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neha Dec 2016
seconds, minutes, hours, days

spent hoping it was just a phase

as his parents sent him to a church where they'd say

"son, you better pray the *** away"

surely this "God" had far more important issues

than a boy in a closet with a handful of tissues

surely this "hell" was a place for far worse people

than a boy forced to confess his sins under a church steeple
MJL Mar 9
I’m here
No party
Who’s ****?
I'm not afraid
Everything’s primitive
New baby’s old
Suckling eternity
Carrying his mother
Teaching her father
A universe of historic shame
Threatening
The expanse of senseless
Intolerance
Grasping ignorance by the pores
Infant nails dig in and hold
Evolutions face of madness
Bloodshot
Biding a soiled fate
Biting for more
Sanity
Growing until -ism’s explode
Tears that crave change
Go forward
Moon Star Traveler
Be you
Be here with me
Recede against hate
Be one with the human race
Be one with the universe
Each generation brings us a step forward to ending intolerance.
madyson shaye May 29
If I was a coffee drinker
I’d balance your body like a rosetta
I’d kiss your cheek with my
Colombian coffee breath
the flavor of our love like
your crema on my tongue-
notes of rich chocolate evenings
and salty, very salty
your bitterness like the very first time
notes of my coffee cherry-
no, your coffee cherry
the aftertaste like high acidity
your complexity gets lost on
my caffeine intolerance
but I still feel your finish
each time I swallow
I still find notes of you,
cupping me
I don’t drink coffee
Adya Jha Oct 2018
My body is a temple
My bleeding is divine
My womanhood is spiritual
In ways that an intolerant devotee like you cannot understand
So when you barr me from entering Sabarimala
Remember that you can't stop a goddess
Saraswati is wise but her rage is wild and merciless
Lakshmi will create earthquakes that will devastate
Durga will pierce your heart with her spear
Parvathi will leave her abode and run into the streets
Kali will destroy you in unimaginable ways
They reside within us
We will cut our feet on your shattered glass
We will shout till our voices become hoarse
An army of neglected women will create a tsunami
Till you're on your back, crying
Till you give up your apparent 'religion-saving'
Helpless, wailing
And bleeding
The Supreme Court of India ruled that not allowing women in their “menstruating years” into the Sabarimala temple is against the constitution, and all women should be allowed to enter the temple. This was met with a lot of opposition from the conservatives and the entry of women into the temple was blocked by protestors.
Sensitive to theses foods.
Herbs
Black pepper
Garlic
Spices
Bread
Cheese
Peppers
Cummber.
Bloating wind gas
Diarrhea
I will keep a food daily report
And show to my doctor in 6 ,weeks
Oh the joys of passing smelly wind .. embarrassing
幽玄 Jul 2018
Today or should I say what was left of yesterday, the most important time during the day when the moon is in a modestly transient display, I would consider taking my life. It is early evening, I couldn’t hold onto what I thought I could live for, giving into intolerance too easily, was like life for me was cracking in two and I was unable to cause cohesion for the diverging halves. only the effect remains unhinged and hidden inside me, without notice I go on missing from society. I’ve greatly deteriorated over the past few months which felt to me like decades in a room resembling winter. I often open the window only to my dismay that the air out is uncomfortably thick and moist, enough to suffocate my concentration for concern to what lies around instead I retract into this niche I resent completely spectating this limited view found underneath monochromatic inverted shades, for something that might not be much greater than I had wished it to be, I let these ideals of mine run wild in an attempt to let them be real momentarily, to burn out eventually unseen. Nothing should be able to live in such a way, I’m as stagnant as the trees that lie ahead near the streets. They witness every passerby freely sauntering trails laid out for the day, perhaps they, these beings, take it for granted not giving much attention to anything else besides the very goal that keeps them afloat and moving toward for execution to whatever it is they have their minds eye simply on. I’ve known all too well that it is pointless to do the same, I can’t squander what I have right in front of me over a simple goal, although I might not live in life’s given moments pleading for the very attention I sometimes don’t give in to, nothing ever goes unnoticed, these impressions are all that I could ever ask for, the smallest of gifts for me to cherish. Anyways I was only wandering my sight around outside looking for a movement I could possibly run to for help, giving my ears away for barber’s melody to play out loud. Nothing more showed up, only a bitter heat wave, the trees left unshaken from vacant winds. Washing over me was the penetrative structure I felt his sorrowful life flash ahead of me wondering how misunderstood he must’ve felt in such a time where everything was unrightfully wasted from a society that never knew how normalized repression began to feel, so they went about it by going along with the feel other than freely being expressive about internal conflicting issues. Maybe to one or none at all. He deserved better as did all the others. Maybe I’m wrong and only being reflective of myself. For what reason I don’t know. I was telling myself on the car ride somewhere else that I won’t disclose, for it doesn’t matter. I imagined everything I was to do, or should I say that I was accepting of what was to come next reciting in my head that all the dreaming and envisioning I had done up to this point was my life possibly lived, the love I couldn’t help to resist myself from attaining, the opportunity to save the world from collision from and through a great work that could possibly impregnate every sensible mind with a broad spectrum of what an extra day of the week might feel like, more time to spend freely from life’s never ending demand of what is to be expected by and from each and every one of you. I daydreamed of everything I missed during my lifetime so far, I should’ve traveled but didn’t, I’m not filled with fear but that of insecurity always wins the day. I slipped on by to memories that never had the chance to be made, only the threading lies there on a timeless lot gravitating toward evaporation. I left no more hope for myself because I’ve chosen to give it to the others who could actually implement change, those of whom I know I can entrust the life that I wasn’t living to. I made a choice, to disperse this existing body from and to a place where time is stilted upon my departure outside the fields wherever that may be, music guiding me out of the overriding blur beyond the wilt— my memory subsided inside this symphony somewhere that is made up of very early mornings and the light that follows afterward, kindly implying, that maybe, they never existed. I’m without anymore words, Thank you
I’ve decided to lay this one out exactly how I intended it to look; in its most free format, untouched from editing. maybe to expose the half crumbled city that lies in the way.  

I have this thing to get carried away into needless thoughts. 4 am is the time when self-reflecting occurs.

It goes deeper than all this, this is but a simple opening to more uncovered doors.

0202, is when I will be leaving
look me in the eye and tell me that you love me
or was it all a sad story that you unconsciously believed
while you raided the fridge and fornicated wildly
too late is not really an acceptable position
and later on is usually an example of indecision
and sometimes specimens reject their predicaments
especially if they are eventually going to be your dinner
i am sure that i am here to usher in a new authority
resurrected like a phoenix i must be stronger than before
so even if forever is often equivalent to never
and september is the month of seven (or was it nine) serpents
that are to be reborn in the dawn of Time's obsidian
as our minds have spent oblivion in the forges
of turgidly engorged shores, torn from their former continents
as forms are always gripped in hands who choose intolerance 
take administrators, lawyers, bureaucrats and clerks;
as examples of this; par excellence
RCraig David Apr 2013
From my "Bestifreadaloud" series about a girl that got away that Spring because I waited too long.

Part 1 The Past
A case made now faded of a simple place, a time, a space,
a perfect moment let pass in haste.
Clasped in clashes,
brash in passion,
rose from ashes,
desire fires every second's essence as it passes,
a ton amasses.
Fast bloom,
Blast!! Boom!!
The past relapses.
Notably lesser song notes float hopeful, emotional ends and remember whens.
Sent us spinning, then spin adrift again.
Sprung in spring, we fell,
Some are reasons to recall.
Summer's season breaks, we fall.
Flocks fly down and fallen callings fade to Winter's south.
How fate related still debated.
Re-Sprung the next Spring' rise, chance misses fate this date.
I weighed and debated and waited too late

PART 2
Still all these years alone, the "one", the "purpose" unsought.
Capturing thoughts,
The ones I caught and tossed,
Things I was taught and lost.
Proof framed and embossed for a cost.
Coping through the unabashed hopes to one day cash in on all this stashed trash I clash with.
"Smash it?" ...the thought crossed.  

Unimpressed by my evidence of self-less requests,
pursuit of self-evident truth proves a most ruthless abuse.
Even less are my skewed protests for “selfish quests" at the behest of the very strangers I sought to impress.
I digress.

The years compound, bossed around, kicked down but soundly employed,
I turn cold, blaming Freud for defining my non-violent, intolerance threshold on page 23 of some textbook I should have resold.
I go silent. Grow old.
"While your whining and shunning your shinning,
They're sinning and winning." Bad timing.

Girls come, go and follow this shallow, hollow fellow on the run.
While preyed upon...I paid a ton. I play.
The sum never more than the cost of rented fun.
Without insight but consent forthright,
my 30 years of intent were spent in a fortnight.
Still bent on shedding every pound of one first-moment's ton I lost not won.
Can't buy happy for less than the cost of your one-ness.
While prayed upon...paid a Son, they say.

part 3

Ohh the wait....
Ohh the weight...
My set-adrift-soul's mending depends solely on tossing
lost cause cost-spending into thrift.
Well it's a beginning.
All the amassed notes, quotes, boat-floaters,
and sailboat hopes spun in one 1-ton loss moment sprung that one Spring.

Now and again, it creeps in,
like slowly growing stinging nettles around a squelched,
once steaming scorched dream kettle.
Still stays packed away in my heart's darkest parts.
Blurred by time and place,
this burning, misplaced furnace space lays in wait.

Such compiled cold-case denial files from other life trials, lay piled in haste on my proverbial, "less pressing" messy desk of "not ready to face."
Too scared or daring to date, try to relate or contemplate
how to best equate this great weight.
Wait?... Wait.
Elation brewing from pursuing future fruition or ensuing
pure ruin gates these fates from moving, year-to-date.
For the sake of trying or dying forsaken,
another day awake is another day gained or taken.

I found her again,
the town's she's in
but she is taken and then
She learns of my wait, it's weight, my fate, she's shaken,
another ton amasses again. I pretend.
Lay down.
Drown the score of sounds surrounding.
Furthermore, slow the pulse-pounding abounding your core.
Fill your breath.
What is less is gone, tomorrow more.  

by R. Craig David-Copyright 2012
God ******
mercenaries
vipers
hypocrites

The Lamb of God
sold into the marketplace
led into the slaughter

The Love and Heart of God
now a harlot
for the desires and pleasures of perverse men
--honestly, I have more respect for a Lady of the Night, than religious ****** who traffic in holiness

The Spirit of God
miracles transformed
into entertainment and to rake in filthy lucre

The Banner of God
leads an army of hate

The Pastor of God
exiles a member of Christ’s body

The sacred Writings of God  
twisted into a message of
judgement, guilt, intolerance

I am dismayed
disturbed
disappointed
disgusted
… I have seen too much

The Heart of God bleeds, tears fall from His eyes

How long will this go on?

Is there vengeance and a special place of punishment reserved for those who commit such travesty?
For those who trample on the Blood of the Savior?

--Serge Banderet
So I go to this "meditation class" on meetup.  I get this lecture about how meditation will help me be one with the Universe, etc...
Oh and by the way, there's a $180 fee.  Or the many sob stories I have heard at church and how sacrificial giving is "spiritual".  Even found this sales pitch when buying a spell from a witch...  Greed seems to be an equal opportunity disease.  It sickens me.
Michael Feb 4
Sir Isaac Newton wasn't "using his head"
When the "aha moment" fruit fell
He assumed it was gravity, an attraction to the earth
It was weight and decay rate, no romantic pell
Many scream "separation of church and state"
In the Constitution you will not find that phrase
But in a personal letter to the Danbury congregation
It has been arbitrarily elevated to "law" in our nation
In the Scopes trial Evolution was criticized
Scopes was arrested, the masses cried "victimized"
To play on the "heart-strings" of the "under-educated"
Those worshippers of Evolution were placated
Hypocrites obscuring all God-given laws
Building a "strawman" with individual straws
Satan has questioned all God's "thou shalt nots"
NASA has filmed in a studio basement "our Astro-nots"
Jesus' words have been futurized by Baptist dispensation
Jesus said plainly it's "in this generation"
Scripture is not a "wax nose" you can eisegete
Exegete in the present tense Greek
How do we equitably represent all voices, in a
Public school system that claims they consider all choices
Public schools don't exist, "special agendized" schools do
Claiming universal intolerance, they're intolerant of truth
Let us say in the "Dagon bye" to all "blessings in disguise"
We'll be in[spire]d by the "blessings in the skies"
We're all from Adam's atoms by God's sovereignty
Lord roll my soul in humility, cajole my spirit patiently
Copyright 2019
Ben Estrada Feb 21
I'm not a morning person by any means,
but anything can be done with the right motivation.
It's rough but I can handle it,
5:00 isn't "too" early.
I'll tell you what, it's amazing the human conscience,
left in autopilot it can shower, brush teeth, and even get dressed.
It snowed this morning, well, there was like 3 flakes but it counts.
Why do I do this to myself? I could do literally anything else...
like sleep...
I don't even eat, curse this body and it's intolerance,
I just drink apple juice and eat a kiwi.
But I guess it could be worse,
some people put yogurt in their cheerios.

"Why do you even go to breakfast?" you ask...
2-21-19

...I don't know
I can smell your attitude
It reeks of entitlement
And a tad of intolerance
Are you saying that I'm no good
Because if that's the case
I'm definitely over you
You liked to waste my time
Though I never denied you
My friendship or my company
Her alibi was desperate
But she really tried to hide it
It’s painful to die
But there are times
When it's more painful to live
So what’s the point in giving in
If we are already taking more
Then we had bargained for
The stakes are as high as a mountain
Yet you are young
And think that the earth
Is just like any old apartment
Those that came before
shot by arrows and trapped by lures
forged the trails all now walk
without regard for the lost

walls made of glass ten feet thick
doors shaped with sharpened thorns
these avenues were their path
as egos pressed to hold them back

conservatives exclaimed strong ire
as the bodies fell by the side
intolerance had a long hand
exacting martyrs drenched in blood

the price was known in those years
and then forgotten with banners hung
in the halls where glee persists
while memories collect the dust.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190722.
The poem “Memories Collect the Dust” is about the souls who fought on the front lines of social rights efforts.
Yenson Feb 22
Karl Marx grave Headstone discecreted in Highgate
on it ' Dictator of Hate' Master of Genocide
I wasn't there, it wasn't me
Twelve and counting, MP quitting the Left
claiming culture of Extremism, Hate, Intolerance, Anti-Semitism
I wasn't there, it wasn't me
There are not fit to lead, I am ashamed by this party
I am ashamed by the racism in this party
I didn't say this, I wasn't there
Totally ignorant and delusional about everything
Turned into a hard Left Sect, Leader not interested
They have become intolerant Racists Haters with delusional
tendencies
I did not say that, I wasn't there
I used to be a member, believed in creating a fair and just Society
I am no longer a member
I am here and I say this
Jason James Sep 2018
There is a sickness spreading.
Apathy
Intolerance
Ignorance
Prejudice.

Psychopathy rampant amongst the populace.

Too many mentally Ill with guns.

So many victims of violence.

No cure in sight
Yet we endure
And try to look on the brighter side...

Their is a shooting, stabbing or ****** in my town almost everyday,
And more often than not the criminals get away,
There is a code of silence on the streets.

And whether it's fueled by money or drugs
Or hatred and jealousy
There is an evil
Possessing and overtaking the place I call home.

I walk out the front door and keep my head down
My city no longer feels like a happy and carefree place,
Doubting your safety at home.

And the darkness is growing.
To think
Only twenty years ago
This was a nice community.
And you were free to roam without a care
Without fear.

I wonder if what's happening here is happening everywhere,
Society slowly deteriorating.

Threatening those values we once adhered to.

There is a sickness descending on this place,
And a growing problem
With the newest generations
Of this human race.

Who is safe anymore?
Amenah Aug 2018
Can it be just love that tears our paper thin heart apart?
Can’t it be sorrow, or despair of mistreatment too that shreads the delicate *****?
Can’t you see that demeaning probes and hineous accusations
are like fatal scabs that slowly halt the battered heart?

Must we be so inconsiderate with words and actions
thinking that the heart is only for romance
when Love encompasses a tantamount of relations of all spectrums.
Nay, this heart of ours
be it of gold if it were of a loving disposition,
be it of paper of the ones disappointment by Life,
be it of stone of those embittered by the harshness of Reality,
it beats and feels the emotions thrown upon it.

Intolerance kills the weak minded and destroys the barely stable;
it agonises the strong willed and is pitiful of those who display it.

Profanity and abuse are signs of the ones not wanting to give strength
rather to ****** the flickering flame of hope that had been stubbed within them.

Patience and compassion
are the signs of strength my dear
do not weep upon thy transgressor
but weep for your wounded heart
and when you’re done
seek strength by giving some in those equally damaged
and you’ll see the once dimmed light of your Life shine bright once more
don’t give way to hate
but love unconditionally
whether its a lover or a brother
love heals
violence does not.
For those who suffer, despair and thrive in their wounds a little encouragement though my words may not suffice I hope it may warm the saddened hearts to chin up and be brave; not everything is wrong and horrible, there is still some good left, cherish what’s around and reach out for the good that’s to come least it may pass by.
Keith W Fletcher Oct 2018
Through an all consuming
ever looming
self-entombing
slow death march
they slogged along
growing strong
by right of wrong
through hate
they berate conflate inflate implicate in a quest to initiate
all those withering Souls
who follow
without reason
behind those bent
who's Soul intent.. is eradication invalidation
so that even those
who avert their eyes
from this aberration
Still follow
one step one stone
one more who does condone believing
somehow time will allow
the ability to atone
to take back
what they already own
And yet ...
by division indecision miscreant dreams seen through aberrant visions
painted on
the nonexistent headstones
Of those
deemed Unworthy of condolence

When the heavy hand of Injustice Whispers you can trust us
"listen not to the neurosyphilitic rot that the weak-minded speak
for We  Are  The  Chosen
The American creed
the annointed  Anglo breed
who have fought hard
with righteousness
Appointed
to achieve
the America that God intended
as HIS emissaries
we are the righteously pure ordained Warriors
as  WE now take..
possession
of our pure white Nation
our building Stone
to create anew
that
which is to be the new state !"

Oh you fools !
you withering Souls
YOU who slogged along
through the swamps of intolerance toward a place ..you thought
you would belong
Unfortunately forgot
to anticipate
That the haters
will always need someone
to berate denigrate and to  Hate !

So ...who are you again ?
Stephen Nov 2018
The world is a gaping maw of ignorance
Filled to the brim with hatred,
Intolerance,
Unadulterated bigotry,
And millions of eyes,
Blinded mid-lobotomy,
That self-performed procedure
That protects the subject
From any sudden understandings.
Things are not as they ought to be,
But then things never were
And never will
Be.
The world is the way it is,
And those of us who couldn’t cut into our own calculating core,
Those of us who attempted the task with a torrent of tonics
Instead of hammer and shiv,
Find ourselves wandering through a wasteland of willful
Idiots and bigoted bullies.
Try as we might to open their eyes,
Open their minds,
We fail.
Their eyes are hollow shells and dust.
Their minds are awash with religious rules, rifles, ruination,
Walls, borders, fences,
Imaginary lines drawn everywhere,
Over everything,
And their brains are protected from learning anything new
Or different
By miles of scar tissue and an overabundance of barnacles.
So that leaves the rest of us,
The ones with eyes open, minds primed and wide,
Stuck.
Lost in a world of people who will never understand,
Never let real freedom ring,
Never erase the imaginary lines they drew themselves,
Never accept that everything they believe
Is preposterously perverse.
The more we try to spread the truth,
Attempt to put an end to the primitive procedure of self inflicted
Amentia,
The more they try to stomp us out,
Extinguish our flames,
Burn us to the ground.
But we continue to fight, to bleed, to die.
Sometimes because we still have hope that things can and will
Get better.
But more often than not,
We fight on because it's the only thing that keeps us
From picking up that ice-pick ourselves and becoming
Another one of the mindless masses.
The existence of pain is sovereign
I am ashamed of my own intolerance
We dry our tears on paper napkins
Facing your fears requires years of practice
I’ll never show you what i’m seeking
I’ll never tell you what i’m thinking
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