to let the covenants control your identity?
I’m obsessed with individualization.
You roll your eyes when I walk down the street.
I look you in the eyes and smile as you mock me.
Why so serious?
You’re corporate American greed. You are what your money can buy. Your identity is merely a label assigned to you at birth that you’ve been fighting with your whole life.
It occurs to me that I am suburbia.
I do not see my reflection when I look in the mirror.
You are rising against me.
I don’t stand a fighting chance.
I’d better quit while I’m ahead.
Everything I own fits inside this backpack.
So I packed my **** and left for home.
I say nothing about the prisons or the millions of underprivileged who can’t afford you who dwell under the Birmingham Bridge and graffiti littered highway signs.  
You abolished us.
I painted over you now I’m off to play tag with the streets.
My ambition is to feel at home there.
Suburbia how can I make you listen?
Suburbia let me go.
Why won't you let me move on?
I will continue like a white horse in the wild.
Suburbia I will not make the rent this month.
Suburbia free me from your bounds.
Suburbia save me.
Save our people.
They must not dive.
Suburbia I am the only white on the outside.
Suburbia when I was twelve my cousins took me to the ghetto to buy ******* and the sun was sticky and they told me not to keep their secrets.
I felt like a spy.
Suburbia you're no better at fighting the war on drugs.
Suburbia they're shooting up next door.
Suburbia I thought you were supposed to keep me safe.  
Suburbia you want to eat us alive. Your power's mad. You want to take
my neighbors life and keep me as your slave.
You want to put a price on people and places that were never yours to begin with.
You herd black sheep away from your borders.
Your big bureaucracy segregated and destroyed the land.
Suburbia this is quite serious.
Suburbia this is the impression I get from lurking outside your white picket fences.
Suburbia is this correct?
I'd better get right down to it.
It's true I don't support you.
Suburbia I've given you all and now I'm leaving.
HML Apr 2011
Artificial stimulation zapping all imagination
Any creation or sensation lost in a noise of falsification
Cry to the nation so the population will rejoice with elation
That it is time to remove the isolation caused by the simulation
Simulation of free vocal amplification
Illusion and contagion of the authority’s rules and regulation
Solidification of these false ideals and therefore separation
From should be and what is- it’s horrification
The consumer’s attention faces new redirection
Guided meticulously by the producer’s invention
So our ‘choices’ aren’t choices but some chaos prevention
An anarchy intervention
An eluded operation executed by the organizations
A silent one sided war already won by associations, corporations and cooperations'
Verifications of strict policies and legislation
Followed of course by a strong litigation
What a celebration!
For select thoughts and their determination
Then the glorification
Of these upper class suits with some reputation
The voice of the people silenced with their unification
Stifling imagination
Essentially middle and lower robbed of vocalization
De-individualization, crumble fortication
Fine, its come down to this expectation
Of this twisted experimentation of freedom and selection
We’ll Bind together to form a protection of creativity, originality and our own perfection
So let us make this correction:
The one sided war is short lived and our individual minds will prevail, there is no question
For the minority majority will make a distinction
Between the choices given to us and our choices made with intention
Michael Amery Aug 2014
The lone wolf mythology is a ego driven shield behind which hides the shy and the wounded;
I have resided in that den of pretend solitude only to rage at the overwhelming loneliness as the need for companionship screamed and beat fists from inside of my chest, the heart hammering at my ribs to be free of its proud prison.

The need for individualization and a removed identity is just another drug to poets and artists; where else to find motivation if not within our personal tragedy still wet from the drink and tears, and blood spilled from hearts never quite mended, soldiers of love who feel in a way the common man cannot, will not, for who better to put pen to paper the raw emotions of man if not those who are lost in their feelings like maggots writhing in forgotten butchered meat, wounds that will never heal yet can only be seen in the wary yet wide open eyes of the addict yearning for the next high, not for the warmth and caring that is love rather for to the hurt and the harm and the inspiration that can be found there.
This started as one thought but became another as often happens to me.
Akwana Wa Odera Apr 2019
I think Kenyan politics like love is blind
And we are just visually impaired beggars
Waiting to be given crumbs and the leftovers
As the true 'nation owners'
Share the bigger pie, with greed and 'honor'
I get sick every time i get to watch this sequel
With too much unending repetition
Impersonation
Individualization
With despots ruling the nation.
We've totally failed as a people
Always ready to criticize
But never determined to see through
Always ready to fight
When it's us with huge dues
Protecting our own
When it's them that get huge!
Someone told me to vote to eradicate
The rot
That through my vote
Maybe there will be change in the lot
And the true will get afloat
But I'll have to disappoint,
In a system this rogue
To vote i will not!
No need to confront
Let me express the systems faults.
Politicians fighting for supremacy
The bigwigs protecting there lame legacy
Whilst people in the north are hunger stricken
And the system blames the weather for its wickedness
Corruption levels are beyond explanations
With money for development disappearing in the boardrooms
Leaving unemployed Youths struggling to bet on their livelihoods
In a system this rogue
To vote i will note
When the main agenda in Kenyan shows
Is politics
And who will get to be the kingpin of all
When the Chinese are taking over our plots
Leaving Kenyans at their mercies with no hope
When it's huge loans that are borrowed
But no track record or development to show
And that's just a piece
Of the iceberg that we've crushed in
Breaking the system to bits
The system is sick
But again we are blind
And not even struggling to see
I wonder what miracles we'll need
Just to put the system to speed
But still
In a system so rogue
To vote i will not!

Akwana Wa Odera
@therealakwana
© 2019
Kenyan politics as of now is just disappointing
Parable Fourteen Donítikos: “fourteen vibrations were polarized in the dethronement of Vernarth towards his brother Etréstles, making filial gradation in the possible anti-filial conception of cult and death in whom one is suspended from one to the other under the condemning rhythm of past lives. It is typical of the facsimile of their own Cain-Abel genetic shadow, but of geographical and time-space gradation, which finally brings them together as consanguineous of the same Orbis Alius trunk. Dismissing the no and accessing them to a vibrational anti-Asur (as a healthy and creative mind in Genesis) as energy that manages to restructure itself in any homologation and way in the world of Asur as a son of Shem in Genesis..., as compared mythology and inter-generational, enlivening socio-parental metaphors, pronouncing in cohesion and enchantment of what happens in another similarity of gender or Mental field, staging the probability of a mental Sun that dies in a Super Man and this comes to free us from the bonds of existence and of the earthly plane not reflected in immanent and instance of Aeon, in geological and sidereal lives. The scrolls of this semi-myth, it is subsequent of pendulous scrolls in the arbitrations of our existence for thousands of years, linked to links and human characteristics of knowledge through meta-senses of emotionality and their comparative feeling. The intemperance compensation of matter between the anti-pivot and the life between the two refers to the simultaneous undividedness of each individualization, as a phenomenon lacking in hearing in winter and inclement periods. Here the roar of the retro involutions becomes cloistered in Menatira, daughter of Cránae Queen of Eleusis, Pro Eleusis like the fluff of respite burning both through the steppe of silence. Between them, dodecahedron on an octagon in each one, for each one interpolated in each area when Demeter was looking for his daughter Persephone.

“Etréstles metamorphosed so that Metanira would reunite them with the sub-mythology of their destinies and pre-conception of the elucubration of an abstract spell-breaking ending, which mingled with the element of fire in its irascibility, to await the next season in fourteen toasts followed by Ouzo, goods with intact and distant deities in the life-maturity oscillation, making it after the eleventh Ouzo, in determinism of life and autonomous substances of eternity, under the rude power of the one who has to compensate whoever it is. has Everything and he who will never have it. (Eternal life spell) "

a) Abundance of rain of erythrocytes, to quote the legacy of Bios as any deprivation of self-life, rather for those who yearn for it among a physical trifle alibi...

b) Psujé for Vernarth, "Because whoever wants to save the life of his soul, he will lose it." But he will restore her if he is saved by the muscle of his divine psychology. "

c) Zoé, “radiosity and refraction of etherization and taxation, more than a biological physical body, re-transformed into purging of the higher to the lower, multi-created, but in a Jesuit adjective and a consequent sphere of concatenation towards the plane of the Mashiach as holistic of the human cave ecstasy, in perennial marriage between heaven and earth Ad Aeternum "

(Procorus, self-irrigated with erythrocytes, to deliver them between both, and re-level the levels of erythrocytes of divine blood of the Mashiach, which expected to be re-founded in both brothers of the Vibrational in Fourteen Donítikos or Hellenic Vibrations, with the initial D in the lower ear left and the S in the upper right of the vibrational field of God's Tinnitus with his ears placed in his hands, and lead them by his ossicle and theirs, in the curvilinear snow that vibrates in what He only wants to make them Auscultate)
Parable Fourteen Donítikos
Satsih Verma Dec 2023
The grief was intense
in individualization. I walked on
the singed coals due to rain brutality.

Someone comes from
your back after touching Buddha
in sleep. I did it again. Killed my poem.

A speculation. I am
alone. Who lives for others? A toeless
ghost laughs, but walks very fast.
wembley, 26th and 27th of april 2025
will be memorable 2 days
of my life
i know
i also don't know why
but i knows i and knowing knows knowing
and knowledge is
a bit likt a ledge of history
i came across the intellectual Satan
and the intellectual Satan is still not the Intellectual
Christ
i wonder about the books he didn't write
but instead read
and
i woke this morning and i didn't
have the shakes of the hands
and i worked today
i took it seriously
and people took my seriously
and even i think
took myself serious
and i was about at work doing
the basic security function
and everyone was so compliant
but there i saw myself
being ordained with the Crown
of the Anti-Law...
the lawlessness is my gift unto the world
while Christ broke of the Laws
of the Narrative...
$6.20 bottle of *****
of liquid honey
and if i were to paint at easier
paint Kauai on astarry night
i still think if should become a painter
and leave the poet with
the philosopher
i think i should begin with painting
the living space
your mocha mocca swizz late...
or whatever you want to call it
if i had all the fountains in this world
under Wembley
the national treasure of architecture
because Rome is Anti-Church
and the Pope has not been chosen
yet
and i'm looking looking
because Big Brother spoke to the denominations
of the Christian World where
the Protestant Man Set Foot
where Catholics we branded fools
in the Mines of South America
and the Pacific Rim
i call the Pacific Rim the ancient
geography of this world...
i include the Pacific Rim South America
and the extent of Polynesia...
Quorus will not wake me at 4:30am
and i have a child devil of a cat
and i also thin k
i think have a wife and a stepdaughter
upon walking into the door
i am to tell my demented grandmother
the story my mother and Ilona
tell themselves
if i were a lie: i'd be many a lie:
i would summon all the lies
before the one truth
because as much as there might be an Original Sin
you must bow before me
when i usher in the words: Original Lie...
tell me an original lie and i will
show you for all the *******
there is no lie... bigger than the ORiginal Sin
which is like Judaism in Christianity
to Hell and Save the Jews
i tell you Original Sin is the Judaism aspect
of Christianity not purged
certainly:
ISLAM SHLUT UP!
just working with a lot of Hindus and i think
of the Pacific Rim i think of the world
turned upside down...
looking at the Delta of the Thames
like i might forward to Alexandria and backwards
to Mecca
i will show my lovely *** i will
i will cage a Sri Lankan
i will rummage in the garbage
i will wash a can of coca cola in the bathroom
i don't i will be very human
and wise and wiser no above all a Dog
and i thought to greater leisure
but this intellectual far-fetcher is a disco when
i heard those Polynesians talking between the continents
to the other islanders
and i have to admit the English are
drunk with Rome
with civilization the historians call it the Afghanistan
of the Ancient World
i like thinking of England as the Roman Empire
Afghanistan of the Ancient World
even before the Accents:
Rome had to be overcome and the Germans
invading:
took the trouble of subjecting Afghanistan...
of the Ancient World: England...
it is only with the Germanic tribes invading
were the Celts finally banished to their strongholds
of gods and intellects...
       cooking cauliflower also stinks
like pushing out **** in roaches... i think we
could have an understanding
i was pitchside for the Palace Games
and pitch i smoked an umbrella and drank some pickling juice
then i drew an octopus while thinking
of my brain relaxing among sponges
and in the quick brief
western individualism has gone as far
as the atomized man allows
because the logical next step of western
quetion and quest for individualization:
nations, civilization...
comes the Atomized Man
the man who blew himself up...
now i see woman being quizzical in their own
retrospect because
i hit a nerve and regardless what comes
later
i see already the olive and the tan
and besides the silicon in *******
and lips...
are those fake camel lashes...
and they don't really work in the Harem of Narcissus
where the elders go
with Bible and Gloryhole confessional
booths
with **** and **** rather than
dog-tongue and dog-ear!

             because if i weren't to walk onto the Mass
being Given
under the Olympic Steps
where those Samoans came first
and then on Liverpool St outside
the station the "western" equivalent
of songs played no heart
but the eyesight of techno progress
i see you dancing in tombs
of individualism
and this lack of critical ego
that i too muddle with self- prefixation
of those things in the res extensa of
my own res cogitans that requires
the res cogito more than cogito per se
or god
because my mission is to last for 90 years
and find joy in what passes
us
and becomes a memory of forgetting
and the twins Memory and Forget

because if Memory is brother to Dreams
then the two are muddled
and we forgot all wong to be right and wrong
and that's why dream settle the distance
via there-being: in time
regardless of the proper
coordinate posit:
but ***** wrong there: even that...

and if by Forget we leave black holes in our consciousness
to quickly abstract universal abstracts
to concrete examples
abstract universals
a priori universals
i believe there exist 5 dimenions
of understanding a shared
eloquence of man...

Stanley and Stan's Intellectual Bias:
because i thought:
there is no Original Lie
as much as there is Original Sin
in the origin of Christianity being
rooted in Judaism
or at least blaming Judaism
for the Lips Lipstick and *******
but not all circumcised
men reflect
strong physique...
if we circumcised men
for the purpose of breeding Gladiators
but what is the purpose of circumciusing men
if not breeding them for one purpose:
if you were to circumcise men...
you would be ensuring a solider class
not a priestly class of people
circumcicision would only be required
of soldiers
who: themselves willing
would absail from the functioning vantage point
of intellectual *******
i cannot be circumcised...
but what if circumcision was reserved
for special concerns
requiring men
to be wed to war
and no poetry about war
but the realities of a war that might happen:
already planning ahead
smoke and mirrors
smoke and mirrors
yes, i told one roofer:
when the invasion of IRAQ
happened
and Weapons of Mass Destruction
happened
and that was smoke and mirrors...
i think i was getting a leg up
but i was also myself
and most beyond sober..
Kayley Godek Oct 2024
Once again, I return to my first love,
Falling back into the arms of words and expression.
It infuriates me that it takes major loss to come back to my core.
Instead of praising the joyful times, I end up expressing the pain of loss and tumble back into my own voice as if discovered for the first time all over again.
I know the words will comfort me, caress me, and carry me.
I’ll try to define me for your convenience but I’m sorry I can never speak an absolute truth.
Here, within the lines that make up letters that make up words that make up sentences and paragraphs and entire novels, is where you’ll find me.
Me. Whoever that may be.
I am as much the space between each word and the actual ink.
Selah. Pause and appreciate the silence and reprieve.
When the words begin again you’ll find me complete.
The yin and yang of emptiness and wholeness.
I am the fight in struggle and the calm of peace.
I am the audacity of words and the gentleness of silence.
I am the unbridled joy and the bone deep suffering.
I am so much more than the words can say.
But sometimes I think that if I try hard enough I can get so close to really showing you who I am.
Regardless, here I stand at the beginning of a new chapter.
To hell with the previous ones.
I’ll hop out of this book and begin again.
And again
And again
And again.
Until the cover, the ink, and the very language are unrecognizable to the previous versions of myself that failed to be immortalized in a way that feels aligned.
Until I create a home of my story.
The lost little girl that wrote of longing for death would be so proud to know that this adult me will fill my life with poetry and be happy for the chance to write reality into existence.
Words are power.
Words are channeled intention.
Words are direction and momentum.
Words are community celebration and vulnerable individualization.
I am the ****** last period at the end of a novel
And I am the gold leaf on the special edition prized only by a few romantic hearts.
You dont have to like my voice.
But its all I’ve got and I like to share.
Words bridge the gaps between people and ideas. Or at least try.
I write my heart on my sleeve and pray for someone like me to appreciate the misplaced flourishes and inconsistencies.
My heart is made of so many words that my tongue refuses to taste and release for fear of overload.
All this to say, I’ve gained back a part of me I love; I am the author and the reader, simultaneously.
This time, I intend to keep this core piece of me. I’ll write of beauty and rest.
Of road trips and ***** hiking boots.
I’ll spell out all the good things I’ve taken for granted.
But I’ll honor the selfish younger me who survived. And I’ll honor the older me who will now thrive.
A Poet Apr 2020
Individualization
                              is praised
                                         instagrammers become the plato of the day
                               But did you ever see yourself
for you are just meat like me.


When did we lose sight of importance.

— The End —