"pariah" poems
Pariah
Nihilism at its finest
Bleed black the finest shattered diamonds
Of all the lost hopes and dreams
Outcast Society burning in the ruins of fallen Rome
Cynical skeptics, sarcasm dripping venom
Acid burns through flesh blood and bones
No one gives a **** scream for a savior
Outcast Society burning in the ruins of fallen Rome
Shards of glass smile razorblades
Plague of loneliness grips your throat
Heart beats darkness through your veins
**** society, anarchy reigns
Outcast Society burning in the ruins of fallen Rome
Shadow world of gray and stones and broken homes
Bleeding hearts and gutted homes
A black void in collapsing homes
Outcast Society burning in the ruins of fallen Rome
Cesspool of sick and stinking ****
Hungry ravish burning Rome
Parasitic beasts feeding on lost souls
**** you in and never let you go
False promises of help, burning, burning, burning, blackens the sky
Outcast Society burning in the ruins of fallen Rome
Nevermore the sun shines down on the wretched land
Outcast Society burning in the ruins of fallen Rome
This
Is
The
Future
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 9:23 PM UTC
I will rise,
Rise to paradise again
Spread my wings, free from any chain,
With only one goal in my eyes I look to the sky
Then I rise, yes I will rise
From the hellfire, no matter the price
May I burn
Take my turn
But then it will surely be my time to shine
The beauty of the heavens will surely be mine
I will not stand these flames,
Embrace my devilish distorted wings
See what good that may brings
One last judgement
On this long lasting journey
I will rise, rise, no matter the price
A future dawns dream, draws near
Make it clear
In this realm of art and devilry
Heartfelt dream scapes shape the mirror
In a world so dark that the stars will blind-
Refuse to fall!
Forgotten by both Heaven and Hell
A craft of hearts forms my kingdom!
Take my hand, all ye pariah souls-
The love of light is for all to bear!
~ Umi
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 11:27 PM UTC
I said I'll meet you by the water
Just follow the path down the shore.
Follow me across the world,
to a place that's left unexplored.
We'll carve our names into the tallest tree,
reaching up towards the heavens and skies.
We'll count the stars as we leave,
to the other side of the island.
Drag a stick through the sand,
drawing tiny infinities.
and then we will sleep in the trees,
it's safe, trust me.
Look at the skies and watch the clouds roll by,
they were all ours.
We traced constellations with our fingers,
and talked in the language of the stars,
so they smiled back at us and sang us songs to sleep.
There is an island named after us.
A legend of a pariah duo.
Oh, the stories this place will hold.
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 1:50 PM UTC
China charges 1 million annually
For each panda in our zoos
If we won't pay in full
Then the pandas we will lose
Nasty Panda's the exception
No one wants him here or there
He was paid 1 million dollars
To abscond and disappear!
Here comes the Nasty Panda
~He's much more than you can bear
He's such a nasty panda
~He leaves cooties everywhere
Beware of Nasty Panda
~He do anything he please
Stay clear of Nasty Panda
~He eats shoots and leaves
I smelled him 'fore I seen 'em
That black and white pariah
Slippin' slidin' in my kitchen
On smooshy mushy pulp papaya
I yelled for him to stop
And I told him where to go
Wink and laugh was all he did
With a Homer Simpson "D'oh!"
Here comes the Nasty Panda
~He's much more than you can bear
He's such a nasty panda
~He leaves cooties everywhere
Beware of Nasty Panda
~He do anything he please
Stay clear of Nasty Panda
~He eats shoots and leaves
He hasn't bathed in ages
Masked by quarts of cheap cologne
His furry skin sweat-sticky
From the surface to the bone
Smelly cigar and ***** breath
Plus an air of upper-crust
Please keep your kids away
Cuz that nasty bear can cuss!
Here comes the Nasty Panda
~He's much more than you can bear
He's such a nasty panda
~He leaves cooties everywhere
Beware of Nasty Panda
~He do anything he please
Stay clear of Nasty Panda
~He eats shoots and leaves
If you meet up with Nasty Panda
Better turn around and run
You're bound to lose your money
And your wits before he's done
Don't shed tears for Nasty Panda
Cuz he likes the way things are
Don't forget to hide your keys
Else he'll drive off in your car!
Here comes the Nasty Panda
~He's much more than you can bear
He's such a nasty panda
~He leaves cooties everywhere
Beware of Nasty Panda
~He do anything he please
Stay clear of Nasty Panda
~He eats shoots and leaves
Here comes the Nasty Panda
~He's a scoundrel and a ***
He's such a nasty panda
~He's as nasty as they come
Beware of Nasty Panda
~He's gonna raise a stink
Stay clear of Nasty Panda
~He's much nastier than you think
Oct 23, 2019
Oct 23, 2019 at 6:58 PM UTC
I had a collar once
Of black leather and sky blue fur
And it fit me snugly
It was all I could ask for.
When my thoughts rampaged
As they do very second of everyday
I'd wrap it round my neck
And the noise would fade.
They called me a freak.
They looked at me in disgust, I was shamed
Because they don't understand
The need to be tamed.
Whether round my neck
Or around my wrists and ankles
Without a tether, I fret
Thus, for that collar, I am thankful.
I once felt guilt
Worse than any other pain
It weighed me down
As though it waterlogged my brain.
And all I wished
Was to atone
For a whip
To sing to my bones.
*"Why invite pain?
God, she's disgusting?
She's ******* insane!"*
The words said to me.
But how could they know
How much I wanted to cry?
How much I wanted discipline
To ease the guilt in my mind?
I once heard a scream
And it scampered down my spine
Like it was a living, sentient being
Infiltrating my mind.
And I'm sure I'd be a pariah
If I ever told anyone
I wanted to cause that scream
To make it sound like painful salvation.
I once cried
I hurt myself as comfort
And the feeling of that pain
Was so very sweet and so very short
And they'd call me a fool
Yet I still crave pain
And they'd think of me badly
For what I can't contain.
See, I'm far from vanilla
I'm far from innocence
Because all life gave me
Was cold and cimmerian.
There's a word for what I do
A lovely acronym
And it's so far from vanilla
Most describe it as a sin.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
Love and power.
Bodies materialized.
Bodies that matter.
Pariah.
Pariah, on the subway train.
Pariah, speaks in her ugly name.
She is power: Pariah.
She is love.
Pariah.
She is power.
Pariah.
She is this:
Matter.
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 3:15 PM UTC
Between your poisonous smiles,
Your heartless jokes and your
Razorblade Smile, I fell for the
Person I thought I saw:
The One
The cuts made, still hurt
They haven't closed up yet
Just flesh wounds but they,
They sting. They burn. It's
Been a day and that thin red
Line, the mark of your possession
Is still on me, marking me for
The world to see. You're my
Obsession, the world's Pariah
But they all bow before you
Wouldn't dare say a word in
Your presence, except to beg
At your feet for your cruel
Double-edged mercy. A day more
You reward them. Throughout
Eternity, you taunt them. The
Price is so heavy, yet they pay up
They can hardly resist. The price
Of Humanity, of Greed is fatal indeed.
The unchanging constant wherever
I may go. The Universe itself is
Undefined, except for you and your
Kin: Change. Time wasn't ever as
Constant as you; its fickle nature
Is as legendary as your promptness
Change was never as evident as you;
Its subtlety as infamous as the
Pungent, dark
Air you leave behind
In the lives of humans and animals alike.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 1:22 AM UTC
Unburden me my wiley friend from all my mundane woes
Release the threads that bind me here, submit me to your throes
Happily you blur the lines and change the days perspective
Mollify me with your lies and kindly dope objective.
It’s pleasant here, I have no care to change this altered state
Inhibitions lose their power to taunt me and berate
I perform well, I entertain, I please so easily
Popular I find myself within your potency
But soon I find the last drops have now dried up in the glass
Your soothing draft has poured its fill, your best has come to pass
And in its wake you leave for me a tender raw emotion
That carries me upon a wave of heady dissolution
The tears they stream, I am a mess, back down to earth I plummet
All former worries amplify now you have reached your summit
I was misled, you’re not my friend, a pariah in disguise
You sought to trick and confuse me put beer goggles on my eyes
So now into my bed I crawl to rest with bland submission
The toilet has already shared with me your vile emissions
I close my eyes I pray for sleep, my head already throbbing
I enter sleep in throes of self-absorbed, repentant sobbing
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 11:45 AM UTC
Dearest Reader,
My name is Margot Dylan, and I'm a pariah.
On the 16th of April, I told my mother that I was gay. She threw the clay mug that I made for her before she found out I was gay, against the floral, peeling wallpaper mess of a wall, in our kitchen. The decaffeinated peppermint green tea left a wonderful aroma that almost cleansed the room of the stench of 'lesbian'.
I met Dylan Dunham a few days after that, and, a few days later, she was the first girl that I ever loved.
Dylan wore a red flannel jacket, and was a butch and sometimes a bitch-but I loved her even at her tomboy cruelest.
Dylan smoked a cigarette that smelled like lonerism, and she looked at me like she didn't care. My heart skipped a beat, as cliche as it sounds, whenever she would remove the cigarette from her mouth, exhale, and look at me as smoke traveled up her face. I looked at her and knew that she was everything that I wasn't, and everything that I wanted.
Dylan was Dianne, before and after school. Dylan was Dianne, who wore floral dresses and lipstick and who ditched her butch clothing in her locker before leaving. Dylan was Dianne, who was straight and who thought Tyler Wesson, from church, was cute. Dylan was Dianne, who had a short hair cut because of track and field, because she explained that she ran a faster time with less hair. Dylan was Dianne, who didn't associate with me before or after school because her parents knew that I was gay.
During school hours, the only thing Dylan did keep from Dianne was the lipstick. I was envious of the cigarette because of it's burgundy stains. We would stand in a stall, as she looked across from me, after each drag. She frequently offered her cigarettes, but I refused because I only let love **** me. If she ever brought alcohol, sometimes she'd kiss me. I told her that I loved her and she said, "I know."
The only thing that Dylan kept from me was my heart, before she started to smoke cigarettes in the bathroom with Annie Way.
I wish you the best moments so they can overcome the worst,
Margot Dylan
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 1:50 PM UTC
I am the quill that marks
The water-walled history
Of the sea as it may -
A swan, be it, or a black-backed
Gull.
I am the pariah who
Failed to posit his load on
A hill that hung low, like a
Sunless moon, but who can still
hark the dark
Rumbling of repetition.
I am the Quixote who took
On the wind who made the mill
Sob like a bronze leaf in grief,
Seared by the passage of
A sluggish summer.
I am the pariah, the
Quixote, and the historian
Of the rainbow runner.
©LazharBouazzi, August 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 11:32 AM UTC
Live through me vicariously...
My rich neighbors got upset
Sycophantic ******** pretentious jet-set
I am the pariah the iconoclast blasted by rumors, iron-curtain of suburbia hurtin' tuff darts pointed at me
Think young it's only the vicissitudes
That control your mood and attitude
Am I gay? Your wife doesn't think so!
Go ahead live through me vicariously...
D. Clare
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 6:20 AM UTC
"don't grow up too fast
you still have time
to be a child"
you say to me
The difference between us
is that you wish to be a child
whereas I
never want to be one again
your childhood
was playing foursquare
and lava monster
and avoiding the cheese-touch
with your three best friends
my childhood
was being kept out of foursquare
ignored by the lava monster
and being the untouchable object
in my class's game of "Beth-touch"
your childhood
was a playful push and poke
with your classmates
my childhood
was getting my front tooth chipped
and being pushed off of the monkey bars
your childhood
was seeing your parents argue
then make up
my childhood
was hearing shouting upstairs
and seeing my parents sitting apart silently for hours afterward
your childhood
was hoping your mother's flu got better
my childhood
was my mom falling and twisting her arm
on the way to a meeting with the principal
hard enough that her hand still isn't the same size
your childhood
was learning weird new things
through rumors, friends, and what you could find
my childhood
was being left in the dark
on all but the basics
your childhood
was fun elementary school trends
like lunchables, messenger bags, and chocolate calculators
my childhood
was having a different style
and having no common interests with the other kids
your childhood
was a playful time of learning
that you wish to return to
my childhood
was the role of the playground's pariah
and I'm never going back
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC
Hello my name is Neroamee
Alucard if your nasty
and I'm a nerd,
I've gone through most of my life
socially awkward
Now you'd think at the age of 19
I would've gone out of my cocoon
and become a social butterfly
but I'm a walking Pariah
I'm not even close to fly
Just for liking manga and listening to music
that is older than me
I ended up ostracized
but I did gain friends
and we became like family.
So yes my Name is Neroamee
and yes I am awkward socially
I'll admit I'm sensitive, a nerd and don't fit into a culture homogenously
but I promise you this
you'll never encounter someone like me,
I guarantee you this
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 2:32 AM UTC
I was miserable when you left.
I cried for hours and days.
But now what I feel is undoubtedly the most contradictory emotion I've ever felt,
I don't think I'll ever forget you.
You were my enchanting fantasy which abruptly ended on a sad note.
You were my first mesmerizing emotion of utter utopian devotion.
You were the drop of Jupiter that dripped upon my hair and left me wild.
You were the fire of the purest passion that burned me alive.
You invoked the deepest desires from the darkest corners of my mind.
You loved me when I considered the meaning of love as a waste of time.
You left me as if I was a pariah on the pedestal of a sacred shrine.
You disappeared like Houdini as soon as the lamp lost its light.
You abandoned me and vanished like a phantom, right out of my sight.
You were the myriad of perfection that seemed so lovely to be deceptive.
But when you left, it felt like a shard of glass ripping through my heart.
It hurt, and I screamed the most melancholic sound.
My devotion turned toxic and it spilled like acid on the ground.
Smoldered the memories of the best times and charred the symphony that my soul sang out.
So what I'm trying to say is that I don't think I'll ever forget you. Neither will I ever forgive you.
I'll think about you for the rest of my life. Till the day, the sky falls down and engulfs us in its light.
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 8:37 AM UTC
*( Loki )
1
All ills you have wrought
Mischief maker in the dirt
No shower will cleanse
2
Poor Woolfy Spirit
******* in actuality
You ARE Beryl Dov
3
Thor is your new name
Psychopath reinventing
Same old *** trickster
4
Who is following
The fortune cookie writers
Such lame phony names
5
Fragile ego here
Pages of Wolf and Beryl
Drama queens reeking
6
Even as he leaves
Tireless self promoter
Lowers the banal*
Note:
Wolf Spirit IS Dire Wolf IS Toreanus Pinwinkle III IS Thor IS Beryl Dov IS ******** ( aka ******* ) Rabbi IS soooooo many others - a many-faced pest and pariah, previously banned on other sites for being stalkers and sociopaths !!
See:
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1530102/wolves/
&
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1516652/breach/
&
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/832663/beryl-dov/
&
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1527822/not-a-poem-an-open-response-to-wolf-spirit-and-wolf-spirit-dire/
Basically anyone who follows these massive-ego predators is probably them !!
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 9:48 PM UTC
What is the dream,
the diary I keep with notes etched to the seam?
What is the goal,
the endpoint at which I determine my role?
The world only skims off the top it seems,
loving only the cream of the crop.
Lost am I,
having strayed from the path,
a world split down the middle,
cut and dry,
and if so,
where can I live,
who can abide my wayward soul?
A soul assembled from the ashes of Descartes and Kant,
a contradiction in continuity,
can I or can't I,
change the hand that I've got?
Listen to the song,
the siren's polyphony,
the refrain rate familiar,
the color tone wrong,
discern for yourself,
what is the bane of the crown?
Stifle your fear and strike at the root,
with shovel in hand bury your sin,
always striving for truth,
rend the tree at both ends.
Yes,
I am a pariah,
***** in purpose and soul,
the wayfarer's failure,
refusing to pay the pathfinder's toll,
and although my map is imperfect,
all roads lead to Rome.
Retreatist,
rebel,
jester,
fool,
gladly I'll claim the whole lot,
each title a badge,
a step towards my goal,
this society is sick and refuses to see,
each individual is a person,
gay,
gypsy,
Muslim,
Jew.
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 4:07 PM UTC
I shall be frank
I abhor your presence
I look at you and think
WHY?
Why do you exist
You have no purpose
You are an abomination
A pariah
And yet my little friend
You are here
But not to stay
As soon as I can be rid
You shall be gone!!!!
My pounch
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 3:03 PM UTC
"Funny poems aren't taken seriously",
the figure splashes verbal acid over the
crumpled piece of paper I handed them.
Refusing to laugh
Curling their lip.
The paper quickly,
without a thought,
thrusted back into my hands.
They leave behind my thought
which fills the space between
myself, fidgeting alone
and them, striding away.
*Does it have to be serious
to be taken seriously?*
A mental court gathers itself around me
Myself, a defense attorney
Pointing a stained finger
at the figure on the stand.
I present the shoe-eating Peruvian
and his limerick friends.
Generations of drinking songs
often crass, but lasting.
There is laughter from the jury
There is hope for the poems.
Then my final evidence
the crumpled paper
I read it aloud
silence.
Is split by the dull chuckle of the figure
elbows in suit jacket pressed against the stand.
"Sure, there's examples from the past,
but you?
the troubled kid?
the depressed one?
the pariah?"
I glance at more files, appearing,
my name on each.
analysis,
evaluation,
diagnosis,
test.
Laughter, the type that jeers,
grows into a crescendo.
I huddle, hands over ears,
creasing my suit
but the muted version is worse.
I stagger to my feet.
The court has morphed cruelly
into an arena of sorts.
Brutal, simple, life-ending
decisions are made here.
My jacket is gone
My cheek openly bleeds
My sleeves have ripped
revealing the scars below.
I hurl out, from deep within me
"It's because I'm ****** up that
I need to write it!
Don't you understand?
Making people laugh
keeps and edge off the old habits
keeps the thoughts where they belong!"
My voice is hoarse.
The arena tightens.
Even as I say it, I'm overwhelmed by the thoughts
That I do not belong.
That a funny poem punctuated by my fingers
despite their past harm
delivered from my mouth
despite its harsh denouncements
and shared by my whole self
despite my self-banishment
is not enough.
I sink to the ground, stripped of my senses.
My poems have turned course
once helping ease pain,
now proliferating it.
My fingernails pierce the palm of my hand
through the crumpled paper
and two drops of blood strike the tiles.
I meant for this to be
a funny poem
But I guess it's about why
some people need to write them.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC
Edited by Maple, because mine was a rant nobody but she was supposed to indulge. Hahaha. See. I wasn't intending on trending.
I knew a wretched person once. And then. She died.
Now. Condoning death is the fastest method for becoming THE social pariah - for future reference.
But my god. I hated her. I really did. Not simply me; most of our peers felt similar. At least, they did till it was no longer appropriate.
See. Morgan was a ruthless psychopath.
And then she was dead.
Now. As a stranger, if you were to lurk her Facadebook, you'd think she'd been some ethereal messiah. Her web page is now trampled with laments. Kinda like the stampede that killed Mufasa. Her present facadebook now marks a day the devil became synonymous with our homegirl, Momma Teresa.
In what world, right?
The details of the fatality remain insane. Ranging from Ketamine to ****** But I won't illustrate them. Go see it yourself - on Doctor ******* Phil.
And they call me crazy.
Anyways.
I'm sorry, but she was a maniacal parasite with love like shrapnel. She destroyed her lovers, her family, her arsenal of friends by habit. And she did this for fun. So, again, I'm sorry. Sorry I am hardly sorry she died.
That's a lie, though. I'm not sorry at all.
Karma is candy. I'm happy she's gone. Never again to crumple and crush her loved ones to mush as mere eggs to her morning omelette.
And our world is a happier place.
Sue me.
for whatever reason this will not publish or save this particular recount
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 6:45 PM UTC
I, the self, saw small subsidiaries of larger rivers.
Then I joined the water and sank deep in its hug.
As if chaos wasn't chaos.
Many simple and small expressions on the cusp of a monstrous wave.
-truly random randomness is absurdity
and absurdity folly.
Until oneself awoke to fleshy folly.
In every satirical ebb and flow
it creates neither order nor disorder because both are illusory.
There is no science of history just the insanity of hounds who trough
luminescence enough
to be dangerous,
gnarling their fangs at me.
In the distance they appear as beacons
but they are only ash now.
Electronic flotation device hovers above the memory,
kinetic nostalgia.
I the oneself can never be a memory
One has to become an objective entity to become a truly subjugate oneself.
-to reject it all,
discard all the objects,
to unplug,
to disconnect.
-reconnect to awaken to divine folly:
Contracting and expanding with the confidence of understanding with wives and
government.
The self thought it was him.
The self, a pariah, forgot the boy.
He became the whole self, the oneself,
and then forgot the self
to gain the self.
The warm plaster mold cracking.
Diseases and the cures both wear masks.
Plagues and reckless panacea are memories that only sort-of work backwards.
I the self,
poor masked sort,
felt the universe's tendons,
felt its flesh.
The oneself waits awake-
amidst the tearing of realities tissue.
Ossifying skin to bone,
to stone.
My muscles remember being metals
molten and dumb
like an Olympian.
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 1:42 AM UTC
perhaps it is apt
the first pancake
is always
a disappointment
stodgy
anaemic
without that light
crisped perfection
we've come to expect
it is undercooked
typically
as the ideal
frying time
is gauged
incorrectly at first
it will be
plated with
accompanying pleas
for forgiveness
and absolution
but as penance
someone has to
suffer this
pariah's offering
with each mouthful
comes thoughts
of apology
of atonement
of promises
it will be better
next time
Feb 27, 2023
Feb 27, 2023 at 5:56 AM UTC
To the lady I have been...
Audacious Daring and Loving.
To the Fighter deep within.
my love through the moon and back.
My love! as you celebrate your Silver Jubilee be audacious, meticulous and spontaneous live life and let love lead.
Give your insecurities time to breathe. You are young and endearing, loving and goal getting.
Enjoy your youthful age, for my dear there is nothing you'd have done different. you're beautiful just the way you are.
Beautifully fascinating, endearing, ravishing and enchanting.
The best version of you is yet to come so live and learn through the process.
Trust God that things happen for a reason, and the best part of the journey is not the destination but the process.
To you my lovely self you are the most self-aware just don't get self-absorbed you are most loving yet dangerous. But if it comes down to a choice let love lead.
And if at a point you get to celebrate a golden jubilee, I pray you're surrounded with love as you must have loved, I pray you have cake even though they might be vendored or baked.
I also pray and you must have lived while you exist and give him back to those that had given and more so to those who haven't.
Dear future self I haven't met you yet, but I want you to be nice to this 25-year old me don't make me suffer too much.
My darling future self don't be much indecisive and don't be perfidy.
I implore you to be kind and love the best version of yourself. don't crack to the pressure, you don't always have to like the measures, but at then look at the end pleasure.
Just follow the process leave the moment it may be hard, but remember Blacks don't crack!
My Loving self remember I love you nothing beats that. you are loved by me and no you're not a pariah you'd have to get that out of your head.
To my ten-year-old self I now know better,
My 15 year-old rebel, I guarantee you I think deeper.
To the 20 I now see clearly and to you my 25. Darling please be nice and make sure that my 30 we'll get it right.
Feb 13, 2023
Feb 13, 2023 at 5:43 PM UTC
Misfit, misshapen, misplaced
Not fitting in anywhere
I'm a pariah, a loner, a coyote
Stalking the fringes of society
Never seen, never heard, never felt
Only dreamed, and imagined, and feared
If only I had a place to be
A person to see
Maybe
Maybe
I'll see brighter days ahead
And love like a dove
I am alone because I am unique
I am myself, alone, nobody else
A drop in an ocean of faces
Yet an ocean in a world of drops
Always okay, always broken
Never whole, never fractured
A contradiction of opposites
A unity of abnormality
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 7:06 PM UTC
Where were you
when they called me ‘keling’ and ‘pariah’?
Where were you
when my grandparents arrived in a boat?
Where were you
when my kind slogged the railway tracks and roads?
Where were you
when they called me a snake and a rubber tree loafer?
Where were you
when they tore down my temples ‘coz there were one too many?
Where were you
when higher education was denied ‘coz some quota had been filled?
Where were you
when my kind were killed in prisons?
I didn’t know it was a crime to look like a black rapper with earrings;
Where were you
when my grandmother wept the first time she cast a vote?
Where were you
when my grandfather laughed, shaking hands with the Tun seated by the Brit?
Where were you
when I proudly held the nation’s flag up the Everest and in a squash court?
Where were you
when I wept at the sound of ‘Negaraku’ heard thru’ muffled speakers and a loud silence?
One Malaysia sorry *** was once believed but now delusional
When my kin are likened to toilet paper
Used when needed and then discarded!
@ shaqila 21/1/2013
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 3:12 AM UTC