"overseers" poems
Every time people start to rise up, a whole buncha problematic mess gets thrown around regarding VIOLENCE.
So, what is "violence" really?... It's the use of force. Plain and simple.
What makes folks uncomfortable (who are otherwise comfortable in this system) is that UPRISING IS A SOMETIMES VIOLENT (read: forceful) REACTION TO SYSTEMATIC VIOLENCE: Yes, just like the Hunger Games...
Thus, there are many types of violence...
The fact that we are paying taxes that are funding the genocide and ****** of people of color (here and abroad) is violence.
People with guns (former slave patrols and overseers, now cops) who come from outside our community and treat our folks as criminals on the daily is violence.
Capitalism, i.e. wage/property/ecology-based exploitation in the name of profit is violence.
The fact that LA County spends more $$ than anywhere in the world on prisons and police is violence.
The fact that the US locks up more of its own people than any other country on record is violence.
US aiding/funding the genocide of Palestinians at the hands of Israel is genocidal violence.
From Congress, to the boardrooms, to the classrooms, from the gaze, to the unwanted touching, to the **** to the pay, Patriarchy everyday, is violence.
A few people jacking some **** at Walmart or breaking a window is really minimal violence in comparison.
A couple people throwing **** at armed cops is not serious violence.
The idea of owning property that other must rent to live is violent.
Systemic, chronic, global insecurity in the form of material poverty is violence.
Wage slavery is violence.
Gentrification is violence.
The War On Youth, i.e. the School-to-Prison pipeline, and, thus the War-on-Drugs with its attending 76% recidivism rate in the prison-industrial complex, whose populations are disproportionately black males, is violence.
The fact that people can't go to the doctor and dentist, or eat food every day is violence.
Deportations are violence.
Homophobia is violence.
The world's largest global military that vaporizes people without due process in dozens of countries violating their biophysical and national sovereignty is violence.
The United States government sanctioning the ****** of non-white, but especially Muslim bodies across the world... is violence.
So, when you condemn violence, do you mean resistance?
Because there is a whole lot of violence you should be condemning instead.
Adapted from Emilio Lacques-Zapien
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC
Algeria a rich land poor people,
Angola seems to have kings,
Benin is blessed with voodoo,
Botswana blood bulls diamonds,
Burkina Faso can't cope coups,
Burundi twelve years a slave,
Cape Verde has half a million,
Cameroon got cocoa,
Chad's lake is shrinking,
Comoros has under a million,
DRC is third largest,
Congo is it's neighbour with capitals facing,
Côte d'Ivoire has few elephants,
Djibouti's on the horn,
Egypt has mummy's,
Equatorial guinea struck oil in 95 but didn't loose change,
Eritrea has 5000 running annually,
Ethiopia's great rift is pretty ******
Gabon is subject to black gold,
Gambia got a peace of it after 65,
Great Ghana oasis of peace,
Guinea is diverse,
Bissau too,
Kenyans have beautiful smiles,
Lesotho is SA's baby,
Liberia oldest republic,
Libya needs liberty,
Madagascar where are the penguins!
Malawi has warm hearts,
Mali is 8th,
Mauritania is 11th,
Mauritius marvel,
Morocco fine leather,
Mozambique keeps the dugongs,
Namibia Windhoek ah,
Niger after a river,
Nigeria makes zuma rock,
Rwanda listen,
Sao tome and principe 2nd smallest,
Senegoals,
She sells Seychelles,
Sierra Leone free?
Somalia loose,
S. Africa reign,
South Sudan independent?
Sudan - black,
Swaziland more than solo men,
Tanzania trade,
Togo up down,
Two knees yeah,
Uganda teacher come simeon,
Zambia's peace?
Zimbabwe got rid of Mugabe.
Always thought zed was co.za but we're actually co.zm,
so what's zim?
One way we'll loose change is when the overseers begin to acknowledge the under looked.
-nyanta
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC
We create our own stories,
our own gods and reshape our own peoples
We also create our own demons and enemies.
An old retired fighter once said to a traveler,
"we learn not run from the enemy, but go towards them."
In learning, his new pupil destroyed his heart
and his lovers. And them, destroyed their own in turn.
The traveler sits with piles of stories of all kinds now,
from all over the world, in a library shelf
like a white elephant of impotent rage in his room.
For decades the populations of the world
have been subject of mass experimentation by its overseers.
In other stories, a people's Creator has gone mad
working for his human creations
which required using toxic chemicals to turn
their raw materials into life, while working to
reveal our own gift of growth from attachments
and into self-knowledge, compassion.
For decades also, populations of the world
are kept apart from their own full living potential
not because of some evil or mad Creator
or some insanely depicted required competition towards
reproduction or respect.
Rather, because we continue to face our tasks
through our mistakes and failures, knowing
our deadly blows from through those we reject,
shame and escape from, as our teachers of compassion
if not more than those that we gravitate to
or already belong and accept as our own.
Thus continues perhaps the stories of people's
potentials outside of their fear's many
perverted versions. #
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 2:42 AM UTC
A certain spectrum of whiteness
still is delusional
it thinks it is still torturing black people in private
It functions as if it is out in the barren ocean
on a slave ship
choosing captives to ****
degrade and throw to the sharks
and the patterns of society are used to it
like the sharks that changed their feeding patterns
based on this **** and killing
by slave overseers
The white slave overseers enjoyed **** so much
and the money from it
that a whole social structure was designed around it
the Ivy league institutions made this possible
the government made this possible
communities made this possible
you make it impossible
please
and
thank you
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 3:16 PM UTC
Restless hungry, found a tiny scrap of a brownie in the back of the refrigerator, wrapped in plastic about the size of a large 35 cent quarter.
Gobbled up and gone.
Eye had purchased it a week ago, maybe more.
Actually it was more like eye was held up at gunpoint by a sad young face for a large and green single dollar Bill.
In return, was bequeathed said brownie eye dropper-ful.
The apartment I live in a big city, many apartments were recession empty for a long time. But in the last few years, the empty apartments in the building were almost all sold to foreigners.
Now the bldg is an amulet melted of the lucky overseas fortunate, those overseers overseas seizers, who come to reside in the most fabulous site in these United States...and buy a piece of the dream away from the be-headers, secret police or governments that decide you are now an enemy of the state, as of this morning. No judgement.
anyway, this doe eyed child of estimated six or eight years of age accosts me in our large lobby, proffers me the brownie scrap for a Bill.
me a sucker of a salesman myself, and an eye affician-doe, well those doefuls, those eyes, no one could resist!
so eye asked her name,
but all she could say in
Anglais was...
"Brownie One Dollar?"
laughing out loud for no apparent cause,
the hanging about lobbyists looked at me staring...
Why was eye laughing?
laughing cause eye realized
this elfin child had become
fitfully but fully Americanized.
and I loved her eyes in mine, and when I see her periodically, I say:
"Hey! Brownie One Dollar, How are ya!"
and everyone snicker smiles at the old man with the even stupider grin upon his eyes.
That would be eye.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 7:02 PM UTC
To the planet called Earth
And its so called overseers:
We are your distant neighbor
From a far-flung star
A thousand times greater than yours.
We don't come in peace.
Certainly, you may think
That your intergalactic
Space bound expeditions
Got us all figured out.
Your futile exploits
Gave you but an idea
That might turn out to be
A million light years away
From such a prized truth.
But we know everything
About your infant planet.
Your warm-blooded race
The silly thing you call Science
And your many weakness.
We have been here all along
Since the ancient times.
Your ancestors offered megaliths
And long tried to build relations.
But we were never pleased.
Your intelligence, though much inferior
Made us believe you are prepared enough
To decode encrypted messages on crop circles.
But even so with your best technology
You have failed us once again.
Humans! Take heed to the signs
And the warnings of our coming.
We have waited long enough
And gave you time to hone your potential
Only to find you stuck in your own maze.
You call us aliens, those big headed monsters
That you amuse yourself in your movies.
But you are the strangest kind of life
That our probes have ever studied.
Your saga shall be recorded well.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 4:36 AM UTC
pick your master under the cover of snow
bends of darkness hemmed to the tops of conifers
Soon I will visit to move you. Three appended signatures,
Three thousand miles of telephone wire.
This is the one letter I cannot send
for there is no address for where you are,
The one I wish to call upon has no receiver to respond.
And now all my teeth begin to fall out
Like excess light bleeding from your moons.
I know the sound of Glass when I hear it.
You have made weapons out of my junk and
Then gone to war without me, I see you
Against the whistling stars and overseers,
Anxiety makes this heart grow fungus
These fingertips weary, and I pull out my eyelashes
As if trying to see you better through this impenetrable
black nightness I lead myself into, until all that
were corners and crests become the precipice.
Insecurity turns to rooks, hatred turns to Jays
Until the weeping have wept and I visit to stay.
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 4:32 PM UTC
You think your children are being educated
But they're actually being ego deflated
They aren't being taught
How to form a thought
Because ...
That's not good for the machine .
You hear the fringe word
meditation
As if it's some kind of voodoo
incantation
Instead they want you to be fed
A steady stream of entertainment
As a way of keeping containment
Off the Grid
Off the grid
The inspector said
We can't be having that
Regulations regulations regulations
Thats all he had to say
Truth be known ...
.....he was just a clone
Latest model on display
Notice how the men in blue
Are becoming almost savage...
....In their demeanor
As they are primed to follow blind
The Crooked Mind
Of the Master overseer
So totally convinced
That they never even sensed
They never were...
..really
A volunteer
Primed and loaded
Each one having been pre - coded
By the educators in the classrooms
That are
The soul burning incinerators
Burning away every trace
Of any human emotions
While swallowing down
Steroid laced
Psychotic mind bending potions
As the rest of us are being fed...
... instead
Of our daily bread
Mind bending views
Prepackaged news
To keep us all shuffled up
Off center
So as to totally confuse
That way we don't ever wonder
Why we choose
Once we find we're standing
In the line to buy the latest toys
Keeping our heads filled..
..with noise
That way
We don't have any time to think
As long as everyone behaves.
They'll never know
That they are slaves
No shackles , chains or wooden canes
To keep the masses in production
We have the latest must-haves ..
.... new introductions.
But time to sit and think......
That's not what the machine wants
Us to do !
That's not
In the latest matrix
Silencing the external
In search of those things
That should be ETERNAL
Will make you unfit for society
As your number is etched
Into
The overseers recorder
In this ....
...THE NEW WORLD ORDER.
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 12:41 PM UTC
A newborn father
wears a path to heaven
in polished holy marble
'neath the pedestal
of stoney saints.
Deific overseers
cast artificial glory
incandescently.
A slice of dimly lit
hospital heaven
is framed with two candles
and the incense of Betadine.
Saint John's shadow
shares confessions
and supplications
over a once-immortal man
now unashamedly broken,
bartering trade with God -
his life for his son's.
This shoebox chapel
is starking cold.
Cold enough to preserve meat,
and doubts
which mock peace
against nun-hardened walls
echoing Satan's laugh.
Hope drowns in the ripples
of a basin filled with water
to wash our sins
but not our fear.
In the air hangs
the promise of eternity
(which is spiritual code for "death", but no one says "death" outloud. The more they don't say it, the more it sounds like "WE AREN'T GOING TO SAY "DEATH", WE CAN'T POSSIBLY SAY "DEATH", UNTIL IT IS SO UNCOMFORTABLE THAT WE MIGHT AS WELL BE SAYING "DEATH, DEAD, DIE, DIE, DIE, DIE, DEATH AND TO TOP IT OFF...ON YOUR MOTHER'S GRAVE").
Yet piercing through
the promise of eternity
is the frail wail
of his baby's voice.
Legacy lingers in a
plastic manger down the hall.
Resurrection is more
than a prayer, it is his spirit
rising for one more miracle.
Faith is summoned
like a woozy fighter
demanding his will
to go on,
beaten,
half-concious
on the mat
refusing to lay down
for the count.
"God, I believe.
Help my unbelief."
The weeping man
stares into a statue's eyes
for salvation.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 7:49 PM UTC
who watches the watchmen
or something to that effect
its an important thought
they keep an eye on us
but who watches them
are they their own check
a very ab-usable system
if they can't watch themselves
we get more
watchers to watch the watchmen
but that same problem pops up
their overseers get corrupt
so we must watch them
but you know you can't trust us.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 10:37 PM UTC
This moment, I am God upon this town.
I compass every window spread below:
each pinprick point in total looking down
a pattern only overseers know.
I feel the human flow and ebb each minute
perceiving both with every passing breath;
each lighted room has home and hoping in it,
each darkening a sleeping, or a death.
And nothing, nothing makes it wait to darken;
had I the power it should be shining still.
Some other one you have to hope will hearken,
some other on some yet more lofty hill--
whom priests and people plead to, not to be
as powerless to hold these lights as me.
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 6:13 PM UTC
God had a green card
But cannot get back in the gate.
The Bricks are thick
But not so tall, I think
God may need to scale the wall.
Are we safe in structures gated
Must we stay in this prison
Where women are hated.
Our bones are hidden in tunnels.
Where has my mother gone
My sisters have disappeared, been
Abducted into a cult; Suspicious
Disinterest displays their guilt.
There has been nothing to report.
Maybe she has run away
To find a new God, Someone has
Touched her, she was not safe there
In her own bed, in her own home.
Some Blackman- Chanted hate lyrics
At her; Encouraged by their overseers.
Asian cultist cursed her in the womb.
In India they ostracized and brutalized
Her melanin, Queen of England, a
****** watches through syphilitic
Eyes without concern.
Beautiful cocoa,vanilla, and mustard
Babies sold or married off to smelly
suitors for *** before puberty; mere
Children, march and are showcased
For the wicked pleasures of men.
But should I call them men?
Remember we once ruled this planet
Remember once we bore your beloved sons,
Now we work and twerk our bodies
As we answer to your perversions
We no longer dance to bring rain.
We slide down poles reluctantly
Displaying our pain.
My mother is crying for me
My sister's are crying for me.
God will ignite the lamp of justice
God now has her green card and shall
Return us "Back to our Spiritual selves.
We dared not become too ripe, though
We must remain agile or we be thrown away
Like rotten fruit, never to be seen again
God now has her green card and
Will return us back to our Spiritual State.
Once again - You shall call us "Heaven".
Woman, who created man in her womb..
Became the enemy of man, and has been cast off.
We cannot testify with ovaries or inverted testicles.
Soon there was no natural preference
No perspective of gender has man !
Procreation ceased,the ****** forever
Banned to bear ovarian fruit.
We who remain alive wait.
Awaiting a Foreign God who's eager to
Receive her green card, and save us from our fate.
From the hands of a wicked system
We are doused in the agony of acid
Women perish, For the mercy of death we pray.
My mother is crying for me
My sisters are crying for me.
God will again ignite the lamp of justice
God now has her green card;
And shall return us to our spiritual state.
Remember we once ruled this planet,
We bore your unloved seeds, who
You've turned against us; We shall
Return them unto our bosoms....And
Once again, you shall call us " Heaven" !
© Vicki Acquah
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 4:22 PM UTC
I saw...
a huge, open space, arrayed with pink and
yellow roses and zinnias...there were benches
under trees that stretched towards a lagoon,
for those gone weary, from their walks...
I saw...
a family...children were playing
on the green, lush carpet grass,
dressed in their bright-colored clothes
of red and yellow, and blue jeans...
confidently hopping, and tumbling
wearing expensive rubber shoes...while
having bites of sandwiches, and sips of juices...
from a safe distance, seated on a bench, were
the overseers...the parents...as two nannies
kept close watch over the children.......
I saw...
a group of noisy children come in from the streets
running barefooted, feeling the cool, moist grass...
some refused to remove their rubber slippers,
their clothes were old and tattered...too excited,
they jumped.....lay on the grass without a care,
they shrieked, as they climbed and fell from slides,
obviously enjoying their visit....their shouts, their
laughter seemed contagious, the well-endowed
children, stopped their games and observed...
I saw...
how the parents summoned the nannies,
they gathered the children, and all their stuff
then marched towards a less peopled area,
and there, they let their children play....while
they sat on a nearby bench, pulled long sighs,
one after the other...i wondered...were they
exhausted? or, pricked by their conscience?
were they sighs of relief.......because their
children were now distanced......."safe,"
......from the less fortunate ones?
:::::::::
whatever happened to noblesse oblige?
are these just two foreign words,
with obsolete meanings?
::::::::::::::
Sally
Copyright March 9, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 8:01 AM UTC
Who are we to say we’re better?
Who are we to say we’re more
declare ourselves the overseers
and rulers of the world we know?
Why can’t we see that each life is precious?
Why don’t we understand the truth
that no matter where it comes from
each life deserves to live?
We **** the earth.
We **** her creatures.
We even **** our own.
Humanity has become a cancer
draining life out of the world.
Some of us try to stop the damage,
to cure the earth of her disease
but the only way to fix this problem
would be to cure her of ourselves.
Other creatures live together
a perfect balance with their world
but humans can never understand
that each life affects us all.
We feel so disconnected.
We think we’re each in this alone.
If we could realize we’re part of nature
all our problems would be solved.
We will have to learn compassion
and respect for all the world.
We will have to be more selfless
than we ever thought we could.
For if we don’t abandon our old ways
if we can’t move beyond our past
we ensure our own destruction.
The earth will cure herself of us.
Feb 3, 2010
Feb 3, 2010 at 5:45 AM UTC
He had been sitting there by the riverside--
That was, by far, his favorite place to sit, you know--
And he was dreaming of Ella.
He always dreamed of Ella when he sat beside the river.
But he knew that he and Ella were never to be.
He was black, as you recall. As black as midnight in December.
And she was as pale as a snowflake that might fall in the same cold month.
She was Miss Ella, daughter of the master.
But, how he loved her.
How he ached when he saw her repeatedly being called upon by men.
Silly men they were.
White men who didn't know how to hold a door open properly.
Oh, they were so foolish.
He knew how to open a door the right way; how to bow and let the mistress enter first.
He knew.
But he also knew that he was black as midnight in December.
And she was as pale as a snowflake that might fall in the same cold month.
And yet, sitting by the riverside, it did not matter that his skin was ebony and hers ivory.
All that mattered was they were both young.
And she was beautiful.
He had watched her all morning while he picked cotton in the field behind her house.
She had been on the back porch drinking lemonade.
Sipping the lucky drink slowly, sensuously.
How he had wished he were the glass in her delicate hands, brushing her lips with his touch.
They had told him to keep his eyes on his work.
Told him to stop watching Miss Ella.
He would pay.
But, regardless of what the overseers and other slaves said,
He could not tear his eyes from her beauty.
So he paid.
They had dragged him from the field, his eyes still caressing her body.
And the white, burly men had attacked him with all their hatred.
And blood streaked, he was released,
Given leave to go down to the river to clean up.
As he sat beside the river, he did not care about his scars
Or notice the pain.
He was relieved.
He had been given a few moments of respite.
A few moments of leave to dream about Ella.
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 9:09 AM UTC
~1~
INFAMOUS
In the world's eyes
rising to fame
falling in
SAME
~2~
OVERSEERS
Government
under the careful
auspices
of the
Major Corporations
~3~
SOUL SIFTER
The wheels of fate
grind us fine
bad fortune sifts
10W
Soul Survivor
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 1:11 PM UTC
Why can’t you look at me as normal?
Why do you see me a freak?
Why don’t you think that my heart can’t break?
Why can’t you understand that I own my own pain?
That I drive myself insane trying to become something new.
But when I say that I hurt, its, “who knew?”
So put me in a cage,
Condemn me for wishing for normality
That wish led to my fatality.
So I am here
With the ones they call odd
The ones you laugh at
The ones you question
Because if I can’t be normal, than no one can
Spend my life wishing to be larger than life
Wishing that people would see me, and not for my appearance.
Because as this is written, I am in pain
At this time I have no hope.
So go and tell me
“No need to mope”
But hell, not even the pope
Could pray the things I need prayer about.
That’s why I fell so far behind
Because I thought there was another path to find
And music was the only way I felt right
The notes where my eyes to see the light.
But you still laugh at me
Because my music is not sung at church
Because I scream
I am labeled a freak.
But if I don’t have talent
Why am I still writing on?
Because one day
You will remember the remraf name
When I claim my fame,
You will burn in the flame of my darkness
Of my shadow
So welcome to the carnival,
Where the lowest of the low find the highest of the high
Because today
Is the day
We rise,
Every “freak” in the world
Rise.
Because a freak is the new normal
And if you don’t agree,
Than you can stand before me
And tell me all my faults,
Tell me my insecurities.
And when you’re all said and done
It’ll be my turn to pay my respects
Because when you looked down at us
You forgot that even you had overseers.
Because what you do
What you say
Is downright *****
I am angry at your actions
Treating me as a carney boy
I am no freak
I am no freak
I am no freak
Leave me be!
Oh!
Leave this alone
Let me live my life
So what if you don’t like my music
So what that you don’t like my style
So what that you are to ***** to make your own
So what?
So what?
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 5:23 PM UTC
i lose so many people on this sick journey to nowhere
honestly its so **** draining
hush little moon, don't say a word
freezing is not your demise
autumn will come and go but guilt lasts until you weep over a strangers grave
hold on little duckling, your time will come
stationary living isn't for people like us
winters will fill you, **** will weigh down your bones but hurt will taint the living
sleep little seashell, just close your eyes
homely overseers spitting "thrivethrivethrIVETHRIVETHRIVE"
summer makes us tear out sinew from our muscles and pray to the great spirit we are washed away by the tide but salt water doesn't cure distance
die little raincloud, just drift away
owl eyes aren't without a price
spring takes its toll, but love cant kiss away history and prozac cant stop decay
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 2:22 AM UTC
The barren, windswept world of the unforgiving landscape of bare, white cliffs
like fists raging and pounding
against the fragile crust of the old earth.
An abandoned kingdom amidst the rubble of ancient towers and
fallen
cities
built by fossils,
striding across our bleak soil.
A sea of glass, giving occasional diamond glints
as if offspring of the clouds and the stars.
A swift uplifting rush of wind is all you need
and you are awakened to the wisdom of many layers encased into the rock.
But not all great things are so revealing as the mountains.
Forts lining the edge of the black and white icebergs
put up by humans desperately trying to defend themselves against one another,
ignorant of the fact that the very stone they construct their safe havens from
will outlast them,
for snow and stone covers all, even war himself.
There is no limit in the eyes of the mountains.
Brothers with time,
dancing around to the very same blunt tune,
overseers of all occasions. They recognise and understand all,
for they have seen all.
The eyes of the mountains will not be veiled.
People flock in their hundreds to admire the glinting white daughter of the mountains,
using her, feeling her speed under their feet.
She gives them joy and happiness,
laughing amidst her hair. The mountains are imperceptible to them but He doesn't waver, only forgives, for the eyes of the mountains are Father to all.
Timeless legends are woven in with eternal beauty.
His greatness would shame the children's empires,
ever learning from the teacher of all.
He never needs to move from his rocking chair
as he sits atop the secluded throne. For he has eyes, his children do not.
They pollute his hands and slaughter their brothers but they are illiterate
and oblivious to true benevolence. But these tired, aged eyes can guide his children, and so they do, the eyes of the mountains,
Yes,
these eyes will do.
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 11:19 AM UTC
crows shed the most
finely tailored leather
coats in an infrequent
flap.
so their eyes may overturn.
Nov 16, 2023
Nov 16, 2023 at 3:55 AM UTC
The brightest lights tend to consume
Put in the spotlight so my character is assumed
Yet you won’t learn me til
I’m exhumed
Cause my legacy is more important than a therapy room
Endorsed as I’m source for what stops your scroll
So my role is funded if I never break the code
Interact, react, or enact either way dollars rolling in
Not to the masses but to certified evil overseers who entrust it
to their next of kin
Thinking your pen game going to help others with their pain
But to maintain you have to insert the product name
Keep telling yourself that’s it only one more album, only one more line
Don’t worry your Grammy’s gone pile up over time
Refine your story, tell your side
but it’s hard to accept like a late Valentine
It started with good intentions even some honorable mentions about your conscience decisions
But what's an activist without comma sense?
Homeless begging for cents or at least that’s what they present
So I only get to wear the suit if play Superman but never Clark Kent
May 21, 2024
May 21, 2024 at 7:20 PM UTC
There is something about a library
That gets me thinking,
All those volumes make me fiery.
The mind travels far and wide, linking
Me to places I can hide. Lives lost
In dusty old books,
New lives imagined where there is no cost
But farcical flying carpets high above chinooks.
I cook delicious and dainty treats,
And watch other readers’ faces post euphoria.
I learn how to write a cinematic screenplay that’ll get bums on seats,
Ideas generated a plethora.
A quiet and soulful space,
Libraries help you positively grow.
In here, I can understand the myriad of lace,
And how to safely stitch a satin dress to flow.
In here, I've also fallen asleep,
So tired from overstimulation.
The overseers struggled to rouse from deep,
As these books hastened satisfied adulation.
This is a base
That deserves your attention,
We’ll benefit from reading your next case
Transported to lofty lands by the prose you mention.
May 21, 2025
May 21, 2025 at 12:32 AM UTC
having descried a
day's bathing
image--
loosely christened
by running
transparencies.
lambently
blind as a stone's
stone throw--
prepossessed of
distance.
exhortations of:
retain thy image!
wholly bisected--
thus intersected by
what beholds as the
consequence of retain.
oblations continually
raised up with dull squints--
to please the heights of overseers.
oblations continually lowered
down with torches--
to please the depths of under-seers.
our juxtapositional brilliance's
harvested, by a static field
of meditation.
salient points of etheric half turns,
suggest a circle already completed.
retain thy image--as time compositely
sketched.
fugitive thy reality.
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC