"oppressing" poems
natural glow: white people
on snapchat stories. stop
using flash. stop oppressing
everyone. i'm looking
at you, karen.
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 3:47 PM UTC
By Samaneh Nazerian
On a cold winter evening,
There was a dove with no wing,
Looking at sky,
Asking Him why?
It was cloudy,
Very gloomy,
And across the windows,
She saw a flock of crows,
They were humankind,
With nothing in mind,
In the fading light,
They were in delight!
Oppressing on a dare,
They were taking no care,
With time passing,
The kids' laughing,
The poor's crying,
The Lord's yelling,
And His warning,
The sun's shining,
Where it's rising,
And is setting,
No care with the moon,
Singing out of tune!
They were working,
And were playing,
Eating, laughing,
And were crying!
They were doing,
All every thing,
Save for thinking,
On their being!
No one caring for the poor, the old,
All what's seen was the gold and cold!
All were there so wise,
But getting shut-eye,
And closing their eyes,
To the how and why!
No one seeking,
The peaks and the ups,
And not looking,
For the mountaintops!
Finding the world of humanity,
In dark, free of any charity,
The dove,
With love,
Felt unhappy,
And like jelly!
She asked the Lord with courtesy,
For His Blessing, Help and Mercy!
She called on Him,
To forgive them,
Give them a chance,
To ruin their fence,
To save their face,
Well, in any case!
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 6:59 AM UTC
I work for the machine
that bashes bastardized beauty
into the face of the masses
The status quo
of oppressing the Goddess
to some golden ratio
of ***** perfection
"We set the standards, baby"
An arrogance of man,
A battle born in blood
objectifying some sacred symbol,
The cosmic ****
we all crawled out of
as star dust
The holy hole
to heaven on Earth
Gaia taken advantage of
Rejecting the gift of consciousness
We'll de-evolve
like past-life regressions
like we're so self-entitled to
come back around
Among the cosmos
cradled in the crescent
Deny yourself the mystique of the feminine
The clashing of the anima and animus
The syzergy of
the sun
the moon
and us
Call on your angels
And submit to the psychosis
My brothers,
These are our
sisters and mothers
They don't want to castrate
The ******* symbol
Destroy the alpha male
And the omega oppression
The beginning and the end of
**** shaming
I worked for the
misogyny machinery of Moloch
My heart no longer beats here
It just bleeds for her.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 9:13 AM UTC
Hey, you got your
freedom of religion
in my
freedom of speech!
Feb 22, 2011
Feb 22, 2011 at 11:56 AM UTC
***The mistress of my hereafter stole me away,
As she so oft does,
To a few minutes of quiet conversation.
In her silenced voice I could read my own
Long since Christianed anguish,
So near it is - but so ****** far away.
If only in Faraway we had us a private cottage,
Maybe then we could retire to our dreams.
The dressing room there
Would always be yours.
For I make everything yours
And call it so beforehand.
Thus making you the mistress
Of my entire hereafter.
My alpha - my omega.
This “Hereafter” is but a melancholy term ‘lest
We find ourselves stole away whilst
Communicating through our spirits.
For in spirit we have already met and
Shall surely meet again.
Let the certainty of it
Brighten us with its forth coming.
Thou surely must be the author
Of the utmost of our faith.
Faith in that day of heaven’s thought where
In Faraway the cottage nestles between
Twin peaks in the sweetest valley
Ever laid at your feet while eyes
See every days' blue azure sky.
There we dine together by candlelight
In the middle of the day while we
Cater the meal toward happiness.
In Faraway, all around us lives
In a rapturous praise along with all that ever was.
And if you should ever find my wit oppressing to
Your kindness, then show your disdain and
I will surely take my leave.
As we look together through the candlelight
Let us see only the highest values in each other.
Let my eyes put your name on notice
That if I were so employed as to be a slave
In this land called Faraway, then my heart
Would be no less than the prophet accommodated
Somewhere within your walls.
There with a stool and a candlestick
I would sit patiently waiting for your unmaking.
There my soul could be at peace from this world.
I’d lean against your wall with the candle in my hand,
I’d look into your eyes as I blew out the light.
The cottage would then come to life
As would the hearth within us.
We’d breathe in each other fueling the fire.
For love is the fuel that burns here in Faraway,
Our sweet vapors rising high into the sky.
They are bless'ed fires that never end.
Come - blow out the candle once more and
Let's lose our disguises–
Later I'll relight the candle so we can
Blow it out and do it all over again.***
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 8:38 AM UTC
All weapons of
the fates you've sealed
Are no match for
this pen I wield
The power to
articulate
Ticking rhyme bombs
to detonate
The conflicts waged
gambling mankind
My perfect hand
is treaties signed
Hellbent hounds pray
like dogs, I hunt
Frontline this notebook
battlefront
With metaphors
of mindless drones
Like similes
to brainwashed clones
Whose C4 booms
and IED's
Can't build bridges
like ABC's
Or tear them down
with death regimes
By rusting through
the war machines
Flamethrowin’ my
verbal grenade
With ****** noun
scorched-earth tirade
On militant
cold-blood elite
King cobras know
I'm packing heat
Seeking missile
resolution
Winged raptor
devolution
Prehistoric
barbarism
Literacy
cataclysm
Stockpiling
extinction bones
We're cavemen carving
fallout stones
My Hiroshima
prose explodes
With nuclear
bushido codes
Released from my
katana's ward
To free my press
from shogun lord
Oppressing haiku
imagery
And samurai
epigraphy
Expressions of
my ronin soul
Omitted by
the daimyo
Satsuma is my
poetry
My final draft's
Nagasaki
Ink cartridges
strapped 'round my neck
I print no charge
or background check
And ****** every
live round free
Of innocent
blood elegy
And killing sprees
of gunned-down news
Domestic violence
black and blues
A Number 2
pencil dependent
Obsolete
lead-head amendment
Open carry
shoots a blank
Empty shell case
at my think tank
So grip this peace
then **** and pull it
**** my diction
write the bullet
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 2:10 PM UTC
Revival of a revolutionary spirit
What I represent?
Dem single mother ******* children
Uneducated, unmotivated, and poverty stricken
Moma pay da rent, da car note, den broke, da game sumtm' slick
So I'm young BLACK and angry, real thug-life *****
Infested communities of drugs and guns thats brought in by the government
So before I move a pack o pull a trigga just tryna win
I'm already guilty, 'until proven innocent'
Ain't dat a *****
The days as slaves and Jim Crow's segregated ways have passed,
Dey sayin'
But I only see it disguised now as a 'color blind' racial caste system
Crooked politicians and sellouts oppressing dey own kin
In the 'pursuit of happiness'
They're privatising prisons for capital
Mass incarceration
How could another life be property?
With a loss of civil rights, even after release
Take it ha you wona
I'm anti-colonialism
Everywhere the 'Albino' go he **** the land and oppress the people
Oct 1, 2020
Oct 1, 2020 at 4:58 PM UTC
Tutol
Ako sa
Nakararaming
Gumaganap na
Alam ang tama.
In english as a more accurate translation...
Since I actually **** more in my native language....
I am
Definitely against the
Information given by
Oppressing and assuming
Total majority
So yeah, just so you know
Anything is correct, probably, possibly.
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 4:50 AM UTC
There was much in her madness to draw us in.
Poetry was payback, electroshock for readers,
collusion between self and the culture oppressing women.
Rebelling against the limitations of a woman's sphere,
seeking refuge in career, a feminist before it was chic,
writing poems as a poultice against death
lurking in the shadows of a conflicted mind.
Sylvia, what was the dialogue you had with Death?
He deceived you in the mirror,
made you tremble at the foot of the stairs,
hissed from the potatoes in the kitchen,
till you sought solace in the oven's jets.
You were an artist out of time.
It's safe to come in from the depression now.
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 12:56 AM UTC
The small candle flame of liberty and freedom burns in the citadel of Washington, D.C.
The godly daughter's Faith, Hope and Charity keep the small candle wick burning over the years of the US nation's history, so the light as a witness of a brighter future?
You see Hope gives humanity the vision to see a brighter tomorrow?
You see Faith gives humanity the power to see with eyes of light and faith to build that brighter tomorrow?
You see Charity brings humanity together to build that brighter tomorrow?
So remember light is freedom and liberty, but be very careful?
What you do with your freedom and liberty in the world around you?
Remember also the light is strong love, but never oppressing love in reality?
If Washington D.C falls to the darkness?
Then what a darkness that would be in the world?
But the leader's in Washington D.C must have the light of the Christ within their hearts to lead them out of the land of darkness?
Because remember humanity loves the darkness by humanities very nature itself, but the darkness can't defeat the light of humanity, because humanities true image is the Christ type humanity itself?
You see Love is the Golden Key to the lighthouse door of the Christ, because only those who love from the heart's core have the Golden Key to enter the lighthouse of Christ?
So remember Washington, D.C. you are the lighthouse of the world?
So remember Washington, D.C. you are the lighthouse of the world?
So remember Washington, D.C. you are the lighthouse of the world?
So Washington, D.C. let your Liberty Bell ring out in the world for humanity to hear and come out of darkness to the land of light and liberty were dark night is a thing of the past and the vampires of the night are gone forevermore.
Aug 7, 2021
Aug 7, 2021 at 10:00 AM UTC
reoccurring fascism
boiling over in my head
led by not only the bureaucracy
to which we sacrifice our
god given rights to
but by the
oppressing society
that force feeds us
elated lies
funneling us into
specific life paths
but I did not ask
to be born into
a fascist society
ruled by
a democracy, which is
more of a
soft spoken dictatorship.
So excuse me if
I would rather
practice my own
beliefs, instead of
shoving money up
my *** crack
while i sit behind
a desk for the majority
of my life.
Not to mention
the 18+ years of
a mandatory education
that only taught
me how to pass
a state standarized test
put together by the same
******* idiots
who are too
brainwashed by the generations
before them to realize
that the state
is their new God-
but refuse to believe
that America,
the land of the free,
is a theocracy.
Instead of involving
myself in that obvious
grueling cycle
I think
I would rather
separate myself
from the state,
society,
and the false belief
of legal freedom
that was drilled
into all of our
heads
(I do not need a government
to tell me I am free,
just by them saying that
expresses that I am only free
merely because
they let me be.)
I am free
because I am human
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 9:21 AM UTC
So contradicting
Numb feelings, oppressing
To the dreams that fly
In the vast Southern sky
Drown in sorrowful laughter
Dance in the midnight breeze
Soak in the piercing heat...
Soak in the piercing heat
Unknowingly knowing
There's probably nothing
In the end all is gone
Wilting flowers in the bed of fears
Drown in sorrowful laughter
Dance in the midnight breeze
Soak in the piercing heat...
Soak in the piercing heat...
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
You can not become great by hurting the noble
Nor can you become strong by oppressing
The weak and the meek
My humility is not my weakness
Nor is your pride your strength
One can become great only by helping
The poor and the needy
And forgiving the faulty
And not finding fault with the mighty
Jesus can not be oppressed by crucifixion
His resurrection is the divine manifestation
Dec 25, 2010
Dec 25, 2010 at 3:46 AM UTC
America-- you’re about as inspiring as vanilla ice cream puddled in the summer sun
a damp dishrag, america, you can’t clean up the mess you are.
Your subjects, or should I say, Objects--
your agency bereft gdp drones--
they hanker, they brood
like a syst; they’re ****** vacuoles: private, malignant, caverns of capital
your pride? starving children, dying cities?
it’s a grand ole’ flag, you pathetic ****
How about considering this:
The people, inside your prisons?
They’re free.
The people outside?
minions, hackneyed excuse for existence, and pestilence.
the ones who know oppression are free, and the ones oppressing do not know.
that’s why I love you, America.
You are what humanity needs; a slow, painful drain on our existence.
Consciousness slowly being ignited and swallowed, only to be ******* out and flushed away.
You, america, are a popcorn bag popping in the microwave, left on for too long.
You can’t expand any further, and you taste like cancer.
America, you are beautiful, and the death you bring tastes like lime flavored popsicles
that we lick to take away the taste of reality.
Your society is a cattle car, for the mind, and your messages burn the body
when it gets there.
Jun 18, 2011
Jun 18, 2011 at 9:03 PM UTC
I am a contradiction to the original belief of man.
Refusing to reproduce is an option denied.
Although i would,
refuse that is.
My love,
meaning,
potential,
dependent on recognition that is also denied.
So,
let me write my story with the only arm they cringe to see,
*******
Freedom openly oppressing the minorities of history.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 2:42 PM UTC
Like thousands of soldiers in parachutes
they come out of the winter sky
One by one hitting the pavement
to claim victory for the season now unfolding
At first they are vanquished almost instantly
a price paid for those leading the charge
However as they begin to accumulate and cluster
a formidable foe is being created
Inch by inch, foot by foot, a fortress is being built
one that can be transformed into an igloo for shelter if needed
Soon the landscape will be covered by a heavy white blanket
left unattended it will run amok overwhelming all
As plummeting temperatures assault those not ready
once open lakes and river pathways no longer escape routes
A battering ram of inclement weather hampering travel
imprisoning those caught unaware of its fury
Snow drifts form obstructing passageways
entrapping those not prepared with an escape route
Waiting out the enemy a defensive strategy now in use
As it surrounds you on all sides building an oppressing presence
High winds and frostbite commingling in the air
that will dominate at the end of the day
Beauty or beast
The conflict yet to be decided.
Andreas Simic ©
Apr 23, 2022
Apr 23, 2022 at 7:19 AM UTC
Oh don’t you wish you were free
Don’t you just wish you were free?
You’d be a fool to give it all up
Just for peace, happiness, and security.
Poor soul, your state oppressing so many
Maybe some day they’ll see
That mass corporate conglomerates are people too
Just like you and me
All that nonsense, propaganda
About social justice, bonds, and solidarity
Beware, that’s just the sugar coated ghost of Stalin
Mao, ****** Beezlebub, and Mussolini
Oh boy don’t you just wish
Don’t you wish you were more like me?
At liberty to willfully discriminate
On your own private property.
To just exercise your personhood
By buying clothes and watching TV
What’s the matter man, why don’t you see,
Why you so anti-individuality?
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 10:49 AM UTC
Distant shores of France,
Toward you I advance,
Looking for your water.
The sun seems to beam down,
Oppressing the nearby town,
Where I sit talking to a doctor's daughter.
Her clothing looks so chic,
I dare the boy next to me to speak,
Enchanting him with my eyes.
Dare I say this is my place,
I run around the forest with haste,
Expecting a strange man to become wise.
I feel safe at the stump of a tree,
Imagining a family of three
Beautiful birds chirping in the sunlight.
What will happen to me when I get gray and old?
Will I remember the stories I once told,
The ones that brought me joy and fright?
I guess we will just have to see,
Go along with the processes that be,
Dreaming of our youth when it has gone.
I will always admire the country,
Looking upon the sea and its bounty,
Alongside the doctor's daughter until dawn.
May 6, 2021
May 6, 2021 at 8:39 PM UTC
some people find labels oppressing
straight
gay
cis
trans
black
hispanic
girl
boy
none of the above
even the absence of a label is a label itself
labels are things that corner you in,
limit you to one word,
a word in which you MUST fit the bounds
labels only exist for things we know about,
what if we don’t even have a word for it yet?
they’re limiting in this way too
yet,
i find that i enjoy labels
i enjoy labeling myself as a white, cisgender, pansexual girl
labels help me fit in
they help me to make sense of myself
and place myself in certain categories
labeling gender can be tough for some people
but i like identifying as a girl
labels can shut you in but they can also free you
free you from yourself
from the expectations of society
from embarrassment and dysphoria
i like labels
i don’t know about you
but they make life a whole lot easier for me
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 11:06 PM UTC
We’re the lunatics in this world full of normalcy. The honest liars , unaffected by the universal hypocrisy.
Hand in hand , we’ll take a stand. For better or worse; ash to ash , dust to dust. Keeping in mind , the world has its haters , its got the just. But the right to love is infringed by this superficial bunch.
Their judgmental eyes, prying noses. Sticking in places they shouldn’t be; Judging people who stick it in places they shouldn’t be.
In god we trust , this godforsaken nation. I don’t think god cares if you’re gay or lesbian. Never was it written that it makes you less of a being.
But woe to the one who dreams of equality. Support what I say or you’re just spreading misogyny. Racism and sexism don’t exist for the majority. All of this **** spread by zealotry.
Spreading your legs is oppressing my feminity. Misandry is a lie says she, speech full of obscenities.
Forgotten are those who suffer in silence, The lies of brats masking the violence.
Where is my privilege? I’m straight, white, and male. You sip on your pumpkin spice, Telling me to rot in hell, For the basic transgression of begging for help.
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 2:48 PM UTC
*A kind of darkness, a profusion of red carnations create, pervades,
a suspicion raises its head, but reassurances pour in soon,
a happy day, bright with the light of the oppressing eyes
a secure place, troubleless sleep, a snooper awake for us, assures,
in the prevailing circumstances, happiness is this:
uneasiness, in serpentine coils sleeping with me, doesn't stir all night.
"Aren't all these outside the wall of democracy?" a doubt
that started raising its head unawares, is put quickly to a narcotic sleep.
Guards stand alert, with loaded guns, ready to face any security breach,
In a dream, that feels real, the gun of protection is pointed to my head
I am vexed; is he a rogue, has he gone insane or is he just fatigued?
Before he jumps out from the dream and pull the trigger, one raises the alarm,
when the whistle is blown, the squad of guards are in position,within a minute,
how efficient is our security! my! my!
"But guys, obviously there is some mistake, where do you take me and my buddies?"*
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 7:24 AM UTC