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"offsprings" poems
awakened by the offsprings cry, baby powdered morning dew showers the room, coffee stained smiles shine about cheerio blanketed kitchens, so worrisome for office tardiness, the carseat won't lock into place, tire marks on fresh paved driveways, to daycare tears dry not she's on time, fatigued she plants her seed to the office seat to grow even less awaiting to see the smile of her child and say her prayers before falling asleep                      - awaked by the offsprings cry, gun powered morning dew showeres the village, rotted teeth smile amongst the body-blanketed township, so worrisome of finding a slain mother sister brother just like father, the gun won't lock into place, they never will, tattered couches paved with the ***** of slaughtered buildings, mother's dead tears dry not, fatigued, hands of grungy drainpipes plant beside, holding stagnant a somber sibling, tremors ripple crimson tides, planted to grow even less awaiting to see the smile of his mother his father his sister and say his prayers with brother before laying down
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Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 8:29 PM UTC
Seattle to Syria°
Hey Human! I am your Sibling. Queen bee wings are Ripped, bee niblings are Smoked For Your Honey Sweet. Hey human! Listen your Sibling’s Buzz. Tiger lost bones for Medicine, Fox lost fur for Fashion, Sharks lost fins for Soup. Hey human! Do Not Butcher Siblings. Simba’s life is not your Trophy, Jumbo’s tusks are not Decors, Helmets of Hornbills are not jewels. Hey human! Do Not Reap Siblings. Emperors of ice continent lost land, Economics is making Amazon less, Logging makes Orangutans homeless. Hey human! Do Not Invade Siblings. Warm oceans bleach corals, Water depleted in cities, We ingest plastic regularly. Hey human! Do Not Desert the Earth. Overfishing is holocaust of aquatic life, Livestock levitates toxic emissions. Hey human! Do Not Prey on Siblings. Lichens stunned by pollution, Symbionts are disintegrating, Biodiversity is declining. Hey human! Be Together with Siblings. Hey Human! We are Offsprings of Mother Nature. Monera, Animalia, Fungi, Plantae, Protista all have common roots. We are branches of the one Phylogenetic Tree rooting Common Ancestry unto LUCA. Hey Human! We are Siblings. Hey Human! Recall your Siblings. Hey Human! Revive your Siblings.
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Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 11:19 AM UTC
The Forgotten Sibling
*In their blind bid To become westernized, They lost touch with reality Created shadows of themselves Despised their own intrinsic values Embraced a twisted dress sense Of fallen pants and revealed underpants Idolized everything they're not The good, the bad, the ugly They birthed dual personalities Picked up foreign accents On ****** home-based passports The American Dream, they call it, As they wear winter jackets In scorching African sun All in the name of fashion Trading our simple hues For complex shades unknown Bleaching skin and hair Trading natural black for artificial white Unaware the very gods they adore Are tanning theirs to look darker Insecurity drives them mad Inferiority complex overtakes them As they ban mother tongues in offsprings Placing exotic tongues on pedestals At the expense of our cultural future. This is not an attempt at poetry This is wake up call to Africa Be bold, be proud, be black! You are BEAUTIFUL!! You are AFRICAN!!!* © Raphael Uzor
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Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
Identity
You, the sculptor, shaped our lives, molded us, your offsprings, into the model of your desired likeness. You created masterpieces with the elder and younger; they so like the perfect David, but you are no Michelangelo, and i, the nucleus of this family, am not a piece of clay. i defy your wheel, knife, the kiln that fires your bloodline. i take to the kiln my own David, misshappen like a Picasso, surreal to you.
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Jan 29, 2011
Jan 29, 2011 at 6:43 PM UTC
Picasso's Progeny
***** pills and that naughty no no known as drugs hell if you do anything your addict ever see the sobber ****** down at the local mall? Kids screaming wife bitching you catch the eyes of the so called happy bastard who looks like one more scream laced cry is gonna make him flip and create some drama for the evening news . Yeah happiness sure smells like misery to me. Id rather drink and **** till I fall out dead than live the dream that looks more like a nightmare. Taking pills not to strangle some misreble ***** to death. Meanwhile she's greezing your brakes trying to to talk ya in to going to see the grand cannyon. Ever been there? Yeah a big *** ditch with a bunch of annoying picture taking ****** yeah i'll snap a pic of ya okay step back ,back okay like a few more steps well ya fell of the ledge ya silly ******** Guess it's cool to keep the camera. Ive been to scores seems the sights were more dam grand and the drinks a hell of alot better. Ever wake up to the dam TV blaring some early morning horse **** Some dam annoying tiny voiced ******* talkin to the kids. Look they got the net they get knocked up and make a show about it something tells me you can cut the ******* act. 16 and pregnant wow what genius more like when horney bastards attack hey heres a brainstorm birth control not that some over emotional half wit doesnt need a kid hell cant wait to see thoose offsprings hey mom wanna go on a double date to the prom? Happiness it cost to dam much and love will give ya heart burn.
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Feb 7, 2011
Feb 7, 2011 at 4:54 PM UTC
Drugs/Women/And Kids Cartoons
***** pills and that naughty no no known as drugs hell if you do anything your addict ever see the sobber ****** down at the local mall? Kids screaming wife bitching you catch the eyes of the so called happy bastard who looks like one more scream laced cry is gonna make him flip and create some drama for the evening news . Yeah happiness sure smells like misery to me. Id rather drink and **** till I fall out dead than live the dream that looks more like a nightmare. Taking pills not to strangle some misreble ***** to death. Meanwhile she's greezing your brakes trying to to talk ya in to going to see the grand cannyon. Ever been there? Yeah a big *** ditch with a bunch of annoying picture taking ****** yeah i'll snap a pic of ya okay step back ,back okay like a few more steps well ya fell of the ledge ya silly ******** Guess it's cool to keep the camera. Ive been to scores seems the sights were more dam grand and the drinks a hell of alot better. Ever wake up to the dam TV blaring some early morning horse **** Some dam annoying tiny voiced ******* talkin to the kids. Look they got the net they get knocked up and make a show about it something tells me you can cut the ******* act. 16 and pregnant wow what genius more like when horney bastards attack hey heres a brainstorm birth control not that some over emotional half wit doesnt need a kid hell cant wait to see thoose offsprings hey mom wanna go on a double date to the prom? Happiness it cost to dam much and love will give ya heart burn.
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every now and then I receive emails from former students with pictures of their newborns each time I am deeply touched that they feel I would like to know about their lives’ great events I reply with loving mails congratulating them wishing them much joy and patience with their adorable offsprings it is just nice to know that the people whose lives you shared for a few years are doing well
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Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 7:40 PM UTC
new life
to us, seekers of beauty, blue kaleidoscope ment nothing, we've never found it for we knew not anything about singular alone-ness sunset visages sang songs in return   early spring dancing a million secret blessings burnt effervescent organisms coiling as subtle sea of reciprocity, effervescent offerings, offsprings ramblings scattered and undisturbed quenching quietness, thirst satiated at meadows mists.
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Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 2:55 PM UTC
Satiated
What can the spawns of Ahriman say, that hasn't been said before What can  Angra Mainyu linage do that hasn't been done Children of Jahi the ***** fathered by The Opposer himself When the Ghost of ghosts spawned his offsprings in Hades Did he not promise them the world and declared it his Did he not remove the dusts of damnation from them And send them down to continue his dominion of fire Once the second exalted but twisted from his arrogance He faced down the Omnipotent Light and sought to usurp From thence on banished in eternal shame he remains The Ghost of Ghosts spawning his demons and ghouls The pretenders without light or hues washed in satyr's milk Disciples of extraction of the purity of the sinless inoncents Henceforth they seek ********** over the joys of Creation Killers that **** with all deeds and actions the Glories of Light Ghosts who opened Pandora before Pandora came alive Who plundered and ravaged as their master solely intended To destroy all the Magnificence of the Omnipotent Creator Who stands unequalled Pure and Mighty in His Golden Realm Ghost of ghosts fights on earth with his spawns multiplying Master of wickedness doling out false knowledge to ghosts Covering them with false beauty and riches in ****** minds Take your poisoned rewards and destroy to live like kings For I make you children of destruction and ghosts without souls Soon you will all come and burn forever in undying molten fire
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Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 10:18 AM UTC
Ahriman's Children
I am rhyme, you are rhythm, I pen ivory, you dance ebony and together, we share our own classical-hip-hop world. People still gape When they see us together The stark difference of our skin Yet in nature, we mesh perfectly together. I am ivory, creamy white chocolate You are ebony, dark hardened chocolate Melted together, our offsprings Become butterscotch and milk chocolate What beauty the world beholds in children.
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Dec 19, 2010
Dec 19, 2010 at 5:16 AM UTC
The Contrast of Beauty
Unexplained movement That leaves all with lot of questions. Giving out opinions, She always feed me corrections. Trying to copy her moves, manly... But end up looking like a fool. Mainly that's her story, I guess it's because she's New... But after gazing at the Dawn, She wants me, the fool, to be there With her eyeing the Moon.. Unnecessary excuses, Resulted in me not getting layed. Not that I'm aggressive , But I mean, c'mon , it's getting late. I won't be in here forever, I'll have to be in class tomorrow at eight. Offsprings ready to be cheered, oh Gosh , I've lost it... Trapped in a jar, trying to open up a lid. Not even a hug, All I'm swallowing is a spit. Almost had a ***** Fit, Cuz... He got a kiss, Not on a cheek, but on the lips It's good to be my friend. Small, but very smart mind. I won't finish writing this poem, ThiS is the end.... ..... For now.
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May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 3:53 PM UTC
Offensive Gesture
i'm trying to break the barriers between us, but my voice isn't loud enough; scream with me, have faith. before it's far too late.. before the walls consume us and silence us for a longer time than we expect... before i drown myself in the pool of our lost memories, i'd rather have the walls swallow me. before i fall apart at the seams just like the first rose you gave me that withered, i'd rather let you leave numbly. before the immortal stillness starts to drip down my neck, and i'll begin to hear my own cells crack at the cry of your name... before the raindrops, the exact replica of my tears, fall on the ashes of our crowded memories that are no longer familiar... before my heroine turns to ****** before the offsprings of spring decide to kidnap me, before the hands on the clock choke me... before my heartbeat turns into electric shocks that fail to revive me, before the stars in my eyes burn out faster than us... leave me. leave me numb, alone, unaware. my body ran out of red, now i'm bleeding hues while waiting for you. you dug my own hole, you smothered my soul. they warned me about how you had a habit of running your thumb against others' lives, but i wont let you touch mine. my existence will not be smudged by yours; leave, before you take over me completely.
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Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
a poem collaboration with f.a.r.
When the sun rises, the moon has no say but to leave the morning sky without a glance Albeit sullenly, albeit unwillingly, he leaves the dark to turn into day again. When the cold breeze turns stronger, fiercer, and the temperature starts falling, autumn slips away imperceptibly, in the dawn of winter. Leaving behind dead leaves, dead trees and death death death, the sky will weep snowflakes. When her tiger cubs mastered the art of hunting, the tigress has to forsake her offsprings. She abandons them in the dead of the night, as they make their second **** There will be nothing but indifference in those cold, steely eyes. Like the seasons, like nature itself, was it that natural for you to leave me? Were you the moon, autumn or tiger?
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Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 6:55 AM UTC
Naturally You Left.
"I want take another direction, but no road" I said to a friend "why do you want to do such" she inquired. If only she knew the demons within If only she knew how it all began The troubles, the wars beneath, everyday I come alive sore The pain in my heart, the curse given to it The soul is not within anymore - a living corpse - Something different I want to be Not to bear offsprings, they won't agree Not to be with the opposite 'cos nothing loves Not to shed a tear 'cos I've gone dry Not to eat 'cos there's no flesh to feed To feel my pain, its his only gain The demon within.. Do as you wish but hurt none within reach Anyone who knows me, see for your self My heart and soul hangs at his window pane.
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Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 1:21 PM UTC
DE-A-MON
Who is this?! Who is this creature, peeping through my joy, interrupting my happiness? Who is this creature,crawling my surrounding? Crooking the smooth path i once trod? Who is this that feeds upon the flesh of my children, And drinks from the blood of my offsprings?! Who is this ravaging the treasures long laid? Darkening my image, Treading upon my dignity?! Trampling on my joy of motherhood? How did my innocent children wrong you? Upon whose invitation do you resident my camp?! Who invited you to swim in the blood of children?! And have as your meal the fruits of my hardlabour? Curse upon you this day, For you're but unwanted guests! Enemies of humanity Humanly clothed. Enough to your damage. Gather your luggage and be gone from us. Let me and my children sing the songs of peace!. Be far removed from us! Go far away from this land and do not return.
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Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC
Mother Nigeria weeps
A monstrously graceful and gracious disgrace A malicious tyrant with a burning vengeance, The Satanic betrayal of a people so down and out, The atrocious ****** of a defenceless citizenry, The barbarous Lucifer of our era. When we thought our nation had gone to the dogs, You religiously rescued it and plunged it further beyond, When we thought our motherland was dead and buried, You exhumed her, mutilated the remains and fed them to crocodiles, ********** child of the product of our soil. Our guides are painfully turning in their graves, Monomotapa, Nehanda and Kaguvi, Lobengula, Mzilikazi and Joshua Nkomo, A collection that epitomizes peace and order for their descendants, Patriots that sacrificed their lives for their offsprings’ wellbeing. But Grace, time is always of essence, What goes around, certainly comes around, Has it ever occurred to you that God is for us all, And he is not asleep, When he hands over the button to us, what are you gonna do?
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May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 5:22 AM UTC
Grace - What are you gonna do?
More than just drops of water The life giver, the energy re filler The rain, I stopped running away And gazed, on drops that fall on leaves A closer look, and thoughts lit up It's a refreshment, a zillion angels Descending, giving life to the dry souls Defending drought from wiping out joy The soil absorbed the gift Awakened her offsprings The trees, herbs and flowers Replenished their needs Now, the payback to their care takers To let them be thankful to God For what they haven't destroyed For they have become humans The nature will unleash, the beauty The food, the medicines, to relax And to inhale life, the oxygen Then after, the silly droplets That fooled around on huge petals Soon, to drop on her fulfilled heart
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Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 4:35 AM UTC
The Rain (LTV - 4)
Book: African Hidden Info's Written By: Thando DebrokenPoet _ To My Fellow Nigros Lost Children Of Melanin Fumbling Offsprings Of Mwari You've Struggled And Tumbled In Chena Murume's(White Men's), grasping Hearts. _ The Enslaved And Consciously Disabled- Till spiritually You Drowned Deep Into Our Oppressors Feet. Day-to-day You Lowered And Waxed To Every sovereign state's Begger. _ This Book Is to My Fellow Afru-ika Sisters & Brothers. And Fellow Nigro Whose Ancestors Suffered As Steve Biko Did And All Other Liberation Heros. To Name Few:Prophet/king Shake Zulu Of The Zulu Clan- Prophetess Mtsopa, King Langalibalele , Takawira Of Zimbabwe, Hector Peterson, Credo Muthwa Mohamed Farrah Aidid Of Somalia. And Many Unrealised, Unrecognised Misunderstood Hero's, like the Xhosa Prophetess- Nongqawuse The True African Freedom Fighters. _ Skinned Dark, Rough In Complexion Creator's Mastered Creation Though Notified To Be Mvelinqangi's Rejected Child. Said Black pigment, displays Alah's Curse Upon You Dark skinned. _ Through Thy're Undying spirit, mandate passed to Prophet Radebe. I'll Unpack Africa's Hidden Truths Self-owed By homme blanc(White Men). _ My Intro, For My 10 Days Of Poetree.
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Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 10:57 AM UTC
GREETINGS FELLOW NIGROS
A rippled sky, waylaid projected by reflected light on the floor beneath my feet On top of the pitch it seems– like starry nights with echoed rings A dauntless guardian, still in protecting those under him, avoiding the meteored blues Its fruitful arms extend– to reach children, prideful and anxious The downpour of thoughts, torrential ravaging the inner workings of a rippled mind muddy with unsolicited fetor Misfortune had her way– with the brine on this man's body Offsprings of a frothy child, joyful jumping on the heads of worn down golemns Nurturing weaponized yet– repressed emotions that fell prey to false empathy From the canvass sea to the mirrored sky travelling through concrete mattresses and blankets pure and men, They seem to neglect this jubilee because of the sadness its aftermath brings
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Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 5:34 PM UTC
Rain Water
She is sitting under her mango tree. An empty plate and a half-finished cup of tea. Her hazy sight gazed on the wall while a flock of flies ravage on the wet spot of spilt tea. I extend my hand for a formal greeting but my presence is absent in her wondering mind. "Hello granny" My hand shakes her fragile body while her muscles quake like a shaked *** of half cooked sadza. " ooh muzukuru Phidza!" She responds in an almost dried up voice. I smile though I know that is my brother's name. She has been forgetting things and now my name is one of them. "Your mother is right behind you isn't she?" She asks the usual question. "No granny but she will be home for Christmas." I give her the same answer as on yesterday's visit. Her offsprings had flown to the diaspora for greener pastures. Leaving her under the custody of maids with neither any of her blood nor seed around. "The baobab is falling, worms are devouring it from within." She whispers. I clinch my hands around her in an emotional hug. These were the hands that spanked me for taking my pants for the bathroom. And a soft kiss on the fore head reminding me for all that beating for truancy. So I smile as I am getting lost in the dense forest of my childhood episodes.
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Jan 27, 2019
Jan 27, 2019 at 12:28 AM UTC
THE VISIT
Some people spend years trying to find what they really want. Nobody really knows if they are content with being content. Married by twenty-five and three kids by thirty-three. A nice suburban house with double doors and everything you've ever dreamed of in the hard wood floors of your newly renovated kitchen. Your house is littered with toys that you don't even remember buying. Constant arguments over why you spent two hundred dollars on a purse but you swear to God it's designer and completely worth it. Your children are sneaking out at night and you snoop through your daughters diary because you say you think she's on drugs but really you are just nosy. You have boring, repetitive missionary *** every other Tuesday and you are sure that *** didn't used to feel this dull. Your children leave and you are left with a near empty house again. You spend your time with golf and knitting class to try and fill the gaping hole left in your heart… Holy **** There is a senior yoga class at the YMCA. Your every breath is laced with worry of your offsprings in the real world. You think back to when you were in high school and how you dreamed about being a ballet dancer. Where has your life gone? You can barely stand without the help of a cane because your knees are too old and creaky. You can't even remember your old street name and your children stick you in a home because they can't manage with crazy old mom around. They visit you once a month and eventually you forget you even have children. Your last couple of breaths are panicked and regretful. You have your memories knocked back into you with the fear of a reaper. You realized you never actually lived and you want to go back. You dwell on every mistake and missed opportunity You regret not following your dreams. You want to go back. You want to go back. You want to go back. You want to go back. You want to go ba--
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Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 3:08 PM UTC
how to age in the worst possible way
Some people spend years trying to find what they really want. Nobody really knows if they are content with being content. Married by twenty-five and three kids by thirty-three. A nice suburban house with double doors and everything you've ever dreamed of in the hard wood floors of your newly renovated kitchen. Your house is littered with toys that you don't even remember buying. Constant arguments over why you spent two hundred dollars on a purse but you swear to God it's designer and completely worth it. Your children are sneaking out at night and you snoop through your daughters diary because you say you think she's on drugs but really you are just nosy. You have boring, repetitive missionary *** every other Tuesday and you are sure that *** didn't used to feel this dull. Your children leave and you are left with a near empty house again. You spend your time with golf and knitting class to try and fill the gaping hole left in your heart… Holy **** There is a senior yoga class at the YMCA. Your every breath is laced with worry of your offsprings in the real world. You think back to when you were in high school and how you dreamed about being a ballet dancer. Where has your life gone? You can barely stand without the help of a cane because your knees are too old and creaky. You can't even remember your old street name and your children stick you in a home because they can't manage with crazy old mom around. They visit you once a month and eventually you forget you even have children. Your last couple of breaths are panicked and regretful. You have your memories knocked back into you with the fear of a reaper. You realized you never actually lived and you want to go back. You dwell on every mistake and missed opportunity You regret not following your dreams. You want to go back. You want to go back. You want to go back. You want to go back. You want to go ba--
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A frame dating back The nostalgic feeling of a former home How we all stood and watched How we all wondered how it happened Why does it hurt again? The three offsprings looking down In the cushioned box whence she laid Tears, free flowing Mouths agape, a child cries Its the end of the road Ma, Pray under the bossom of the Lord You Rest.
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Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 11:14 AM UTC
PICTURE
my best poems came: in months, days of desperation, hours, moments of elation, it was the always imbalance that just was, that was/when the karma-was in-balance my best poems always, always, came accompanied by tears, many, before, during, certainly after, even twice, when a later returning stumble, brought the sentries to open old gates never, at any time, was a man with many friends, reasons plenty, reasons mine, it was an imbalance that just was, that of the karma-when-in-balance, except, the creative offsprings became children, painful to raise, coming to visit occasionally hear no quiet trumpet moaning, nor a violin shed the human cries that only a man-made instrument can be forgiven for being better at than their own creators.  Much by choice, or criminal laziness, all tinged by a fear so subtle, don’t think anyone knew it existed, yet, always humming “see the man running against the wind” there you have it. no summing up necessitated, because how the numbers add up, the total is just the total, and know, you can finish this one, the total is just a rose by any other name, it’s a number that by definition was the of, the when, “when an imbalanced karma-was-in-balance.”
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Jul 27, 2020
Jul 27, 2020 at 3:40 PM UTC
my best poems came (when an imbalanced karma-was-in-balance)
If the voices of the voiceless remain unattended to, In our tomorrow, will there be a dream to run to? They cry in silence as their dreams are being tattered. They speak in their heart because their words don't matter. They didn't ask to be born But they are here left to tick away like a time bomb. Those who help them, take away their pride. Those who ignore them, jest with their strides. They are made adults before adulthood. They are made worthless like bitter truth. They groom their offsprings without a groom. They are only needed to choose an umbrella or a broom. My people, what we have seen don't scare like the unseen. The hate we give today, are just fruitful seeds. We have their pairs as children and wards. Yet, we left them for the rain, the sun and the world. Ain't we worse than the worst virus? Ain't we creating what will devour us? Now tell me, if the voices of the voiceless remain unattended to, In our tomorrow, will there be a dream to run to?
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Jun 27, 2020
Jun 27, 2020 at 2:18 PM UTC
Today's Seeds
Kingdoms more, Kingdoms sore Passing the guards— Like busting bars Riddles compact— From the numbers,— Etched in Hollow Blocks The fact of goners— Hit the doors,— and punch the backs— In hied, to navigate the tracks— To boost out— Parts. Steep lands embed this twisted wanderer— Aches the leaves and humps— Pushing to slouch As I beg the ground— Not to pound— For the planes to switch rounds. Offsprings declined the measures— of luxuriant wands The caverns feed the infant's boredom Does hold the dome— For loitering dogs An insatiable **** That climbs for ripe fruits— And wildly shouts— The beggar's principles Here and there— Values— Then eats apples. The weathering turned the rocks to dust I must— crumple my tasks Ah, the shallows.. On search for walloped hearts— Of shortened wage;— Of weak grips Oh, I thirst for distance Lay down barks! Lay down! **** the shallows! God, oh God,— Is this the penalty for swindling clemency?— Just crumbs.. Just crumbs.. For open mouths.. Oh, why they broke it? Face down,— I crawl to this warmth They fade.. So I kneel for a while— With curved points— To the unknown shore What beauty relies from there? I am bandaged by whipped words Tell the pending men— Of my bare tense.. Sigh and sigh.. The sand and seaweeds Caressing the voyager's rest Refresh the bonds of East and West— From the rise and fall— Of Sailors' flow Collide the surfers— With tentacles of Immortality! The commands of Tides— Emerge a Hurricane— to blow its treasures— with the Strakes! Alas, the whales jump— Splashing with the crystals I know now.. The vast,— This is my Wealth— My True Luxury My Kingdom calls me.. I shall embrace my prize.. I swim the bottomless Abyss.. They landed on my spot— With only slacks on sand— And the surface reads— "Hah, I'm Rich Now!"
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May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 3:16 AM UTC
"A Stolen Piece"
Kingdoms more, Kingdoms sore Passing the guards— Like busting bars Riddles compact— From the numbers,— Etched in Hollow Blocks The fact of goners— Hit the doors,— and punch the backs— In hied, to navigate the tracks— To boost out— Parts. Steep lands embed this twisted wanderer— Aches the leaves and humps— Pushing to slouch As I beg the ground— Not to pound— For the planes to switch rounds. Offsprings declined the measures— of luxuriant wands The caverns feed the infant's boredom Does hold the dome— For loitering dogs An insatiable **** That climbs for ripe fruits— And wildly shouts— The beggar's principles Here and there— Values— Then eats apples. The weathering turned the rocks to dust I must— crumple my tasks Ah, the shallows.. On search for walloped hearts— Of shortened wage;— Of weak grips Oh, I thirst for distance Lay down barks! Lay down! **** the shallows! God, oh God,— Is this the penalty for swindling clemency?— Just crumbs.. Just crumbs.. For open mouths.. Oh, why they broke it? Face down,— I crawl to this warmth They fade.. So I kneel for a while— With curved points— To the unknown shore What beauty relies from there? I am bandaged by whipped words Tell the pending men— Of my bare tense.. Sigh and sigh.. The sand and seaweeds Caressing the voyager's rest Refresh the bonds of East and West— From the rise and fall— Of Sailors' flow Collide the surfers— With tentacles of Immortality! The commands of Tides— Emerge a Hurricane— to blow its treasures— with the Strakes! Alas, the whales jump— Splashing with the crystals I know now.. The vast,— This is my Wealth— My True Luxury My Kingdom calls me.. I shall embrace my prize.. I swim the bottomless Abyss.. They landed on my spot— With only slacks on sand— And the surface reads— "Hah, I'm Rich Now!"
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