"opress" poems
Oh,
The places I have gone,
Into the gutter onto the street,
Regurgitated,
Every fiber,
Of my uneven being,
A little yin,
A lot of yang,
And the realization,
Of the cost of "freedom",
Is security,
And the lies swept under the rug,
Therein.
Where do I go?
In this world I do not fit within,
It suits me not,
Too corporeal, too moralistic,
Too judging, and a little bit too thin.
Always finding reasons,
To opress other human beings,
Even in democracy,
The masses lurk,
Judging, what is good men.
The young are chained,
Binded by systems and laws,
Signed to social contracts,
They didnt ask for,
and most will never understand.
All in the great,
revolutionary idea!
Oh, yes, as they will tell you with a smile,
You can be anything you want to be!
(If you get a 4.0)
You can love freely!
(Except gays and underaged)
And women let me tell you,
Yes how to get an abortion,
And when!
Always distinguishing,
Classifying people,
Alpha and beta,
And whatever else in bygone alphabets,
We are social animals,
Civilized only in lies.
And all men are not created equal!
Some are born to die.
We laugh in the face of this evil,
Because we cannot control our own existence,
And the only other option is to cry,
And self annihilate.
Of course, to the world,
This is so very wrong.
Such a crazy guy.
There is no freedom I say.
Only the mirror image,
The perception of such,
We make our own choices,
Sure,
Pre ordained by our genetics,
Our expereinces, our cultures,
The boxes of our very thoughts,
Ergo the very essence of who we are,
For if we were different,
We would go left,
And not right,
into the very clutches of Satan,
The demons men swear by.
I've got nothing nice to say,
Or contribute to society,
So I oft think,
I'd best stay silent,
And censure myself away,
I hurt my friends,
My family my loved ones,
And add onto the suffering list,
Still knowing the worst I got,
is better than a lot of men.
So, alas,
Mi amore,
I have a lie to say,
If you but love me,
Oh just one night,
I will love you,
Forevermore.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 9:12 AM UTC
Roses are red, violets are blue
Oranges can't be green and nothing can be new
Green reminds me of camo in countries we shouldn't be
Whilst red reminds me of my anxiety, escaping me
Why don't our boys in blue fairly opress white too
Without ever having to walk a full day in their shoes
If I could make a palette of my own colors and what they mean to me
every childhood art teacher would be out of a job
Blue would be the color of my pills I have to take to make
my rainbow array of emotions a choked out gray
Yellow would be the brick road leading to my cowardly lion and my anxiety smitten scarecrow
Roses are sometimes love, and sometimes they're a thorn
violets never ******* hesitate to remind me of loneliness and my conscious, well worn.
In my palette I'd release the choking hands around thine iris neck
and let it breathe its colors
but only so on the outside I seem fine. The true similarity between this rainbow and I, is that mixed together we both yield the same black.
But whom said black can't mean endless space and endless possibility?
Without my palette I would be nothing;
Per how dark nor how vibrant those colors behold
So roses can be purple and violets can be green
because in the end, it's the same black that they all mean
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC
waves tossing from left to right
my hope crashes against the next wave's might
quivering in fear of what would seem
to be the end of this never ending dream
slowly but surely this life will drown
without the help of the One with the Crown
thorns of beauty, thorns of grace
these tides cannot reach the place
where souls are snatched from distress
my SOS heard, saved from opress
oh Mark, how wondrous the word of your word,
my storms are calmed through our Saviour's loud Word!
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 9:20 AM UTC
It's funny how society shows us how to opress
The depressed teens and adults of this generation.
“It’s just a phase”
“I had it worse when i was a child”
“Attention seeking liar”
“Get over it”
But maybe i can’t get over it.
Depression turned my once happy stream of joyful thoughts
Into a rainy, dark pit of sadness.
A pit only to be filled with
Helplessness, insomnia, self-destruction, and a little madness.
This illness has broken me
I feel like I have to carry the burden of darkness on my shoulder
And each time I try to get better, I regress.
The only way to repress my feelings is to let
Niagara Falls drip from wrists, to my stomach, to my hips, & to my thighs
And hide it with a mouthful of lies
My inner demons gained control over my brain,
Bringing me so much pain that it became hard to do anything.
Even eating became a chore
Because it was hard to eat when I can’t even look in the mirror without fear
Of the Image standing in front of me.
Ugly, worthless, stupid
You don’t even have the drive to stay alive,
So why care about yourself or your health?
You’re better off dead.
But of course, it was all in my head, so no one understood.
No one understood that i stayed up til 4 in the morning
Having a mental breakdown, with death on my mind.
I just wish someone could reach behind my mask and find the real me
The sad me
The broken me
The mentally drained me
The me that has been drowning in my own darkness for years now
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 5:25 PM UTC
They say we free but are we really free or modern slaves in a plantation tied with invisible mental chains, prisoned to the golden fantasies of a spiritual dimension encoded in a book of light
Our ancestors are demonised in the name of
And our God given dark magic is victimized
As a spiritual sin to an invisible alien sky God
They enforced brutally on the true God's of Alkebulan
Are we really free when spiritually we are still conquered
Will the God who created us fight for us or against us
They took our land
They ***** our women
Took our wild stock
For themselves
And killed our men
Sailed some of the boys
To the new world
Through the altantic
Where some of them were served
As food to creatures of the ocean
Some drowning themselves
For freedom in the spiritual world
Our mother we're left
Widowed & pregnant
To innocent souls
Committed painful sinfully
Tell me are we free when we went trough such
Without reparations
The Jews got it for Hitler's genocide
And others they managed to rebuild
Tell me are we free
Are we free when the DRC is still being exploited
For her minerals & it's war all over
Are we free when the Arabs claim Egyptian history as theirs and opress the true dark pharoas
Are we free when Sudan is in the mist
Of a religious war
It Muslims v Christians
Brotherhood no longer matters
Libya is involved in slave trades
Nigeria is troubled by rebels
South Africa is involved in Afrophobia
Tell me Africa are we really free ?
In the Dispora you had Garvey
Malcom X
Dr Khalid
What did you do with them asks
Dr Clarke ?
They took out Nkrumah
Assassinated Lumumba
Victimized Mugabe
& Exiled Zimbabwe from the world
Destroying our bread & basket
Hunger became a ghost that haunting
The people of Zimbabwe & still does
They Killed Machel
& So died the future of a prosperous Mozambique
They silenced Gaddafi
& Libya became a war Zone
So died the dreams of a United Africa with him
lied about Idi Amin
Shaked Ethopia
Failed in Somalia
And institutionalized the most
Punishious & brutal regime
To the people of the South
Tell me Africa are we free when heavent really dealt with all this trauma
Tell me Africa are we free ?
Tell me are We free ?
Or are we still in *******
Jan 7, 2020
Jan 7, 2020 at 1:39 AM UTC
Shall her heroes labour go in vain?
There she lies again,growing older. Her mates are growing with bounty development but vast hope still lies in the thought of her children.
She is green and white; what a beauty! She has oil to her disposal, agricultural products within her reach or should we talk about coal and steel or the erstwhile minerals in her disposition. What a wealth!
She once rose in 70s, her currency going in a duel with dollar; a naira for a dollar. What a currency!
She rode all through that era among her Negroid family, her Congoid peers were admiring her stardom, the western was dismayed by her rise.
And she had heroes; her brave children. These children had fought her freedom from the westerners and started a revolution but there it was; she had bad kids; one who haunted her despite being their mother.
Her bad kids defied others of power, stole our mother's wealth and still oppressed their brothers and sisters with their stolen. Even went further in manipulating their siblings brains with cooked lies so as to get power and steal their mother's wealth and still opress their siblings.
Also, she had crazy kids; they believed in her downfall so they attacked her children (their siblings) for their selfish and unbelievable wants.
Mother Nigeria is getting weak day by day, some children wants to help but the brainwashed and bad siblings won't allow. Some children are joining the "train of destruction" of their mother because they don't to be on a losing side and feels it's a normal act.
Her heroes (children who fought for her) are going in vain, day by day, she is dying slowly by the activities of her children. No one wants to start a revolution because of those in poor.
The giant of Africa is gradually becoming timid and her tag being questioned.
And there her children has feud over their races and religion and bitterness grown over them.
What would happen to mother Nigeria while some of her children only have hope filled in her while others have ran away for shelter from other mothers.
Shall the giant of Africa rise again, shall her heroes labour go in vain, would her children unite in peace and make her great?
Only time and God can tell.
Jan 5, 2020
Jan 5, 2020 at 5:11 PM UTC
Sometimes I wish I had a *****
Then I could be just another mind...
An equal contribution in the room.
Instead of just one more object to posess,
One more possession to opress,
One more distraction
on which
They can obsesss.
"You've always been a **** to me," he said.
Sweeter words had never been spoken.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 6:31 AM UTC
She was straitened among vines
And I came
A messenger from the ruler
Known by the red coverings of my knees
She was sitting straitened under a stump
With bare buttocks
In a gloomy valley
And no prospects for deliverance
She was straitened before a frowning rock
Her means of escape
Cut her hands as a thorny branch
Oppressed by that which should not opress
She was straitened in a lonely place
A palace without a ruler
A king enters his castle
And does not see a queen
She was straitened among vines
(Which she could break anytime)
And I came
(I was always there)
A messenger from the ruler
(A man who wants to love)
Known by the red coverings of my knees
(And my sacrifice to the spirits)
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 2:45 AM UTC