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"institutionalized" poems
*all my life i held a dream of a woman i would love of course she would be alluring supple a charming countenance erudite, with an angelic face her body a muscular stretching willow arching her legs over head kissing her own curving soft feet a graceful contortionist in confetti colored sparkle pantyhose stretching towards me silken hair draping a perfect symmetry with spun sugar kisses wafting the scent of vanilla and candied vaporous breath lips like cherry lozenges but one never knows ones destiny i met her my girl destiny and except for a faint look of languor and ruin with a tinge of withering she was without doubt unbearably titillating with razor-thin blackened lips mascara slits for eyes hair pulled straight back jet black jelled like hardened licorice with satanic blood rivulets and pitch fork tattooed **** a vice of lechery a malefaction of moral turpitude her *** scarred from orgiastic beatings her **** became like a large wrinkly mouth resembling the face of a bullfrog from pleasuring  herself with tableware cutlery her soul a broken creel suffering bouts of anxiety like a weeping moon having  been institutionalized in Mother Marys Hell House from a ghastly bout of parricide her father, a hobbling gloomish troll while the dark veins of mother ran through her soul leaving little choice but to dispatch the parents abandoning their corpses in the kitchen like strewn litter turned out just my kinda girl d e s t i n y
0
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 9:14 AM UTC
MY GIRL DESTINY
What does it mean to be a Chicano/Latino in the US? What does it mean to be Black in the US? What does it mean to be a minority in the States? You know what that means...it means that we have a lot to prove   As in the words of Booker T. Washington: "When a white boy undertakes a task, it is taken for granted that he will succeed. On the other hand, people are usually surprised If the ***** boy does not fail. In a word, the ***** youth starts out with the presumption against him." Now in a society where institutionalized racism, Or racism without racists, prevails We are disenfranchised from even being considered youth. We are a bunch of wetbacks, idiots, moron...you name it, Where failure is expected of us... ...but enough is enough, we should not abide to the stereotypes And stigmas that society stamps on our foreheads. As a matter of fact, I do not ever recall giving this white patriarchal society My blessing to call me whatever the **** it decides to call me. We are here to take manners into our own hands, here to do whatever the heck our heart desires. We are here to create the change that we wish to see in the world. We are here to become the few & growing positive statistics that we fight for. We are here to create voice and shed the light on those wins that we take to our hearts. No one is here here to reflect the stereotype that this ****** up society Tries to slap us with on an everyday basis. We are here to change perception of who we are and where we stand in society. We are positive statistics...not a stereotype.
0
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 3:10 AM UTC
A Positive Statistic...Not A Stereotype
What does it mean to be a Chicano/Latino in the US? What does it mean to be Black in the US? What does it mean to be a minority in the States? You know what that means...it means that we have a lot to prove   As in the words of Booker T. Washington: "When a white boy undertakes a task, it is taken for granted that he will succeed. On the other hand, people are usually surprised If the ***** boy does not fail. In a word, the ***** youth starts out with the presumption against him." Now in a society where institutionalized racism, Or racism without racists, prevails We are disenfranchised from even being considered youth. We are a bunch of wetbacks, idiots, moron...you name it, Where failure is expected of us... ...but enough is enough, we should not abide to the stereotypes And stigmas that society stamps on our foreheads. As a matter of fact, I do not ever recall giving this white patriarchal society My blessing to call me whatever the **** it decides to call me. We are here to take manners into our own hands, here to do whatever the heck our heart desires. We are here to create the change that we wish to see in the world. We are here to become the few & growing positive statistics that we fight for. We are here to create voice and shed the light on those wins that we take to our hearts. No one is here here to reflect the stereotype that this ****** up society Tries to slap us with on an everyday basis. We are here to change perception of who we are and where we stand in society. We are positive statistics...not a stereotype.
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27
We are absurd You and I Fragments   We have created a fermentative reality, Where words are symbols of relation That you and I falsify   And Bingo was his name-o!   Ah!   Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon   What do you mean? And how shall we bargain?   And mora is but a half step to a whole   Eek gad!   January Febuary March and April May I introduce you to June and July August, Sept Oct Nov Dec   Randomly systemized organs organized Abstract or… dissonant? But who is in charge?   12345 12345678 12345 12345678   12344 12344556 12344 12344556   “Why so serious?” said The Riddler Mellow dramatic Melodrama Melancholy     Pantomimes! Pantomimes EVERYWHERE! They are able to speak But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?”   Together we fall! United I stand.   Backwards Upside down Inside out And grammar   What’s in a name? Please don’t be lame Sarcastic and the glamour   Synonymous nonsense Homophones and nyms Where are the polysemes? In the antonyms In the antonyms!   Repitition Exclamation Annunciation tions…   verbage verbage verbage syllables and such meaningless meaning defining definitions with such   True or False? Hide and Seek   Ring around the rosy We all fall down… We all fall down.   Black hat, white shoes, and I’m red all over.   Salt Sour And bitter And dill And And And And And And Ampersand   Institutionalized poetry But I am for rhythmic prose! No, not you Listen to the hue that the colors protrude red green blue red green blue   Black is not a color Chrome is my favorite I will not believe otherwise   You are an alien. I have divided by zero Musical dissonance *(asterisk) A beautiful disaster A shadow without its owner Wild natured wilderness And naturally a wildcard.   **** **** **** **** **** Etcetera.
0
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 7:08 AM UTC
Sermon Monsieur
We are absurd You and I Fragments   We have created a fermentative reality, Where words are symbols of relation That you and I falsify   And Bingo was his name-o!   Ah!   Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon   What do you mean? And how shall we bargain?   And mora is but a half step to a whole   Eek gad!   January Febuary March and April May I introduce you to June and July August, Sept Oct Nov Dec   Randomly systemized organs organized Abstract or… dissonant? But who is in charge?   12345 12345678 12345 12345678   12344 12344556 12344 12344556   “Why so serious?” said The Riddler Mellow dramatic Melodrama Melancholy     Pantomimes! Pantomimes EVERYWHERE! They are able to speak But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?”   Together we fall! United I stand.   Backwards Upside down Inside out And grammar   What’s in a name? Please don’t be lame Sarcastic and the glamour   Synonymous nonsense Homophones and nyms Where are the polysemes? In the antonyms In the antonyms!   Repitition Exclamation Annunciation tions…   verbage verbage verbage syllables and such meaningless meaning defining definitions with such   True or False? Hide and Seek   Ring around the rosy We all fall down… We all fall down.   Black hat, white shoes, and I’m red all over.   Salt Sour And bitter And dill And And And And And And Ampersand   Institutionalized poetry But I am for rhythmic prose! No, not you Listen to the hue that the colors protrude red green blue red green blue   Black is not a color Chrome is my favorite I will not believe otherwise   You are an alien. I have divided by zero Musical dissonance *(asterisk) A beautiful disaster A shadow without its owner Wild natured wilderness And naturally a wildcard.   **** **** **** **** **** Etcetera.
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94
We are absurd You and I Fragments We have created a figmentative reality, where words are symbols of relation that you and I falsify And Bingo was his name-o! Ah! Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon What do you mean? and how shall we bargain? And mora is but a half step to a whole Eek gad! January Febuary March and April May I introduce you to June and July August 28th Sept Oct Nov Dec Randomly systemized organs organized Abstract or… dissonant? But who is in charge? 12345 12345678 12345 12345678 12344 12344556 12344 12344556 “Why so serious?” said The Riddler Mellow dramatic Melodrama Melancholy Pantomimes! Pantomimes EVERYWHERE! They are able to speak But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?” Together we fall! United I stand. Backwards Upside down Inside out And grammar What’s in a name? Please don’t be lame Sarcastic and the glamour Synonymous nonsense Homophones and nyms Where are the polysemes? In the antonyms In the antonyms! Repetition Exclamation Annunciation tions… verbage verbage verbage syllables and such meaningless meaning defining definitions with such True or False? Hide and Seek Ring around the rosy We all fall down… We all fall down. Salt Sour And bitter And dill And And And And And And Ampersand Institutionalized poetry But I am for rhythmic prose! No, not you Listen to the hue that the colors protrude red green blue red green blue Black is not a color Chrome is my favorite I will not believe otherwise You are an alien. I have divided by zero Musical dissonance Asterisk* A beautiful disaster A shadow without its owner Wild natured wilderness And naturally a wildcard. **** **** **** **** **** Etcetera.
0
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 12:26 AM UTC
Sermon Monsieur
We are absurd You and I Fragments We have created a figmentative reality, where words are symbols of relation that you and I falsify And Bingo was his name-o! Ah! Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon What do you mean? and how shall we bargain? And mora is but a half step to a whole Eek gad! January Febuary March and April May I introduce you to June and July August 28th Sept Oct Nov Dec Randomly systemized organs organized Abstract or… dissonant? But who is in charge? 12345 12345678 12345 12345678 12344 12344556 12344 12344556 “Why so serious?” said The Riddler Mellow dramatic Melodrama Melancholy Pantomimes! Pantomimes EVERYWHERE! They are able to speak But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?” Together we fall! United I stand. Backwards Upside down Inside out And grammar What’s in a name? Please don’t be lame Sarcastic and the glamour Synonymous nonsense Homophones and nyms Where are the polysemes? In the antonyms In the antonyms! Repetition Exclamation Annunciation tions… verbage verbage verbage syllables and such meaningless meaning defining definitions with such True or False? Hide and Seek Ring around the rosy We all fall down… We all fall down. Salt Sour And bitter And dill And And And And And And Ampersand Institutionalized poetry But I am for rhythmic prose! No, not you Listen to the hue that the colors protrude red green blue red green blue Black is not a color Chrome is my favorite I will not believe otherwise You are an alien. I have divided by zero Musical dissonance Asterisk* A beautiful disaster A shadow without its owner Wild natured wilderness And naturally a wildcard. **** **** **** **** **** Etcetera.
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94
Remember Wesley’s Theory. Remember they haven’t taught you everything. And no one actually gives anything For Free. Don’t take it and expect to give nothing back. They will beat it out of you. Spit back King Kunta even though you’ll feel nothing like royalty. Google Institutionalized. The first example reads, The danger of discrimination becoming Institutionalized. Maybe they didn’t want to flat out say racism? And instead pretend like u won’t try to climb over These Walls. You in Trumps America now boy, everything ain’t just gonna be Alright. You might wake up tomorrow, sign chained to your ankles, “For Sale”. Momma never warned you. At least you don’t remember, you haven’t talked lately. You never understood Hood Politics, found yourself on the wrong block Too much change in your pocket tryna to figure out How Much a Dollar Cost But the Complexion of your currency ain’t quite correct cuz That’s when you realize The Blacker the Berry, the less like you. You Ain’t Gotta Lie, you like where you are now. Starting to think i belong and **** But remember, even though you know how to **** a Butterfly, you’re just a Mortal Man.
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Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 6:06 AM UTC
How To **** a Butterfly
I am the oppressed, and you are the master, holding me since birth, as I am evolutions disaster. I have a tendency for violent outbreaks, created by institutionalized racism, they say be "normal", there are choices... yet within our beliefs there is a chasm. For I was born without an option, and went where I was led, my only freedom was my adoption, into the gangs for whom I bled. While society cites me as a statistic, I am just an average man, pushed to the point of being sadistic, because for the blacks there is no plan. Do not group me with the heathens, or make me out to be a sociopath, I went where I saw life's beacons, and as a child I was caught in that wrath. Someday this will all end, that day that I will be dead, revolution will strike society, like a bullet in the head.
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Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 7:53 PM UTC
Bullet in the head.
What’s happens when you forget that you’re a human being Yet you’re not like the rest of the other guys, cause you’re far from institutionalized Living through the day with love your eyes, but dying at night with hate in your mind So you stay happy to keep the world from knowing, as you smile to keep your scars from showing But deep down your soul burns with a fiery bliss from the effects of deaths seductive kiss Although when it’s all said and done, are you truly human or something else entirely....
0
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 1:07 AM UTC
Human Being
as a disclaimer - to you, to everybody - my poems capture, in a permanent way, my temporary feelings. as a disclaimer, i am bombastic and aggressive and prone to melodrama, and honestly, we're actually fine, and we actually get along really well, and i'm actually not as tortured and pained as i sound. in fact i really only feel the way i feel in my poems like, 0.2 percent of the time. i'm actually very happy. and not angry. and, well. just for the record. just so everyone knows and no one has me institutionalized. i'm great. he's great. this poem is a piece of **** but i had to say something. ignore me.
0
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 7:12 PM UTC
the reconnect (a more than 10 word poem)
an anomaly few roots are many roots of the same tree from outside I am within the bark that encloses me here ye here ye! polygonal me mocking you an apology all a'Riddle first due to the very nature my skin my leaf contradictory, the roots they twist on me the vines of me the veins of me my pain you cannot see my pain you cannot see double vision two no three four or infinity to a varying degree my body tis' of thee, tangled up insanity of thee I sing ***** from my fathers side egg from my mothers side brain and heart formaldehyde let my moods swing polygonal me an anomaly normally unnatural and artificially indeed through means of fabrication and good malicious deed confiscatory generous and metaphorically my breed sarcastically scholastic institutionalized branches from the end to my seed divinely soulless constrictedly free interestingly boring grammatical greed desperately selfish slowly with speed movingly static hungry to feed constantly moving polygonal anomaly how many sides to a coin always flipping to a coin always spinning polygonal me transparency just like a tree there are many sides to a story through shadows cannot see the interlocking counterparts elbows, knees, branches on trees. who says they can't get along? I say they have to disagree. why can't they just let it be? why don't you be you?... and me be me me me me. Just like a tree whistling and singing chirping with glee waking me up at 6:30 though shadows cannot see an anomaly sometimes they play tricks on me polygonal me
0
Jun 15, 2012
Jun 15, 2012 at 3:10 AM UTC
polygonal me
an anomaly few roots are many roots of the same tree from outside I am within the bark that encloses me here ye here ye! polygonal me mocking you an apology all a'Riddle first due to the very nature my skin my leaf contradictory, the roots they twist on me the vines of me the veins of me my pain you cannot see my pain you cannot see double vision two no three four or infinity to a varying degree my body tis' of thee, tangled up insanity of thee I sing ***** from my fathers side egg from my mothers side brain and heart formaldehyde let my moods swing polygonal me an anomaly normally unnatural and artificially indeed through means of fabrication and good malicious deed confiscatory generous and metaphorically my breed sarcastically scholastic institutionalized branches from the end to my seed divinely soulless constrictedly free interestingly boring grammatical greed desperately selfish slowly with speed movingly static hungry to feed constantly moving polygonal anomaly how many sides to a coin always flipping to a coin always spinning polygonal me transparency just like a tree there are many sides to a story through shadows cannot see the interlocking counterparts elbows, knees, branches on trees. who says they can't get along? I say they have to disagree. why can't they just let it be? why don't you be you?... and me be me me me me. Just like a tree whistling and singing chirping with glee waking me up at 6:30 though shadows cannot see an anomaly sometimes they play tricks on me polygonal me
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66
Bam! Bang! WHAMP! Scream! There's a leg out in the street There's an arm against my door A head is rolling down the way No! It's just a soccer ball! It's just a bunch of kids at play' EVERYTHING IS STILL ALRIGHT! Everyone is still at peace IN AMERICA! It's just MEDIA stories Driving everybody crazy AMERICA! We Are so fortunate to live in what will be known as THE HONEST GENERATION! THE MOST COMPASSIONATE OF ALL NATIONS! THE GOD CHOSEN BANKING INSTITUTIONALIZED CORPORATE MILITARIZED DRONE SCRUTINIZED POLITICIZED UNPROTESTED TOO FEARED TO BE DETESTED place EVER ! -- BELIEVE!!! -- So I Won't listen to the hippies With their communist tricks ! .. I'll just go make me a fatburger And See What's on net flics!
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Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 4:17 PM UTC
Love patriotism god
Oh, to learn in such a freezer, clear heads with minty logic as one wall and one time only stand between me and a succulent noodle-feast
0
Oct 21, 2011
Oct 21, 2011 at 9:50 PM UTC
Institutionalized on a Friday
Trying to figure out why a ***** tried to stunt on me. While my homie fronts on me. Triggered lie’s blasting out like bullets into your chest, golly! Vigor dying whilst family crying that left me locked up now in a little celly. Why did I pour out my heart to that ***** named shelly? **** got me melancholy, casting out poxy curses. My proxy is dropping down which got me feeling worthless. Growing up in projects where one survives by snatching purses and killing snitches. While society bides their time by tying nooses. Rigged games yet we are told to give no excuses. So, a minority got no choice but to role with the punches. But with darker skin colour most don’t or won’t notice the bruises. Vile nobility just loves hunting gooses. Stark contrast idly confides and resides Inside institutionalized nuances. Some people can be such nuisances. Got me feeling like tony roaming through the different cosmoses. Lonely sinking feeling, with my hope which was once flickering but is now slowly fleeting. Reciprocal tensions pokes through my barriers like an unwelcomed greeting. Typical tropes of under-achieving maybe it’s time I let God start intervening? However, I’m doubtful on whether spirituality is real or nothing more than Kris Kringle. Jingling jester choirs who always be harping on my people. Which makes me ponder whether or not God’s supposed love is fickle. Or if supposed believer’s have actually ever read the bible? Religious pharisee’s not seeing the irony of praying to their falsified idols. With their heads so far up their own *** That they don’t even realize that they’ve actually been worshipping the devil.
0
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 1:05 PM UTC
Madvillian
Trying to figure out why a ***** tried to stunt on me. While my homie fronts on me. Triggered lie’s blasting out like bullets into your chest, golly! Vigor dying whilst family crying that left me locked up now in a little celly. Why did I pour out my heart to that ***** named shelly? **** got me melancholy, casting out poxy curses. My proxy is dropping down which got me feeling worthless. Growing up in projects where one survives by snatching purses and killing snitches. While society bides their time by tying nooses. Rigged games yet we are told to give no excuses. So, a minority got no choice but to role with the punches. But with darker skin colour most don’t or won’t notice the bruises. Vile nobility just loves hunting gooses. Stark contrast idly confides and resides Inside institutionalized nuances. Some people can be such nuisances. Got me feeling like tony roaming through the different cosmoses. Lonely sinking feeling, with my hope which was once flickering but is now slowly fleeting. Reciprocal tensions pokes through my barriers like an unwelcomed greeting. Typical tropes of under-achieving maybe it’s time I let God start intervening? However, I’m doubtful on whether spirituality is real or nothing more than Kris Kringle. Jingling jester choirs who always be harping on my people. Which makes me ponder whether or not God’s supposed love is fickle. Or if supposed believer’s have actually ever read the bible? Religious pharisee’s not seeing the irony of praying to their falsified idols. With their heads so far up their own *** That they don’t even realize that they’ve actually been worshipping the devil.
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25
you stopped caring about yourself around the same time that she stopped fighting, which is to say circa 1977, when president jimmy carter asked you to turn down your heat, wear a sweater, and you still trusted that things could change so you wore two and shut your heat off. she was no longer the beauty you married circa 1960, which is to say that she let herself go, which is to say that you'd never loved her more. now you're dead and she doesn't even know it, but here i am getting ahead of myself again and here you are hiding in the ground. i'm asking you to wake up and you tell me no for the first time. your eyes stay shut. now you're dead. you finally gave up on keeping her home circa 2011, and you institutionalized her, and nothing had ever hurt more. you stayed home alone. you went to church. you visited her every day, and you prayed, and nothing ever changed. you went to the doctor. you died. you got cancer. those aren't in the right order but you know the story by now. you can sort it out. you left me and i never even wrote that thank-you card that i thought about for years, but i promise, i thought about it. i thought about you. here she is alone, here she is trapped in her mind, here she is forgetting you while you love her, here you are six feet under, you silly goose. come home, we miss you. come home, there's kolbas and solina and anything you want, just come home already. *After work, we visited Uncle S----. I haven't seen him in years, and he's not doing well. He's moved in with R-- and L--- after time in the hospital for chemo and even rehabilitative care. He's lost a lot of weight. But what's worse than the cancer ("everywhere", as M---- described it) is how sad he looked when he told us about his 52nd anniversary. He gave Aunt L------ a card and she looked at it for a moment, then handed it back to him without a word. I can tell it's rough for him, being away from his wife - physically and emotionally. They say she doesn't really communicate with anyone much. I think it's killing both of them.* i never wrote you a thank-you note. i wrote you a eulogy three weeks before you died. i brought cake but you're dead, i cried for a week but you're dead. i'm still crying. you're still dead. i wonder if she remembers you at all.
0
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 10:15 PM UTC
you
you stopped caring about yourself around the same time that she stopped fighting, which is to say circa 1977, when president jimmy carter asked you to turn down your heat, wear a sweater, and you still trusted that things could change so you wore two and shut your heat off. she was no longer the beauty you married circa 1960, which is to say that she let herself go, which is to say that you'd never loved her more. now you're dead and she doesn't even know it, but here i am getting ahead of myself again and here you are hiding in the ground. i'm asking you to wake up and you tell me no for the first time. your eyes stay shut. now you're dead. you finally gave up on keeping her home circa 2011, and you institutionalized her, and nothing had ever hurt more. you stayed home alone. you went to church. you visited her every day, and you prayed, and nothing ever changed. you went to the doctor. you died. you got cancer. those aren't in the right order but you know the story by now. you can sort it out. you left me and i never even wrote that thank-you card that i thought about for years, but i promise, i thought about it. i thought about you. here she is alone, here she is trapped in her mind, here she is forgetting you while you love her, here you are six feet under, you silly goose. come home, we miss you. come home, there's kolbas and solina and anything you want, just come home already. *After work, we visited Uncle S----. I haven't seen him in years, and he's not doing well. He's moved in with R-- and L--- after time in the hospital for chemo and even rehabilitative care. He's lost a lot of weight. But what's worse than the cancer ("everywhere", as M---- described it) is how sad he looked when he told us about his 52nd anniversary. He gave Aunt L------ a card and she looked at it for a moment, then handed it back to him without a word. I can tell it's rough for him, being away from his wife - physically and emotionally. They say she doesn't really communicate with anyone much. I think it's killing both of them.* i never wrote you a thank-you note. i wrote you a eulogy three weeks before you died. i brought cake but you're dead, i cried for a week but you're dead. i'm still crying. you're still dead. i wonder if she remembers you at all.
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54
‘Cause you think you’re so big and so tall And us so scared and so small But we’re not We’re done hiding We are rising Does our truth hurt? Hurt like those words And your hands Their stares and demands That we did this to ourselves It couldn’t possibly be their Boss Friend Brother or lover As long as they were admired and covered By the strength of cowards You showed us that there’s power in numbers While then I’d be scared because while you all slumbered In your thrones of entitlement and institutionalized security We’ve been building bridges out of each other’s despair Climbing mountains of self-worth While you were so unaware Of us pulling our sisters and brothers up too Our voices now loud enough to shake your foundation And cause you to fall, because without hesitation We were forced to thread shame into the ends of our hair And carry it with us But not anymore This conversation is so long overdue But our time has come, we know this is true As there are skeletons willing to rise from their graves If it means justice finally coming our way And shining light on all those who thought they could Take what was not their’s But now we are here and our numbers are strong And we will build our own empire out of what was done wrong Our first ruling order, is not a request You WILL understand No doesn’t really mean yes It doesn’t matter the length of my dress That your position doesn’t make my autonomy mean less- My body is not some quest for you to conquer We are tired of shrinking ourselves just for you to be comfortable Times up Your rule is over, this is our kingdom now And so we ask Does our truth hurt? -Me too
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Jul 8, 2019
Jul 8, 2019 at 10:07 AM UTC
Me too
‘Cause you think you’re so big and so tall And us so scared and so small But we’re not We’re done hiding We are rising Does our truth hurt? Hurt like those words And your hands Their stares and demands That we did this to ourselves It couldn’t possibly be their Boss Friend Brother or lover As long as they were admired and covered By the strength of cowards You showed us that there’s power in numbers While then I’d be scared because while you all slumbered In your thrones of entitlement and institutionalized security We’ve been building bridges out of each other’s despair Climbing mountains of self-worth While you were so unaware Of us pulling our sisters and brothers up too Our voices now loud enough to shake your foundation And cause you to fall, because without hesitation We were forced to thread shame into the ends of our hair And carry it with us But not anymore This conversation is so long overdue But our time has come, we know this is true As there are skeletons willing to rise from their graves If it means justice finally coming our way And shining light on all those who thought they could Take what was not their’s But now we are here and our numbers are strong And we will build our own empire out of what was done wrong Our first ruling order, is not a request You WILL understand No doesn’t really mean yes It doesn’t matter the length of my dress That your position doesn’t make my autonomy mean less- My body is not some quest for you to conquer We are tired of shrinking ourselves just for you to be comfortable Times up Your rule is over, this is our kingdom now And so we ask Does our truth hurt? -Me too
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48
I’m the degenerate you love to hate, the unclean sinner who won’t tow the line. You ridicule my independence at dinner parties, among similarly dressed cronies, the institutionalized prisoners of prestige. Hate us all, the degenerates. Scorn the indie musician on the sidewalk. He colors the dull march of the khakis. Despise the painter in welfare housing. She strokes thick lines of anguish upon uncomfortable canvases. Taunt the quiet poet at the end of the bar. He writes raw truth on napkins gone ignored. Loathe the degenerates you secretly ***** when fashionable friends aren’t looking. Eyes fixed upon your contemptuous smirk, I am unable to cast judgment upon you. Another degenerate spreads her tattooed thighs without any hope of acceptance. She only wishes to feel for a moment the intoxicating sensation of temporary love. The degenerate’s ****** is the richest syrup that briefly covers your vanilla routines. Debauchery provides you a moment to feel freedom within slums, the pleasures of darkness, the uninhibited passions of a life without approval.
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Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 1:50 PM UTC
Degenerate
In these restless days we fight for a bigger picture; more broad of a scope, to pull back the curtain. We're building potential, with preceding relentless force, through these mental worlds. Strutting around savvy ***** sauntering by like we know no better. Selling ourselves one phony token at a time to a Devil wearing leather stilettos. Insulting our own intelligences by propagating more absurd nonsense to the masses. We are institutionalized; stricken with a historic fate that deep seated roots reminds us does not need repeating. Be the founder of your mind; your house of cards. Inhale completely, releasing the one breath that matters; yours. Smile and worry not, you have only destroyed the home the misinformed have built for you. Pick up the Aces and begin again.
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Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
A Foundation of Aces
It feels like everything is institutionalized But you can’t teach common sense, Listing skills for a job application I can’t write down intelligent Because your level of intelligence can only be judged by others, What you have done someone else may have done differently, I can’t put down open minded because People can’t go both ways, Except in a ****** cause Some people tend to go both ways, But people can only be open minded to the things they have been though Because in the end one Can only make one decision, So the only skill I really have is Common sense.
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Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 3:45 PM UTC
Skills
To intense to endure this mentality, The human condition was not meant for this kind of pestilence,  , This kind of using, When the ingestion leaves you mentally cringing, I  was consuming for the feelings of escaping thieves, To vicariously experience something just as devious, As I put my faith in capsule cradled dependencies, ******* it’s so hard to type with keys that keep falling from my reach” May I experience such a moment of going beyond what only my sobriety may perceive, For only an instance before I go back to the way things use to be, Please, Am I a pioneer or a deviant, an explorer or a ****** Pupils suspended like flying saucers, smearing across a starry sky, The eyes that exemplify my concocted climb, The sights that remind me I’m destined to decline, But not before a few more twists and turns along this mentally mutilated ride, ******* Jen can you come soon so we socialize before I’m institutionalized” I didn’t know I’d be hindered by the human condition, I didn’t want to be alone,   Thinking I’d be mentally prepared and not physically impaired, Ever after it’s end, I am still unable to comprehend, something made by man, Bringing me close enough to consider, the divinity of the whitest doves and the blood of lamb, Like a pagan explanation to why we act this way, This ingestion had left me somewhat insane, Afraid of what others can create in this century, So I pray that you will heed what I have to say, So I hope you stay away from something that may leave you a casket-case   Because there isn’t anyway to save us all from seeking to flee this reality, And momentarily forgot about the ugliness of our actual identities.
0
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 11:16 PM UTC
Actual Identities (The Exper-TC-E-eience)
To intense to endure this mentality, The human condition was not meant for this kind of pestilence,  , This kind of using, When the ingestion leaves you mentally cringing, I  was consuming for the feelings of escaping thieves, To vicariously experience something just as devious, As I put my faith in capsule cradled dependencies, ******* it’s so hard to type with keys that keep falling from my reach” May I experience such a moment of going beyond what only my sobriety may perceive, For only an instance before I go back to the way things use to be, Please, Am I a pioneer or a deviant, an explorer or a ****** Pupils suspended like flying saucers, smearing across a starry sky, The eyes that exemplify my concocted climb, The sights that remind me I’m destined to decline, But not before a few more twists and turns along this mentally mutilated ride, ******* Jen can you come soon so we socialize before I’m institutionalized” I didn’t know I’d be hindered by the human condition, I didn’t want to be alone,   Thinking I’d be mentally prepared and not physically impaired, Ever after it’s end, I am still unable to comprehend, something made by man, Bringing me close enough to consider, the divinity of the whitest doves and the blood of lamb, Like a pagan explanation to why we act this way, This ingestion had left me somewhat insane, Afraid of what others can create in this century, So I pray that you will heed what I have to say, So I hope you stay away from something that may leave you a casket-case   Because there isn’t anyway to save us all from seeking to flee this reality, And momentarily forgot about the ugliness of our actual identities.
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For we so fearful, let me lead with caution to the truth your mind feels needs protection against. We’re fenced in and can't get out to be fully liberated. Yes, fully, not this half liberated we overexaggerated which made us blind to our institutionalized minds. The Phala-Phalas know this, so this gang always reminds us about 27 years, making us their voter slaves. Until we realise Mandela took his party with him in his grave, there's a Hendrik that keeps our rainbow apart. Even if unity is the deepest desire of our hearts!
0
Sep 8, 2022
Sep 8, 2022 at 3:55 PM UTC
Liberation South Africa
We are your neighbors, we are your friends. We hide in the cracks in your hetero-normative society. We do not need your representation, we do not crave your voice. Thank you, we have our own. Ours is a voice you simply won't listen to, but we can fight our own battles. We live in the underground subculture you pushed us into, and now we're ready to resurface. We're coming up fast and we're coming up strong, and no, we won't be quiet about it. We won't conform to fit into the hetero-normative graves you've already dug for us. Don't ask who the "man" is in the relationship. We're complex and complicated, and no, we won't give that up just so you can have a "gay best friend." Your stereotypes can't hurt us anymore. At the end of our "limp wrists" are clenched fists, and baby, we're aiming to make your nose bleed. Don't try to stand for us, stand with us. Raise your voices with ours, do not rise above us to save us. We don't need your salvation and we don't need your approval. If you're trying to speak for us, you can keep your "same love" to yourself. You can call us the new wave beat generation, due to the fact that we're sick of being beaten down by your ******** We'll beat the institutionalized hatred you've been beating us with. Warning: you may experience some slight discomfort. After a while, they tell you that it's expected. At least, that's what they tell us. They tell us that it's easier to hide who you are and who you love than to express that love. And when we do express that love they tell us we should've just kept it in the closet where it came from. Either that or we're supposed to allow you to make our love so small that it could fit in your palm of your hand. Go on, say, *** a gay couple, they're like, SOOO cute!" We dare you. We've got Kerouac on the backs of our hands and generations of pain building from the backs of our hearts. Don't push us to the back of your mind, because we'll build until you burst. Just like we're bursting with rage; an age old pain caused by your ignorance. But we're ready to end it, end the violence we inflict on ourselves because our sexuality makes you uncomfortable. And we can't have that, now can we. You? Uncomfortable? Please, allow us to sacrifice our human dignity, so you don't have to be uncomfortable. Because, let us tell you, it is so comfortable to not have equal opportunities as you! Yes, we still love you. We are your friends, we are your neighbors. We still call our mothers to complain about our jobs. But this **** has got to stop. And now we leave the choice to you: either help us or get the hell out of our way, because we're burning this system to the ground, whether you like it or not.
0
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC
New Wave Beat Generation
We are your neighbors, we are your friends. We hide in the cracks in your hetero-normative society. We do not need your representation, we do not crave your voice. Thank you, we have our own. Ours is a voice you simply won't listen to, but we can fight our own battles. We live in the underground subculture you pushed us into, and now we're ready to resurface. We're coming up fast and we're coming up strong, and no, we won't be quiet about it. We won't conform to fit into the hetero-normative graves you've already dug for us. Don't ask who the "man" is in the relationship. We're complex and complicated, and no, we won't give that up just so you can have a "gay best friend." Your stereotypes can't hurt us anymore. At the end of our "limp wrists" are clenched fists, and baby, we're aiming to make your nose bleed. Don't try to stand for us, stand with us. Raise your voices with ours, do not rise above us to save us. We don't need your salvation and we don't need your approval. If you're trying to speak for us, you can keep your "same love" to yourself. You can call us the new wave beat generation, due to the fact that we're sick of being beaten down by your ******** We'll beat the institutionalized hatred you've been beating us with. Warning: you may experience some slight discomfort. After a while, they tell you that it's expected. At least, that's what they tell us. They tell us that it's easier to hide who you are and who you love than to express that love. And when we do express that love they tell us we should've just kept it in the closet where it came from. Either that or we're supposed to allow you to make our love so small that it could fit in your palm of your hand. Go on, say, *** a gay couple, they're like, SOOO cute!" We dare you. We've got Kerouac on the backs of our hands and generations of pain building from the backs of our hearts. Don't push us to the back of your mind, because we'll build until you burst. Just like we're bursting with rage; an age old pain caused by your ignorance. But we're ready to end it, end the violence we inflict on ourselves because our sexuality makes you uncomfortable. And we can't have that, now can we. You? Uncomfortable? Please, allow us to sacrifice our human dignity, so you don't have to be uncomfortable. Because, let us tell you, it is so comfortable to not have equal opportunities as you! Yes, we still love you. We are your friends, we are your neighbors. We still call our mothers to complain about our jobs. But this **** has got to stop. And now we leave the choice to you: either help us or get the hell out of our way, because we're burning this system to the ground, whether you like it or not.
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