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"oppressor" poems
White folks: pack your bags and go. Our nut-brown world is quite offended. Make your shame-faced exit NOW, And leave your mansions unattended. Wait—before you pass the doors, It's time to settle ethnic scores. No more ragtime Minstrel Show. Our Moorish Science took it down. Black lives matter. White, less so— Now move your pale face out of town . . . But first, shell out for racial shame Caucasian losers of the game. Cultural pride is ours alone: Kings and Egyptian queens we were. The glories of our race, well-known Bedazzle in a darkened blur (Clear to Africa's descendants— Puzzling to you white dependents). Blackness lent your world its light, Taught the Dutch to tend those flowers. Scandinavia grew bright Under our beneficent powers. Negroes gave your blondes their beauty; Helped those Norsemen shake their ***** The Seven Wonders of the world: We built them all. No vain conjecture Dims our banner, black, unfurled, Above eternal architecture. Arts and knowledge gained from us Are what we threaten to discuss. We invented math and science Which you robbed from Timbuktu. Swarthy wisdom's brave defiance Caused Old Europe to renew. All our treasure that you plundered Testifies: your days are numbered. Classics of our Greeks you stole: Philosophy was never yours. Shame upon your racist soul; For Bach and Mozart both were Moors. Misappropriated treasures call for ruthless hard-line measures. Latino fate falls next—but, where ? Jews, Turks, and Arabs: are you. . . white ? Orientals everywhere: Choose your side and join the fight. Blackness rising! Late the hour; Heed your call to fight the power. Crackers need to check your race— Stop rooting for that ****** clown. Rednecks all up in our face; Racist throwbacks got us down. But as your statues bite the dust Your light goes dark (you know it must). So move on out, oppressor, thief. Long have you held our nation back. In some white galaxy seek relief— But here the light itself is black. Stars are racist. So is the sun. Now let God's great black will be done.
0
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC
connecthook
Betting on the Races
White folks: pack your bags and go. Our nut-brown world is quite offended. Make your shame-faced exit NOW, And leave your mansions unattended. Wait—before you pass the doors, It's time to settle ethnic scores. No more ragtime Minstrel Show. Our Moorish Science took it down. Black lives matter. White, less so— Now move your pale face out of town . . . But first, shell out for racial shame Caucasian losers of the game. Cultural pride is ours alone: Kings and Egyptian queens we were. The glories of our race, well-known Bedazzle in a darkened blur (Clear to Africa's descendants— Puzzling to you white dependents). Blackness lent your world its light, Taught the Dutch to tend those flowers. Scandinavia grew bright Under our beneficent powers. Negroes gave your blondes their beauty; Helped those Norsemen shake their ***** The Seven Wonders of the world: We built them all. No vain conjecture Dims our banner, black, unfurled, Above eternal architecture. Arts and knowledge gained from us Are what we threaten to discuss. We invented math and science Which you robbed from Timbuktu. Swarthy wisdom's brave defiance Caused Old Europe to renew. All our treasure that you plundered Testifies: your days are numbered. Classics of our Greeks you stole: Philosophy was never yours. Shame upon your racist soul; For Bach and Mozart both were Moors. Misappropriated treasures call for ruthless hard-line measures. Latino fate falls next—but, where ? Jews, Turks, and Arabs: are you. . . white ? Orientals everywhere: Choose your side and join the fight. Blackness rising! Late the hour; Heed your call to fight the power. Crackers need to check your race— Stop rooting for that ****** clown. Rednecks all up in our face; Racist throwbacks got us down. But as your statues bite the dust Your light goes dark (you know it must). So move on out, oppressor, thief. Long have you held our nation back. In some white galaxy seek relief— But here the light itself is black. Stars are racist. So is the sun. Now let God's great black will be done.
Continue reading...
60
By now,the seed varieties of the world, may have been attacked beyond recovery by wars of pretense and relapses. We are still learning how to handle it properly. We tend to say. Some will talk and plan over dinner parties, over TV or Radio. Most will leave it behind like another corpse of lessons thrown to the gutter, like a dead *** on another Sunset Boulevard. Iraq's seed banks we blew up in the 2000s. In various places in Asia and the Middle East, places of life and cultured varieties gone in an instant. Echoing our imprisoned ignorance and drives for more instant goods and services. Indian farmers have committed mass suicides after their god Hanuman was used by a chemical giant to sell poison seeds and renewed bondages of indebtedness. One question a stranger asked a group of writers on tour was not what their poetry or books were about, nor why they wrote it, but how writing may and may not be helping as we make decisions and solve problems now? Once agricultural lands turn into new promises of commercial buildings. Cities of inaccessible towers and abandoned malls in America, Spain, China, and Russia feeds us back our own echo. Like converted uses of lands, our humanity is converted into inanimate collections and status symbols of some players or parties. As we face our continuing struggle between our oppressor-selves and our genuine roots. Despite the perversions, inside vicious habits of waste where we glorify promises of war and efficiencies, we continue to be entrusted with the ongoing lessons: Rarely do surviving generations through famine, war and diseases, throw away means to live, or destroy any kind of seed. Every day we wake to the ruins and remains of Our living poetry, word spaces, hours, exchanges, gains and losses, stopping and going. This time, not just for fires of anguish or unnecessary losses, but for each other's midnight lamps.#
0
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 12:42 AM UTC
kryselanson
BURIED
By now,the seed varieties of the world, may have been attacked beyond recovery by wars of pretense and relapses. We are still learning how to handle it properly. We tend to say. Some will talk and plan over dinner parties, over TV or Radio. Most will leave it behind like another corpse of lessons thrown to the gutter, like a dead *** on another Sunset Boulevard. Iraq's seed banks we blew up in the 2000s. In various places in Asia and the Middle East, places of life and cultured varieties gone in an instant. Echoing our imprisoned ignorance and drives for more instant goods and services. Indian farmers have committed mass suicides after their god Hanuman was used by a chemical giant to sell poison seeds and renewed bondages of indebtedness. One question a stranger asked a group of writers on tour was not what their poetry or books were about, nor why they wrote it, but how writing may and may not be helping as we make decisions and solve problems now? Once agricultural lands turn into new promises of commercial buildings. Cities of inaccessible towers and abandoned malls in America, Spain, China, and Russia feeds us back our own echo. Like converted uses of lands, our humanity is converted into inanimate collections and status symbols of some players or parties. As we face our continuing struggle between our oppressor-selves and our genuine roots. Despite the perversions, inside vicious habits of waste where we glorify promises of war and efficiencies, we continue to be entrusted with the ongoing lessons: Rarely do surviving generations through famine, war and diseases, throw away means to live, or destroy any kind of seed. Every day we wake to the ruins and remains of Our living poetry, word spaces, hours, exchanges, gains and losses, stopping and going. This time, not just for fires of anguish or unnecessary losses, but for each other's midnight lamps.#
Continue reading...
46
Devilish blue eyes, frozen gaze. Influencing me against my will, Submitting into dropping defenses. Overcome with an inability to escape, I become bound by those piercing eyes. Sapping once kinder thoughts, Replaced by detached isolation. Shuttering at the crack of the whip, Blindly I walk to death. Carved flesh ammunition against You, weakness exposed. Lacerations to the heart exchanged, Milky fog clouds my oppressor. Pieces held together by hatred, One blow away from cracking. Further into broken self. All freedoms come at a cost.
0
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 10:32 AM UTC
devin-ortiz
Blue Eyed Devil
Devilish blue eyes, frozen gaze. Influencing me against my will, Submitting into dropping defenses. Overcome with an inability to escape, I become bound by those piercing eyes. Sapping once kinder thoughts, Replaced by detached isolation. Shuttering at the crack of the whip, Blindly I walk to death. Carved flesh ammunition against You, weakness exposed. Lacerations to the heart exchanged, Milky fog clouds my oppressor. Pieces held together by hatred, One blow away from cracking. Further into broken self. All freedoms come at a cost.
Continue reading...
17
I am half-Chinese and a half Filipino-Spanish. I have only learnt to speak Filipino my whole life. The best advises I have received is that there is no right or wrong, that labels does not always help. That no matter what, I should just go and "Live my life", or "Sing in Full Voice, Until Then". Attentive to a fault to the work or person at hand. Because of routine and living demands, sometimes I only pay attention to what is available or given to me. Like the quest for the Spices of the East, I could no longer live the same way when the time came. I had to learn preservation and other flavors. In a Asian Food Show, someone shares How some later generation Chinese had to study their own native language in secret between 1966 to 1998. Stories of how their migrant or refugee heritage have made them scapegoats of many local tensions. And varieties of words and ingredients also native to Chinese and later generations that lived offshore. Many of us now in the thrash of our collective songs towards healing and full living as humanity, continuing refugees and wanderers in our own ways. Where we see our indigenous-selves and our oppressor-selves, is not as difficult as we are usually made to, in a world of artificial demands and surpluses. One old song gently reminds me in many languages singing, as another bowl of handmade noodles breaks open into countless random pieces: We are only passing through earth. Made to experience, and let go of our fears and limitations.To gather our remains so that it is inanimate buildings and objects that are used by the living instead, and nothing is left behind. To not leave a trace. To learn how to love.#
0
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 1:27 AM UTC
kryselanson
HANDMADE NOODLES
I am half-Chinese and a half Filipino-Spanish. I have only learnt to speak Filipino my whole life. The best advises I have received is that there is no right or wrong, that labels does not always help. That no matter what, I should just go and "Live my life", or "Sing in Full Voice, Until Then". Attentive to a fault to the work or person at hand. Because of routine and living demands, sometimes I only pay attention to what is available or given to me. Like the quest for the Spices of the East, I could no longer live the same way when the time came. I had to learn preservation and other flavors. In a Asian Food Show, someone shares How some later generation Chinese had to study their own native language in secret between 1966 to 1998. Stories of how their migrant or refugee heritage have made them scapegoats of many local tensions. And varieties of words and ingredients also native to Chinese and later generations that lived offshore. Many of us now in the thrash of our collective songs towards healing and full living as humanity, continuing refugees and wanderers in our own ways. Where we see our indigenous-selves and our oppressor-selves, is not as difficult as we are usually made to, in a world of artificial demands and surpluses. One old song gently reminds me in many languages singing, as another bowl of handmade noodles breaks open into countless random pieces: We are only passing through earth. Made to experience, and let go of our fears and limitations.To gather our remains so that it is inanimate buildings and objects that are used by the living instead, and nothing is left behind. To not leave a trace. To learn how to love.#
Continue reading...
31
Sundays, too, she got up early and let her feet lead her through the dusty alleys of that small town It was a luxury to have this kind of time alone, silence was vital food for her soul Enduring the weekday demands to relish a few hours of nothingness, rare meditation, An escape from a world of momentary necessity The sweet morning air that kissed one’s skin now turned heavy and stagnant Back down again through the same storied streets that, Had become unbearably hot by the noon-day sun, the pace of life slowed accordingly A weight came over her, the sort of fatigue where every exhaustible cell in your body yearns for rest She would wander all day if she could, meandering over ground hallowed by history By now the shadows of the afternoon had casted their long, lanky bodies behind the old chalk buildings The pulse of life reached a complete pause, as if away on vacation in a more hospitable place Everything bent, decaying, surrendering to the heat, and everything marked in contrast by the sun’s glare Here, she stands straight and strong, gazing into the burning face of the oppressor and giver of life And deny it the desire to win this vague war of attrition When rung out on the floor she’d smell of autumn and satisfaction Speaking to me she’ll tell of the faith in self, strength in solitude, and love of something greater than we dare to know.
0
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 11:59 AM UTC
invisible-man
Resilience
Sundays, too, she got up early and let her feet lead her through the dusty alleys of that small town It was a luxury to have this kind of time alone, silence was vital food for her soul Enduring the weekday demands to relish a few hours of nothingness, rare meditation, An escape from a world of momentary necessity The sweet morning air that kissed one’s skin now turned heavy and stagnant Back down again through the same storied streets that, Had become unbearably hot by the noon-day sun, the pace of life slowed accordingly A weight came over her, the sort of fatigue where every exhaustible cell in your body yearns for rest She would wander all day if she could, meandering over ground hallowed by history By now the shadows of the afternoon had casted their long, lanky bodies behind the old chalk buildings The pulse of life reached a complete pause, as if away on vacation in a more hospitable place Everything bent, decaying, surrendering to the heat, and everything marked in contrast by the sun’s glare Here, she stands straight and strong, gazing into the burning face of the oppressor and giver of life And deny it the desire to win this vague war of attrition When rung out on the floor she’d smell of autumn and satisfaction Speaking to me she’ll tell of the faith in self, strength in solitude, and love of something greater than we dare to know.
Continue reading...
16
And all your heros are gone, but you refuse to take off the mask. A loudmouth, a capitalist, with greasy hair and a golden toothpick, he is your enemy he is your oppressor and he sits upon a throne of coal and blood with armed security and a nation built for him, to protect him and his money, a police state, pat downs on the corner, murdered in the street, your daughters gotta eat. He grows fatter and fatter still, he loves complacency, he loves contentment, he invests heavily in both. He knows we are strong, he knows we are many, he knows he must divide us to win, he knows we're his greatest weapon, so he created Fox News, he created TMZ, stealthily, we didn't even notice, he created NPR and KVIE, he gave them masks that look like ours. They look poor, they look starved, they look like us, but they have a different master. Our master is the earth, our master is our coworker, our neighbor, our mailman, our dishwashers, our bus drivers, our minimart clerks. Our masters are not the TV, our masters are not the radio, our masters are not the New York Times, they are not National Geographic, they are not BP, they are not our principals, our administrators, our policemen, our CEOs, our investors, our bankers, our insurance providers, these people hate us, they hate us because they can't squeeze blood from a stone, and the rivers are running dry, the factories are standing still, the people, our masters and our friends, they're in the streets, they're shouting "BLACK LIVES MATTER" they're shouting "NO JUSTICE NO PEACE" "NO MORE WAR FOR OIL" **** THE POLICE" "DOWN WITH THE 1%" and soon and soon, The False Gods will grow so fat and we'll have nothing left to eat but them, and on that day we'll sit down to dine and it won't be civilized and it won't be pretty, their blood, our blood, will feed the rivers and their flesh will feed our hungry children and their money will burn and warm our chilled bones but we can't wait, we can't wait for this to happen because everyday they grow stronger, we grow weaker and the river becomes dryer. The Bourgeois is our enemy, they say 'All Lives Matter' they say 'Work Hard and Your Dreams Will Come True' BUT THEY LIE
0
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 4:54 PM UTC
nolan-higgins
Untitled
And all your heros are gone, but you refuse to take off the mask. A loudmouth, a capitalist, with greasy hair and a golden toothpick, he is your enemy he is your oppressor and he sits upon a throne of coal and blood with armed security and a nation built for him, to protect him and his money, a police state, pat downs on the corner, murdered in the street, your daughters gotta eat. He grows fatter and fatter still, he loves complacency, he loves contentment, he invests heavily in both. He knows we are strong, he knows we are many, he knows he must divide us to win, he knows we're his greatest weapon, so he created Fox News, he created TMZ, stealthily, we didn't even notice, he created NPR and KVIE, he gave them masks that look like ours. They look poor, they look starved, they look like us, but they have a different master. Our master is the earth, our master is our coworker, our neighbor, our mailman, our dishwashers, our bus drivers, our minimart clerks. Our masters are not the TV, our masters are not the radio, our masters are not the New York Times, they are not National Geographic, they are not BP, they are not our principals, our administrators, our policemen, our CEOs, our investors, our bankers, our insurance providers, these people hate us, they hate us because they can't squeeze blood from a stone, and the rivers are running dry, the factories are standing still, the people, our masters and our friends, they're in the streets, they're shouting "BLACK LIVES MATTER" they're shouting "NO JUSTICE NO PEACE" "NO MORE WAR FOR OIL" **** THE POLICE" "DOWN WITH THE 1%" and soon and soon, The False Gods will grow so fat and we'll have nothing left to eat but them, and on that day we'll sit down to dine and it won't be civilized and it won't be pretty, their blood, our blood, will feed the rivers and their flesh will feed our hungry children and their money will burn and warm our chilled bones but we can't wait, we can't wait for this to happen because everyday they grow stronger, we grow weaker and the river becomes dryer. The Bourgeois is our enemy, they say 'All Lives Matter' they say 'Work Hard and Your Dreams Will Come True' BUT THEY LIE
Continue reading...
66
Months away from such joy In hopes of finding something better And in the end, Addiction is just a love story Between you and your oppressor And now believing I can never be free As willpower isn't enough, Throwing in the towel And rolling with the tide, Is my best chance at freedom.
0
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
anna-vida
Welcome home
Months away from such joy In hopes of finding something better And in the end, Addiction is just a love story Between you and your oppressor And now believing I can never be free As willpower isn't enough, Throwing in the towel And rolling with the tide, Is my best chance at freedom.
Continue reading...
10
In the name of democracy An entire state is terrorized Decade after decade Freedoms are curbed Protests are brutally suppressed People are brutally oppressed Education is diluted In the name of democracy The Army turns from protector to oppressor Every soldier marching past With his head held high Sounds the death knell For every man, woman and child In the name of democracy Soldiers break into houses Wielding their massive rifles As if it is their birthright As the peace and harmony within Is replaced by abject terror In the name of democracy All morals are flung out of the window As the women are ***** The men who challenge this unspeakable atrocity Are swiftly silenced with bullets As the children begin screaming in terror They are molested, one by one Until the trauma overcomes them Such that, they lose their voices They lose their minds They lose their hearts Meanwhile, the soldiers slip away quietly Having completed a good day of work In the name of democracy In the name of democracy India and Pakistan, warring for decades Use Kashmir as a bait As a means to satisfy Their unquenchable thirst for power As the potion simmers on Fuelled by hate on both sides Curfews and lockdowns follow with alarming regularity Schools and colleges are shut down Political organizations are banned The Internet is crippled Mobiles and landlines are killed Even the most feeble of all protests Is brutally quelled with bullets and grenades In the name of democracy Consent is dead and buried As nationalism takes centre stage The world watches on silently Allowing India, the oppressors-in-chief To reclaim the moral high ground And suddenly proclaim themselves as saviours Leaving the beleaguered Kashmiris no choice But to bow to their captors Their dreams of self-determination Shattered ruthlessly in the course of a mad, mad day In the name of democracy
0
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 1:18 PM UTC
Ashwinkumar1989
In the name of democracy
In the name of democracy An entire state is terrorized Decade after decade Freedoms are curbed Protests are brutally suppressed People are brutally oppressed Education is diluted In the name of democracy The Army turns from protector to oppressor Every soldier marching past With his head held high Sounds the death knell For every man, woman and child In the name of democracy Soldiers break into houses Wielding their massive rifles As if it is their birthright As the peace and harmony within Is replaced by abject terror In the name of democracy All morals are flung out of the window As the women are ***** The men who challenge this unspeakable atrocity Are swiftly silenced with bullets As the children begin screaming in terror They are molested, one by one Until the trauma overcomes them Such that, they lose their voices They lose their minds They lose their hearts Meanwhile, the soldiers slip away quietly Having completed a good day of work In the name of democracy In the name of democracy India and Pakistan, warring for decades Use Kashmir as a bait As a means to satisfy Their unquenchable thirst for power As the potion simmers on Fuelled by hate on both sides Curfews and lockdowns follow with alarming regularity Schools and colleges are shut down Political organizations are banned The Internet is crippled Mobiles and landlines are killed Even the most feeble of all protests Is brutally quelled with bullets and grenades In the name of democracy Consent is dead and buried As nationalism takes centre stage The world watches on silently Allowing India, the oppressors-in-chief To reclaim the moral high ground And suddenly proclaim themselves as saviours Leaving the beleaguered Kashmiris no choice But to bow to their captors Their dreams of self-determination Shattered ruthlessly in the course of a mad, mad day In the name of democracy
Continue reading...
59
I see humans but no humanity I see a society but no unity Happiness comes from within But we all seem to forget Ignorant, naïve And judging from incompetence Fighting for peace Not respecting history Searching for truth But you've lost your way No more believers Forgotten how we got here Looking for freedom But support the oppressor Don't accept responsibility And hope you don't get caught Because you're not really breaking the law Your conscience is poisonous Apparently your doing things the right way Children are dying from illness But we're complaining about immigrants Stop following public opinion And separating nations Just because you're not blind It doesn't mean you can see Teach your future generation Less clothes equals beautiful And white equals superior Money equals power Divide between the lesser who are inferior ***** hatred and say its dutiful Who are you trying to fool We're dropping like flies She killed herself because of cyber bullying And he's tired of acting strong Fearing to cry and be ****** Abuse, neglect and poverty Increasing frequently Morality crisis Blame the youth and teenage pregnancies To combat it a genius says let's teach them whilst they're younger Sounds good right? What about censorship Safety and protection Young minds are susceptible Ignore the practice and theories Pride doesn't let you back down Blame the rap and rock music Its preaches violence and hatred Rebel riots and corruption East and west its affected us both Greedy bankers And terrorists or freedom fighters A time of lost trust And each to their own Independent battles No one is connecting the dots Its like global dominoes Inter connected problems One leads to another And the root cause is lost
0
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 6:38 AM UTC
simpleton
Times Changed
I see humans but no humanity I see a society but no unity Happiness comes from within But we all seem to forget Ignorant, naïve And judging from incompetence Fighting for peace Not respecting history Searching for truth But you've lost your way No more believers Forgotten how we got here Looking for freedom But support the oppressor Don't accept responsibility And hope you don't get caught Because you're not really breaking the law Your conscience is poisonous Apparently your doing things the right way Children are dying from illness But we're complaining about immigrants Stop following public opinion And separating nations Just because you're not blind It doesn't mean you can see Teach your future generation Less clothes equals beautiful And white equals superior Money equals power Divide between the lesser who are inferior ***** hatred and say its dutiful Who are you trying to fool We're dropping like flies She killed herself because of cyber bullying And he's tired of acting strong Fearing to cry and be ****** Abuse, neglect and poverty Increasing frequently Morality crisis Blame the youth and teenage pregnancies To combat it a genius says let's teach them whilst they're younger Sounds good right? What about censorship Safety and protection Young minds are susceptible Ignore the practice and theories Pride doesn't let you back down Blame the rap and rock music Its preaches violence and hatred Rebel riots and corruption East and west its affected us both Greedy bankers And terrorists or freedom fighters A time of lost trust And each to their own Independent battles No one is connecting the dots Its like global dominoes Inter connected problems One leads to another And the root cause is lost
Continue reading...
61
I stand at less than 5 feet, yet I seem tall. When I am faced every morning, with a decision, it depends on my height. Am I willing to shrink again, return to the view of the forgotten world? I never fail to fall, When I try to stand taller. So sometimes I wonder, who my oppressor might be. What is the invisible roof, that limits my growth. That roof is no other than myself. I've decided to stay down here in the forgotten world. To avoid entering a whole new world of hurt.
0
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 7:13 AM UTC
Exposed-L0ve
Height
I stand at less than 5 feet, yet I seem tall. When I am faced every morning, with a decision, it depends on my height. Am I willing to shrink again, return to the view of the forgotten world? I never fail to fall, When I try to stand taller. So sometimes I wonder, who my oppressor might be. What is the invisible roof, that limits my growth. That roof is no other than myself. I've decided to stay down here in the forgotten world. To avoid entering a whole new world of hurt.
Continue reading...
17
I’ll rev you like a Porsche Pressurize the clutch then ease on the equipped brake enrolling the steering wheel On the highway as we sing Tuning choruses eccentrically apply the mascara and smile put my flock on, swing like Bowie Craze up in seismic grooves Shift to a self expression culture be so extreme that you glitter I’ll desire your ambiguousness Unarguably, I’ll hold your hand An evolved zeitgeist in revolution squeeze their prejudiced little heads replicate, experiment your persona
0
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 1:56 PM UTC
SassyJ
Benevolent Oppressor
I’ll rev you like a Porsche Pressurize the clutch then ease on the equipped brake enrolling the steering wheel On the highway as we sing Tuning choruses eccentrically apply the mascara and smile put my flock on, swing like Bowie Craze up in seismic grooves Shift to a self expression culture be so extreme that you glitter I’ll desire your ambiguousness Unarguably, I’ll hold your hand An evolved zeitgeist in revolution squeeze their prejudiced little heads replicate, experiment your persona
Continue reading...
16
late night hoops 24-hour fitness you call me "white boy" "how did you know?" i want to say funny "hey white boy" sounds a lot like "hello mr. oppressor" i am not a poster boy for the past or present a rusty slogan of inequality or a white boy i am irish norwegian german french-canadian native american spud-eating fur trapping wampum-trading viking i am pumping pull-ups on the poverty line just tall enough to ride the wel-ferris wheel unable to tell my mother i love her and b r o k e n Deta ched scarred ******* my shirt like a salty otter pop swallowing sweaty syllables the pringle on my shoulder about to crunch game point tie game 15 15 we are equal even when i sink that shot tickle that twine we are still equal you and i
0
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 4:33 PM UTC
mark-anthony-gavigan
white boy
late night hoops 24-hour fitness you call me "white boy" "how did you know?" i want to say funny "hey white boy" sounds a lot like "hello mr. oppressor" i am not a poster boy for the past or present a rusty slogan of inequality or a white boy i am irish norwegian german french-canadian native american spud-eating fur trapping wampum-trading viking i am pumping pull-ups on the poverty line just tall enough to ride the wel-ferris wheel unable to tell my mother i love her and b r o k e n Deta ched scarred ******* my shirt like a salty otter pop swallowing sweaty syllables the pringle on my shoulder about to crunch game point tie game 15 15 we are equal even when i sink that shot tickle that twine we are still equal you and i
Continue reading...
39
‘freedom is a state of mind’ Wars fought Wars lost Freedom gained Freedom lost. The mind is almost devoid of peace, When a beast sits entrapped inside. It is like two magnets of the same charge. Conflicting and warring, Trying to meet at a certain point. Barbed wires of suppression blunt knives of oppression The head is a place of chaos full of: ‘I’m guilty’ ‘No you are not’ ‘I’m too proud’ ‘no you are not’ The oppressor just mollifies the pain of the suppressor It is too weak to overcome it. The head then bursts And out flow tears, tears in a million shades For they signify such different sorrowful tastes The person, he sighs An empty mind Peaceful mind War fought War won Freedom lost Freedom gained
0
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 7:08 AM UTC
devyani-mahajan
such bravery
‘freedom is a state of mind’ Wars fought Wars lost Freedom gained Freedom lost. The mind is almost devoid of peace, When a beast sits entrapped inside. It is like two magnets of the same charge. Conflicting and warring, Trying to meet at a certain point. Barbed wires of suppression blunt knives of oppression The head is a place of chaos full of: ‘I’m guilty’ ‘No you are not’ ‘I’m too proud’ ‘no you are not’ The oppressor just mollifies the pain of the suppressor It is too weak to overcome it. The head then bursts And out flow tears, tears in a million shades For they signify such different sorrowful tastes The person, he sighs An empty mind Peaceful mind War fought War won Freedom lost Freedom gained
Continue reading...
28
My hair is covered, my intellect is not. My feet are covered, yet I'm still going places. My ears are covered, my hearing is not. My back is covered, yet I'm still standing. You've imprisoned my tongue, my words will never surrender. You've imprisoned yourself, yet I'm still trying to set you free.
0
May 8, 2021
May 8, 2021 at 6:52 AM UTC
YousraAmatullah
Dear oppressor
My hair is covered, my intellect is not. My feet are covered, yet I'm still going places. My ears are covered, my hearing is not. My back is covered, yet I'm still standing. You've imprisoned my tongue, my words will never surrender. You've imprisoned yourself, yet I'm still trying to set you free.
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6
I felt biking up hill today fairly alive And then I sit in stuffy dormrooms or walk through hallways I crouch at desks to copy and paste old thoughts I jog from toilet to shower to make it to class on time And still I am three minutes late, like I Wrote in my little notebook that “I have to stop Letting my desire for something supersede my feelings for the individual people in my life” But even as I wrote it Pissingdrunk against the side of my friend’s pink house I didn’t know what I meant, scribing only So that I could figure it out later: What the hell I meant by ‘desire’ What the hell I meant by ‘something.’ I felt biking up hill today fairly alive And then I’m called upon to have opinions, To finish my homework To take out the trash Or To define ‘desire’ To define ‘something’ And then to flip the supersedence around, Yes I am called upon by myself and myself only So I’m not gonna finish my ******* homework today. I’m gonna let the trash continue to rot. I’m gonna define ‘desire’ as a product of rational society And I’m going to define ‘something’ as the oppressor class And I will fly past these nets Like a proud and bold Icarus to Sit on my bike Remaining and lingering As I move through temporal space. And then I will love. I will be loved. I will be subject. I will be humanized. From an axiological point of view, Anyway.
0
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 6:00 PM UTC
jimmy-king
Study of Axiology While Biking
I felt biking up hill today fairly alive And then I sit in stuffy dormrooms or walk through hallways I crouch at desks to copy and paste old thoughts I jog from toilet to shower to make it to class on time And still I am three minutes late, like I Wrote in my little notebook that “I have to stop Letting my desire for something supersede my feelings for the individual people in my life” But even as I wrote it Pissingdrunk against the side of my friend’s pink house I didn’t know what I meant, scribing only So that I could figure it out later: What the hell I meant by ‘desire’ What the hell I meant by ‘something.’ I felt biking up hill today fairly alive And then I’m called upon to have opinions, To finish my homework To take out the trash Or To define ‘desire’ To define ‘something’ And then to flip the supersedence around, Yes I am called upon by myself and myself only So I’m not gonna finish my ******* homework today. I’m gonna let the trash continue to rot. I’m gonna define ‘desire’ as a product of rational society And I’m going to define ‘something’ as the oppressor class And I will fly past these nets Like a proud and bold Icarus to Sit on my bike Remaining and lingering As I move through temporal space. And then I will love. I will be loved. I will be subject. I will be humanized. From an axiological point of view, Anyway.
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Your pride comes from your nationalism, your patriotism, rage and dissatisfaction. You pass each moment stewing, colluding with each new oppressor   in the name of solidarity Spewing slogans and other simple statements oaths and weak ideas you build a fascist nation and wonder how you ever got here.
0
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 9:17 AM UTC
graff1980
Untitled
Your pride comes from your nationalism, your patriotism, rage and dissatisfaction. You pass each moment stewing, colluding with each new oppressor   in the name of solidarity Spewing slogans and other simple statements oaths and weak ideas you build a fascist nation and wonder how you ever got here.
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14
Them breaking and entering isn't because they seek some sort of hospitality, Them breaking the law effortlessly, meaning; destroying humanity, Became their drug, their simple way of gaining sanity, Sickness is its base, they haven't seen health in this plea of insanity, Since the world keeps her mouth shut, afraid to lose her own vanity. Such a poor mentality. And for the oppressor, Who washes his hands with genocide, his head with immorality, If reason doesn't reach you to stop this act of criminality, Know, you've never earned what you took, but in the end of days you will earn for your act of brutality.
0
May 9, 2021
May 9, 2021 at 4:21 PM UTC
YousraAmatullah
Oppressor
Them breaking and entering isn't because they seek some sort of hospitality, Them breaking the law effortlessly, meaning; destroying humanity, Became their drug, their simple way of gaining sanity, Sickness is its base, they haven't seen health in this plea of insanity, Since the world keeps her mouth shut, afraid to lose her own vanity. Such a poor mentality. And for the oppressor, Who washes his hands with genocide, his head with immorality, If reason doesn't reach you to stop this act of criminality, Know, you've never earned what you took, but in the end of days you will earn for your act of brutality.
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10
For sustenance we trudge on Just to sustain This callus equilibrium of fragile crystals swaying in the wind, falling constantly Employing the cleverest techniques of fleeting upward momentum Short-lived displays of affection bleeding the small offering received at birth endlessly replayed to our children's eyes Despondent indentured servants scribbling through skin and tendons Just to feed their families the rice they can no longer grow And sending these fairy tales to the rosy-cheeked offspring of their oppressor's store bought dreams To keep the oppression alive . To operate at peak efficiency. To transfer honest muscle through wire mesh. And fatten. And enfeeble Enforce the prerequisites to match the scale's testimony. Testify! Oh, Lord. We thank you for this meal stolen from our inferiors. Please Please Please. We demand pleasure. IT IS REQUIRED. For if we feel sadness, then we have failed. And we'll lay down what we don't have space in our engorged bellies for. It will be placed, with all due honors, to our greatest shrine. Where we are honest with our real Mother. Where the proud, twicely worn, footwear of our warrior-spiritless cows rests Where erections limp as collapsed towers, respected by false jihads, sleep. Where dream's plastic refusal composts never; nourishing nothing. Where potential is pure impotence. The bed we all share.
0
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC
klaus-baumgarten
Valkyrie Vapidity
For sustenance we trudge on Just to sustain This callus equilibrium of fragile crystals swaying in the wind, falling constantly Employing the cleverest techniques of fleeting upward momentum Short-lived displays of affection bleeding the small offering received at birth endlessly replayed to our children's eyes Despondent indentured servants scribbling through skin and tendons Just to feed their families the rice they can no longer grow And sending these fairy tales to the rosy-cheeked offspring of their oppressor's store bought dreams To keep the oppression alive . To operate at peak efficiency. To transfer honest muscle through wire mesh. And fatten. And enfeeble Enforce the prerequisites to match the scale's testimony. Testify! Oh, Lord. We thank you for this meal stolen from our inferiors. Please Please Please. We demand pleasure. IT IS REQUIRED. For if we feel sadness, then we have failed. And we'll lay down what we don't have space in our engorged bellies for. It will be placed, with all due honors, to our greatest shrine. Where we are honest with our real Mother. Where the proud, twicely worn, footwear of our warrior-spiritless cows rests Where erections limp as collapsed towers, respected by false jihads, sleep. Where dream's plastic refusal composts never; nourishing nothing. Where potential is pure impotence. The bed we all share.
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28
I see the trees cut into piece i smell the air it smell's of dirt the water's are dead the land is a mess the creature's are dying our planet is crying what have we done what have we done to the world. I hear her cry can you listen tick tick tick her heart is beating as fast as the clock for fear of the unknown her womb is a victim and we are the oppressor's what have we done what have we done to the world. Put away the fire rust the saw's obliterate the hate heal the world.
0
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 7:56 AM UTC
olajide-ojedokun
Ailing earth
I see the trees cut into piece i smell the air it smell's of dirt the water's are dead the land is a mess the creature's are dying our planet is crying what have we done what have we done to the world. I hear her cry can you listen tick tick tick her heart is beating as fast as the clock for fear of the unknown her womb is a victim and we are the oppressor's what have we done what have we done to the world. Put away the fire rust the saw's obliterate the hate heal the world.
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26
The black woman She's an antagonist at birth  The oppressor is aware of her capabilities  Yet, they value her worth  Black men are in a phase of tranquility  Yet to know that they are obligated to the original her... The lady who was civilized first  The black woman  They failed to keep her safe  She escaped the rapes They tried to sterilize and vaccinate  They couldn't sedate this woman with hate  The black woman  Mind sharp as a dart  Back built like a cart  Carry her youth through truth  By words spoken from her heart  The black woman  She's everyone's favorite  However she have been degraded  So often times her smile growls  Her laugh howls  Funny how her cry is hysterical  And her enjoyment is terrible  Because she have been let down by her spouse  The black woman  The dark men owe her their respect  She can use their caress  They have to vow to never again neglect  The black woman  The creator  Her creations are more than just labor  It's a ****** of love  A future king or queen being flung from in between  The black woman  The black woman The black woman  Check her demeanor  Despite her distractions she is still determined  Fighting through a handful of disasters that attempted to destroy her  She came a long distance to be dismissed  She is still devoted to her destiny  But it is so difficult when her men volunteer to diminish  The black woman  The black woman is not a ***** so why do he dog her?  Her body represents the best figure so why do he abuse it?  The black woman  It's amazing she keeps on giving them chances  She turns to the other cheek and he slaps her again  Only time he pay attention to her is in a discussion amongst friends  The black woman  How is it that she know the importance of a black man, but in favor he cannot comprehend?  If it's not ****** relations he don't wanna relate  And if he impregnate  He miss every anniversary of the child's original date  The black woman  But... (Shaking my head) The black man
0
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 3:18 AM UTC
DamareMcElmore
The Black Woman
The black woman She's an antagonist at birth  The oppressor is aware of her capabilities  Yet, they value her worth  Black men are in a phase of tranquility  Yet to know that they are obligated to the original her... The lady who was civilized first  The black woman  They failed to keep her safe  She escaped the rapes They tried to sterilize and vaccinate  They couldn't sedate this woman with hate  The black woman  Mind sharp as a dart  Back built like a cart  Carry her youth through truth  By words spoken from her heart  The black woman  She's everyone's favorite  However she have been degraded  So often times her smile growls  Her laugh howls  Funny how her cry is hysterical  And her enjoyment is terrible  Because she have been let down by her spouse  The black woman  The dark men owe her their respect  She can use their caress  They have to vow to never again neglect  The black woman  The creator  Her creations are more than just labor  It's a ****** of love  A future king or queen being flung from in between  The black woman  The black woman The black woman  Check her demeanor  Despite her distractions she is still determined  Fighting through a handful of disasters that attempted to destroy her  She came a long distance to be dismissed  She is still devoted to her destiny  But it is so difficult when her men volunteer to diminish  The black woman  The black woman is not a ***** so why do he dog her?  Her body represents the best figure so why do he abuse it?  The black woman  It's amazing she keeps on giving them chances  She turns to the other cheek and he slaps her again  Only time he pay attention to her is in a discussion amongst friends  The black woman  How is it that she know the importance of a black man, but in favor he cannot comprehend?  If it's not ****** relations he don't wanna relate  And if he impregnate  He miss every anniversary of the child's original date  The black woman  But... (Shaking my head) The black man
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With its life in the palms of person(s) unprecedented, And its soul orbiting other oppressor, And its eyes glaring at glistening gloaters, It slithers and slides and twists and turns, Ruthlessly reaching for a rapid revival. Its heart lays limp on the long, lonely lawn And its spirit sinks silently And its mouth cries carelessly It pulses and pushes and wriggles and writhes Hopelessly harking for a hint of help.
0
Jun 9, 2012
Jun 9, 2012 at 1:26 PM UTC
mara-siegel
it.
With its life in the palms of person(s) unprecedented, And its soul orbiting other oppressor, And its eyes glaring at glistening gloaters, It slithers and slides and twists and turns, Ruthlessly reaching for a rapid revival. Its heart lays limp on the long, lonely lawn And its spirit sinks silently And its mouth cries carelessly It pulses and pushes and wriggles and writhes Hopelessly harking for a hint of help.
Continue reading...
10
Above the moon is a clasp of hope She will not surrender the chance to see But Heart has no oppressor Vulnerability will not exist to her Too often has the moon cried For Heart to feel completeness, to feel air Dance across the palms of gentle hands Or to feel a beat envelope the surrounding song But Heart will not shake She will not succumb to common wails To woes and histories, she will forever Wait for the moon to understand her fate
0
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 10:38 PM UTC
shay-ruth
Begging Heart
Above the moon is a clasp of hope She will not surrender the chance to see But Heart has no oppressor Vulnerability will not exist to her Too often has the moon cried For Heart to feel completeness, to feel air Dance across the palms of gentle hands Or to feel a beat envelope the surrounding song But Heart will not shake She will not succumb to common wails To woes and histories, she will forever Wait for the moon to understand her fate
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12
Dear Rosie I wonder, what kind of black woman are you? Because as we discussed various -isms, you refuted your womanism, you refuted racism, you refuted sexism. You are "Rosie" Dear Rosie I want to know where you come from. Who taught you to tear down women that look like you, that came from a black woman's womb just as you did. Where did you learn to silence us in that confused mind of yours where you said our opinions irritate you and are worthless to your education? Dearest Rosie Tell me how the oppressed became the oppressor. Because as I look at your dark chocolate skin I am curious what you see when you look in the mirror. A reflection of privileged whiteness? You say oppression does not matter. You asks for facts. Well, statistics show us that people that look like you are dying whether you acknowledge your blackness or not. Women like you are being silenced and underrepresented in the public sphere regardless if you take it for face value. Women like us have lost sons to officers, husbands to cells, brothers to jails. Dear Rosie Wake the **** up. Each time you slice our tongues from the black reality that black women may not matter as much as they do in this safe space, each time you preach of your humanist kumbaya resolution that separates us from race gender and sexuality, each time you say our opinions do not matter, they win. The system wins. Because they'll use some token like you to represent our mass majority and say "She agrees with us so all black people do too." I refuse to be represented by a peer that denounces my womanism, my feminism, my black nationalism because it's not white enough for her (black) skin. Not inclusive enough to a white population that has excluded people like me for centuries. It is not my duty to make some ************ feel comfortable with my blackness ,to relieve them of guilt when they've perpetuated guilt on me because of my blackness. Dear Rosie. Don't let them win.
0
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 1:32 AM UTC
alexandria-rae-mason
Dear Rosie
Dear Rosie I wonder, what kind of black woman are you? Because as we discussed various -isms, you refuted your womanism, you refuted racism, you refuted sexism. You are "Rosie" Dear Rosie I want to know where you come from. Who taught you to tear down women that look like you, that came from a black woman's womb just as you did. Where did you learn to silence us in that confused mind of yours where you said our opinions irritate you and are worthless to your education? Dearest Rosie Tell me how the oppressed became the oppressor. Because as I look at your dark chocolate skin I am curious what you see when you look in the mirror. A reflection of privileged whiteness? You say oppression does not matter. You asks for facts. Well, statistics show us that people that look like you are dying whether you acknowledge your blackness or not. Women like you are being silenced and underrepresented in the public sphere regardless if you take it for face value. Women like us have lost sons to officers, husbands to cells, brothers to jails. Dear Rosie Wake the **** up. Each time you slice our tongues from the black reality that black women may not matter as much as they do in this safe space, each time you preach of your humanist kumbaya resolution that separates us from race gender and sexuality, each time you say our opinions do not matter, they win. The system wins. Because they'll use some token like you to represent our mass majority and say "She agrees with us so all black people do too." I refuse to be represented by a peer that denounces my womanism, my feminism, my black nationalism because it's not white enough for her (black) skin. Not inclusive enough to a white population that has excluded people like me for centuries. It is not my duty to make some ************ feel comfortable with my blackness ,to relieve them of guilt when they've perpetuated guilt on me because of my blackness. Dear Rosie. Don't let them win.
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12
Life is the greatest killer of all. Cancer. Sickness. ****** Wellness to illness, function to dysfunction: Two sides of the same coin toss. The greatest civil rebellion lasted 122 years, give or take, yet In all the struggle few realize that the true oppressor Is always enslaved to a certain animal within. Our ancestors die, our rivals die, our sisters die, We've been choosing death all along. Look at our blood: from tree to house to ash And mammal to mammal to dirt to memory. All things before the sun, that great heap of ****** Will have the color drained from them. The great white is an event Of the great blackness. And when it explodes . . . And there's a lesson to be told here, Call it 1.1. There is a lucky infinity Of the few who, unlike us, life Didn't take them, and there is a growing infinity Of us the many who death will take. I fear That there will be a great war To ruin the eternities that dot the night skies, The Olympians. I fear a great war Where infinite darkness both ways Will finally collapse - And us in the middle, the living, This star chained away By space and time and The magnificence of its light, Breathing away every last drop - Will fail, And the big black bang will stretch out in both ways As a final **** you to existence. And that'll be the end of it.
0
Sep 21, 2025
Sep 21, 2025 at 4:25 PM UTC
Jasper
The fear, the life, and the death
Life is the greatest killer of all. Cancer. Sickness. ****** Wellness to illness, function to dysfunction: Two sides of the same coin toss. The greatest civil rebellion lasted 122 years, give or take, yet In all the struggle few realize that the true oppressor Is always enslaved to a certain animal within. Our ancestors die, our rivals die, our sisters die, We've been choosing death all along. Look at our blood: from tree to house to ash And mammal to mammal to dirt to memory. All things before the sun, that great heap of ****** Will have the color drained from them. The great white is an event Of the great blackness. And when it explodes . . . And there's a lesson to be told here, Call it 1.1. There is a lucky infinity Of the few who, unlike us, life Didn't take them, and there is a growing infinity Of us the many who death will take. I fear That there will be a great war To ruin the eternities that dot the night skies, The Olympians. I fear a great war Where infinite darkness both ways Will finally collapse - And us in the middle, the living, This star chained away By space and time and The magnificence of its light, Breathing away every last drop - Will fail, And the big black bang will stretch out in both ways As a final **** you to existence. And that'll be the end of it.
Continue reading...
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