"inequities" poems
☮ ☮ ☮
**Society needs more Social Justice.
Humanity needs peaceworkers.**
Peace and Social Justice must be promoted aggressively. There are inequities that must be addressed. Power is not equally distributed. Neither are resources or wealth. Neither are poetic gifts or vision equitably distributed. Unearned privilege is rampant. Poetry must confront this global crisis of capitalist exploitation and manipulation. Poetry must speak to the masses. Poetry must radicalize and inform consciousness to new levels of social change. Marginalized citizens must be empowered. All ****** gender-based, racial, religious, age-based, homophobic, xenophobic, and gynophobic bigots must be brought to see in a new way through our poetry. Community building and local empowerment are of the order. Our poetry must be global in scope – yet rooted and grounded in local community empowerment. Selfless acts of service to promote and increase Social Justice are needed. Lives selflessly devoted to establishing social justice are called for. Our poetic lives must be laid on the altar of the dis-enfranchised and unrepresented. We, as consciously aware poets, must advocate and speak out for those who have no voice.
We, as poets, must, through stirring words of Social Justice, embody through our radical verses the burning hope of a just and sustainable future. This future must become increasingly collective as formerly marginalized consumers become empowered community-builders – through our poetry. As poets of the sustainable future we will empower and inform. Our poetry must collectivize, entitle and enslave. We must speak with ONE VOICE: the voice of change and social justice. Our words will rise with healing in their wings and lift whole communities from despair to radicalized self-awareness in communities filled with strident, intolerant and maniacal practitioners of PEACE & SOCIAL JUSTICE. All poets who do not lay their entire creative and lyrical selves on the altar of struggle to bring CHANGE and SOCIAL JUSTICE will be LIQUIDATED by our own EMPOWERED POETRY. IN THE END WE WILL WRITE A PURE POETRY OF SOCIAL CHANGE, ALL IN CAPS, AND THIS POETRY OF SOCIAL JUSTICE AND EMPOWERMENT WILL BE READ OVER THE GRAVES OF ALL SELL-OUT, CORPORATE, FASCIST, SNITCHING, SELFISH, UNEMPOWERED AND UNEMPOWERING TRAITORS AND ENEMIES OF SOCIAL JUSTICE. IN THE END THERE WILL BE NO PUNCTUATION OR EVEN WORDS ONLY PURE IMAGES OF CHANGE + VISIONARY COLLABORATION IN SOCIAL TRANSFORMATION/MAYBE SLASH MARKS/OKAY MAYBE EXCLAMATION POINTS TOO BUT ONLY THOSE !
WHY? BECAUSE THE ONLY GOOD POET IS A LIVING POET WHO HAS LIQUIDATED EVERY FALSE POET NOT COMMITTED TO THE STRUGGLE FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE !
LONG LIVE POETRY IN ACTION THROUGH CHANGE!
WRITE/SPEAK/AGITATE
FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE & EMPOWERMENT !
**POETRY IS STRUGGLE☻
STRUGGLE IS CHANGE☻
CHANGE REQUIRES SOCIAL JUSTICE☻
SOCIAL JUSTICE BRINGS PEACE☻
PEACE BRINGS WAR☻
WAR BRINGS CONFUSION & DEATH☻**
(SO DON’T BE CONFUSED)
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:03 PM UTC
Take away my pain and leave me in a state of pure ecstasy. Make numb or make me *** I'll vibrate to the enticements. I'll learn from these exuberant dispensations and try to configure our despicable conversations and discover the inequities of our relations.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
To elaborate on what Chris Hedges (the liberal who loves to play radical during uprisings) wrote in the Occupied Wall Street Journal concerning the goal of the Occupy Wall Street movement: “The goal to us is very, very clear. It can be articulated in one word—REBELLION. … What the elites fail to realize is that rebellion will not stop until the corporate state is extinguished.”
To that, I say this:
If you are sick and tired of living in the land of the 'free',
in the land of plenty,
while you see injustice
and poverty
and suffering,
then stand up.
Join a local chapter of Occupy,
join any progressive group.
If you don't see these things,
PLEASE WAKE UP.
READ, look and listen,
to the world around you,
rather than a TV, an Iphone,
or some talking head.
The deep inequities in life exist for a reason.
Capitalism, that oh so familiar 'greed is good' mentality.
We have to transform it totally,
beginning with a plea for rebellion.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 8:48 PM UTC
My unseen, poetic collaborator, talent extraordinaire.
She writes of the homeless man we pass on the street,
to which I add a word, a line or two, for who among us has never once wondered, there but for the grace of god, go you or I....
a tin cup, a beat up guitar
memories, all sepia colored,
little of his older life,
the few days left,
close by, not far,
the remains of the day,
he calls them,
his ha ha, happily ever after.
once he thought maybe after
the next song, he'll belong,
for his melody sung
in the key of despair,
but the refrain, sung with flair,
après la guerre,
ever hopeful, ever after
no passerby fails to stop,
penny or dollar, each produces,
his voice, so sad, seduces
each fearful of the sound,
but comforted by his
last words, that stick
to them, ever after.
yet, he's happy, he has a voice,
cold concrete beneath his extremities
reminds him of his lost choices,
a life begun, flowing with expectancies,
soon expected to conclude, yet,
he does not complain of life's inequities.
no matter what the tune,
no matter what the key,
no matter what the rhythm,
no matter what the beat,
his every song always ends
with words of no mean feat.
He sings:
**tho bad luck, poor choices
have brought me to
a life upon the ground,
yet I wake each morn,
kiss my stony bed,
for I am happy for,
just to be alive,
always happy, ever after.**
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 5:09 AM UTC
My professor tells me-
"You have to be a strong individual."
I arm myself, I fight my demons,
I strive for the dignity and worth of individuals,
I can stand strong
Because I draw my strength from you.
Weighed down by social realities and unjust inequities,
Angered at the politics of life,
I lie in anguish and sorrow
And in my sense of incapability and numbness,
I think of you.
You, who cries with me and makes me smile,
You raise me back to living
Because you believe in me.
When I choose to talk philosophy,
And struggle to articulate my confusions,
I can stand
Because I know you don't judge me.
I see a little girl, bathed in dirt,
Her only toy a stick picked from the gutter,
And I break a little inside
At what is, and what ought to be.
When I'll eventually be convinced to take up a role
In such games of power,
I know you will be there to keep me tied to sanity.
When I lose my faith in human goodness,
Eclipsed by the hunger of men and women,
You take my hand and make me believe
In the beauty of art, of language,
Of music that punctures the soul and soothes the hurt.
In a world that understands only violence and **********
You show me friendship and compassion.
You could say it’s impossible to isolate oneself from the world.
You’re right.
But let not the whole annihilate the part,
Let not the universe overcome the soul.
When I begin to feel small and insignificant before the magnitude of life’s challenges and wonders,
You remind me of who I am.
We, who must share our lives with millions of others,
Let’s make our lives our own.
Why should the world bind us?
Why should life find us
Waiting for the world to change?
Let’s not sit through as the movie of our lives plays in the background.
With you by my side,
I can say loud and clear:
Come, let us stand strong together.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 1:11 PM UTC
The very walls I built
To keep the clutter out
Suffocate me daily
Shutting me in with my thoughts
Questioning my decisions
testing my patience.
Was I wrong? Or right?
Have I added to my mistakes?
Will I wake up tomorrow?
The burden overwhelms me
I fear that I will give in
To the heartwrenching fear
Of the unknown.
A weight settles on me
Bearing down on my chest
I heave breath after troubled breath
who knows if it's my last?
I prepare myself for death
Sink into nothingness below
For there are no worries
nothing but stillness.
No,I will not let the reaper close
But how to deal with my pain
That is anew everyday
I find fault with the sun and moon
No one to distract me
From these savage insecurities
hounding at my door
am I pretty enough? Strong?
can I do it? Will I succeed?
it seems I am doomed to doubt
Trapped by inequities
and someday I just hope
These walls will be solace
And not my jailer.
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 1:28 PM UTC
There's a lady in the morning fog
who feeds on porcelain thoughts,
And she haunts the edges March.
There are no five point dancers
With their evening red and gold.
Ready and willing to tumble and fall.
Just her, alone; In the bog
listening to us all.
The beasts only swim, crawl, and fly
By the Sycamore, rotten and petrified.
In Death there is life
And all ears are amplified.
"Testify."
**"Are you the soul that brings fear?
The Specter of my own Heresy?
Get off the wind and answer me.
Will you light the wild and chant the Lord's Prayer?"**
*"Through all my inequities I'll never
know sin like you.
Whip the poor and condemn the youth.
Blame the ******
Clergymen tend to always do.*
"We are justified!
**To do what we do
Is the work of the lord!
Truth will always bend
To the ambassadors' works."**
The feast is for the thin, chalked with divine
And those on shore: honest and rectified.
Breath is man's plight,
And all eyes lie.
There's a man waiting at the edge of dawn
Who purges a man of his own thoughts
He owns his defiled marsh.
There are no five point answers
Without their threaded holes
Steadily fulfilling to us all.
Just him, enthroned; on a rock
Judging us as we fall.
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 2:39 PM UTC
By Elizabeth & Arcassin
**by the gurgling stream
he fell into a deep dream
of a beautiful girl who
had eyes so pretty of gleam
how she did make
his heart sang with delight
as her image reflected
in the stream's
bright crystal light,**
What's darkest may come to light,
Fly from graduation or tutors,
Hurricanes ruin cities,
Mixed with high jackers,
Free loaders,
But in the dark,
Run to the light,
Trauma stricken,
In the foreseeable future we need to fight,
**the dreamer's perception
of beauty is wiped out
in the environs so broken
and torn horribly about
the shadowed lamp
of fantasy which offers unto
us the mired mirror
of malcontent which is
in this our abysmal society,**
If you come to a conclusion,
And have sense to maintain the illusion,
You can make it a reality,
Also to institutions,
Beautiful stages of goals to be made,
Grow a flower,
Open a door,
Influence the shade,
**we are capable of making
change
our purpose is to
bringing into existence
the mind of the dreamer
his purpose is to see
that by all humans
working together
they can solve the ills and inequities
which plague our earth,**
Success runs through the heart of people that are determined,
Trial and tribulations are sold separately,
Achieve,
Believe,
And don't a servant,
To people that don't wanna see you,
Give and succeed,
Your dreams.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 3:51 PM UTC
The Path of the Righteous Man is beset on all sides
by the inequities of the Selfish
and the Tyranny of Evil Men.
Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will
shepherds the Weak through the Valley of Darkness,
for he is truly his Brother's keeper,
and the finder of lost Children.
And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger,
those who attempt to poison and destroy my Brothers!
And you will know my name is the Lord
when I lay my vengeance upon thee!
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 9:06 AM UTC
Let’s scrabble to rouse the rabble,
The massive blithering and blathering,
Make protests ring above the babble
And set foaming mouths lathering,
When our country and its youth,
Newly awakened and newly wise,
Stand up and demand the truth
Instead of the usual pack of lies.
The rich get the wheat
And we get the chaff
Then the rich sit back
In their palaces and laugh.
What has served as intelligence
Has put this country in a bind
By people with no common sense.
Supposed adults just voting blind
Based on ideas without merit.
Those with money get a pass
And let the taxpayers bear it.
Then the rest take it in the ***
The ‘haves” drink wine
And we drink water
Maybe sometime soon
They’ll come for your daughter.
The people we have elected
Saw a shaky foundation laid
Have left us mostly unprotected
And massive bribes were paid.
The wealthy among us got a pass
So now just the rich have a voice
And the poor and working class
Have no effective voice.
The wealthy get shoes
And we get bare feet.
We learn to live our lives
In postures of defeat.
This is the age of communication;
We have to look at what we are doing.
We still can save our weakened nation.
And maybe start some careful suing.
Let’s vote out the Couriers of Hate;
Hold these ******** to their vows.
To stand up to their inequities
We need to start right now.
The rich get the wheat
And we get the chaff
Then the rich sit back
In their palaces and laugh.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
Who knew our spirits would be so easily broke? Who knew our past loves would come crawling up our legs to meet us for dinner? who knew the joys of rhythm and melody would stand and stare us down for hours and never lead with the first move. Who knew the catacombs of my fearing mind would desecrate the innards of my only wantings. Who knows why the big ones reel in after dusk. Why did things turn out in the season of so much anger? How can one overcome any proportion of ill intention to an honest living. Where are the street-grit-fighting-fearless godsends of our time. Where are the nights of comfort among the towering plagiarisms of sonic inequities. Why am I stone in my own mirror? And how often shall I have to shave off the transgressive anachronisms of the jesting majority-unjust. Will I ever see a cannon with a name other than "jesus the king" around the barracks of quen anne burrows? I am cold and engrossed with my feelings. I am the youth's catch-all phrase for re-new-all and desperate tendencies. I am the unconscious objection to that censure of my own old crowning. The way i was held like an infant again. I mustered and mangled and derived that only in my free gliding could i roll down the soft hills of my fervent dreams. I can smell and sense the rays of jubilation i reach when drifting in tangent with the innocuous verbiage of my unbridled soul. Bringing the bleak toned honesty I once and always devote my sincerity towards. and alas my mind begins burrowed in the melting tin of bleeding doves. Not to be confused with other obscurities We Speak Wandering. Pleasant by night,
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 5:08 AM UTC
This is for the most supreme
The almighty Jehova
The creator and mover of earth.
I have sin and not once have i insulted you
Not by word of mouth but through my actions.
I humble myself to seek for forgiveness.
I have trespassed dear almighty
I have used my body sinfully
I haven't been good at all,
I followed the worldly desires out ot my consent
God,I need a chance of reciprocating
I need change and be clean once more
No one,shall confirm me apart from you
My inequities are far much worse
I'm no longer fit for your house at all
Lord Jesus,take me I wipe your floors,
Because it is my only time I will be save
It is my single chance of life that remains
I now have known life though by chance
Thank you God for your eye opening.
I supplicate my prayer to my friends
Save their souls from danger Jehova
God,Father of us
See those in hospitals and heal them
See those in planes,cars,motorbikes ,bikes and pedestrians
Give them save journeys
You know the orphans father ,
Guide them and lead them to prosperity .
The old too Father ,grand them peace.
Lord give me power ,that I curse the demons away
Those that bring confusion I rebuke you in Jesus name
You have no power to thriumph over us
I chase you away in the mighty name of God
You have no power to stand near the people of God
Go to where you belong .
Lord ,Jesus we thank you
We bring praise and honor
All belong to you
I pray this short prayer
Believing and trusting in your name
Amen
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 11:35 PM UTC
My reflection is tattered with these strings of insecurities,
and I'm bound to the walls of my constant inequities.
And my eyes, as if rotting, are stuck in their quivering,
for the beauty I once knew and loved is now withering.
Feb 6, 2012
Feb 6, 2012 at 3:10 AM UTC
The ineffaceable stain
Allegorical refrain
Dictates the wily antidotes for a newfound sane
They hector from a distance
Muted but militant resistance
magical hobgoblins the lifeblood of their persistence
Heterodoxy enters the stage
Cognizant of ignominy, a potent repressed rage
Succor sought, corporate media bought
A pyrrhic limelight is certainly not what was sought
I defer to dignified exemplars
I confer with callous company at vapid bars
Concluding thereby the inverse proportionality of authenticity to success
The articulations of divinity imply rigidity
sweltering soul burgeoning with light sweating an evanescent humidity
If blind before, partial and total sight reconstitute the core
omnipresent paparazzi deplores
Past pities insuperable even with pithy witty
Future pieties irrelevant to ineradicable ignominy and purported dignity
Cupid and cupidity must be related
because gold-diggers alerted to my fair share would be elated
Begrudged at every tick, tantalized by a slow torture lurid flit
I cast my ambitions into the fathomless depths
I amass provisions for a restive hibernation, enduring schlep
Redemptive powers yet articulated
Should ease the prospects of being matriculated
But is cloistered suffering an inexcusable plight
When the deep coffers derelict a modest gesture of making grievous inequities once again right?
Must I swim to distant shores
Past the barnacles beneath and the urchins on submerged sand, very sore
Landmines at the beach, pantomimes and their garbled preach
Past scattershot invective fortified by intransigent misers of conscience, the balmy resort out of reach.
Bleak bleats, meek feats, good eats
I think it is about time for a tyrannical psychology to let me off the incapacitating leash, letting me focus on actions rather than on incomprehensible speech
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 7:49 PM UTC
It's essentially the same science that religion refers to as God.
What is left then? What will save humanity from itself?
Thought is dangerous when left to its own creation. Some are safer following instructions. Life is much easier when we have someone or something to blame. Without that we find no "right" or "wrong" that fits the world universally. So... If it isn't the fault of this or that, it may be a fault of my own.
Now, there is no savior to pick your inequities above the rest. It's up to you.
Can you live without self-hatred? Is it possible to love yourself enough to be worthy? Can you trust yourself with the outcome of your own life?
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 11:02 AM UTC
Conservative make
watermark there
if he
seek not
both their
inequities in
this dissolution
close to
them both
render what
in their
agreement with
antipathy then
might grant
with only
final adoption
his again
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 11:58 AM UTC
i've come to settle debts and unrequited loves upon bar stools and bloodied hatchets
up and down used condoms on faces of horror story linens
smiley faces and hearts above the grey clouds gleaming sovereignty
where the earth bathes
she weeps
" don't do that, we have a motor"
i cry and kneel down and beg forgiveness
the waves are crashing at my feet
i can see dead fish glistening just above the water
bobbing up and down
its just like good music
hot air winds of desert motion
steaming and boiling the life force
so it comes out
far out
make me spill the wine oh great god of ****
make my heart contend to the greatest spirit of dying
and wake up
still drunk
i will not spit the light in vain
only to enrich the folly that we call life
and they call entertainment
i can sit here forever
spewing out inequities of college kids "learning"
i can sit here forever
adding to the dying and suffering and coloring of something
and it shall remain
i will die where you left me
like a snake shedding its skin
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
If supposed possibilities impose impositions that transition into probabilities that break boundaries of inequities ...would you stand moved...
If life's low blows could be diluted through finely crafted bitter yet mentally delectable drinks ...would that flood our minds drowning us instead of our worries...
If the oh-so rhythmically bewitching drum based tunes we gyrate to dancing in entrancement...oh the escape...enchantment
Would we loose footing playing "footsy" around the truth of how we got there and find ourselves lost when the music stops...?
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 1:40 AM UTC
I walk in Your way, yet the chains make me stumble and fall.
You always catch me, but falling still hurts.
You never promised an easy path and though I am but one, I follow.
Others walk the same path as I, but I cannot see them through my own darkness.
My own pride dims the light, my worries cloud in the shroud of darkness that surrounds me.
I hear Your voice calling me, yet I hesitate,
too distracted by the false prophets of light, who call me by my desires and my failures
who show the path to my own destruction.
They bog me in the sea of my own inequities.
But no matter how much I stray, by my side You stay.
You try to carry me, yet I squirm and resist Your embrace. I close my ears to Your loving words.
I complain when I should listen. I hate when I should love.
I focus on the pebbles in my way, calling them boulders.
I complain about the hills as I stand on top of the mountains You've helped me climb.
I grow weary of a battle already won.
It is easier to sink into the depths of a pit than to fly with the wings of an eagle.
I grow passive to the grappling of smoky tendrils that entomb me in smoldering ash.
Forgive me, O Lord, of my ignorance of Your glory.
Breathe on me yet again and let me live with the burning desire of existing solely for you.
Through my own darkness may Your light shine.
May Your light be so bright that it blinds me to anything else.
May Your light never waver, never dim within me,
but let it grow ever increasingly, consuming all of me.
Use me to light the darkness.
This I pray to be. Amen.
Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 2:38 AM UTC
Charms present itself as attributes
in cloak and dagger, blood still dripping
with the last **** envious hate, insidious
beasts, burdened by the bronze culture
impervious to the shallow golden calf
shrouded in the sinister guise
of compassion.
Why do the radicals look
up to the sky praise god for approval
on own inequities
bolstered by the book of prophets
who did not see these acts
as sanctity or sacred.
The contradictions balance
between heaven and hell
even as the world turns to watch
the anguish of beliefs in agony.
Go now seek the desert of doom.
to announce meaningless mantras
for the wisdom of attention.
Burn in the terrible dawn of discovery.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 2:43 PM UTC
What if my tongue
Parched from its boredom
Runs out of ink
Or forgets itself
And the ways of penning graphite scenes
Into the reality of lines to be
?
What if my of
Has come forth only to be
Nothing more than a habitus
Or self reflective mirror
That worships either everything of self
Or of thee
?
What if our cause
Was already free
And found beside a quiet setting
Where the Idaho deer
Meet, paw, and breed their joys
Dispite of inequities
?
What if this
All the snow in heaven fell
And all the heat of hell rose up
And all the steam between were trees
And you were me
And we were these
?
What if is all I ask of me
?
Sep 4, 2022
Sep 4, 2022 at 3:18 PM UTC
every time our rides,
these now separate,
unconnected lives, paths...
coincide,
those amazing features,
flawless neck line,
my eyes make time
for her
though their conquests know
much more
distant,
propagate fantasies, memories
of what those full lips could do,
how the caress of hers set my heart aflame.
one way thoughts
that end
in the present,
in this wreck of a life,
wasted
every day wanting
to have
died
just the day before
goodbyes were given. the realization of my inequities,
inability
to conjure desire
as i could and ooh, oh so loved to do
when i was what
other men currently enjoy.
it ***** because she to my eyes
is the broken mold
post perfection,
to this day, it *****
because
i want her,
because i do,
because
she's beautiful,
and I'm in love with her.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 4:29 AM UTC
If supposed possibilities impose impositions that transition into probabilities that break boundaries of inequities ...would you stand moved...
If life's low blows could be diluted through finely crafted bitter yet mentally delectable drinks ...would that flood our minds drowning us instead of our worries...
If the oh-so rhythmically bewitching drum based and synthesized tunes we gyrate to ,dancing in entrancement...the escape being oh-so pleasurable...enchanting the the torn heart(soul)
Would we loose footing playing "footsy" around the truth of how we got there and find ourselves lost...
when the music stops.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 2:29 AM UTC
To him,
she's the calm in the blustering of his mother,
a goddess against the devilish charms of the libertine father,
a dry land away from the wettest inequities of coitus,
a blue violet in the skies of her affection—love and compassion
grows of her red lotus,
far apart from peers; they shunned her from their groupings,
a series of events makes her love home; so unlike, amongst
many few, to seem fictional as movies.
A queen; diamonded on the silk of her skin,
maturity read in her eyes, and red as her passionate lips,
fetching to behold—spirit, looks, and within.
"He who finds a wife finds what is good and receives favor
from the Lord" __(Prov 18:22 NIV)__
Aug 27, 2022
Aug 27, 2022 at 1:26 PM UTC