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Reece Dec 2013
hatasha hullah - dey
parablah nuh parrah
vey, okay, huttah, ulay
narralah, narrah, nutay

That interim between dreams and consciousness, that momentary lapse of reality
When slave children don't howl and the wild animals lay tamed in sun traps, weary

Your scattered thoughts betray reality
and you
question everything - now waking
Smiling chief, chirping loud
Your body gathered and prepared
under torchlight in dusty tents
Ingesting iboga and that old familiar numbness overpowers
You've been here for a life now, looking back on your life now
hatasha hullah - dey
vey, okay, huttah, ulay

Witch doctor, tribal medicine, fanning smoke from a wild fire
flashing imagery akin to memories of when life was decadent
you remember the taste of stray rain drops on your upper lip on muggy British summer days
and waking on a beach, bloodied as the sand at your feet is the next recollection, how powerful
the act of reflection, as you recall the mirrors of the sea and your torn body weakened and inept
The gathered village chant in unison and splinter groups fall off beat only to rejoin intermittently

Remember the Burmese boy far from home on the Gabon shoreline
and he informs you of your own death,
and asks you why do you breathe still?

hatasha hullah - dey
parablah nuh parrah
vey, okay, huttah, ulay
narralah, narrah, nutay
Oh laa, ley ley lahh ley lah
ley hatasha hullah - dey

On some beaten path lost in Angola you carried two packs, food for the world
but you fell starving and spluttered on the rock that looked like your home
Rebels run wild in jeeps black as night, your supplies strewn on rubble grounds
- hatasha hullah - dey
Taken in a flurry, twittering birds in far off trees betray your trust and fly away
in the opposite direction, and the juggernaut jeep catches air over uneven tracks
You were scared and crying under blindfolded eyes and captors jeered, captivated
- parablah nuh parrah
An orchestrated mass of military garbed children with rifles gather you abruptly
when the car stopped with a rumble
And tied to rusted rigs you're gagged and stripped, bloodied your face now
as they beat you and laugh
- vey, okay, huttah, ulay
Congolese giant man, sword in hand and grimacing through bared teeth
Making bold gestures and speaking some inscrutable language
You cannot answer and fear is now in control, you shiver in the ghastly draft
On failure to answer you must be beaten, your back is lashed, repeatedly
- narralah, narrah, nutay
You remain silent but cry in disparity, after shrieks of horror finally escape your barren lips
Through stinging eyes you assess the surroundings after hours of torture when they retire
to their leather beds of shame and innocence faltered, try and remember how to live
- Oh laa, ley ley lahh ley lah
Months must have passed, survive off insects and morning dew on the muddy floor
This African wasteland, time forgotten, child soldiers and lack of humanity is trivial
Always scheming, recollect the armament and through door-way shack trapped light
you see a clear path, and it is good
- ley hatasha hullah - dey
The pinnacle nightfall anticipated arrives, and your skinny wrists released now easily
(their faltering lack of knowledge and abundant braggadocio betray them)
AK laying in moonlight illumination, a sign of God perhaps, but experience proves otherwise
(How cruel the dreams you had of such a gift)
When they spot you leaving, the night lights up, wild crackle of gunfire, heart beats, tribal drums
(To massacre children, such proficiency, the dreams were mindful)
No lapse in concentration, you may ruminate on objective morality in due time
(Crawling through blood and bodies of children, so pure, cadavers tell lies)
The clearing ahead in giant trees, you run and don't look back, praying for no pursuit
(Another genocide committed by a white man, justified perhaps this once)
Weeks pass and you falter only to slurp rain water from Congolese sipping cups the leaves
(Blacking out somewhere in the Republic, or on a border or who cares, as you died long ago)
- vey, okay, huttah, ulay
  ley hatasha hullah - dey

To awake from hallucinogen dreams, and cruel memories linger, it's painful you agree
Witch doctor still sings, lonesome now as the tribe apply ointments and silently pray
The fire still dances to some incredible song and your scars redacted, physical and other
How incredible the mind feeling fuzzy and that insane dream is just that - a dream
You black out again, a common occurrence but upon waking you're free, no tribe exists
With a sheepskin rucksack full of cassava, plantains and sugarcane and cocoa beans
Months pass and you make it to the North, when you leave Africa your body is new
and your mind is stable, no lingering cognizance or frightful thoughts of a forgotten ordeal

You arrive in Turkey, to partake in ***** with nimble girls
and I see you floundering on silken sheets,
My memories were fresh as the nymph on your lap
I write to you a note, and you turn alabaster, moon faced being
I was there always and saw every moment
Your ideals on morality are hazy at best, and to your behest I detest all that you stand for
Is your afterlife so pure, now that bodies litter the forest floor
and do you believe that I am not (a) God
and is this mere poetry, or an indictment of your folly and a warning to all whom engage
but do you not also see that every reaction was an action taken to your original action
and when all is said and done, do you no realise that from the day you were born
you were born a God and that God was born dead
and this is just that interim between expiration and consciousness, that momentary lapse of reality
when slave children don't howl and the wild animals lay tamed in sun traps, weary

hatasha hullah - dey
parablah nuh parrah
vey, okay, huttah, ulay
narralah, narrah, nutay
hatasha hullah - dey
parablah nuh parrah
vey, okay, huttah, ulay
narralah, narrah, nutay
hatasha hullah - dey
parablah nuh parrah
vey, okay, huttah, ulay
narralah, narrah, nutay
Oh laa, ley ley lahh ley lah
ley hatasha hullah - dey
Emeke Lewis Mar 2021
Lard Gad I cant tek it nuh more
Right now mi feel like church life unsure
Mi cant even see weh fi embrace nuh more
Cause the covid thing seh nuh embrace nuh more.

Lard Gad I cant tek it nuh more.  
Right now mi feel like church life unsure.
Mi miss sis jenny cooking,
The good sat deh chicken,
Mi usually lick mi  finga
Like a happy baby pigeon.  

Lard Gad I cant tek it nuh more
Right now mi feel like me church life unsure
Weh affi mask up
Face cover up
A cough or sneeze mek everybody flair up.

Lard Gad I cant tek it nuh more.
Lard Gad I cant tek it nuh more
In God we trust
In  God  we  trust
In   God   we   trust

I nuh Gaw duh wii tr uhst
Ein nuh GAHWD wiie TR UHST
EINUH GAHHWD WEIIIE TR UUHS T

EEEEEI NUH GUH AW DH
WUH EEIIIE TH RUH SS TH

EEEEEI  NUH  GUH  AW  DH  
WUH  EEIIIE  TH  RUH  SS  TH

­EEEEEI   NUH   GUH   AW   DH  
WUH   EEIIIE   TH   RUH   SS   TH

EEEEEI    NUH    GUH    AW    DH    
WUH   EEIIIE    TH    RUH    SS    TH
ogdiddynash Jul 2018
helping the kids with homework


no one told you,
was part of the job description
paycheck earner a-ok,
gruff but tender lover,
knowing her special places,
building a tree swing,
a tree house safe and satisfactory,
one the neighbors envy

taking them to the hospital for
broken arms and chemotherapy,
part two of the non-routine but a very possible foreseeable,
going to school to give that principal a look
that will make him think twice before suspending
one of his for defending himself

you remember your daddy doing the same for you,
forgetting to repeat the tar and hiding that came later

the tucking in, the pretense ouch
when your end of day
scratchy beard ruffling the skin of babies,
carrying tissues in a toolbox,
never heard of, nevertheless done,
tho not a memory defining the future inclusive,
definitely a learning ability, a likeability

doing homework, nuh uh,
no way jose, don’t dare let them
know how you never got a gold star,
always sat in the back row, outta sight,
all day dreaming, chemistry rhymes with mystery,
and poetry is rhymes needing a big vocabulary
which means lots of words for a man who don’t talk much

ain’t exactly his strong suit

sure, heard of Shakespeare but never met him,
know where the on/off computer button hides,
the rest is up to them;
got no email address, but taught them sir and ma’am,
how to address humans with respect,

i’ll promise them anything
but not doing any homework,
unless it the kind that that makes

a home work
#homework
Suraj Narine Sep 2015
Everywhere meh look, all meh see
Is suffering and bare tragedy
Rasta nuh blind, Rasta nuh deaf
Not even ah loaf ah bread pon ah shelf

War, bust we skin, ah left scar
While politician ah drive fancy car
Meh pickanny hungry
Baby madda angry
Everywhere meh look all meh see
Is blood and bare treachery

For survival, youth turn cannibal
Inna dem head, positivity nuh linger
Pick up de gun, tun trigger finger

Guide them oh Jah
Protect dem likkle ones
Dem ah de future
Our salvation, our cure.
Selah...
Beat the Congo
Blow the horn
Wave your hand
Out of many one people
What a vibration
In a this little island

Even though we can’t live as one
But when a party time
We unite
Nuh matter the culture (it doesn’t)
We a full joy we self
You have Rasta talking
Christians praying
Bay song playing (in the context Bay means a lot)
Smiles on everybody faces
Out many one people

So come the Chinese, British, Syrians, Americans, Indians
Every Caribbean and rest of the world
Come to Jamaica
And feel alright
Listen some Bob
Don’t carry no jewelry
Because you will get rob
But come and eat
Have a feast
Enjoy we beach
Entertainment

Energy a shot
Drink a cold beer
Relax under the coconut tree
Feel free
We have **** chicken
Curry goat
Festival, rice, Bammy
Fry and steam fish
Come enjoy we cultural dish
Food galore
Go back a your country
Tell every boy and girl
Say Jamaica nice

We know say crime and violence
Corruption
A plague
But don’t let that stop you
Cause everybody welcome
Nuh matter taste (It doesn’t)
Come in a haste
Cause we have a celebration
Jam dung vibration
Me a tell the politician
Say me a send out a special invitation
But first we yard need renovation
Build up Jamaica
And education
Cause we live in a paradise
Black, green and gold
We proud and bold
As we motto say
Out of many one people.

CHRISTENA ANTONIA VALAIRE WILLIAMS ©2012
JAMAICA
I spoke my native language mixed with English.( Patois or Creole) this poem was Short listed in Desmond O' Grady poetry competition in Ireland. A spoken piece was done also.
LearnfromBOBD Feb 2019
My Haseena

late night
pillow fights
watching stars
airplane flights
Wow’ babe, come see the morning clouds
With peaceful doves
Flying above
Wet kisses
Like a washed dishes
Sweat on yo breast
Di* grew stronger
Felt the touch of your hand on my hair
And the other hand romancing my back
just me and you
After waiting for so long
Oh my gosh,
Yo high heels tinkling my legs
Night gown wet
I’m ready and set
***** shaved clean, nuh hair.
My dear queen can I come in ?
No! Not what you think
I mean can I **** it ?
Let me give you the legendary of me
Dearie
Note to dreamboat ♥️
“Top of the Morning to ‘Yuh, Guv’nuh.”*

Oh, to be father of a
Cockney flower girl,
To be Eliza Doolittle’s
Dear old Dad,
Alfred P. of that surname.
Oh, to be a cockney dustman,
On this fine day,
Another fine day in
Northern New Mexico, as I
Sell my daughter to
‘Enery Iggins, or
Some equivalent
Princeton poofter.
I am Rhett Butler,
Daring blockade-runner,
Persona –non-grata*
For any decent
Family—including my own,
Charleston Carolina.
In time, I crave
Social acceptance for
Bonnie Blue—my ill fated
Would-be equestrian offspring;
I surrender my daughter to the
Upper Class.
Spenser Bennett Jun 2016
Whether weather withers
Heavy penny pinchers
Or orders hor d'oeuvres
Don't mean I'm richer
I'm just not a city slicker
Don't say I'm bitter
I got honey in my pitcher
Oh no wait that's pilsner
Sorry I forgot my censor
And she told my I got a ****** up
******
There's a reason I don't miss her
And I'm just trying to be honest
But she left with my wallet
And now I'm elbow deep in Comet
Paying for a dinner, faux gras, I said that like ***** grass to the waiter
I know I can't pronounce it
**** it he's a hater
And she said see ya later
Later on Imma be Dark side
Like Master Vader
I roll up like high tide
And my homies roll up to Eastside
And I tried to go nuts
Now I gotta run hide
'Cuz bacon munch next door on their donuts
Call me crazen, brazen, but
I was cravin' me a donut
So I strolled up
And then she showed up
Tryna get some tacos
And she was with her ****-o
Head look like a rock-o
And he knows bout them rocks though
So I zip-zap-skidaddle
Back to the Eastside
Now the bar died
So I try to find a quick ride
Down to mi casa
But the cars they passa
Without no second glance - uh
Until I drive myself - uh
Now I'm in a jail cell
Callin' for a lawyuh
Writing out my woes nuh
Hiding from my phone bruh
Cigarettes at home
And my heads all full of fog
I should sleep this off
Imma sleep this off
Story poem/ Awful rap? Are those a thing? I feel like they're a thing.
Dreams of Sepia Sep 2015
The house is chaka chaka
the guests are due tomorrow
but wi hab di ting lack, Mon
a Tap a di Tap is a comin'
n' we nuh live nowhere
but wi hab di ting lack, Mon
now a storm's a-brewin'
& the Babylon, they outside
but wi hab di ting lack, mon
but wi hab di ting lack
A poem written using Jamaican expressions..
P.S I'm not Jamaican

wi hab di ting lack - we're in control
chaka chaka - untidy & messy
Tap a di Tap - respectable person
nuh live nowhere -  to have nothing or little
Babylon - police
Mon - man/woman/child
Peanut Butter May 2015
[Intro: Quavo]
****, man. Brrrrtttttt
Hello?
What the hell you mean Ma? I ain't did ****!
****!

[Hook: Quavo]
Feds hit the spot man I ain't saying nothin
They came around about 5 o' clock this morning (12!)
They telling me I'm copping contraband from informants
Channel 2, Fox 5, I'm America's most wanted! (Ooh!)
Hot boy, hot boy, hot boy, hot boy, hot boy
Hot boy, hot boy, hot boy, hot boy, hot boy
Feds hit the spot say I'm copping from informants
Channel 2, Fox 5, I'm America's most wanted! (Ooh!)

[Verse 1: Quavo]
Yeah, yeah, Quavo
I pick up my **** and then hit the door (Oh ****! **** 12!)
Surrounding my house and they kick the door (Boom! Boom!)
"Don't move, get on the floor!" I hit the window and fell on the curb
I'm trying to get up and take off, the officer speared me, like Goldberg
Say "Where were you 3 o clock on the dot?" "My Momma's house" "You a ******* liar"
Have you heard about your new worker? (Nah) Know I put him in your circle
I witnessed you purchase the pound (nuh uh)
I witnessed you purchase the brown (no you didn't)
I witnessed you purchase the white (no!)
Say goodnight down the road for a long flight

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Takeoff]
Hot Boy like Silkk the Shocker, pull up on your blocka with the Waka Flocka
Momma hit me on my cellular told me that Quavo got caught by the coppers (****!)
They say they've been investigating and Migo gang we connected with the mobsters (Huh?)
Can't talk to you ****** my lawyer talk. **** the prosecutor Mr. Marcus
****! Lookin out of my window, I see a black truck and it's empty
Walk to the door check the peephole (what that is man?)
Then I start hearing a noise and it makes me paranoid (****!)
Thinking what the **** is going on? (What the ****?)
All of these tools like it's Autozone
If I get caught I ain't coming home (No!)

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Offset]
Offset!
They said that I sold to informants
I told them I just got off touring
They circle my house like an orbit (****!)
He telling me he gon extort me (huh?)
50% of my income, unfortunately he not gon get none
Life sentence or freedom so pick one
**** ***** you trying the wrong one (**** *****)
Quavo call my phone, his spot got raided it just got kicked in
We all met up in the Westin
Who know what the **** going on it ain't making sense (who know?)
The police talking they got evidence
I told you ****** bout serving them Mexicans (I told you ******!)
****! There go 12 (****!)
I picked up my **** and I moved out the residence

[Hook]
i lovwe youtoo much yo let you gof
Criss Jami May 2014
Right now, my cranium is spacing out
My brain is racing up and down and
I'm left pacing like I saw an alien in a nightgown
Man I can't really write right rite right now so
I'm hoping this'll flow
Maybe later still able to kiss and ***** the flames at the tip of a missile toe
And Ms., miss it won't if you don't spit it slow
Oh you know
This is so that it'll go and blow
Grow, explode the mind
And then it glows
For sure, no lie

I'm a show-off to get the mind out the gutter
Up and out, now it's not about some snuffing out or really a ruffling bluff-like fisticuffs to handcuffs riff-raff fluff about my rugged Scruff McGruff tuff scuffed-up stuff with a huff and puffed-up "ruff! ruff!" buff enough rough and tough mudder style but
Somewhat it's done out of love for even the loudest mouth out there somewhere, somehow

So someday in someway to someplace
I'll send your message in my package and pass it
Over and out
Ground control and the days are long so
I have the gift just to give the shout-outs
Yeah before it's gone, oh
Over and out

He might be a writer and he can't even hide it be-
Cause communication's the communion, union of the unified nations
Relationships and maybe even sensationalism
But hatred rests in a safe the dangerous once made
While a good intention not to mention is
A common premise in this mix we try to fix
And then we pray
But in games we trust because
We think it's made for us for fun and
And what we crave, nuh-uh yuh-huh
Uh-uh, uh-huh

So sometime for somebody, somewhen for someone or something
I'm sending my message, my package I'm passing it
Over and out
Ground control and the days are long
So I have a gift, oh to give my shout-outs yeah before they're gone
Over and out

Now let us get some shut-eye so
This introvert can shut-up, oh
Over and out
Who wrote it right on time about how

Somedeal and somewise it's this diss-functional brain of mine
My pen's pensive motor-mouth is left rightly in its creative state of sane now I'm
In between and staying safely stable
Without withering within her ring somewhither with his SAM-wise fable
And that my baby is what I call in-sane
Able to lay it on our table when
We're stripped bare to the underwear with
Our ways and our whereabouts on paper, amen
From an omen of ol' men
Over and out, send
dan hinton Nov 2011
To John – who always told me, ‘I’m fine, it’s the rest of them’

You know that
You’re kissing life’s ***
When a girl chooses
A weedy
Airheaded
Pompous
Obnoxious
Nothing
Over you.
You, with a big heart.
A warm touch
A sense of humour
A sense of love
And not just carnal desire.
That, no man can do without
She will not love you
Nuh-huh, no way.
And you’re thinking,
Jesus:
It’s either something he’s got that I haven’t
Or indeed  that
They’re lacking something I’m not.
Anjana Rao Dec 2014
I taught you
how to say my name correctly
Uhn-juh-nuh
and you taught me
how to say the name of your hometown
Can-an-day-gua.
A fair exchange,
perhaps.

Canandaigua.
Town that manufactured
Arbor Mist,
the cheap artificial wine I bought
[being the only one of drinking age]
that we drank
all summer,

well,

until July
when everything fell apart.

In August
When things settled down
when you decided that
you didn’t love me anymore,
we issued that age old
empty promise exes make:
“We’ll still be friends.”
Exchanged a few Facebook messages
and that was that.

I was never in love with you,
but
you still made it into my zine,
and I still think of you
from time to time,
visit your Facebook page
as if...

well, who knows?
It’s always the same with
everyone I used to know,
but Over is Over,
no social media changes that.

When I see that name:
Canandaigua,
I think of you,
but it’s just another name
and you’re just another Over.
The Unspoken Mar 2015
I hold the dice tightly in my palm
I shake 'em and roll them on the floor
I shut my eyes,
hoping my desired number takes the day.

3 For dead end, 5 for Hope
8...misery!

She loves me, she loves not
She will take me back , nuh, she wont.

Since when did my life become such a gamble?

I roll All my care into one HUGE ball
OUT the window!!
Its I now.
The light only in MY eyes.

It doesn't go this way
Enough is here
the End has come!

©TheUnspoken
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2017
transitional times

midst the ordinaries, not paying close attention,
the yet to be baked batter of chatter while driving past the familiar,
a plain pasta with butter conversation,
the human carbohydrates of our racing consuming energy,
she slips me up, by slipping in two words,
her icing on the cake phrasing

"transitional times"

pull over to the side of Menantic Road
in the early of the late afternoon, Saturday's reclining sunlight,
question her closely, CIA taping her words to my brain:

did she mean the late afternoon hours of our lives when
reflection of sun sprinkles on our bay voyages us as voyeurs
past the old longings and into the future recalling?

perhaps, the au contraire, the steady stepping,
sneaking away of the sheltering night so that the earth's
inhabitants and organs may be revived in yellow golden greens of damp grasses and the whiteness of a Sunday's fresh milk?

of course, of course, the times when the horizon calls,
saying come to me, cross the transition to the newness
of everything, in the ages and days of celebration of
unfamiliar entrances?


No, no, she answers, bemusedly grinning,
not everything is a poem,
you thieving wordsmith, simply did I observe
that having an extra pair of sunglasses in the car for
transitional times*
was a good idea!

pulling back on the road that goes past the
Tuck Ice Cream Shoppe, the island treasure hunt Dump, the ordinary homes on the range, all  along the way to the boatyard where are kept and stored and stockpiled each summer colored sunset evening along with the drinkable French pink Rose wines and gleaming yellow Sancerre and golden ales of Nantucket,
I think to myself,
nuh uh,
every transition,
every glorious mindless conversation,
even in the town dump,
treasures in each word, in everything, especially the
extra extra-ordinaries,
is a poem*

June 25. 2017
5:20am
Overwhelmed Nov 2010
halter of progress
bane of evolution
frostbite of growth
death of the future

try to stop me now!
I dare you!

I know your tricks!
your snarly ways!

the maybes
the sick feelings
the doubtful thoughts
the double-takes

I know them all!
every
single
one

and you can’t stop me anymore!
nuh-uh
you can try,
but you
can’t!

so now,
be afraid!
be very afraid!
because world

here I come

and honestly,
you’ve got no way
to stop
me




(unless you **** me,
of course.)
Lynda Kerby Sep 2017
I watched a
Jehovah
Witness lugging around
200 lbs of literature in a suit and tie on a
103 degree
August day and
I was thinking out loud,
God,
That can't be what you want from us is it??
What
DO you want from us? and
I heard in my soul the words
"Turn on the radio" and
I said nuh-uh!! and the voice said,
"Yes, turn on the radio" and so
I did and right on cue, the
Dj said, we don't normally do this but we've got a request to play this song one more time!
and it was this song.
dreadfulmind Nov 2013
If you are hurt or betrayed, If you are hurt by people, who share the same blood as you. Remember Yussuf A.S, who was betrayed by his own brothers.

If you find your parents opposing you. Remember Ibrahim A.S, whose father led him to the fire.

If you are stuck with a problem where there's no way out. Remember Yunnus A.S stuck in the belly of a whale.

If you are ill and your body cries with a pain, remember Ayyub A.S who was more ill than you.

If someone slanders you. Remember Aishah A.S who was slandered throughout the city.

If you are lonely. Recall Adam A.S who was created alone.

If you cannot see any logic around you. Think of Nuh A.S who built an ark without questioning.

If you are mocked by your own relatives. Think of Nabi Muhammad S.A.W.

**Can't you see how wonderful our Nabi is and their stories. Islam is indeed beautiful and perfect!
Matloob Bokhari Dec 2014
IN GOD’S NAME, THE COMPASSIONATE
           MATLOOB BOKHARI
O Most Gracious and Most Merciful God
Who raised up the heavens without any support.
Who forgave our first parents, Adam and Eve
Who listened  cries of  Younus from depth of darkness
Who rescued Nuh , and drowned who denied His signs
Who ordered the fire to be cool and be safety for Ibrahim
Who kept Yousuf away from the seduction of Zulaikhah
Who blessed Musa a radiance white hand and a staff
Who made Mary and her son a sign for the worlds
Whose signs are the night and the day ; the sun, the moon
Glory be Thee! O totally forgiving God, I repent to You
Ask forgiveness in the name of Muhammad and his progeny
I am most meek, I am most humble, I am most  obedient
O God Who pardons like a mother, I made big mistakes
  I am worst sinner, I confess my sins, I ask big forgiveness
I have wounded my soul; I have gone astray, forgive me!
Please forgive me! To err is human, to forgive is Divine
Surely, Your compassion overcomes Your wrath!
What do I really want?
I'll need some time to think
but in the meantime
let me inform you
that your sunglasses turn me off.
they haunt me with images of Lady Gaga
and if you're anything like her
I say nuh-uh.
You spend too much time painting your nails
checking your phone
and looking for sales.
Now, don't get me wrong,
I'm not saying looking nice is wrong
trust me
i notice
but i need someone with their priorities straight
not someone who regularly takes a picture of their plate.
and I don't want to just sit there and stare into your eyes
saying they're a teardrop from the moon
trying to get you to swoon.
your eyes could be the most beautiful things i've ever seen
but that means **** to me when you're a material queen.
instead, while we gaze into each other's eyes
i'll probably pick your nose
stick it in your ear
or wipe it on your clothes

i need someone who understands
that life is really about where we've been
where we're going
and most definitely
about taking the scenic route
because if our eyes are the windows to our souls
that's where I'll be looking when we grow old
and i'll see all our memories
not the cancer
the spots
or crippling disease.
because age may wrinkle our skin,
and time pass us like wind
what's truly important
is what's within.
Just like wine
we'll only get better in time.
so lets make those memories
lets scrape our knees
really feel the breeze
and please please please
remember that we can stay young if we just act a little dumb.
remember these mountains we climb would take less time
if we hold each other's hands
and intertwine.
that way,
whether we make it to the top
or life pulls us down
we'll be together.
my love.
my crown.
Dennis Willis Jan 2019
I need to sink
into

sinking into

sinking

I need to drain

I nuh nuh
need to draw in

i need
to be less

of a target
i need to be less

less than is coming
tomorrow to
to
to

raise
this
time

and you read your life
from guesses upon guesess
upon nothing we understand
upon

is it time
for lunch

stop me
if you've

heard

this sound
na na nah nah

imagine
hearing it

when you
r




Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis
Makayla Jordan Feb 2019
nuh nuh no one listens
they tend to ignore
can I ask you a-
(shut up makayla
no one cares)
im beginning to become afraid.
that if no one listens to me.
then I’d have to listen to myself.
help me please.
Life's a Beach Oct 2014
It's a yell
A shout
A scream
and it's unheard. Believe me, when I
say I am not what I seem to be
when I am smiling
when I am grimacing
and I am wishing that I could do it

"just like normal people do"

But the word "Anxious" is soaked
like a tattoo down to my bone, until
I feel so alone that I wish I could eat myself
Snake scales slowly sliding into place
As, with each new word, I slowly want
to trickle sand
and
erase my
embarrassment
All too aware of
harassment which doesn't exist

I can't even begin to give you a list
of the amount of ways I felt this
hole, this weight, this unmistakeable
slayer of my breath
make me feel bereft again of
society, and friendship,
and love,
My brain is constantly praying for that dove
with an olive branch
Just to take a stance over my head
and let me be led into freedom
But instead

My mentality lies in tatters
and what is left
wholesome is scattered
with fear on the wind,
gradually allowing itself to rescind
until it turns, reforms, and falls
again

I never know when it's going to strike

Usually it's when I start to like somebody new,
that it begins to brew up it's toxic mess
Friend, Other or Lover,
it will find a way to slither and make
less again,
So nuh-uh, no way, not again,
I refuse to look you in the eye,
because I'm scared I'll cry if I see my fear there,
I'm scared I'll see that you're aware, that my fear
is slowly drowning me, and crowning
me the Queen of
Isolation,
lost and uncertain
Wishing I could pull the curtain, but still
blindly hoping that audience will
come to, will see the tattoo
and not be disgusted.
I don't want to be distrusted, because every sorry
is laden with uncertainty and regret, that's it
not over yet, and the monster still holds
me by the throat,
I am bathed in mistrust's yolk

And I wish I could smell of something different.

But, I take a deep breath, and I let
another war begin.
Because every day I stare into another's
pupil, is
another day I kinda, sorta,
win.
******* anxiety
I win every single battle
and one day,
I'll win the war.
Star Gazer Mar 2016
Girl : Be a little classy say scenery not view
Boy : view, it's a view.
Girl : it's a scenery. A scenic scenery. A memorable scenery.
Boy : You're a beautiful scenery. See **** doesn't make sense.
Girl : That's different.
Boy : What's the difference, that's just a sun. You're much prettier.
Girl : Such a sweet tongue, how many girls hearts have you broken?
Boy : None. Yet...
Girl : One day you'll miss having someone to look at scenic sceneries with.
Boy : I have you for that don't I?
Girl : True that but you'll still miss it when we grow up.
Boy : Who says we have to grow up?
Girl : We all do.
Boy : Nuh uh
Girl : Trust me you'll miss having someone to go look at views with.


One year later

Boy : I already do.
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2024
cracks me up
this erroneous error message,
looks at me and states authoritatively
nuh-uh, buddy, “it ain’t you you babe,
it ain’t you we looking for babe”

makes me crazy crying
copiously betw snorting fits of
eloquent derision

why oh why

is it daily savings time prematurely
(immaturely) aging me,
be it advancing decrepitude
or just the AI’s sullen attitude?

be it a secret messaging that my
mother’s slow descent into
senility, loss of speech is now me-
visible to the all seeing eyes on
a dollar bill, & or the iPhone genie?

this erroneous messaging appears
with an irregularity regular, just
enough to make me think that

this
       is
           not
                  accidental

come to nyC,
come me to see,
need an independent  
judgement  summary
please
before the winter pale overcomes my
poetic resistance and they park me
in the backyard, where I can sit yet,
studying for multiple hours
the river-fed bay on its way
to the vastness of the Atlantic
Ocean, where the water will combine.
all cells of each of our selected
those chosen body’s of water,
bodies now interring,
while populating
intermingling
taking stingling diatoms from
of each, they will kiss, greet, each other,
with the clarity of recognition that our
poetry has already bonded us in ways that are irrefutable, been coming long time
geological formations new and old,
still forces unstoppable foreseeing
every, every ever
10-31-24 a prolific
October comes to a glorious end,
with glorious sunshine warmth, bringing out the
costumery adults. pretending to be daytime adults…
arrivederci ottobre, benvenuto novembre!
Joshua Solomon Oct 2018
Ihi yahnh ihi
Dance the calypso
Step to irie nuh ire
Life’s everliving love song
Though mi throat coarse

Mi wi sing fi yuh
Expression through patois, interesting to try and wrte as the language is so beautiful
Zero Nine May 2017
I can't take this **** nuh more
I haven't been healthy since
Nine ******* teen
Plus two years and I found the way to love myself
First step hit the corner for the bottom shelf
Second, retire to my tomb of a bedroom
ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
drinkin for two, staunching wounds
with alcohol
breathin in toxic air through filters
for my chemical fix
I can't stand that my lungs hurt, my heart burns
I exhale hard and
I see black tar pull away in smoke form
Knowing I'm black inside, too
What do I do but spark one more white tip
Do i hate myself or am i afraid to love myself?
next to never (a pair of ones)

squeezed between nuh-uh and fugetaboutit,

is that long gone notion in the nation of concepts,

like one true love, the connected lines on each of our

bodies, certifying we are a pair of ones, a strong hand.


there are chores to be done:

reread Guy de Maupassant,

delete two thousand unread emails

cry for my so lost children

let Walt Whitman wash over my body like oil

kick the guy out of bed so he can make us coffee.

a ton of stuff to do, good thing, we got a strong hand,

that pair of ones.

which I am now informed is called a pair of

Aces.

Who Knew?

7:51 Sun Jul 12
Sole my soul
The shoe didn’t fit

Lifetimes of negotiations
Powerful how’d I get...

Anxious for a glimpse
These grounds
Consecrated

Weary of the next step
To be taken
Looking back

path of the created
Unadulterated or stipulations?

Plundering through books
Slumbering as it looks
Calm under palms
Psalms poems or songs?

Metaphoric
in that it sits
In all Beauty
amidst

Eye of the storm
Surrounded by chaos
sim·i·lar·ly
a simile
As me
under this tree

Devastation all about
All While reading aloud
Destruct
as the world Plummets

from skyward
To ground

Hell on earth
Satin saying
I’ve cursed
To Jehovah he’s raging

It didn’t work
he’s complaining
I control his soul
Yet now
he reads a verse

Demanding a refund
Nuh Uh neither wants

Sole my soul
Now I’m the Soul
That nobody wants
There is an extended story to this. Its just a poem though chill out!
Anita Feb 2019
Hey you gal, com’ere

You notice seh, when word gone round,
And people affie frown
and deh look pon you.

Mi nah say nothing.

When word gone round,
And people affie frown,
And deh look pon me,

Why yeah fi see me?

You haunted or summthin?
Vanilla on cream,
Think she prettier then me,

You nah nothing

Hey goodie, with your white gal ‘air
Only thing you better dan me,
Is ******* that wood like a lolly lolly pop.

Why you affie be so bad mind

You have a sad mind,
Two tiny ***** knocking side to side,
Coming up to me, with ya smile in hand,
Yeah lie, yeah lie

Me nuh see you,
you affie be somebody fi see

Hey you gal,
you think your better then me?
With ya boyfriend
Who ya naw even see, see

Bringing home hickeys,
And deh gurls seh she nah even mean dem.

Hahahahahaha
Go **** back ya moma
Ya, luckier then me!!!
Lol!!!
To those who think they are better then me, and affie say something about it.
(Notes)

(Begin fast and emphasize the connection between R and K)
--of DUHARRR-KKENEDUH fate,

(Slight emphasis on C and T)*                
                             Cold--ornaTe.
life--
         i cannot say
                               (fire) indescribable
warm water
warm water
warm water
(Gradually get louder each line)
WWarm water
WWORm water
WWORMUH water
WWORMUH Water
WWORMUH WAWter
WWORMUH WAWTTer
(Should be the loudest at this point)
WWORMUH WAWTTERR

                 LUHVUHEH
                    LUHVUHEH
                   ­    LUHVUHEH
                          LUHVUHEH
warm water
is it all but a game
find me there--in your kingdom

(Quietly and gracefully say each sound by line. Think of a love song)
luh
  uh
     vv
       eh
       ruh
     oh
   mm
     aa
        nn
            ss
              e
                 rr
                ii
               vv
                   e
                     rr
                     nuh
                    th
                  ein
what is it
meaning--
none
fire
brimstone
i am
i am--

(End loudly)
EYEAAMUH NUHTHHEIN
EYEAAMUH NUHTHHEIN
**EYEAAMUH NUHTHHEIN
Sound poetry is cool
Anais Vionet Jun 2021
A summer house-boat party - Matey - toss those cares overboard. The scout boat found a deserted cove so the party can be privately fierce.

The lake's broken reflections of moonlight look like jewels on black satin.

There are all kinds of drinks - ALL kinds - and herbal refreshments flare like lightning bugs. It isn’t long before perfumed bodies are flexing to music in the hot, moist, summer air.

Dance, swim and repeat as needed - cool water evaporates off bathing suits immediately - replaced by prickled sweat. It’s too hot - I’m staying in the water. There’s a group of us in tubes tied, spider-web like, around the boat.

There’s a guy who’s been watching us (Bili, my BFF, is my tube-mate). He’s extremely fair, and he’s gotten a bit too much sun giving him a feverish appearance.

At one point, I meet his gaze - to see what he’d do. His irises are a light blue that, in the lights, reflect like little blue flames - unwavering and alien.

I don’t mind a bit of attention - I think that’s how the system works - attraction, pursuit, investigation, and eventually seduction. But usually from someone we know. A stranger's attention can make one feel as if they're in enemy territory.

He gave me a nod and a smile that seemed like a proposition. I whisper about this “encounter” to Bili who takes command and just rows us over to him.

He’s older than I first thought - 22 - with cream-colored hair - thick, like horse mane and eyelashes and brows so pale they’re almost invisible. His name is “Noud” and he’s from Holland - at Georgia Tech studying atmospheric something or other - and girl watching.

“What are you doing at some random Georgia lake party?”, I ask.
“Soaking up the local atmosphere, of course.” He says. Which makes sense, I suppose, because that IS his chosen field.

I do an Arnold Schwarzenegger impression, arbitrarily, which I think is pretty good (you can’t beat the classics) - Noud, does an even better one.
His, “I’m going to take [pause] you OUT” got a laugh.
His later, “You need to take [pause] that OFF” earned a “nuh-uh” finger wag.

Thanks to vaccinations, the atmosphere around here is a lot more fun.
Wow, what a difference vaccinations make.
Anita Feb 2019
Ghetto life, it nuh easy
Especially when hungry a bite
Hungry can cause man fi a fight
Also loose dem life

Man hangout pon ends
Sey dem a hold a medz,
Police draw gun, man affie run
Tom get shot him tumble down

We cagow sleep a night, cause gun shot teck flight.
Blam, blam, bow bow, Kapow pow
Pon is floor man get down
Whouie him dead!!
Gun shot eena him head.
Me, my classmates, and my Drama teacher made this Poem for class. It was a fun experience.

— The End —