"instigates" poems
1741
That it will never come again
Is what makes life so sweet.
Believing what we don’t believe
Does not exhilarate.
That if it be, it be at best
An ablative estate—
This instigates an appetite
Precisely opposite.
7.4k
Dark chocolatey skin bears the flag of red
Coloured, a sin; these feelings are cultivated and bred
So they're brought to toil on white soil
Reminiscing the scent of their native land, the sweet patchouli oil.
As they trudge through barren land, lost hope and ****** soles mark their path
This coloured discrimination instigates fair feelings of wrath
A helplessly agitated mind and yet they stand still
With wistful eyes, devoid of their free will.
At night, they sing to themselves songs of a land far away
As they drift off to a restless sleep, dreaming of being back there someday
Scalding feelings of entitlement and vengeance have taken birth and clouded minds
Working on indigo and cotton fields, on merriment and mirth have been drawn white blinds.
No matter how clean the records, the message is loudly heard
"When looked upon as a blue jay, you can never be a mockingbird"
These words passed down through generations deny them their say
Day to night and night to day but time couldn't change the black man's dismay.
Wanted is colour in life but shunned is coloured life
This clash of colours holds no value, only adding on to people's strife
So while i stand here trying to fathom out the meaning of it all
I hope, someday, realisation will take down this coloured wall.
May 9, 2021
May 9, 2021 at 2:31 AM UTC
Gunboats ahoy there’s pirates about
Speeding from Somali’s shore,
A fast flimsy boat and some black skinny men
With grenade launchers, cannon and more.
They’re coming to capture the tankers
They’re coming to capture the crew
They’re coming to take you hostage
Because fat cats will pay cash for you.
It’s happening more every day now
Ships are held to ransom for gold,
This contagion is out of hand now
The Somalian pirates are becoming so bold.
Hard men in the west prepare crackdowns
Gunboats sail for the Gulf as we speak,
With instructions to shoot to **** now
And make eradication of pirates complete!
But you ask, why is this happening?
Why does a man, a pirate become?
What instigates this crazy morphosis
From fisherman to pirate with gun?
Somalia has no Government to speak of,
It collapsed and went long ago.
No law or army in place here,
Life is dangerous, chaotic and low.
Some fat cats made use of the vacuum
They ditched toxic waste in the sea
They irradiated the coastline region
Making this a poisoned place to be.
The coast folk were dying in thousands
Sick mothers lost babies and kids
Black illness spread madly in villages
Then blind panic and pain hit the skids.
Some fat cats made use of the vacuum
They trawled the coastline clean
Somalia’s fishermen were destitute
The catch went from vast to lean.
The villagers were starving and hopeless
And what was pain became death.
The leaders appealed for salvation
But those with the means, had turned deaf.
Who would take this problem on now?
Who would make these ******** pay?
Most turned around and shunned them,
The world had turned and looked away.
So hit transgressors where they’re vulnerable.
Strike in sea lanes where it’s free.
Hit them near the Horn of Africa.
Attack with blades of piracy.
Hooray for the small man’s justice.
Hooray for his skinny, black shanks,
Please God help their quest for deliverance
For the West has arrived with their tanks.
Now I ask you, in all fairness
To stand back and view the scene,
Where the richest and most powerful
are doing something that's obscene
For not only are they poisoning
The most vulnerable race on earth
But compounding it with genocide,
And I add, for what it's worth,
The West, in righteous arrogance,
are crushing poorest fellow man
In his struggle for survival
Against their mammoth, global hand.
Marshalg
@theGate
Mangere Bridge
25 April 2009
Jan 19, 2010
Jan 19, 2010 at 7:33 PM UTC
it's simple really, nostalgia is buried in a melody
the same way humans are put in coffins--
deliberately heart-wrenching, a science.
an old transistor radio climbs lazily in the background,
buzzing, humming but then hear it--
blank stares as the road carries on, gradually,
slow mascara rivulets kiss cheeks like the intimacy long forgotten only to come rushing back--
songs that we said were ours were never ours to have,
an old familiar lyric that we claimed to spell destiny,
auditory memories that taunt and torture:
the chorus only instigates barbed thorns to lonesome hearts,
major chords aren't happy,
but cause discordance--
clenched fists on the steering wheel, you must pullover--
you can't pause or rewind, you can't stop--
yes, change the channel--
but the music still plays, and the riffs hang in your head,
remembered and reminisced over static--
but nothing is white noise when the final notes linger on your auditory palette,
the taste like the stare of a cold gravestone...
but even colder still,
the empty seat next to you.
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 8:24 PM UTC
Family hate that's just great
Aunt cusses out a persons morals
Not believing but full of it
Questioned actions because of th wrong
Turned into a feud like this battle meant to happen
Bros fighting not talking
Got physical before the wall of silence got built
Mother who instigates hates on others happiness
All perfection ruined by one pointed flaw
Sister talks big but cries her way out of trouble
Grandmothe verbal abuse generation to generation and the next cycle of crazy
Alcohol empowers the weak
Drugs to stimulate fake emotions
Sobriety stuck in the war doing good judge like evil coil do no wrong
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 9:16 PM UTC
*Age, couldn't ever wither her, her flamboyance
baffled and attracted, alternatively, a poetic thunder,
this phenomenal woman engaged life and death alike
so see her at this age, was a wonder, what a presence!
her lips proclaimed through red glow of lipstick, aloud
"Kiss me death, I'll give myself at the last breath"
Why do we hold life close to our chest, seeing her zest
if one asks her, her laughter would answer well to that puzzle,
all this passionate living is for the experience to share,
to surrender, before death that will take her through the dark hole
that connect the eons to the white hole at the other end.
Birth and death, doors to and from a stage, living an intoxicated dance.
They take her coffin, along the street, grief stricken , gone mute
dance, dance her voice instigates in silence, wildly they dance.*
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 2:29 PM UTC
Attachment to anything is bad karma.
Naked in the winter.
One must wait for a solar eclipse.
One must not sweep out ants
One must not expect,
The exit sign instigates the young lady.
Asceticism surrounds the skyline
Releasing waves of regrets
For all to borrow, but only should one commit to self-control.
The database system
Functions off The 5-Human Senses
Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 2:11 AM UTC
Peace,
Impossible to grasp the concept,
For the people today cannot seem to accept,
Reconciliation is the path to the righteous way,
& retribution instigates violence & only dismay,
The world is filled with grief & woe,
The sorrow of the people is entertainment ; a show,
Though all this pain exist,there is something strange,
People get up to watch,but never to make a change...
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 10:36 AM UTC
silhouettes above my head
hold me down like paperweight,
the earth crumbles beneath me
and separates into quaking plates;
a toxic air instigates choking breaths
along my gasping throat that strains,
I am graveled as I contemplate
what my path is when I graduate.
Aug 20, 2010
Aug 20, 2010 at 9:33 AM UTC
Your ever presence sends a wave of revulsion
through my mutilated body.
Your voice has become the infuriating car alarm
that seems to strategically go off
at 2am.
Your arrogance instigates the razors
hidden under my mattress.
But I love you.
You cannot fathom the amount that I love you.
Because you tolerate me,
and my ever-changing outlook.
You understand that pain allows me to express
the words I will never say.
But I hate you.
And I sit here,
involuntarily,
with a maddening blank stare,
itching to scream,
"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a ****
And I'll run through the fog for the rest of my life,
if it means being rid of you.
I hate you.
Don't leave me.
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 10:03 PM UTC
Music broadens
Perimeters of the brain
Propels emotion
At times it instigates intelligence
Other times it broadens
The horizons of going insane
Afterall this life is but a walk
On an invisible chain
We sway from side to side
One side secured and mundane
The other side
Wise and insane
It is up to each individual
What he will choose to maintain
Where does your brain sustain?
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
each day i am in your presence
is an act of divine grace
a gentle reminder of the purity of your being.
the sweet air of your soft love instigates in me
a forgetfulness of all afflictions.
my dear,
your compassion is without limits,
the faults of all are ignored
as your kind hands of friendship
form the shape of acceptance.
you are the whitest of doves
the shelter from this cold, hard world
such beauty could only be complimented
and never outdone
Oct 31, 2020
Oct 31, 2020 at 2:31 AM UTC
Within the arteries of dense retentivity
There lives a captain that attracts
Waves of mass intensity
Oh the stars’ gaze
When we put down the map
And drift into this maze
The magnetic dynamic perpetuates
A life so unjust for the rarity of passion that instigates
A constant motion that renegades
Against the law of inertia
This is the grand escapé
Oh the stars’ gaze
When we put down the map
And drift into this maze
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 1:32 PM UTC
Every day now feels like that Thursday.
When the rain just instigates for no reason.
Every day now feels like a sick day.
Except there's no home to rest.
I suppose you could be my medicine.
You could break into a million shreds
and release all of the chemicals
that give me such an ideal numbness.
Because the pills that hurt us most
are the ones that we try the hardest to swallow.
And the ones that heal us
are just too much follow.
Perhaps this is why I'll never have you.
You are the poison and the pain
that can make me smile on cue.
But I
I'm
Nothing.
Nothing but a smoke and a joke,
and a sub-par kisser.
A black hole of emotion and ambition.
Nothing.
If only she had any clue
how much life she contained in one breath.
If she only knew
how many storms she creates within me.
She is here.
And she knows nothing of the endless light within her.
The only one who does
is nothing.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC
yesterday
she told me
two of her
favorite things
are coming
and poetry
i'll wrap them
up together
present them
at her altar
with a tongue
simultaneously
tasting limericks
in the air
and slick flesh
as we share
shuddering breaths
thundering in chests
choked with lewd scents
and a sense of urgency
surging back and forth
like waves flirting
with the coast
returning to embrace
no matter how many times
we drive each other
to new heights
of anxiety and ecstasy
a full moon
devising a riptide
******* me out to sea
will i seek peace
or slip beneath
and let the current
carry me
i've tried in vain to fight
the whispered suggestions
layered in alluring messages
but this lurid affection instigates
an aggression you welcome
with innuendos insinuating
intentions of transgression
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 10:29 PM UTC
Your beautiful eyes covered with antimony
Instigates me in love then ask for simony
Your rosy cheeks oh my sweet honey
This situation warrants a grand ceremony
I am enthralled by you by the scene
Which makes me more and more keen
Touch of class what it may mean
Those eyes have never ever been seen
I don’t know why I’m lost in you
But love is cherished through and through
We are one in love and never ever two
With warmth of heart I intend to pursue
Sweetness of style and grace with innocence
The day I saw you I lost sense
Without you life seems tense sentence
You are my queen and I am your prince
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 11:10 AM UTC
In a world that is ruled by judgements, perspectives and power fights,
Aren't we all sinners?
In a world where now abortion is a crime,
more than the rapist's disgusting idea of a 'lovely' time,
Aren't we all sinners?
In a world where I am told that,
me flaunting my body just because
I love it, is not fine,
But rather a risking time,
Aren't we all sinners?
In a world where,
still many places loving the same *** takes the right to remain alive,
lest alone be accepted or thrive,
Aren't we all sinners?
In a world where joking about sexism, racism, etc is considered cool and instigates high fives,
laughing at those who go against it,
calling them stuck up and tight,
Aren't we all sinners?
In this world where people think being a witness and not speaking up is okay to confine,
not as wrong as the performed crime.
Aren't we all sinners?
And this pathetic of an excuse of
'It's grey sometimes,
not an easy black or white',
allowing monstrosity to survive,
Aren't we all sinners?
Jun 6, 2019
Jun 6, 2019 at 11:53 PM UTC
Its late for you to be mine
Its 2018 dear its not nine
May this realtionship instigates
The scattering of light in my life
By the dust
The dust that you thought
my love to be.
May this light makes me understand
That
LOVE RUINS...
Still...
Don't know why i love you...dear Raazh.
I think...
Its not that late for you to be mine.
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 1:29 PM UTC
the pastor prattles on
and i nod off as my
phone shudders in the
pocket of my jeans
i fish it out
during the brief
interim where
everyone obediently
closes their eyes and
bows their heads
victims for a hungry
guillotine
the screen alights with
her name just as i
suspected and i voraciously
read the rough draft of the
poem she's just sent me
the clock stops in the middle
of two separate seconds
i ruminate over the illuminated text
on screen digesting feminine
intentions between intermittent
glances to see if anyone's noticed
how even Father Time
paused to read her lyrics
i'd read dozens of excerpts
penned by her generous hands
sonnets wreathed in somber cadences
spoken word blistering with brazen passion
and compassionate pleas beseeching
all who'd listen to thaw cold hearts
and take heed of the lost
and lonely masses but
i never read something where
she referenced me
alas
the piece was
brief
and i can't help
but think i am
one of her many
footnotes
and the sick and subtle
tragedy is that she
instigates my exposition
rises in each action
and catalyzes every
climactic conclusion
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 6:39 PM UTC
What instigates us to get naked for strangers, losing our dignity and clothes in between the couch cushions.
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 10:44 PM UTC
*i guess after seeing a ********** i couldn't be fed jealousy by a free woman... what the ********** taught was how to objectify in such times of crisis, when a woman does a Mantis chop with her heart to make you feel jealous on purpose, the: how lucky you are to have me, so many men would be jealous in your place! i guess so... but then i would't be walking up Arthur's Seat, sitting down on a cliff's edge thinking out the mantra: god, i wish i were dead, god, i wish i were dead. i could be blamed for spreading macho propaganda, but i read a little, and seen a little bit of the world to see things play out as they have - a woman's use of jealousy is her ultimate snare... see a ********** and you become equipped with a veil you can put on her when she instigates this tactic - you won't feel jealous, you'll then become to objectify her, no i don't mean objectifying her exterior, that's just shallow **** i mean her inside... call me Genius Frankenstein Monster for all i care, i sensed there was a missing datum when they started censoring words in western society as if they might have censored it adequately to agreed to standards of education in algebraic mathematics.*
today? pork burgers, Slavic style.
pork mince, two slices of bread soaked in water
and later squeezed (to get the water out),
salt, pepper, one egg,
self-raising flour to make the mixture less
watery, spices, garlic paste, onions,
later coated with breadcrumbs.
side dishes? ćwikła / цвіклі (ts vikli) -
beetroots with horseradish and a bit of
crème fraîche -
fried baby potatoes with parsley, onions,
garlic, paprika and turmeric.
WE'RE RESURRECTED! WE'RE
RESURRECTED WITH ISRAEL!
FREE FROM THE LAW OF THE TSAR,
THE ARCHDUKE AND THE PRIME MINISTER...
ah **** we're being inspected for anti-democratic
tendencies by the E.U. these days...
make our culinary skills outlive western media's
meddling with concerns - about
what is and what isn't democracy.
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 7:58 PM UTC
It is an era that need be forgotten, yet not be forgotten
Isolated by the rest of humanity for forsaking humanity,
The lives of no mere mortals were sacrificed on the promise of freedom,
While in some town couped up by hate, anger and despair
Families were left an unsolvable puzzle, in infinite pieces
It was an era that they told us was over,
And yet in a trench somewhere near the tip of a continent
Men whose bodies are covered by a dark pigment no different from mine,
Different to that of the man commanding them to dig deeper,
Whose behaviour and attitude seems no different to that of his father,
And his father, and his father’s father, and their forefathers
On whose behest a mark on a people was heavily branded
A sense of nostalgia overwhelms my body
And so while I walk past these men working in the trenches
I look upon them with a face contorted by disgust
Not toward them nor the pale skinned man who dictates their every movement
It is towards those of the same pigment as the men in these very trenches
Whose stomachs have been fattened by the labour of these very men
Whose every lie they have forced them to believe
With the talk of an era that still instills fear and instigates hate
Misdirected towards still figures who have as much life in them as the men they honour
It is an era that is still not yet over
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 2:08 PM UTC
wander into town while your back hurts
edging into breaking. meet the one who
instigates recycling for its sake and others.
suggested the items, collects and delivers.
meanwhile he eats the offered sweet and
confesses there are more boxes outside.
mostly cherry ones, quite small,made to
stack easily.
help yourself, i have organised them in two
piles, wood and plastic
yes, have four, there will be more here
everyday.
i remember how we ate cherries every summer.
those days.
( pause)
these days.
the back feels slightly better now.
sbm.
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 1:09 AM UTC
Nothing I have body nor soul to swing
But whatever remains I can just bring
I do appreciate in company, can see spring
From heart to heart there remains a string
lovers go through a severe test of patience
Even being totally crippled carry cadence
It mostly remains hidden in the conscience
Its fragrance carries hindrance after hindrance
Beauty is what instigates fire in the love
Peace celebrates itself like innocent dove
Under the circumstance chance left is bow
Who knows from where love crops ,how
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 4:50 AM UTC