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"majorities" poems
Where's the divide Between wrong and right? At an officer's side Or the unarmed's height? Who's in the wrong When everyone is? This violence does nothing Whether trans, gay, or cis. Why won't they speak When the world is ending? When majorities win, The rules begin bending.
0
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 1:56 PM UTC
(Wrong/Right)^(Apathy-Education)=Oppression
It’s about the American dream To make more than you need Through corporate greed And pyramid schemes, So I guess I’m not asleep Since I eat rice and beans In a crummy C.F. Apartment, Or what’s left of that Ten by ten compartment I can barely afford, Like the ****** Degree that was supposed To reward my hard effort By leading me toward A corner office Or something Like that I should desire, But **** it, Let’s get higher, I’m getting bored, And my heart is heavy, And I’ve been Forsaken By the country that Bred me Yet expects me To slap on some flak And attack Fathers and sons and brothers In Iraq Over nothing But ideological Fluff And political stuffing, It’s nothing It’s nothing It’s nothing It’s just not worth The time or frustration To engage in This nation’s Procreation Of condemnation Of logical reason, Though reasoning Lies not in the Eye of the reasoner Or that of the reasoned, It’s gotta be easier Than achieving Appeasement Through please And leasing Thank yous To random Strangers, But if You believe They, like you, Are human Then the danger Is fleeting, Cuz they’re feeling The same feelings, The sane feelings of The chronically Sure, The always right, Everything in its Right place, Yea I know Tommy, I must endure And try to say I should try to save The knaves, But life’s so easy As a slave, You buy your Goods And pave the way For impoverished hoods And hoodwinked Majorities Who’ve already Made The sacrifices Necessary For the necessary To get paid, Hope you did some good With that bogus bonus Mr. Suit and tie And perfect life With the plastic wife And bank account You’ll never drain, No matter how many Times you make it rain On upscale hookers, It runs too deep To keep all to your Selfish selves, But I guess it’s our Faults we don’t wear The leadership caps Cuz we should’ve pulled Ourselves up by our ******* boot straps And made something of Ourselves, right? Those that deserve To make the big bucks Make it happen, right? Time for the forgotten ***** to put up a fight.
0
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 12:26 PM UTC
--It's Not About Hugging Trees--
It’s about the American dream To make more than you need Through corporate greed And pyramid schemes, So I guess I’m not asleep Since I eat rice and beans In a crummy C.F. Apartment, Or what’s left of that Ten by ten compartment I can barely afford, Like the ****** Degree that was supposed To reward my hard effort By leading me toward A corner office Or something Like that I should desire, But **** it, Let’s get higher, I’m getting bored, And my heart is heavy, And I’ve been Forsaken By the country that Bred me Yet expects me To slap on some flak And attack Fathers and sons and brothers In Iraq Over nothing But ideological Fluff And political stuffing, It’s nothing It’s nothing It’s nothing It’s just not worth The time or frustration To engage in This nation’s Procreation Of condemnation Of logical reason, Though reasoning Lies not in the Eye of the reasoner Or that of the reasoned, It’s gotta be easier Than achieving Appeasement Through please And leasing Thank yous To random Strangers, But if You believe They, like you, Are human Then the danger Is fleeting, Cuz they’re feeling The same feelings, The sane feelings of The chronically Sure, The always right, Everything in its Right place, Yea I know Tommy, I must endure And try to say I should try to save The knaves, But life’s so easy As a slave, You buy your Goods And pave the way For impoverished hoods And hoodwinked Majorities Who’ve already Made The sacrifices Necessary For the necessary To get paid, Hope you did some good With that bogus bonus Mr. Suit and tie And perfect life With the plastic wife And bank account You’ll never drain, No matter how many Times you make it rain On upscale hookers, It runs too deep To keep all to your Selfish selves, But I guess it’s our Faults we don’t wear The leadership caps Cuz we should’ve pulled Ourselves up by our ******* boot straps And made something of Ourselves, right? Those that deserve To make the big bucks Make it happen, right? Time for the forgotten ***** to put up a fight.
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117
patterns reflect patterns reflect history repeating itself I see problems in humanity because humanity corrupts seriously, we can't have a movement for "better" without making it worse listen, slavery, right? whites hated blacks deemed them lesser deemed them nobodies, nonexistent that's putting it generic so what do we have now? an era of white-haters! so many "minorities" standing up and saying "I hate the whites" we have done a 360 and it kills me it was supposed to be about blacks being seen as equals being seen as people instead of blacks and now, yeah, I'm going there gays I love gays, man but y'all are killing me too this is what I see gays oppressed, dismissed, told they're sinners unholy, bad, gross, wrong, backwards, ugh they were beaten, bloodied, bruised, murdered, silenced so the gays stand up what do I hear? "I hate Christians" "I hate straights" "I hate everyone who is not gay" people hating on macklemore because he tried to stand up for THE PEOPLE! they say "a straight white man cannot represent the gay community" I'm sorry WHAT???? we act like no one has gone through HARDSHIP we act like if you're white, straight, and a male, you're golden free happy perfect wake up. what no  one discusses is that the issue is right vs wrong right vs wrong right vs wrong I'm not a straight white male but I know right vs wrong I'm not an Irish Jew but I know right vs wrong I'm not a Haitian Creole Indian goddess but I know right vs wrong you don't have to BE the oppression to SPEAK on the oppression you have to know right vs wrong I say macklemore knows I know you know let's speak up what is wrong is discrimination what is right is taking a stand to end it so please blacks, gays, minorities, whites, humans, majorities, stop obliterating good or else you'll be confined to the chains of oppression and silence until the day you die and so on amen I'm a human being tell me what I cannot speak on
0
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 5:06 AM UTC
Politically Never Correct
patterns reflect patterns reflect history repeating itself I see problems in humanity because humanity corrupts seriously, we can't have a movement for "better" without making it worse listen, slavery, right? whites hated blacks deemed them lesser deemed them nobodies, nonexistent that's putting it generic so what do we have now? an era of white-haters! so many "minorities" standing up and saying "I hate the whites" we have done a 360 and it kills me it was supposed to be about blacks being seen as equals being seen as people instead of blacks and now, yeah, I'm going there gays I love gays, man but y'all are killing me too this is what I see gays oppressed, dismissed, told they're sinners unholy, bad, gross, wrong, backwards, ugh they were beaten, bloodied, bruised, murdered, silenced so the gays stand up what do I hear? "I hate Christians" "I hate straights" "I hate everyone who is not gay" people hating on macklemore because he tried to stand up for THE PEOPLE! they say "a straight white man cannot represent the gay community" I'm sorry WHAT???? we act like no one has gone through HARDSHIP we act like if you're white, straight, and a male, you're golden free happy perfect wake up. what no  one discusses is that the issue is right vs wrong right vs wrong right vs wrong I'm not a straight white male but I know right vs wrong I'm not an Irish Jew but I know right vs wrong I'm not a Haitian Creole Indian goddess but I know right vs wrong you don't have to BE the oppression to SPEAK on the oppression you have to know right vs wrong I say macklemore knows I know you know let's speak up what is wrong is discrimination what is right is taking a stand to end it so please blacks, gays, minorities, whites, humans, majorities, stop obliterating good or else you'll be confined to the chains of oppression and silence until the day you die and so on amen I'm a human being tell me what I cannot speak on
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67
softly step through the fields of heaven, biting through your frozen fingers, tired toes devouring flesh, of first born hands handicapped, patting pants in hopes of change, the eternal deathly doldrums, commonplace complacence, with cheap creeped fast food, eternally eching for the source, for majorities soaring sorrow.
0
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 12:20 AM UTC
Untitled
A minority in the world of majorities, they tell me The minorities don’t get heard, they say But this minority has a mission And this minority has a man That man is God And he knows This minority was NEVER a minority A minority in a world of majorities, they say Minority my foot, I say
0
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 2:09 PM UTC
Minority
in the weeds where the dark bees believe in dark dreams; savoring the frostbitten nostalgia of wet mittens and smokestacks hacking hearth-smog and dingy bitters against clouds from a nameless grudge... spawn from downcast holly. where red berries gasp for yellow in the crotch of a wooden Fluegelhorn sprouting from the branch of a hedge without Lips. But a mouth full of snow. II in the weeds where the dark bees believe in atoms of uncorrupted joy and pollen. where they collude with silent majorities and swindle sunlight for a spawnsong anchored to the beak of a kestrel... shrieking the maniacal disquiet of a perfect moment. rattling the hinges - adored. without a key.
0
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 7:33 PM UTC
Door
I was walking one day Past the city Into the shadows of our smoke; The fumes of our cigarettes covered the trail Until nothing became clear for me to see. I bumped into an ancient looking man, With green eyes that turned pale And a wrinkled face That was about to crumble; I saw him cleaning up A newly placed tombstone. He was a graveyard man; I look at him and suddenly I felt the urge to ask him, How is it like? Talking to dead people. He didn't answer But I continued anyway; How is it like to look at solid stones? And envision her tender eyes looking back How could we mark he territory of the dead? As if soil could surround our spirits How could it suffice? To point out troubles getting no advice Questions with no answers, And as you speak You don’t know if you are being heard But you continue anyway. How is it like? Talking to dead people; Salute the rocks under the carves, Knowing that underneath Lies not wood But a person who couldn't as much as you could, And even if he could, you don’t know if he would- come out and talk to you, Because maybe he’s fed up? Maybe when life takes too long The sweet becomes bitter And our friends Become but anchors attached to our hearts Pulling us down Marking our spirits with soil; Maybe he’s ashamed Of the blood stains on his folded flag, Of the- lose knots in his piece of cloth And you’ll never discover that But you still continue anyway Asking your questions; How is it like? Talking to dead people. How is it like talking to anti-change institutions? And, people with no purpose in life And, violent illiterates who seek to **** Because death should be passed on How is it like talking to people that will not listen? To the governments that will not bother To the public blinded by the minor majorities To the children stuck in their melodramatic attitudes Over crowded with the propaganda of teenagery To the hypocrite schools that teach but not educate To the mothers who give birth To a fruitful seed, but will not cultivate; To a father that’s always late To his son’s birthdays Because his job appointments Pointed in the shape of earphones And circled in the shape of speakers So it’s neither him listening, nor him talking Its them. But nothing will change, Yet you continue anyway Asking your questions, Not for the dead, But for the resting voices Leaving you the space to think; To answer within Or decide to disregard, Leaving space for you own voice to emerge. And as I look back at graveyard man He was gone; As if his body de-synthesized as soon as I finished And the newly placed casket; Bared his exact size, And the tombstone For a second there represented his eyes, And it didn't take too long, for me to realize How is it like; talking to the dead.
0
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 11:52 AM UTC
The Graveyard Man
I was walking one day Past the city Into the shadows of our smoke; The fumes of our cigarettes covered the trail Until nothing became clear for me to see. I bumped into an ancient looking man, With green eyes that turned pale And a wrinkled face That was about to crumble; I saw him cleaning up A newly placed tombstone. He was a graveyard man; I look at him and suddenly I felt the urge to ask him, How is it like? Talking to dead people. He didn't answer But I continued anyway; How is it like to look at solid stones? And envision her tender eyes looking back How could we mark he territory of the dead? As if soil could surround our spirits How could it suffice? To point out troubles getting no advice Questions with no answers, And as you speak You don’t know if you are being heard But you continue anyway. How is it like? Talking to dead people; Salute the rocks under the carves, Knowing that underneath Lies not wood But a person who couldn't as much as you could, And even if he could, you don’t know if he would- come out and talk to you, Because maybe he’s fed up? Maybe when life takes too long The sweet becomes bitter And our friends Become but anchors attached to our hearts Pulling us down Marking our spirits with soil; Maybe he’s ashamed Of the blood stains on his folded flag, Of the- lose knots in his piece of cloth And you’ll never discover that But you still continue anyway Asking your questions; How is it like? Talking to dead people. How is it like talking to anti-change institutions? And, people with no purpose in life And, violent illiterates who seek to **** Because death should be passed on How is it like talking to people that will not listen? To the governments that will not bother To the public blinded by the minor majorities To the children stuck in their melodramatic attitudes Over crowded with the propaganda of teenagery To the hypocrite schools that teach but not educate To the mothers who give birth To a fruitful seed, but will not cultivate; To a father that’s always late To his son’s birthdays Because his job appointments Pointed in the shape of earphones And circled in the shape of speakers So it’s neither him listening, nor him talking Its them. But nothing will change, Yet you continue anyway Asking your questions, Not for the dead, But for the resting voices Leaving you the space to think; To answer within Or decide to disregard, Leaving space for you own voice to emerge. And as I look back at graveyard man He was gone; As if his body de-synthesized as soon as I finished And the newly placed casket; Bared his exact size, And the tombstone For a second there represented his eyes, And it didn't take too long, for me to realize How is it like; talking to the dead.
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84
I’ve heard it before From a father with his own empty Bottles littered beneath his feet Like lost family memories And I heard it again From of a friend of a friend Of a friend I no longer hear from Because of death – not agreeing with majorities I heard it last, Last time I talked to my ex I enjoyed hearing it most from her Our phone call was brief but it was sweet like a bedtime story “Sean, slow down” “Sean, quit drinking” I’ll meet you halfway down that bottle sweetheart I’ll drink less, Or I wont drink in public, Or I wont start drinking before three, But don’t take drinking by myself Don’t take that drinking away from me My best side Shines through when I have bottle Or when I have you But only one of these, I can have at the snap of my fingers Or the swipe of a credit card Not a snap, and never a single Was never your style This is the hardest thing to deal with When inebriated   Well, not the hardest thing And when it gets hard, I hound For what we ol' boys referred to “A good ol’ Liquor pound” Sober, will suffice But like the narcissistic Buddhist I am I fully embrace the laws of impermanence What is best in your eyes Is a proclamation to your superiority And if its genuine sincerity, Well I guess that’s fine and ******* dandy too Writing –  short stories, haikus Journal entries The creative juice flows A little thicker, faster When the juice is flowing You see what I am getting at? Whatever the **** this is That I just vomited onto these keys I thoroughly enjoyed it Its on again, off again rhyme scheme Is my scheme for us A narrative that’s quick An so incredibly pithy **** These aren’t my words They’re Whiskey’s
0
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
If you don't want to meet me at the bar, meet me bottle
I’ve heard it before From a father with his own empty Bottles littered beneath his feet Like lost family memories And I heard it again From of a friend of a friend Of a friend I no longer hear from Because of death – not agreeing with majorities I heard it last, Last time I talked to my ex I enjoyed hearing it most from her Our phone call was brief but it was sweet like a bedtime story “Sean, slow down” “Sean, quit drinking” I’ll meet you halfway down that bottle sweetheart I’ll drink less, Or I wont drink in public, Or I wont start drinking before three, But don’t take drinking by myself Don’t take that drinking away from me My best side Shines through when I have bottle Or when I have you But only one of these, I can have at the snap of my fingers Or the swipe of a credit card Not a snap, and never a single Was never your style This is the hardest thing to deal with When inebriated   Well, not the hardest thing And when it gets hard, I hound For what we ol' boys referred to “A good ol’ Liquor pound” Sober, will suffice But like the narcissistic Buddhist I am I fully embrace the laws of impermanence What is best in your eyes Is a proclamation to your superiority And if its genuine sincerity, Well I guess that’s fine and ******* dandy too Writing –  short stories, haikus Journal entries The creative juice flows A little thicker, faster When the juice is flowing You see what I am getting at? Whatever the **** this is That I just vomited onto these keys I thoroughly enjoyed it Its on again, off again rhyme scheme Is my scheme for us A narrative that’s quick An so incredibly pithy **** These aren’t my words They’re Whiskey’s
Continue reading...
62
Voices lift us higher than any lifted high in locked bedrooms voices of angels steeped in risk and pure love I come across silly or played out or too strong a beat up beatnik wannabe with too many beer stories of *** drugs and rock ‘n roll but from an early age the words of men turned me into my own depiction of heroes wounded warriors smiling in vain despite the spite of the jealous majorities they cast out fishing lines and hooked me with hooks narrative to musical to comedic limelight and broken bic lighters and way too much baggage to take on tour on planes they connect through the telephone poles an ethernet port into my ear I may sometimes come across as thin as spread butter but the voices are still all bubbling up inside of me
0
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC
Voices
Through history are we distinguishable What is the principle difference Do we need a reference? Human beings two legs Wait what about paraplegics Two eyes What if they don't work? You tell me to stop being a **** What about arms and hands Don't monkeys have them too What is human about you? A humans conscious thoughts legendary But what is scary is that we form packs Smoke crack get high and die Follow our leaders like sheep Morality isn't that deep The Majorities rules ok They say that atoms are interchangeable But are they unique Is there are creaking reality Under the microscope As we **** on our spliffs And forget we ever thought of this Try to forget as we spin out On an ever changing axis Like the earth we live on Like the merry go round I want to get off My heart is beating uncontrollably I try not to cough For fear of being sick Atoms between me and you And I don't want to be a **** I change the tv channel On to something less learned As my mind fashions more questions To things I know more about Or do I?
0
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 4:29 PM UTC
Are atoms unique? are humans...
roll up! roll up!! you fine hearted boy. time now to put down, the store made toys. time to make magic... with the inside, of your mind roll up! roll up!! to the dream circus let's see what we find.... melamine monkeys mimic monstrousity's mangling, minor majorities in musical mayhem symphonies, sublime playing mozart in part on a shiny yellow kazooo meanwhile marshmallow crocodiles smile with mincing beguile at ****** moo cows meandering miles in crooked zig-zag lines making milkshakes all the while... mouses and mices are avoiding becoming itty bitty pieces of rodent and crabapple pie by milling mindlessly around the mound of milliners, by the by. now to meet and greet at the zoo mrs hippopotomus has ginger biscuits and mango milk ready for you while you watch the fleet of zebras and their plataypi crew, sail in the xebec regatta twice around the isle of goo. before saying huzzah and hooroo they won the championship whoohoo!!!! it's all a happenin, at the bing **** bingle zoo but for all these amazing thing to occur my lad you have to pay your dues so close your eyes, and sleep ..... and you will see a wonderful dream or two....
0
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
dream circus
It’s the things that we cherish Nightmarish dream Suffering of the flesh The steadily stream Of fear and anxiety that we caress Pay homage to the unknown Pilgrimage and seizure Sacrilege to please your, Lust and the power that’s craved A deathly force that acts to save For what ends will you trot A best friends head Revenge that’s begot Majorities remain embalmed The patriotic song Allies and actions tell the truth I watch the man that bears the fruit Faux and friendly to the face Old men and technology The hilarious race Beaten, blue, ya tattooed Go ahead, watch my every move Scheme and plot While the eagles watch The shadows screaming Is what is seen and what is sought
0
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 7:37 PM UTC
Wolf
Automobiles and road rage Alcohol and steering wheels Texting and driving The Military and U.S. Steel Banks and mercy Fashion and comfort Priests and Godliness Trade alliances and imports. Republicans and The Constitution Bigots and non-Caucasians Christians and homosexuals Unbalanced equations. Elitists and human flaws The rich and the poor. Anger and loaded guns You and the Jews next door. They are naturally equal But they’re exactly opposite Sometimes they balance But often there’s no sense to it. Attorneys and justice Lobbyists and compassion. Science and the church Trust and politicians. Monsanto and private farms Pipelines and ecology Fracking and water rights Minorities and majorities. Hope and desperation Citizen’s rights and Tea Party Media and integrity Politics and morality Free enterprise and monopolies Censorship and free press Freedom of expression And illegal social duress. They are naturally equal But they’re exactly opposite Sometimes they balance But often there’s no sense to it.
0
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 8:43 PM UTC
LETHAL TWINS
at- will I can be one at a time. They say you can't change at will. Whose will theirs or mine. They said stop confusing peoples with your stand. Ok I will not change if influence remain constant. Fed up they say just follow the rules when you change. Then make the rules that will will manage. It is majorities will that make the rule. But majorities of rules doesn't make the will.
0
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 8:06 PM UTC
at-will
Yearning for criticism, I bleed my beliefs and emotions. Articulate my thoughts to release strain such unwanted pressure. Seeking guidance from my peers to try to ease my minds commotion. Pursuiting answers for my questions yet none seem to measure. I can't accept but a majorities consensus unless its scientific fact. Life is an experiment with dynamic factors. Nothing will change that. Forever I will exist with these problems I can't solve.
0
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 10:24 PM UTC
?
when gravity lets you go, who will you actually be? when seconds start to slow, what will you now see? when majorities abandon the flow, will you feel free?                                          when nothing is as it was, will you finally find me?
0
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 4:45 PM UTC
cataclysm census
Splitting withered leaves in psychedelic wonders, Walking through the scenic forest of denial, Weapons of mass destruction crash like thunder, Manufactured warfare never out of style! Backbones half grown marching towards death, Many majorities persecuted by minuscule minorities, Deciding grey pawns are expendable as a spare breath, Come quietly now or we'll have to alert the authorities! Come die for your government one and all, Trust it's best for you to die in a foreign country, Drown that PTSD in a little bit of alcohol, Until you're prematurely buried under a tree! Finality found in roads left barren and desolate, Arid and topaz fields filled with suffocation await, Innocent hopes and pure dreams now reprobate, Humanity swiftly and succinctly drowned in hate!
0
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 7:10 AM UTC
Tell Everyone In the World
City of flickering dust crusted lights along homeless haven'd stained shaking sidewalks, where lampposts tell twisted tall tales seen in the reflections of shop window views of the stalking capitalist machine. Billboards bellowing lucid interpretations smile over split milky-way highways launching battery driven cars on candied clouds nine miles high while dandruff snowflakes fall from salon-styled stands of thin grey hair onto executive shoulder-padded suits into plastic snow globe promises of a white Christmas for kids on the streets in Little Haiti and Old North Sacremento. Chinese manufactured diseased dreams spreads through third-world African cities malfunctioning tribe cultures into building blocks for fly-by-night phony hip hop street scene high-tops of American wet dream rip-off Beijing based monopolies. Cutting out native tongues and fitting botched back street plastic surgery transplants of jail-yard gang slang false identities of cultural misappropriation and heritage suicide by displaced majorities who hope for bread crumb paths home along folktale story guiding epiphanies of ghost kings of the past bellowing from the sky "REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE".
0
Nov 6, 2020
Nov 6, 2020 at 11:39 AM UTC
Remember Who You Are
By: Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2022. What’s wrong With the world today? It’s really hard to say If you’re asking me Then I’d reply, we must have lost our way Climate change has rearranged the seasons And war’s declared everywhere Without adequate reasons What’s wrong with society Are you really asking me? The answer should be pain enough For a blind man to see And there’s only one conclusion That I would postulate The world as we now know it Seems to be full of hate What’s wrong with people And their priorities We appear to be acquiescing To right wing minorities We’ve abandoned long held principles Held by our majorities And we’ve made the far right Our new authorities What’s wrong With the world today? People we have Feet of clay And we let our vulnerabilities Constantly get in our way So consequently There’s price that we’re forced to pay Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2022. All rights reserved.
0
May 22, 2022
May 22, 2022 at 12:06 PM UTC
WHAT’S WRONG WITH THE WORLD TODAY?
we are fragments of a life scribbled down on history in regards of our mysteries unsolved by societies that seem to know everything but loose their identities when they face misfortunes, minorities to majorities loosing track of eternity while dwelling on everything that don't promote anything . Like ashes we flew miles to create our own sparks once tamed by their eyes and blocked by despise but now turned into fires burning down  all their lies and fleeing our beautiful marvelous  psychics into the unlimited skies one more time
0
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 8:54 AM UTC
Fragments
I am going to a funeral not sure who for but it could be any one of us when his men come to our door We’ve spent our lives in closets content with safety over view but even that gets old and **** we just wanted a fresh breath or two So out we came again and again a never ending stream but it felt so good to finally come clean And now here we sit under the jurisdiction of our new “president” a man who hates our kind and a vp who supports conversion therapy So don’t you dare tell us that we should not be scared because we have PULSE to back us up and so many years of the same old ******** We are tired and scared and wary of all because who knows who could be the reason why we fall So please I beg of you come and stand with us hold our hands but do not speak over us Because we need you the majorities and all to stand up to this menace we do not want to fall I do not want to go to funerals that could have been prevented so please friends hear my words and take them to heart Fore there are already too many hashtags dedicated to my brothers and sisters and we must end this campaign of hate because we the minorities are all tired of going to funerals
0
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 10:28 PM UTC
Funeral Prep
No its not a play - upon a play No words will I have assayed To be beyond the mental test Forth then would I be the rube A clip then found upon Utube Putin binaries upon the Hilliaries Castrating the will of the majorities Big Mac's and chicken in bed The Fox dictates his next move While he's contemplating his next groove Well America better wake up soon They're bowing down to a baboon But I get the feeling it's now to late Better learn to bend over now He's coming for the sacred cow
0
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 10:05 AM UTC
Taming of the *****
This Day something good will happen – wish it, or not, doesn't matter, yet these words call a Catalyst upon all, but mostly those in need not greedy or complaining, patiently expecting relief, smilingly in faith to you; good fortune, just a sprinkle great enough to empower, enrich, enliven 95% a majority among majorities. Blessings galore fall like rain, snow, each held by a miniature angel, for all needy, true, beseeching, living creatures, male and female. This is not a dream, theory, guess or premonition. It is the truth. Ultimately, it will be the poor who will, by any means necessary, inherit the earth. Sprinkle, O Catalyst, upon all those of the world, oppressed, shivering miserable, homeless, destitute, elderly, young, all those and most of all, victims of violence, injustice, racism, overlooked by one percenters, this on behalf of you, for you -- wealth, vitals, food, bills paid, may all these receive from Universe every need, be blessed, free, not simply survive, yet always thrive in cooperation with a divine motive, for there isn't a minuscule space within this world not inhabited by a Answer to a Need, a queue exists. Expose a revelation of an unseen nature. Today, someone in the heavens or the earth gets their need or wish. If it's you, spread your joy to someone else.
0
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 9:56 AM UTC
Supplication