"pastors" poems
upon the elephant rode a boy prince,
his royal command, he was there to evince.
dark with grace and dripping with youth.
bringing his men, his crown and his couth.
town after town he strode fierce through the gates.
and any detractors were left to cruel fates.
and on one windy day, as they strode into town.
the faces where tenfold and a hush passed around
the grey of the creature with knowing black eyes
swayed left towards the crowd as if to capsize.
and the mass gasped in horror; bairns seized by their mam.
men flung at young ladies, babes pulled from the pram.
the bewildered and flustered
tired elephant sat.
in the center of all on the bald pastors hat.
the old pastor looked stunned to see such a disgrace.
until he remembered, and composed his face.
'your highness' he bowed. his manners restored.
but the poor prince was toppled his mighty seat floored.
they gasped for the prince, just really a child
dressed in fine silks on this elephant wild.
pastor said, 'here now' extending an arm
hand wrinkled and gnarled from the land that he farmed.
then the guards sprung to life as if sudden awake
guns point to the man of whose life they would take.
and just as they squinted their eye for the aim
a boy sang out sweetly, 'sire he's not to blame!'
and the prince from street where he lay in pool
held up his hand and recovered his rule.
he looked at the crowd and he said 'boy now speak'
the boy said, 'prince it is the prayers that you seek.
the prayers that you'd visit. the prayers that you'd stay.
lord must of heard them and granted this way.'
his eyes wide with truth and the love of his church
the prince laughed a beautiful belly filled lurch.
the carriage was called as the prince shared a feast.
and even some water was splashed on the beast.
such a good time as he danced and he spun
till the horses arrived in the dust of a run.
to thank the town and the lovely haired boy
the young prince gave up his own precious toy.
the beast stays quite put in the center of town...
but prayers said no more...so the prince won't fall down.
sahn
04/10/2014
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 6:08 PM UTC
We are who we are
We love who love us
We love who hate us
We love our Gender
Call us Girls
Call us women
Call us Ladies
We are TransWomen
Stop being confused
Stop being surprised
Stop calling us He or It
We hate that pronoun
We are females we as others
We deserve our rights like others
We deserve love and affection
We deserve Respect like others
We are tired of your nicknames
"Is a he or a she", "what is this?"
It hurts please stop stop stop!
We are fine ladies! Full stop !
You scared our fellow ladies
They are crying in closet
They are lonely in families
Because we are Transgenders!
Stop abusing my brothers
They men and so proud to be
Don't be confused by what you see
A transMan is a powerful Man!
Respect them now and forever
Stop calling them ladies or things
They are men **** and classy
They are men always and forever
See us slaying down town
We are lovely and attractive
We know who we are friends
You can't change us Sit down!
Don't be confused by Breast
That the **** chest of our brother!
He is strong enough to be proud
We love our bodies and gender
We won't hide because you hate us
The more you see us feeling proud
The better you understand us
We are Proud Transgenders!
We ladies need our Freedom
Government think about us
All women are equal in the country
We need all care and attentions!
Stop calling us Monsters
We are human beings
We deserve our Rights
We are citizens like others!
This ain't western culture
This ain't Sodoma and Gomollah
This is the gender of Us
We are Proud Transgender people!
Pastors stop that hate preach
That hell you need us to go in
That Sodoma you always sing
All were from Those Bibles
If you accuse all LGBTI people
To bring back ***** or Gomollah
First remember that bible you read
Was brought by Evangelists
We had gods and goddesses
Africa knew no White God
We had Love and respect
Read , reread and Rereread!
Love wins and will win
You are taking us nowhere
We are here to stay and slay
Ourselves Genger our Pride
We are done by your hate
Is our time to shine bright!
You gonna hate us today
And you will love us later!
TransWomen are women
TransMen are Strong men
Transgender is a Gender
Respect us we hurt no one!
"Transgender Right is Human right
TransWomen are women too
TransMen are men as well
We claim no war but our Freedom
We claim no hate but our Respect"
Poet : Skylar G Peter
Poem: we Are Proud Transgender people
May 6, 2018
May 6, 2018 at 4:15 AM UTC
As a child, I was blessed
Light skin, in a white world
I had white friends, white teachers
I had white pastors, white family
That was everything that I knew to be
I had some black friends, a black teacher
I had a black pastor, black family
I saw color, I saw the differences
I saw white friends hating my black friends
I saw white teachers demean black students
I saw white christians leave the black pastor
I saw family both white and black love me just the same.
Hate is taught.
But birds of a feather
Flock together
And I flew with any breeze
That would have me.
With wiser eyes
With years behind me,
I've flown with the gentle stream
A birds eye view of an unchanging world
So I've decided to test the current
To soar with broken wings
Famished dreams
Onwards to freedom
Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 2:41 PM UTC
Are there lawyers in heaven?
who sells fish in a Seven-Eleven?
How do you prove guilt or innocence,
with the devil conspicuous in his absence?
Are there barbers or pastors in Heaven?
Until the End-of-Days, it is unproven;
If we are to do some speculation,
Better to do more charitable donations.
But one profession, I quite understand,
whether in hell or God's Disneyland,
that will not make a good living;
that's doing double entry accounting.
So where do accountants go, you ask;
now you really need an oxygen mask;
In hell, in heaven, or anywhere you look,
there's just no place to cook the books.
Someone may now ask about exorcists,
I hate to answer, but I just can't resist;
ask your grandma or grandpa,
they are in a real big dilemma.
In heaven, no demons to trouble you,
In hell, there are more than quite a few;
In heaven, all are good, so no originality,
In hell, who works for nothing for Eternity?
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 5:09 AM UTC
I see Beauty in a **********
Whose feelings you cannot convolute.
I see a Businesswoman in a **********
A **** with brains, destitute
she made a business plan.
At least she did business studies and
accounting at school, sells her body to earn,
A living.
I see a princess in a **********
because no man can resist her.
You know when she starts curling her hair
Even Pastors **********
then we bring the Saints Holiness into debate.
Have you ever seen a ********** aspirate
"I want you" ?
**** Her voice alone gives ****** healing,
Arouses ****** feelings,
Pumps vessels, frightened by the spark in her
eyes, hormone adrenalin give your heart rate a
fast accelerating beatings.
I see charisma in a **********
Married men,leave their wives in bed and
creep to the streets corner just to cuddle with
prostitutes, it was I who said, there's beauty in
a **********
I see Beauty in a **********
I've seen Loyalty in a **********
Yes I did. How? What do I mean?
Because she ***** all men in the same manner
and charge them all the identical amount.
That is Loyalty man.
I said, I see Beauty in a ********** and
I wasn't lying.
There is Beauty in a **********
The Beauty that makes Preachers at church
retire,
The Beauty that make married men divorce,
The Beauty that makes Jay Z forget Beyonce,
The Beauty that makes Julius Malema forgets
his political position
The Beauty that makes Jesus Christ want to
come back, to save his descendants from sin.
The Beauty of a **********
Men have seen it.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 8:53 PM UTC
sometimes i get
suicide bombers, rapists, killers, robbers and thieves
because their motives are visible through their actions.
but i never once in my life
bothered understanding businessmen, pastors, priests, muslims, religions, politicians,
and people whose motives in life
remain hidden
until caught red handed,
and also those people
who choose not to see the world naked for what it is.
maybe the UP activists are right
and that i shouldn't think of them as brainwashed kids or
just paid heads to do
what they do but their actions,
my thoughts and this poem
doesn't change anything.
i bet 100% of you
who are reading this would either think i'm deranged or seeking for attention.
i could go on and on writing
this **** and explain thoroughly
but the people's brain
are now wired to ex b's
hit single and yes,
mentioning that made
this a little bit funny but no.
as a ******* filipino
who should be typing this in tagalog, working overseas,
i've seen some fellow countrymen showed some pride
against their oppressors
from work but they don't get anywhere but jail.
i must've forgot,
the movie about manalo
trampled the one
about heneral luna.
see how helpless
we are in reality?
what's your photo that comes
with a bible verse got to do with others?
are you spreading
the word of God?
what does it do to you?
Sometimes I get
The New People's Army.
But I don't get Muslims
who runs businesses and the Chinese too.
Sometimes I wish
I could spread fake news
that doesn't harm others
and last but not the least,
I hope someday the world would stop not and smoke Marijuana all
at the same time
including North Korea.
I couldn't stop.
I also hope that these people,
those who has a lot of followers
use the attention properly but no, people are so ******* dumb and Salinger is right with Holden's, "People never notice anything"
and nothing's too big
if people will stop creating bigger things that'll only add up to the congestion clogging up the world.
and Allen Ginsberg is right,
we are breaking our
******* backs just to lift ******* Moloch.
**** your Mosques, your INC branches, your corporations, your religions, your borders and divisions, your trends that kills the minds of the youth.
**** your laws, about making Marijuana illegal.
**** your disguise and your intelligence.
I almost believe world cleansing is the answerbbecause the ant colonies are so much better
ruling the world.
I don't know anymore, my smartphone's ******
and I am not smarter. . .
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 10:06 PM UTC
at 9, my father took me to confess.
i crossed myself and stepped into
the closet-like space.
"bless me, father, for I have sinned."
at 10, my mother took me to church.
baptist. southern. the pastor spit venom from his pulpit.
they taught me to fear god
and live my life through christ.
at 15, my friend took me to her synagogue.
i sat with her family as her sister
recited text from the torah.
we celebrated her bat mitzvah. held her high on a chair.
at 17, my best friend took me to mosque.
we washed our feet and dressed in tunics
and prayed towards mecca
and recited words from the koran. we were placed behind the men.
the same pattern was played,
over and over again.
swear to whatever god owned
that shrine
that you would give your life for him.
and make no mistake, because by divine reason, it is a him.
and always,
always,
always,
get down on your knees.
and pray.
i remember thinking every ********* time
that prostitutes and disciples
seemed awfully alike.
and then i thought,
"they're probably right about god being male."
Jan 23, 2011
Jan 23, 2011 at 6:58 PM UTC
Museums as art
Art as museums
Sail the trail to my mausoleum
Psychopaths and physicists
Psychiatrists and philosophers
Philanthropists and pilots and painters
Declare now, that these are our days –
Our hours, and our days
These are our city, our hours
Our time, our days.
This is our world –
At 14:92 I landed here and claimed it
And searched it and found it wanting
Of civilization that I could so easily supply
By means of wounds and iron
And brawn and truth
(and just a tiny touch of influenza darling)
By means of our Lord,
Who grants us all that we desire
If only we **** enough of those he did not choose.
This is our world –
And we shall make it what we will
Make it in our own image
Teach it that innocence is not knowing the difference between right and wrong
Raise it to hate no one
But to love itself so deeply
That all other love seems hateful in comparison.
This is our child, love
Yours and mine.
Here the first shall be last
And the last shall be first
But once the first are last they shall be
Last
Last
Last
And once the last are first
They shall make it so they can never be last again
This is our primitive accumulation
Of necessary materialism
Let’s cultivate matter
To make objects that we can place on shelves
And in cases –
These are our cases
And we love them as we love ourselves
Museums as mass graves
Mass graves as museums
Kiss me in my mausoleum
Priests and prisoners
Prostitutes and prophets
Pioneers and pilgrims and pagans
This is our time –
And we are dispensing it in spendthrift increments
Buying threadbare bandages for our cavernous canyons
Buying ample earplugs
To seal in the silence
So we can somewhat say
“look there is peace –
Look we have done it
In our time it is accomplished” –
This is our peace –
And we know it by the signs
The lions and lambs lay quietly together
In our brass-barred zoos
For as long as shelves and cases
Are intact and the first are first
And the last are last
And the civilized are organized and holy
There is peace –
Oh, look
We made peace!
And as for Solomon and Socrates –
We take their words to weave through our new wisdom
And when we re-chart the constellations
We shall give them each a star
And salute them once a year
When they come around the universe
Oh, look
How wise we are!
Mass graves as art
Art as mass graves
There have been no better days
There has been no greater time
Politicians and pornographers
Professors and pirates
Psychologists and pastors and pianists
This is our time –
And we are doing with it the very best we know how
The last are toiling and trying
And the first are trying to think to try –
But there is a shortness in our hours
And a violence in our peace
There is inherent foolishness in our wisdom
And disease in our cities
And there is death upon our shelves and in our cases.
This is our world –
We crafted it and declared our truth to be true
We sculpted this, our colosseum
Please inscribe my mausoleum
With “we know not what we do”
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC
The demon scratches me
I bite him back
The demon pushes me
I spit in his face with a smack
The demon taunts me
I calleth him out by name
They hate their name called
Don't wanna be recognized for the flame
The demon shows false affections
I giveth him hate
The demons a smiler as he latches to me
I'll kick him to hells gate
The demons find me downtimes
Though with God I shalt win
Demons love misery
To seeith one in sin
Demons are smelly
Like all the dump trucks on the earth
Times ten
Demons haveth enemies
They hate even their own kind
They haveth none kin
Demons haveth a date
With Satan in the fire
They'll turn thou on with lust
For thou they do admire
Demons hast hurt me
They've tried to bring me to mine death
Soo many health issues
I know tis not me
Them
The demons hast entered mine family
From the lives we didst choose!
They entered by portals
Between good and bad souls
They came and come as orbs
Spirtual energy
Trapped to a distance
God won't let them get to close to me
They always want more
They show themselves now and then
They'll portray themselves as good souls
Wherein its all pretend
The demons speaketh in mine bathroom
They hide out in the closets
Parched behind mine bedroom wardrobe
Spies as I sleepeth
They want mine bright soul
It's full of massive glowing energy
They know it as I'm told
So to bad because their not me
They made a big mistake
Turning away from God
Now their outcast losers
Fate of hell and grud!!
They'll soon be in chains and shackles
So they cause pain now whilst here on earth
They come in all shapes and sizes as I've heard from many others
Psychics
Life after death (experiences)
And from preachers
Pastors and others
They come large
Small
Animal like
Mauled
They come stinky
Scaly
Nothing thou shalt imagine
Couldn't fathom
Their everywhere
City streets
Malls
Gyms
Stalls
Homes
Air
First heaven
Second heaven
Hell
Everywhere
Yet these demons cannot taketh me
They knoweth I'm gods light
So demon get hence from me....
Go burn in thine own fright!!!!
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 4:26 PM UTC
"You should hate gays!"
The pastors say,
"They go against God's Word!"
But the Bible teaches love for all,
I'm not sure if they've heard....
Jan 23, 2010
Jan 23, 2010 at 6:54 PM UTC
Her fairest words not an apology,
Words that bother me, eating her up,
'All that your are is swallowing me; doubting me,
feeling cowardly:' But not what you want to be:
For daily days so hourly, judging men horizontally,
screaming in your head _'acknowledge me,'_
__'And just apologise to me':__
Back when the world was loving,
You for your chest, interests in *******
They're spending pays on and invest,
Leaving children eggs on your nest:
None of them did impress, but only did undress:
Leaving your hair in a mess, and moving onto the next:
With their sins stealing your bless: To Pastors,
how do you confess? The gave you more,
but made you feel like less:
Child how do you love;
As you're sick of what some of
Them speak of when, they say it's young love?
Taking your portion, and happiest emotions,
Bare on your flesh like erosion,
Rubbing against you like- Their body lotion:
I do try to love you for you,
But can't relate to what you've been through:
They've stuck their hurts on you-
Like glue, more than one time or two:
They __used you, abused you, tossed you,__
away, straight after they ******* you:__ __Threw you,__
Found their release __through you:__ Lining up,
To __view you__ in a-
Queue, fitting their sizes in a small shoe:
I now understand why,
You are who you are in the first verse.
Giving them your worst, from those who
stole your worth: Hands in a bag-
Stealing inside your pursue. So hard for you
To converse, hoping to be anyone else in the entire universe:
I see how it hurts, and how quick you curse:
Told to move forward; trying to have,
All your pains and struggles go in reverse:
They gave you their love by force,
And all of the times it did leave a hurt:
Without remorse, making you their main course.
So as I write this verse,
With tears through the pain of your teen years:
Those darkest moments and your fears. All of those,
Left you after a night shift; shifting their gears:
But I'll try my best dearest sister,
To be right here. When those demons-
Try creeping back in: When the lights are so dim:
But I don't know where you've been,
But I'll share all of your hurts like a twin.
_Raise your chin;_
_Clear you're skin,_
_And help you fix what's broken from within._
Pen this verse-
For all of them to know;
That you don't have to face the hurt alone:
Don't feel like you're all on your own,
You could be whole, even if the process is slow:
But I'll help piece back together your shattered Soul.
Oct 26, 2021
Oct 26, 2021 at 5:23 PM UTC
******* white people;
hide their racism behind
vapid "opinion".
******* white folks will
argue you can't argue with
results and numbers
because white people
can strip race from the issue
and swear it's "equal".
White people without
culture or identity,
strip it from others.
Call you naked as
they strut in stolen clothing.
Full of silicone.
**** with white people,
find out they know the struggle
by the article.
They can sweat big stuff,
but their racism is in
the cracks and seeping.
Disappointingly,
you can't trust white people for
**** not even me.
Not Bush, not Clinton,
Donald Trump, Bernie Sanders,
******* Macklemore,
Not Bill O'Reilly,
and not Jon Stewart, and not
viral feminists/
white feminism,
Taylor Swift's white sisterhood,
their artists, music,
writers, poetry,
actors, authors, painters and
sculptors and bloggers,
their politicians,
obviously, but also
their lawyers, doctors,
their engineers and
scientists and businesses,
economists or
pastors, preachers, religion,
programmers, products,
video games and novels;
They will let you down.
The rich or the poor,
it really doesn't matter.
They will let you down.
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 1:53 PM UTC
I was raised by a
loving, graceful,
god loving, homeade
cooking wonderful
"I'll always be there for you"
type of family.
Some gorilla strength,
motivating, always looking
after me and the
"Don't question me"
types of brothers.
Some church going
motivational speaking
smart and artistic
"Ask me anything"
type of pastors.
Some Jazz and Rock music
to calm me down and freestyle
dancing, the funny dude
"Who
doesn't give a crap
about what people think"
type of guy.
Some energetic
bouncing off of walls
and athletic
not caring that I'm big
saying nice things
being called a charmer
The "I can't hate. But
I can love"
type of friend
In a discriminating
racial saying world
who won't listen to you
or see what's underneath,
I stand and shout
"I'm better than you"
because.....
I was raised like a gentleman
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 2:07 AM UTC
What we know/
Is far from what
we need to know./
What we need to know/
Is the only thing
That will help us grow./
You ask me
What do we need to know?/
I tell you
The hell if I know./
The whole world
has gone insane./
Our brains are programmed
to erase the obvious stains./
From our vices we never refrain./
Speeding through life
our minds remain slow./
Drinking from a legal bottle/
with a message at the bottom/
that will leave us low. /
To allow our demons
to grow six fold. /
To attack our souls/
with a grip of a choke hold./
Master you. Know you./
Is something that we don't do./
Is something we were never told./
So behold
a world with experiences untold./
A life with no true goals/
to find what it is
That we need to know. /
I search and search and search
for answers with standards/
Deep in the land
of the ********
and the crooked pastors./
Who tell us our obedience
will get us to the kingdom faster./
All this talk of faith/
across the globe
has caused a mental cancer/
because we can't see his face/
and the tired souls can no longer wait. /
What we know/
Is far from what
we need to know./
What we need to know/
Is the only thing
That will help us grow./
You ask me
What do we need to grow?/
I tell you
the hell if I know./
The right question is
what do you need to grow?/
What is it that
makes you whole?/
Is it money?
Is it love?
Is it knowledge of self
found deep in your soul?/
That That gives you goosebumps
from head to toe/
is what lets you know/
you are achieving a true life goal./
No boundaries or rules
should stop you/
from doing what
you need to do./
As long as those actions
do not hinder you/
from doing you./
Paying attention
to the signs of life/
will keep you free from strife/
and far from pain./
Life is no game/ nor irritant
but an experience/ to gain
resilience from the infinite/
powers that be.
Even when that is achieved/
we still should seek/
What need to know/
and what will help us grow/
Because
What we know/
is far from what
we need to know./
What we need to know/
is the only thing
That will help us grow./
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 3:16 PM UTC
Jesus ******* Christ I know that every word is true
Eat your body, drink your blood, glorify the death of you
Jesus ******* Christ it is so easy to believe
An army of priests, nuns, and pastors bring me to my knees
Jesus ******* Christ pass judgement on the sinners well
Rain fire from the skies and send the evil back to hell
Jesus ******* Christ I have faith in ever word you've said
Lets play Parcheesi together in heaven when I'm dead.
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 10:58 AM UTC
If you become furious with every injustice!
He said once.
He fought till his last breathe..
he's still there,here and everywhere.
All the young men out there
He's more than that proud face on your tee & on the posters you see.
From Cuba to Kerala..His portrait hangs on every street
I say, it's not just about his proud face
it claims the tale of a man who won a race!
A race to raise humanity from vanity
Unlike the pastors who preach on peace with an ease
He was pragmatic not dramatic
Replaced fright with fight
Placed righteous over mightiest
And yes he won that race to raise humanity back to sanity
You can either respect him for his dedication or detest him for his ruthlessness
You can either accompany the haters who call him a terrorist
Or follow the fellows who hail him as a REVOLUTIONARY
Nonetheless, he was victorious and victory lies with righteous alone!
Che was a rebel but not without a cause..
Yes for the Cubans !
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 8:22 AM UTC
O LOVE! O LOVE! WHY ARE YOU EVER DEVOID OF LOGIC?
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; [email protected])
Mankind in its pathetic folly entice you in a dint of stupor
Knowing not your true colour and texture
Endeavoring to achieve glory in your mastery
With the so limited human capacity
In grey faith that you are a cradle of bliss
But O love! Why are you ever crooked?
Young men and women in strength of their sinews
Toil day and night in ******* of humanity
Praying and whining incantations with the hope for optimal love
Ornamenting their bodies with diamond and bronze
Fibre and silk ornamented to helm of providence
In the foolish quest for love equillibria
But in full stretch of your vice, you impish love
You catapult all away to the shifted goal posts
O love! O love! Why are you ever ruthless?
You hate the learned but you favour the strong
You hate professors but you favour the soldiers
You hate the rich but you favour the agile
You hate the lawyers but you favour the footballers
You hate the pastors but you favour the ruffian
You hate the whites but you favour the Negroes
You hate the groomed but you love the ragamuffin
You hate the chaste but you favour the mistress
O love! O love! Why are you ever illogical?
Love, I revere you for wickedness and irrationality
In all of your history you scored sum *** laude
In the duo as blend of your domain, Look;
You never dwell in a genuine companionship
You like where the couth will interject;
Amidst fornication between married and single ones
Amidst adultery in the triangle of foul compassion
Amidst miscegenation between black and white
Amidst infatuation between the whole and the lame
Amidst conjugal appetite between the old and the young
Amidst concupiscence between house master and houshelp
Amidst immorality of married master over the wallowing servant
Amidst libidos between literate teacher unto the peasant pupil
Amidst disordered passion among the sly lesbians
Amidst impious ********** among the suave gays
O love! O love! You are the most wicked force!
Love I am told; your colour is red
You may be red or you may not be red
But all in all, you deserve poetical veneration
For your herculean ability to bend the most wise;
In your force you made sagacious Shakespeare to bend
In your force you made Princes Diana to bend and bend
Bending downwardly stooping for Afawoyed the moor,
In your stupefying dint you made Napoleon de Bonaparte
To bend and bend downwardly stooping for Josephine
Josephine a famed she-Casanova in the gone Paris
Among the then humanity and the then animality,
In your impairing machinery you set sons on their fathers
In the roman empire of Antony and Ceaser
In the scramble for Cleopatra, the Egyptian queen
Beauty of her aquiline nose heavily hovered perhaps
In the eyes of the Roman beholders
The father and the son only to sent the empire
To the love forlorn smithereens!
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 5:08 AM UTC
The sky looks like cigarette ashes in a puddle of milk,
and I, almost 22, am unsatisfied that I have not won a Pulitzer.
And I, on the borderline of delusion and confidence, am unsatisfied I am not crazy or cocky enough to submit to The New Yorker.
I hear the voices of the pastors,
telling me that God heals all.
They say 'He' is the only absolute.
The people raise their hands towards the water-stained ceiling,
as if He'll push his arms through the copper-colored scabs and save them.
Grabbing their wrists and cooing,
I am the remedy to the anxiety of death.
I am six foot one and French, Irish, Cherokee,
some sort of Anglo-Saxon,
and a lost **** in a drowning garden.
I think about all those who had to ****
in order to make my cheekbones,
eyebrows, lips, and ****
I think about how I'm good at *** and bad when it comes to forgiving too easily.
I wonder how I can sweat on another body,
but only feel naked when I have to be myself.
I watch the elderly chant words:
****** ****** **** and Half-Breed.
I study if their dry lips reflect the hate in their eyes.
Not all are like this,
but I am surrounded by tables of them,
as I pretend to be Christian,
just to get ahead.
I don't speak,
just sit like an unfilled bubble,
waiting to be marked out by graphite.
I feel like a **********
I wish I had a Pulitzer.
The sky looks like a stretched grape,
covered in kisses of ******
And I, white American conformist,
am unsatisfied
that I have succumbed to the American Dream.
I wish I had a Pulitzer,
I wish I had my mom and dad.
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 2:56 PM UTC
I, (Love Thy Neighbor As Thyself)
*how I would, honor this with ecstasy joy effervescent,
the simplest of methodologies, if only I,
reasoned how one safely permits
to love myself, if only I,
knew how to love an
I
to self love well,
not a university course,
no simple answers like thirst, yet how I thirst,
hunger, burst, curse for this peculiar wisdom, please,
instinct me to navigate murderous shoals of take but give
I
who teaches this to the children?
I, parents, teachers, not ****** or pastors or
TV the great substitute for all of the above,
myself is not a selfie, no glorying got in I,
I, burdensome, never comprehended,
love thy neighbor better, love actually, no mere pretense,
if well executed, perhaps is when the trapeze line is at last
cleanly indistinguishable,
your I, my I,
both wicks will be joined, brighter lit for it,
one flame, one godlike burning, fusing,
with neither consumed, wax fusing,
but teaching easy loving
to explode the
I,*
~
9:24am EST
6/2/17
airborne over the Western US of A
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 4:35 PM UTC
With my hands, I want to erase 500 years of colonialism off your flesh.
With my lips, I want to placate your christian guilt and burn away your evangelic shame.
With my words, I want to travel through your mind spreading a new gospel of love.
All in all:
I want you to become your own savior
breaking tradition in little pieces and rising in passion as a whole until you can touch the moon without having to be crucified.
I want you to leave me if that's part of your liberation.
It is imperialism and not god that they worship.
Being touched by the holy spirit as they turn deaf to the cries of children in Iraq... and on top of that calling the poor woman of color who just had an abortion a murderer. (meanwhile their pastors and priests **** children nonstop.)
Begging for donations to build the next temple as people in intervention torn countries die of hunger (all of this while Bill Gates and Carlos Slim become richer.)
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC
Mary, you hardly get talked about, except around Christmas.
Then pastors,preacher, ministers and teacher speak highly of you.
As being the birth mother of Jesus.
Except, you're so much more.
You carry a truly blessed load.
When we speak of Christ.
Many don't comprehend, we are speaking about you.
Gabriel came with a message from the Lord above.
Pointing out more than you imagine or ever thought possible.
But you found favor with God to be with a son.
One the world know as JESUS.
He will be great.
Son of the most Highest.
And seated upon a throne.
Your first born-born to you without assistant of a man.
For with God nothing is ever impossible.
Mary, hardly spoken of besides around certain events.
Then again, so is Jesus.
His teen years, we barely know.
His youth, we barely know.
Same about Mary the mother of the most High.
Who soul magnified the Lord?
Mary, the greatest mother we know.
Blessed are we.
For we are children's of the King.
Sing out loud to him.
And recognize his mother.
A lady called Mary.
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 9:49 PM UTC
Sin glows
With sparkling richness
Of all luminaries
of blanketing galaxy
Sin is worshiped and enshrined
Righteousness is
but blase fallacy
With all over-flowing
Affluence
of new pentecostal churches
and their greedy pastors
And easy-come riches
of Chiadzwa diamond fields
with her flippant Gwejas and Gwejerinas
Life is but black
like Soddom's ****
I hear the knell of dawning doom
As Angels of doom boom...
I swear by ****** Mary's blessed ****
I saw a Stephen preaching down Rekai Tangwena Ave
And was run down by a speeding motor car
"O poor chap, was a good fellow," muttered God
I saw drunken Thomas roaming the streets
Of cogitation convincing himself
it was true news
That brother Jesus, pot-bellied in Armani suit
Was back riding a top of the range Lamborghini
And God shrugged his shoulders,kept quiet
Afraid it may be fatally true
I saw God wet his pants
When listening to Elliot The Idiot's "Songs of Sobs"
That applaud Simon and Peter fishing
From people's pockets
Songs that revere and adorn the vigilant
Pillar of Salt
Scorn and mock
the meekness and softness of heart
At Golgotha...
Sin is vermin spreading
In this our home,the infierno grande
-dougwa-
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 8:10 AM UTC