"parentless" poems
(sorry, but not sorry)
There once was a potato plant,
(Because potatoes grow on plants...)
This plant harvested baby potatoes.
This was no ordinary potato plant, however,
It was SPECIAL!
Anywho, the plant grew several baby potatoes,
Who were harvested and shipped on a crate to a grocery store
in a cold, dark shipping truck.
The potatoes, they weren't scared! Yah know why? Simple.
Because Potatoes don't have FEELINGS!
....but if they did....they'd be scared. Take my word for it.
The potatoes arrived at the store and were bagged, ready for purchase. They sat together in a pile for hours,
thinking about (but not thinking about) what would happen in the future, why they were in this bag, UNTIL, UNTIL a homeless man (he looked homeless) reached into the bag, pulled out a single spud, and RAN! Out the store, down the street,
HE WAS OUTTA THERE! BYE-BYE SUCKERS!
Well, on his way to.... wherever he was going, he fell and dropped it. That's what stealing does to yah.
It rolled into an abandoned alley, far away from the man's sight. He couldn't stop and look for it, because he was being chased, so he ran away sourly, the potato being left cold and alone, without it's family to be piled up motionlessly beside it.
This potato was different. Unlike it's family, it could feel,
it could think and understand, even without knowing language at all, it's like the potato just knew everything and anything, without a purpose. And, another thing.
This potato, it was hungry. Very hungry.
Only hours later (again)
A parentless child walked the streets, searching for something to eat. They hadn't eaten in days. Of course, the child found the battered potato on the ground,picked it up and smiled.
It was the end of the potatoes life cycle, it seemed.
Or...was it? Seconds until the end, seconds until facing the terrifying wrath of the human's sharp, untaimed teeth, seconds until it got to see if there was a potato heaven or not, JUST SECONDS, something changed.
The spud; it grew. No, it didn't grow in size, but it did grow a mouth, and arms. And it could scream. Oh God, yes, it could wail like no tomorrow, so, quickly adapting to it's new form; it yelled ****** ****** The child threw it at a wall, screaming and running away.
..... Silence from the potato.
Sadly, it could withstand the grasp of a sweaty, homeless dude,
it could bare the growing silence from it's siblings,
it could even dodge the teeth of a starving ape!
But the potato was no match for a wall.
Mashed potatoes for dinner it is.
Sep 13, 2017
Sep 13, 2017 at 8:54 PM UTC
Many were their numbers
Living in city streets and slums
Brothers and sisters torn asunder
Gathered up like bums
Nineteenth century’s answer
Created by Children’s Aid Society
Indentured servants to farmers and ranchers
Shipped in cattle cars like propriety
Struggling in their suffering
Confused used and oft’ abused
Terror in their wayfaring
For being parentless accused
The disruptive ones placed in chains
Scattered to the winds across the land
The far west and the Great Plains
North to Canada and south of the Rio Grande
Billy here, Danny Boy there, and Sally who knows where
The Children of the Orphan Trains
r 13 Nov 13
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 8:20 AM UTC
Concrete full of blood
Skies, smoke-filled clouds
Poison, don't you see
INDUCING VOMITING
Of every freedom you hold
Incubators, landfills
For
Food deserts
Soul Scavengers
Bullet and knife showers
Parentless parents
Starving children
Hotbeds for addiction
Metropolises
Harvesting humans like ants
Where democracy manufactures
Oppressed consumers out of the masses
Majority starving for death
Poison, don't you see
INDUCING VOMITING
Of every freedom you hold
Those borders you revere
Hijacking your body and mind
Legislating no burning of the flag
Where they clean their blood-drenched hands on
Can you tell what side your on
When you agree, they hold a different nationality
When can there be actual solidarity?
Profets of freedom, alienating OUR power to be
When in doctrine, legislature, and policy
Hierarchizing who deserves to be free
In contempt, not compliance
In pain, not numb
Reactive, not inactive
Burning, boiling, shivering
Out of injustice
Poison, don't you see
INDUCING VOMITING
Of every freedom you hold
How can you keep suffering,
When you face the truth
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 10:21 PM UTC
There is a child in the desert,
a child that never sleeps,
his eyes are always wide open,
for darkest secret that he keeps.
There is a child that knows everything,
a child,with pockets that are full of sand,
eaven if you find him somewhere,
he speaks a lanuage that you can't understand.
There is a child that walks slowly,
a child,who made people out of sand to play ,
built a playground,to play forever ,
parentless child ,and Time is his name.
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
*** for tat only means that another generation seeks vengeance and war
Evening the score only means yet another must even the score
Just ask the palestinians and the israelis, just ask the tutsis and the hutus
Ask the protestants and the catholics, and the crips and the bloods
The hatfields and mccoys, too, were all about grudge
And what has it gotten us, where does it end?
Who is the enemy and who the friend?
I ask this because it seems clear to me
“Either you’re with us or against us” denies diversity
One man’s terrorist is another man’s hero
But you **** mine, I **** yours leaves a net gain of zero
And what about the children in whose faces war is fought?
What parentless future — or present — have they got?
And who stands to gain from perpetuating violence?
Who profits from the pain ... ... and the deafening silence?
Typically a handful of white men do, that’s who
It’s that top one percent, not you
A few families control the likes of halliburton, bechtel and g.e.
It’s their balance sheets that gain from the misery we see
Divide and conquer is their modus operandi, their mode of operation today,
Keep us fighting amongst ourselves and all blame ... is diverted away.
May 26, 2010
May 26, 2010 at 9:22 AM UTC
I remember how that Puxatony dirt
felt between my fingers. Gritty
and cold – the earth that covers graves.
Falling from my palm, landing at his paws,
he curled around my leg, shivering.
Against my ankle, he rested his long ears.
Polaroids of a mothers chew-toy earrings;
memories of March spent playing in *****
backyards, forests, and playgrounds. We shivered
together, in the heat of Spring, with gritty
rock-filled driveways underneath our paws.
Lives, those playful daisies sprouting from gravel,
that we ate day by day; pushing graves
down out of mind, but spilling from our ears.
The summer wrought steel cages to grip awe,
with training meant, bent to destroy dirt
kept caked on worn-out sandals. Grits
scooped off a breakfast plate to a shivering
dachshund. His collar jingled, shimmering
as it clashed against his bowl. Cold gravy
and dry cat food, with textured scents. Gritty,
furry, and harsh. Ears dipped in water bowls
finding the only bath of the month, clearing dirt
from a death in the family. Soft, unknowing paws
treaded with grace, and a parentless pause
as we crumbled. Directionless grief shivered
the big men with their shrunken hearts, *****
from a three-hour drenching sob at the grave.
But love is not measured by the size of loss -
it is made of highs and lows; rough and gritty.
Seven pounds of compassion weighs with gridded
precision on my chest. Those tiny paws,
batting at my heart. Soft, two-times-too-large ears
crying with us and pleading through shivers
to enjoy everything. Now your graves are dug
together - between you only a foot of dirt.
Gritty reality seeps in from shivering
fiction. Your paws on your own grave,
I place my ear to the dirt, and whimper.
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 11:24 AM UTC
Here hails a huge, long and dragonish snake,
With myriads of dangerous heads on its thorax,
Roaming up and down in a nefarious duty
All over the African streets and hamlets,
Villages and terrains, the abodes of poor folks,
Swallowing daughters and sons of this land,
Swallowing a handful of them on each bite,
They are in a forlorn despair like never before,
Defenselessly succumbing to the dragon once in the grip,
Young and old, prebubescent and all others are cancers’ fodder,
Africa is truly diminishing to the abysmal jaws of cancer,
Forget of initial vices of *** Ebola and leprosy,
Forget of the contemporary terrorism and ethnic warlordism,
Cancer is ruthlessly swallowing poor folks of Africa
Into its inferno of early deaths, rendering many parentless,
A knot for the living to put aside pride and seek genuine help,
For the myriad heads of dragonish cancer violently **** the prey,
I have seen sons and daughters of poor Africa in cancerous agony,
Often with a blocked food pipe when in the grip of throat cancer,
Non-stop vaginal bleeding at mercilessness of cervical cancer,
In the torture of brute pulling weight in grip of scrotal cancer,
On the top of maximum pain in the grip of breast cancer
Humorously desperate before menacing eyes of death,
When misfortunately in the grip of heart cancer,
Deathly starvation condemns many poor folks to grave,
Always when in the unlucky tentacle of intestinal cancer,
In this desperate land of Africa where basic hospital
Stands a luxury, affordable by the rich in the political class,
As the poor without choice die and die and die,
O who will take me out of Africa, this nonchalant Africa?
Before the dragon of cancer condemns me down to its
Inferno of pains and miserably violent death!
I fear death due to punctured lungs without solace,
I fear death due to stunted blood cells without succor
I fear death due to poisoned blood without palliative
When the cancerous heads of ; lung cancer, blood cancer,
And Liver cancer will besiege this land of Africa to hold me a captive.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 5:42 AM UTC
everybody’s angel bodies
find happening midnight
on Kansas pavements
hipsters’ motherwords are wholely robed by time
instant everything is ordinary
buggered city immortals --
annoyed, parentless, marijuana everymans
swiftly digging unknown eternity
groaning strange in the long mysterious night
roaring, vibrating kindness
from their holy tongues
blazing inner hideous human gold
draining ***** forever
draining everything
forever -
Moloch, Buddha, Abyss
Reduce, Reuse, Recycle
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 2:07 AM UTC
I've always believed that I needed you,
That I had to be validated,
That parentless children could only be the sum of their genes. That my two shadows foresaw my only hope: a shadow myself. She, a mother who cant love, shown me her care recently.
But I no longer needed it.
I no longer craved it.
Her words though sweet - no longer held so much meaning.
Because I've met someone whose teaching me to validate myself.
To not speak so unkindly about who I am.
They tell me that I'm not a monster, and am special.
I've never felt more free or happier.
You, though someone I love,
cannot be my reason for living.
for you've proven untrustworthy,
In your lies and how my time is unimportant to you.
And so I shall learn to love myself.
I no longer need to attain that which is unattainable.
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 10:01 AM UTC
Another day
Another sorrow
Purpose more lost than a parentless child at Seaworld
Forget the pain of today and tomorrow
It's going to be ok
Pull your head out of your ***
You Stink and Your eyesight is ******
Think of yourself less and others more
No one cares about you why should you be any different?
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 4:21 PM UTC
I am a motherless neonate
I am lapping up dew
with my forked tongue
I am sliding my plated belly
over the cool wet grass
I am entirely my own
I am scouting out rabbit dens
ambitiously
I am engulfing beauty
with my deep, long belly
I am a parentless subadult
I am basking out
under a full white moon
I am flicking out
my black-tipped tongue
I am an unashamed *******
I am unperturbed in my solitude
I am studied only in myself;
In another life, perhaps,
the sudden ruffle of leaves
to the left
would stir me
but here in my reptilian hide,
I am unflinching
I am a motherless neonate
and I blame
no one
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 3:19 PM UTC
It's been about a year
Of my 63.
Somehow I awoke
To the hell around me.
My naivety dashed
Against the rocks of
Parentless terrorism.
Gazing at the latest tragedy
Or slap against humanity,
I long for beauty past
At 64.
Knowing that it will not come
Except within my own self
Where I have a modicum of control.
I see fields and flowers
And taste the honey
Before waking up.
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 12:07 PM UTC
The orphans are
mounting an assault quick,
grab your knives and your guns,
we'll show those parentless ******
that we also
know how to
have fun.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 5:25 PM UTC
kiss me underneath the pale moonlight,
our toes buried in the red sands.
when the suns begin to rise,
continue to kiss me,
as if we are parentless teens.
you are my parasite, i have loved you for an eternity.
this is a bond that can't be broken,
our spirits have eloped.
our minds have now departed,
up into the nebulas and stars and dust.
i will never forget this pathogenic romance,
for as long as my spirit lives.
human we are not,
for we are the star people's kids.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 12:35 AM UTC
A father of our nation
A father of determination
A light to the children that brighten the dark days
A man who destined freedom
through strive and struggle
A man of courage
who spoke words that lift the spirits of:
mothers who give births in squatter camps,
the homeless and parentless children,
and life prisoners
He is Rolihlahla which meant troublesome
but he was a peace maker
He fought to make a difference
Whenever life put him to the ground
He stood up every time and ran to his people
Utata Nelson Mandela
Jul 18, 2021
Jul 18, 2021 at 3:54 AM UTC
As their Screens flicker to Techno Beats.
A product of mass media and parentless houses...
Well done mankind on this your finest creation
These Brain Dead Damaged children which fill the streets.
Moneys their god and they covet their neighbour
Thwy Bow to down idols with their all new behaviour
Lets dumb down the masses.
Make em incoherent assess
Cause Susy is better and that is not fair , mom told me to **** her and daddy don't care..
They have no need for morals and no need for despair ,
These Brain Dead , Damaged Children that fill up our streets
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 10:57 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
It’s not just the hearts
That they’re breaking
Or the MS-13s
In the making
Because of the
Family structures they’re shaking
By their Zero Tolerance
Immigration undertaking
It’s the capriciousness
Of the things that they’re doing
Not to mention the color
Of the families they’re ********
That lets us know
There’s a reckoning brewing
Because the whole world
Is in on the viewing
Men and women
Who have children
Yet their hearts are numb
Will reap the famine
That has yet to come
Who will be spared?
Not one single one
Because of the awful things that they’ve done
Is there a black market
In parentless children?
And are we complicit
In trying to fill them?
With new immigrants,
We refuse to accept
Because we’ve become
Morally bereft
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018. All rights reserved.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 12:24 PM UTC
Colonial buildings litter the sidewalk,
derelict and rundown. A past that
is fading into the bustle of the street.
Casts mingle, but prejudice lingers.
Tuk-tuks weave through out streets,
collecting tired feet that need a rest.
collecting lunch off street venders,
who greet with smiles, as aromas linger.
Street children, parentless masses sit
on the steps, hands wondering for rupee's.
The taxi doesn't stop, so they shower the path
with change, and they think of their baby at home.
As the old world fades, heritage still lingers.
but contradictions of what was and is contest.
Old ways grasp at the change, but our streets
will soon be a metropolis of fading faces.
"Is this a good thing? or are we moving to fast.
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 5:45 AM UTC
The timid frozen morning air awakens from sounds of screams and metal car frames...cracking.
The cool lit night star air flashes from the fire burned tires and frigid numbed souls...cursing.
The smoky dust filled air sees tears of hate and bloodied stained floors....of fate.
The cloudy misty saturated air hears bullets striking and lifeless bodies....collapsing.
OH WHERE...have the spirit filled airs, the glittering filled airs, that hozhóogo air gone to?
The green-bluish water feels the sluggish toxic sludge and forgotten people...mitering.
Pure white solid crystals wrap around the intoxicated body, it's courage slowly....mystifying.
The red rock's seeping water blindly poisons the youthful smile and secretly kills...a-mourning.
The raging brown foamed water rushes by the pallet walled hogan and the shivering lil feet...mesmerizing.
OH WHERE...have the dew dressed holy ones, the chanting waters, the life healing and growing waters....gone?
The blowing fine dust creeps through the window seals, witnessing punches to her face and kicks to her chest.
Them dark black coaled rock mesas spot fields below of slow deathed and sugar-filled....people-a-mess.
Round red sun brazen rocks are embraced, by the abandoned lost wondering child...lil-one parentless.
Darkened mountain soil sees the people a-mess, looking up, seeking guidance of hope...restless.
OH WHERE...have the lightning bolted peaks, the strong holy ridges, them keepers of home gone to?
Water drenches the Earth Mother, Winds rage from our Sky Father,
Lights of the Star People shimmer brightly,
Rocky cliff faces begin to shake violently...
"Here We Are!"
The first ones and holy people yell mightingly,
"HERE WE ARRRREEE !!!!!"
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC
Breezy heights lift the underground scoundrel with notes of jazz and volcanic caffeine
fiends everywhere below, anywhere above, addiction as a means to a beginning
liquid cigar on lips propels the express into sobriety of the mind
maybe not
the man that is looking back at the poor lonely boy over the hudson
so vulnerable yet absorbent
so defeated yet resilient
there are voids that will never be filled
how can the parentless parent themselves?
by avoiding parasites and loving oneself
tuning your own strings
writing your own music
telling your own tale
I see his reflection waving from blvd east
that little fiend of a boy who became addicted to the right things
o how you’ve reached over the river…
Jun 17, 2024
Jun 17, 2024 at 9:41 AM UTC
A note of 10 rupees flies through the damp sky,
Perhaps some well-to-do might have dropped it,
Perhaps he might have even forgot about it
Or just didn’t give a **** about it.
The parentless piece of cash floating carelessly,
Finds shelter in the tender palm of a young boy,
The No-worth paper finds immense value with him
It’s now become something of great joy
With the cash in his hand, he leaps off of happiness,
With colors of imagination about to paint its spoilage,
“Should I buy the machine that roars?”
“No No, I’ll buy myself a castle!”
“Or should I buy some toys with this?”
Perhaps he’d never seen paper of value,
All he knew of wealth were some old wrinkled coins,
“Aman”, yelled his partner in crime,
“What do you have there?”
Both of their eyes gleamed with innocence,
The Cash allured them to spend it, To waste it
And now- As they walk proudly,
Acting like the richest people in the world,
They get the shock of their life.
They wanted to buy the whole shop of sweets,
But
The Shopkeeper handed them few pieces of toffees
With gentle hands clenching on the sweets with young rage,
With disappointment and realization they exit the stage.
Aug 18, 2024
Aug 18, 2024 at 12:52 PM UTC
Got to pay to assimilate,
such is norm to systemically fumigate.
What is this watergate? Cause it’s a scandal, that most can’t handle. But might as well bend over and take the paddle.
Man, it’s a struggle to be deemed a muggle.
For these harry potters have cast a shadow that transforms us into cattle.
Yeah, but I’m the problem, I’m an *******
I’m the backwards rezneck uncle, **** how hypocritical...
Yet typical!
Change is impossible,
words are rhetorical,
for people’s essence is made up of tainted molecules.
Greedy follicles putting each other in hospitals.
How despicable! And for what? Dimes and nickels!
It’s just negative effects that tricked down!
Thats the truth about the trickle down effect,
where wealth doesn’t actually pour down.
It just stays at the top,
but the top don’t care, even when those in poverty continue to drop.
We are just assets whose blood and tears are used to feed the cream of the crop.
But even if you become aware of this truth, the fact of the matter is you won’t stop!
Man isn’t this priceless being in a state of crisis?
Thou foul mindless hath now also turned eyeless.
Thine pompous righteousness has cast us into silence even though more evidence comes into brightness.
Poor wretched highness, whose woes become timeless.
Whose actions hath left coloured folk flightless.
That hath left kids in foster homes parentless.
What a scoop that was, wasn’t it?
So tell me was it all worth it?
For this isn’t a time to continue being spineless!
This isn’t time to suppress your ill vices that hath given us paralysis.
I don’t need a analysis to prove that our system profits the best for whiteness.
So why continue to fight this?
So why continue to mock us and rebuke us?
For no matter how much you apologize to us it is meaningless.
For I want to see actions instead of bribe money in attempt to keep us silent!
But I won’t be keep quiet not in the very slightest.
So do your best, for what more can you do to us.
When your viruses didn’t exterminate us, genocide didn’t work on us, residential schools didn’t work on us, the sixties scoop didn’t work on us, and your jails can’t hold us?
And Even your God can’t **** us!
In fact it seems like your God has chosen us!
And you’re just a shell less indecisive vermin like Pontius Pilate! But we shall rise up on the third day and take the keys away from thou foul arrogant degenerate!
And you will no longer have power over us!
In this I pray in Jesus name amen!
Dec 10, 2018
Dec 10, 2018 at 10:22 PM UTC
Prognosticating patriarchs
pundits and priests
pencil paladins
in penthouse palaces
riding what they're writing
writhing while they're rising
everyone's got a chance
chants the gaunt equalizer
its equal lie heard
plunges us into the absurd
assured of justice and fairness
we become curt and careless
saying if you work in a hairnet
or get your verve from clarinet
you deserve less than a baroness
because she has parents best
but when I ask of the parentless
those talking point to the talking points
so what's the point of talking
when talking leads to pointing
the finger in anger at strangers
who they just called equal
but that was merely a platitude
I'm starting to hate people
and their selfish myopic attitude.
Aug 13, 2023
Aug 13, 2023 at 2:49 PM UTC