"lacks" poems
The beautiful Black Queen
Graceful, misunderstood, too often
unseen
She lacks vanity although she is
pure perfection
She floats across the room
Regal in her being
The most beautiful mark upon this Earth
The beautiful Black Queen displays
strength.
perseverance.
class.
When you lay your eyes upon her you will
know that you are in the presence of royalty
Of greatness
The beautiful Black Queen is art
Flawless and everlasting
She...she is forever
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
I hope my life is never so desolate
that it lacks art or poetry;
that would be the only poverty
I would find intolerable.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 6:23 PM UTC
Shriveled & shrunken.
Intoxicated & drunken.
Hung over & agitated.
Mild to moderate brain activity.
Common sense & basic reason lacks mental ability.
Bad with money & squanders financial stability.
Passing a psychological mental health evaluation not quite.
Kept in a straight jacket & sedated in isolation they do spit & bite.
They go through everyone's trash day & night.
They panhandle at the street lights.
They have tempers & pick fights.
Nothing they do is legal or right.
Slobs with no jobs.
They lack work ethics.
The sight & stench of them is sick.
They're sad story is lies & tricks.
Not a truth that sticks.
They cuss & their pocked face oozes ****
Their frontal lobe is filled with dust.
About telling your teacher the truth they get homicidal & make a fuss.
They drive a piece of **** car consisting of smog & rust.
Getting arrested for 365 × 3 + 2 counts of child **** is never a bust.
Keep your children away from drunks.
Some drunks get violent, beat you & lock you on a trunk.
Most pedofiles & rapists are drinkers.
Not religious or moral thinkers.
With shingles, hpv virus, ****** & boyles.
Zero morals as hideous as an ugly *** gargoyle.
Enjoy arguing, screams & shouts.
Daily drunk driving & behind the wheel blackouts.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 10:51 PM UTC
My dad says that my generation lacks common sense,
but millennials are well on our way to being
the most educated generation
ever.
We're demonized for idolizing Beyonce' and Nicki Minaj,
but wasn't the generation before us
obsessed with a heroin-addicted cynic
who did nothing to improve the world?
The number of people with
eating disorders,
depression,
and anxiety
are higher than they've ever been.
But lord forbid we take a ******* selfie
and love ourselves for that brief moment.
My generation may not be perfect,
but old people's complaints about us
are getting really old.
After all, they're the ones
that ****** everything up for us
in the first place.
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 8:29 PM UTC
What you put out is returned by the universe,
Karmatic boomerang giving back joy or hurt,
Keep your thoughts positive it makes a impact,
Be happy with life realizing nothing it lacks,
Depression or anxiety attacks,
Are illusions of the mind thats a fact,
A negative mind won't bring a positive life,
Worry about you and just do what's right,
Times arent hard unless you make them,
Dont live in fear of hell or sin,
Mistakes is what they are and you could be in hell now,
Just change up your perspective and live proud.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC
Grab your pitchforks run him outta town,
only because his skin is brown.
If he knocks on the door don't let him in,
only because he lacks white skin.
Punch his face with a bang and a whack
only because his skin is black.
Pull out your gun shoot him in the head,
only because he grows his dreads.
Lock him in jail for nothing bad,
call him a loser and a deadbeat dad.
If you don't think you've gone too far,
you're wrong, your soul's as black as coal tar.
Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 10:37 PM UTC
The light is on, I can see her through the window.
Like clockwork,
A shadow passes, cup in hand and hair in a bun.
The routine continues as the days melt into each other.
That shadow has become a friend,
A companion I meet on the path I walk.
She has no name and the only story is the one I have created for her in my mind.
A story of sadness,
Of a lonely silhouette the world has forgotten.
Why is that her story? Why have I not given her happiness, love, companionship?
It is in the way she walks across the lighted window.
Her head hangs down as if she lacks the strength to hold it up against the world,
Shoulders hunched as if she hugs herself because there is no one else to do so.
It is in the way her hands seem to grasp the mug,
As if it is her only anchor in this life.
It is in the way she stands, dark, against the light around her,
As if she is trying to light a fire from ashes.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 11:19 AM UTC
The man of deeds who lacks the word
is simple, stupid and absurd.
He works and struggles all the day
for nothing more than mindless pay.
He loves the rich and thinks them smart
for gaining through their lack of heart.
He loves his boundaries; worships rules;
considers those who break them fools.
His mind is closed; his world is small;
he has no words to think at all.
His conversation tends to stink
because he never learned to think.
His only drive is buying more;
he's little but a Hoople *****
He does and does and that's enough,
if he can just keep buying stuff.
He never questions what he's told;
he's just a thing that's bought and sold.
And when it is his time to die;
he'll lack the words to wonder why.
- mce
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 9:58 AM UTC
Mister Sun was out
Lady Wind did whisper
Baby Clouds did not pout
Birds chirped for a listener
And now the seasons change
Through the tall grass
The autumn breeze blows
A warmth the air lacks
As summer does go
And now the seasons change
Winter comes with clouds
Heavily they sure will weigh,
Over the city over the town
Loom those clouds of gray
And now the seasons change
Back to the beginning
We return from where we came
Everything must start over
So it can continue the same
And again the seasons change
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 3:18 AM UTC
Oozing charm and fluency, over exuberantly, without vanity or pride or an arrogance of mind
remaining humble and kind
looking just fine
Not with the fittest physic or perfect teeth, manicured hands drenched in gold leaf
Or a sharp suit and tie which underneath emptiness lies
But a beauty that shines bright like a beacon
signalling hardship, success, failure, determination
Strong and truthful
Unapologetically flawed
Lost youth and adult gains
Ageing memories and hunger pains
slight wrinkles, cheeks with dimples
passion,
it's quite simple
perfection is meaningless
It lacks personality and taste
Humility, humour and good grace
The hard times you stared point-blank in the face
However, on the other hand
It's like you're from another land
Im lost
In your perfect imperfections
Filters and airbrush aren't a true reflection
Of the life you've lived of the story you've told
When you've been weak when you've been bold
what made you happy or caused you stress
How you like to chill and rest
Or put your mind and body to the test
I want to see what makes you, you
I long to see it all
For its what makes you beautiful
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 2:02 PM UTC
الامانة ليست كلمات براقة و جميلة فقط و لكنها فعل نشعر به و نعيش في عالمه الجميل ... الحياة بلا امانة وهم كبير ... Honesty is not just bright and pretty words ,but An act That we feel it and we live in its pretty world ... Life is a big illusion if Lacks that honesty .
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 10:04 AM UTC
Flora and Fauna, the sisters of Season
Of Spring and of Summer
Allow now our drummer
To drum out the beat
For the feet of the sisters
To glide and to creep
Like the encroaching sleep
Which may perch on your shoulder if we cannot keep you awake
And on the edge of your seat, sir.
Now the former, sweet Flora, will finger the flute
While the other continues to glide and to slide
Like a sequined Venetian harlequin bride;
And now Fauna will mimic the movements of bird and of beast
As she graces the work of our landscape artiste
And all is completely unfeasible
Completely lacks reason
We guarantee.
Presently
In the eye of the beholder
Sweet Flora seemingly draws from the aether a lyre
And with flourishing fingers she plucks from the heavens
A song of the seasons, a pagan ode to Pan!
Behold! No aid of hoops, no strings
The vestal-virgin-harlot sisters sing
Of beautiful Persephone
And with unseen damselfly wings
Ascend from mediocrity
All melody forgotten
All the drums create cacophony
And you will find serenity in chaotic monotony
Now let this climaxing crescendo banish all your sorrowing!
No more that light; no more that sacred realm
Life’s door was dappled gloam; now all is black.
A man of wax with saintly, hollow eyes
Devoid of sin, devoid of love and light
That golden room is lost – you can’t turn back.
Now love has lost its lustre - lust lost joy
And coy eyes turn to watch the empty man
Struck by eternal beauty, and condemned
To haunt the broken world of mortal men;
And shrilling wind caresses empty hand.
Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 12:01 PM UTC
sad boy;
what a pathetic
ploy
this is for my attention.
all you contrive
tastelessly
always lacks concession.
every word,
and image you fake
I reject, from my
possession,
for all you are
's worth less than this
effortless expression.
you see, my natural
creativity
surmounts your ****
impression
of the beauty of my work
and my powerful
transgression.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 7:02 AM UTC
Lips curling towards blue hues
bestow scintillant cut pearls
which bite cardiac tissues
like fur companions nip hands
The physical sensation
lacks pleasure in a vacuum
yet the conveyed affections
grip the fabrics of being
How those star gazers lift, too,
and cradle a future, thus
beckoning mine towards you
with no ending in sight.
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 4:25 PM UTC
Her crayola box lacks
all but two colors
-red and black-
mustn't go outside the borders
r ~ 8/4/14
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 5:52 AM UTC
Take me to the hospital
I think im overdosing
I couldn’t take it anymore
Good thing they diagnosed me.
He lied there and cried from those pills
Thought if he died he'd be something real
Scars are not always visible
Beaten with words, never felt so invincible
He’s quiet but, his mind is screaming
Tried to figure it out, life has no meaning
They all say its a phase he'll be better soon.
In reality he never was, now what do they do?
__
Chorus
Nobody takes him seriously
Some kind of conspiracy
When they find out
It will be too late
You cant stop
The constant beating
Of self hate
__
Give him a chance to speak
Give him a break from everything he’s seen.
If no one picks him up
He will forever be in our dreams
No more reality
Life just isn't what it seems
Another pill popper, a maniac, a **** smoker, addicted to crack.
When they’re gone you can't bring them back
The state he’s in its caring he lacks
No one gives him confidence so,
He slacks and he slacks.
No job to pay the bills, just a drug dealing act
You can't make money when you ingest all the profit.
When its too late there's no way to stop it
__
chorus
Nobody takes him seriously
Some kind of conspiracy
When they find out
It will be too late
You cant stop
The constant beating
Of self hate
__
He was too young, and it was too soon.
He can't fix what he already consumed.
Sitting all alone in his room.
He was satisfied.
For that one moment he felt alive.
He said he'd be happier if he died.
Yes we cried but, we all moved on
For people like him, I wrote this song
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
after centuries and centuries and centuries of:
pain and suffering,
chains and ankle cuffing,
segregation and impossible laws,
human degredation and deaths for the cause,
coloured lines and last picks,
work in the mines and barbie-like wigs,
culture termination and the education of self-hate,
fake freedom motivation and penitentiary execution dates,
community sabatoge and destruction of black owned schemes,
settle down for hip hop dialogue and basketball dreams
racial slurs and monkey metaphors,
television blurs and the world shutting doors,
the white man's drugs and melanin filled prisons,
talent that lacks funds and vietnam missions,
death of our black icons and imprisonment of mandela
death of trayvon and others on the death list which could go on forever...
do you have the right to tell "bottom barrels" not to dream to be on the top?
do you wonder why forgiveness is slowly yielding in the world, as if it sees a sign that says it's time to stop?
do they not say we must practice what we preach?
are they not preaching hate?
are they not preaching inequality?
are they not preaching the false levels of life?
is it too hard for the world to practice equality?
is it too hard for the world to live in harmony?
is it too hard for the world to see the similarities in our differences?
is it too hard for the world to live without fear of colours?
is it too much to ask for peace???
- t.m
Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 2:25 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Despite some misconceptions
And attacks
Endure for centuries
By us blacks
Let me lay down
Some unknown facts
How ‘bout we start with
Henrietta Lacks
For most of us
After our death
Other than memories
What else is left?
For our survivors
The bereft
Yet her cells live on
It’s a matter of theft
From Henrietta’s
Cancerous cells
A bold idea
Suddenly jells
Spawning cures for cancer
As her biographer tells
And in vitro fertilization
Other things as well
Science took complete advantage
Of her cells
Which they still manage
Though she died of cervical cancer
Her cells provided them
With the answer
To scientific mystery
Check out her cells history
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017. All rights reserved.
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 12:25 PM UTC
What are the chances we should meet,
and find our hearts share a single beat?
That to look in your eyes would reveal a soul,
that has what mine lacks and makes me whole?
What are the chances, can you tell me this,
that our love may one day be sealed with a kiss?
That despite starting off so far far away,
our lives grow entwined each and every day?
What are the chances together we might,
emerge from the darkness and into the light?
That one day I'll awake with you by my side,
and our love for each other need no longer hide?
Jul 1, 2011
Jul 1, 2011 at 9:28 PM UTC
always the bridesmaid, never the bride
you have no idea how many times i cried
asking, "why me? why not me?"
well, for starters
i always oversleep
my eating habits are on repeat
i've worn the same clothes, same filth
for three days this week
i don't make an effort because i'm not going out
but no one asks me out because i don't make an effort
i write love poems i never send
i creepily covet people i consider friends
while my heart is stuck on the same old trend
hearts
yours and mine
your heart
pure and prone to breaking bones
my heart
crippled and casually crashing cars
the destruction duo
probably foreshadowing if i'm honest
i never get any rest
purple hues rise to the surface
furthermore, my life lacks any zest
and to top it all off
no matter how hard i've tried
i know i'll probably never be satisfied
so yeah
maybe that is why
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 7:10 PM UTC
Who are you
to tell me
to wear a Salwar kameez or a turtle neck
Who are you
to say that my body lacks flesh
Who are you
to make my body a symbol of *** appeal
Wait!!
you are no one
But someone who
Doesn't embrace one's body
Because
For me
My body is not a piece of meat
My body is not up for a bid
Moreover
You are no one
To tell me
To veil my ***** with blotter
And my hips with a rucksack
You better
Keep your ravenous eyes away
That try to strip me with its gaze
But say whatever you want to say
Because now i don't bother about your ******* comments anyway.
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 12:52 PM UTC
For One brief moment I found this love
This love that I had heard of
This love that heals all things;
This love that floods my soul
Like the water it finds all of the cracks
It breaks down these things I try to hold
Giving me the strength that my being lacks;
A boldness that drives through bitter cold
A bitter cold that I could keep
The one that my soul longs for, for me
So I can make excuses and stay asleep
But He took that away from me
For one moment I am free.
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 6:26 PM UTC
Can the unstoppable force overcome the immovable object? The waves have been a teacher with more wisdom than any I have ever had before. Something so constant, so committed, so unflappable as the lapping or crashing of the waves upon the shore. If you need any evidence of her relentless nature, look no further than the foreshore, great boulders and cliff faces worn down to grit. A true mechanical entity, with precise surety, well versed in engineering, mathematics, weather patterns and fluid dynamics. Who would have thought a philosophical question would have an engineering solution? The answer is no, but the question lacks precision, it doesn't quite paint the picture as it happens. I dive into the crashing waves, stretched out long, offering no resistance, the wash thunders around me but still I glide forward in the water like a shark, no resistance. I am the immovable object. Suspended weightless I overcome the unstoppable force by holding ground, offering no resistance as it rages around and past me, trying to capsize me or push me backwards. The way of the seas, the ultimate peacemaker.
The parallels to life do not need pointing out thus, especially to those who fight for justice, the Davids versus their Goliaths. History's great peacemakers have been here before, the art of war is in passive resistance, principled adherence coupled with civil disobedience, your silence is considered tacit acceptance, so be not silent but give unto Caesar that which is Caesars. The fight is an uphill playing field, you must play by their rules, or the game is over, but you can win by their rules if you know where they bend. So stand peacemakers, face rows of riot shields, plow fields as Te Whiti did, collect salt as Gandhi, be not silent, tip toe that fine line between real change and hard time, wherever you see injustice speak, and seek conciliation. Peace is not achieved when nations put down their guns, peace is achieved when people embrace their neighbors as their brothers and sisters. It is achieved when people no longer speak of peace with longing in the same breath as cursing the person that parked in their carpark. Be peace and you will see peace, wish not to see it in the world if you cannot be it in your world. Change yourself and the world changes with you. So can the unstoppable force overcome the immovable object? That much is up to you.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 7:15 PM UTC