"payers" poems
A dancing Bear grotesque and funny
Earned for his master heaps of money,
Gruff yet good-natured, fond of honey,
And cheerful if the day was sunny.
Past hedge and ditch, past pond and wood
He tramped, and on some common stood;
There, cottage children circling gaily,
He in their midmost footed daily.
Pandean pipes and drum and muzzle
Were quite enough his brain to puzzle:
But like a philosophic bear
He let alone extraneous care
And danced contented anywhere.
Still, year on year, and wear and tear,
Age even the gruffest, bluffest bear.
A day came when he scarce could prance,
And when his master looked askance
On dancing Bear who would not dance.
To looks succeeded blows; hard blows
Battered his ears and poor old nose.
From bluff and gruff he waxed curmudgeon;
He danced indeed, but danced in dudgeon,
Capered in fury fast and faster.
Ah, could he once but hug his master
And perish in one joint disaster!
But deafness, blindness, weakness growing,
Not fury's self could keep him going.
One dark day when the snow was snowing
His cup was brimmed to overflowing:
He tottered, toppled on one side,
Growled once, and shook his head, and died.
The master kicked and struck in vain,
The weary drudge had distanced pain
And never now would wince again.
The master growled; he might have howled
Or coaxed,--that slave's last growl was growled.
So gnawed by rancor and chagrin
One thing remained: he sold the skin.
What next the man did is not worth
Your notice or my setting forth,
But hearken what befell at last.
His idle working days gone past,
And not one friend and not one penny
Stored up (if ever he had any
Friends; but his coppers had been many),
All doors stood shut against him but
The workhouse door, which cannot shut.
There he droned on,--a grim old sinner,
Toothless, and grumbling for his dinner,
Unpitied quite, uncared for much
(The rate-payers not favoring such),
Hungry and gaunt, with time to spare;
Perhaps the hungry, gaunt old Bear
Danced back, a haunting memory.
Indeed, I hope so, for you see
If once the hard old heart relented,
The hard old man may have repented.
4.6k
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldret, Kenya;[email protected])
Do you remember one era in Kenya?
During the dark days of dictatorship
When Daniel arap Moi
Was the tyrannical president of Kenya
And darkness of leadership
Loomed like the dark clouds of el Niño
When forty district commissioners
Out of the total of forty two were kalenjins?
Whose main work was to spy and terrorize
As the people forlornly groaned under the heavy
Yoke of state terror of tribal torment
When the president claims that
He was not aware of such tyranny,
When we used to sing a lame poem
Of jokoo! Jokoo! Jokoo! Jokoo!
On empty stomachs with no hope of food
No hope of jobs or even education
Street children swelling on the street
In total political nonchalance of arap Moi
As he only gave free milk to his own kalenjin youths
In Kabaraka schools, the Kabaraka school which was
Overfunded by the poor tax payers money,
Please President Uhuru Kenyatta as good as you are
With your dear humane heart of Bantu conscience
As you are armed to teeth with modern education
**** sapiens Gentility and polished diplomacy
Superb in quality of thought and supremacy of choices
The government of Kenya is yours and the people of Kenya
Are your political darlings, true bandwagons for ever
Kindly listen and buy my poemetics, my dear president
Remove Daniel Moi from the state house of Kenya,
Let not Daniel Moi be your adviser
Ignore him and embrace Kenyans
For common future happiness
Even if Daniel Moi is old, the truth is different
He is not a good man, he is full of Machiavelli
His full badness is measured in absurdity
Of terribly and horrendously crashed *** crushed
Testicles of poemcrats and political leaders
Of Kenya of yore and today,
Truth meted in When koigi wa wamwere became
A permanent staff of kamiti maximum prison without pension
Wangari Mathai beaten like an animal in a hunters trap
Ngugi wa Thiong’o jobless and detained without trial
Raila Amolo odinga’s testicles went missing
He looks for them on daily circadian
But once he nears their political pigeonhole
Then elections of the times flops, O! Poor Odinga!
President Uhuru Kenyatta with your suave intellect
You won’t get a pretext to say that
I was not aware or not informed
Please dear darling of the people
The people of Kenya in their 42 tribes
Novate Moi with the people
And your legacy will smile.
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC
They say we are too young to know what true love is.
They say that long distance relationships never work.
They say that being "like us" is a sickness
So, I guess I'll never tell them how my ribs hurt every time my heart beats too hard when my plane
lands and you love me with vaccine kisses.
I'll take my medicine without insurance because, you only live once YOLO
Unless you believe in reincarnation.
And I have to, because how could we be so perfect, know each others faces like a married couple
knows the crows feet stories they grown into for 60 year, and I have only looked at you for 4
months?
Lover, you asked me to come to church with you, I said yes.
I needed to thank him, or her, or whoever for answering my payers in a difference country.
To thank whoever for taking two candle burned pages and making them a book, a bible that I
pray to every night.
And I may not believe in God but I believe in you and your past, which is chiseled into the banks
of my bloodstream. The burred edges being eroded away by time and heartbeats.
They say we'll never make it.
They say we are too young.
They say Time + Space = heart break.
I say bring "it" on, specially if "it" means more ***
I say I have been old enough to see slow wars silenced by fast hands, see starts die, see memories
so old that only the boxes in my basement remember them.
I say Their Mouths + words = shut **** up!
They say a lot of things.
But I say "I love you" more.
They say a lot of things.
But kisses are silent, and or are the breathless laughs and eye rolls you share every time I honk your
***** like a red nosed clown at a birthday party.
They say a lot of things.
But I talk way more and my tongue has more use in the subject matter that is you.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 3:13 PM UTC
(This poem was written during the first year of the war.)
Lay me down to sleep
Before they push the button.
This ***** ain't tryin to wait for his own self destruction!
People really want peace
but you gotta have war,
because it pays the invoices
made by the White House imposed choices.
We need to be United
but politics and hypocrites
always remind us
that history repeats itself.
As it turns out
itself repeats history.
Repeats history
Repeats HIS - STORY!
It ain't a mystery!
You know what goes on in Capital hill!
What country pays its government more then the people who's supposed to be runnin it?
We do! America!
**** politics!
We down right greedy!
We got plenty to feed the needy!
But we'd rather spend tax payers money
to bomb a country
that at peace
I would like to be.
****** if I'm wrong!
Bush, please send my Mom and Dad home.
Realize that judgment day is comin'
and the truth untellers on the hill
are the first ones hit
when God's wrath comes down rumblin.
I got somethin' on my mind
so I speak to you.
God help us
when it comes time to be with you.
You can only tell a lie for so long
before the truth sees the light.
That's when karma
puts it on ya'
and explains your persona
so that people see through your tainted ora.
Life is like a Pandora -
boxed with centuries of pandemonium and disorder.
Blessed are those who are weak
God, to you I speak.
THIS IS AMERICA CALLIN'!!
Thank you for reading!
Amaru
www.twitter.com/therealamaru
Jan 4, 2010
Jan 4, 2010 at 10:00 PM UTC
They say we are too young to know what true love is.
They say that long distance relationships never work.
They say that being "like us" is a sickness
So, I guess I'll never tell them how my ribs hurt every time my heart beats too hard when my plane
lands and you love me with vaccine kisses.
I'll take my medicine without insurance because, you only live once YOLO
Unless you believe in reincarnation.
And I have to, because how could we be so perfect, know each others faces like a married couple
knows the crows feet stories they grown into for 60 year, and I have only looked at you for 4
months?
Lover, you asked me to come to church with you, I said yes.
I needed to thank him, or her, or whoever for answering my payers in a difference country.
To thank whoever for taking two candle burned pages and making them a book, a bible that I
pray to every night.
And I may not believe in God but I believe in you and your past, which is chiseled into the banks
of my bloodstream. The burred edges being eroded away by time and heartbeats.
They say we'll never make it.
They say we are too young.
They say Time + Space = heart break.
I say bring "it" on.
I say I have been old enough to see slow wars silenced by fast hands, see starts die, see memories
so old that only the boxes in my basement remember them.
I say Their Mouths + words = shut up!
They say a lot of things.
But I say "I love you" more.
They say a lot of things.
But kisses are silent, and or are the breathless laughs and eye rolls you share every time I ruin a
romantic moment with "that's what she said" jokes.
They say a lot of things.
But I talk way more and my tongue has more use in the subject matter that is you.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 3:09 PM UTC
**** Leeches
I saw one of the guys who live up the road from me,
sleeping on his front porch today as I drove by.
He was leaned back in an old recliner,
half smiling, eyes closed,
sitting in the only area
where there was currently shade
on the old porch of the shambled house.
There are four who live there.
all in their forties or fifties.
Three with white beards, one without.
Front door always open. Windows always open.
No screens. Cats lounging around in the sun.
Two couches and another recliner line the porch,
shoved back against the wall,
waiting for the eastern sun to rise a little higher
to put it all in shade.
They’ll all be out there eventually.
Common leeches of society.
Sitting there laughing,
beers in hand,
telling the same stories
they’ve probably each heard hundreds of times.
**** leeches.
Always smiling and laughing.
Enjoying life and not worrying
about car payments and credit cards
or payments on millions of materialistic possessions
they’re supposed to dream of having
as society demands.
**** leeches.
Always waving and being friendly
when I drive by.
Always taking the time to say hello
and ask me how I’m doing
when I take my morning walk,
or sometimes my afternoon walk.
**** leeches.
Never once have they invited me
to eat steaks and shrimp
I was told they eat every day,
at the tax payers expense.
They just sit there,
eating bologna sandwiches
and drinking beer,
enjoying life.
How dare they rub it in
and mock society
showing off their happiness
the way they do.
**** leeches.
JSM 8/3/17
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 12:18 PM UTC
A pensioner's long walk today,
Yes, the mailman's been, no yah!
What bills did arrive this way?
Postman, postman, stay away,
I am putting up a sign,
"BAN THE BILLS!' about frigging time!
If all bill payers went on strike,
Bills would go down, not upwards hike,
Yes, it's that dreaded long walk again,
Should I throw the bills down the drain?
A gutter too far, or in the bin?
Bringing us bills is the postman's great sin,
Can't afford that, can't afford that,
"I'll shoot you, postman, now don't come back!"
Is shooting postmen a capital offence?
"BAN THE BILLS!" on everyone's fence!
Sep 14, 2019
Sep 14, 2019 at 5:01 PM UTC
There are inexplicable mercies hidden in your ingenious words, that irresistible touch and those impeccably authentic thoughts. I am humbled and infused with pleasure to be a vessel of your love.
There is a containment of euphoria nestled deep within your heart that only angelic hands can breach. Because you are a Saint, a prophecy sent from whichever heavens you praise to fulfill the desires of my soul, our souls.
Our souls, for your love is limitless and is found in every heart, in every vein, and in every mind as an infectious delicious and delightful disease. Rare in severity, true in antiquity, your love knows not time nor its conditional confines.
Vessels of your love, we are intrigued by your astounding beauty. Sagely brown eyes, a charmingly chiseled chin, and calloused hands only a man could bear. Adonis himself envies your dangerous allure.
Whichever God has sent you, their purpose was clear; to savor the souls of many and reclaim all hearts lost to love. Without you, my world would fall to internal damnation. You are a savior, a saint, a prophetic being sent as an answer to our payers for our remorseful redemption.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 8:19 PM UTC
I would sing the song money money money to
people who have none to make a point
that the rich man’s world is different to the poor man’s world
and how some rich people don’t give a toss about
what poor people go through
it’s sad how you ask a rich man to drop a $2 coin
in the poor man’s bucket and they just say NO
simply because they don’t care or the y don’’t like that certain poor person
and whether that poor person coughs in their face of a show of affection saying’
please help me, and basically all the rich man wants to sing money money money
to drive the poor man to drink all the tax payers money and the poor man’s world
could turn out to be the rich man’s world cause money seems to likes the rich more
than poor, money seems to hate people who wants to budge on it
what is money really about anyway
why does the rich earn more money than the average Joe
nobody will ever know
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 7:23 AM UTC
CASSIE THE AUSSIE DRUG SMUGGLER
NOW WANTS TAX PAYERS CASH
THIS IS INCREDIBLE AND STUPID
AND A WHOLE LOT OF TRASH
IF YOU SMUGGLE DRUGS IN A COUNTRY
WHERE THE PENALTIES ARE SEVERE
YOU WERE VERY CONSCIOUS OF YOUR ACTIONS
TAKE RESPONSIBILITY MY DEAR
DON'T EXPECT HONEST PEOPLE
TO NOW HELP BAIL YOU OUT
IF YOU SMUGGLE DRUGS AND GET CAUGHT
YOUR ON YOUR OWN NO DOUBT
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 8:24 PM UTC
Ar ben y bryn,
There sits a paint-brush-thin monument,
A crooked rocky record built by many unwilling hands.
This cockeyed testimony announces a difficult man,
A man befriended by nature
Whose oakish form turned in opposition to his kin,
Took root on stony ground,
Prospered on infertile soil
And sheltered under nature's canopy.
Y bryn oedd ei gartref
And he lived and thrived there
To the annoyance of the conformists:
The chapel-goers, the gossipers, the rate-payers
Those who could not abide his ragged clothing,
Sweat-stewed, blood-patched remnants of cloth,
Hanging rags of garments and barely-there shoes.
Loneliness he embraced and so peace was his.
Ar y bryn fu farw.
A few feigned to mourn to satisfy their curiousity,
Wanting to view the corpse of the man on the hill,
A man who was and wasn't one of them.
And so a dissonance struck the town:
He was one of them but also one of wild nature.
He was miserably poor but enviably free.
And out of such confusion was his half-hearted monument raised.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 6:18 PM UTC
I guess being older.
Makes us address things in a variety of ways.
We make fun of the child, who seems mentally disturbed?
Without realizing, it could have been us.
We make jokes of the homeless.
Without understanding their fight.
It's like a woman selling her body.
Even she knows it's not right.
We seems to soak in the joy of being popular.
When many times, they the most insecure folks of us all.
Oh, yes.
It's funny.
Until their crisis comes before us.
The scriptures states, treat people the right you like to be treated.
If you're disrespectful.
Then , what did you expect?
When it's tossed back upon you.
We make fun of the people that works, at fast food.
When in reality, if you don't realize it.
They also supporting you.
As tax payers, they keep the government going forward.
And many employees are smarter.
Then those in university achieving a degree.
We make fun of the over weight people.
As, if it doesn't hurt.
Then attend church and be on our best behavior.
Except, you can't fool God.
He know your soul.
He know your heart.
We make fun of the illiterate.
Without realizing that no one's dumb.
Even a Jack of All trades have skills to teach us.
So, we should be humble to those we meet.
It's just a requirement that good parents teaches us.
Some people can take being the blunt of all jokes.
Except, the sensitive types.
Who doesn't bother anyone?
So, next time , we make fun of the person that we don't know.
Realize, who's judging us?
Even, if it's the minister next door.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 10:00 AM UTC
Just because I said so do as I say,
The law is the law tax payers so pay,
Don't try and make a dollar of your own,
Because without paying the man,
How can you know what you know.
In the land of the free,
Nothing is legitimate if you don't pay a fee.
Just because you've learned Alot in life,
You better think twice,
Before you speak advice,
unless you've paid the agreed upon price,
Do you really believe someone is eating today because you logged hours in on the site freerice?
The powers that be,
Will never cure cancer or ***
Not following policies,
Put in place by the pharmaceutical company,
Protected by money and greed,
Corrupt police run free,
Get a slap on the wrist,
Influenced by Green.
Just because we live in the land of the free,
Nothing will change,
If we don't grow a voice,
And take the time to fight back the powers who say, do as I say you don't have a choice.
Let's bring on the destruction of corruption,
I'm tired of our justice being obstructed.
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 9:14 PM UTC
the country isn't poor at all:
the wealth is just hoarded
and goes rotten, and skeletons of industry rust.
the cities are littered with bodies with suits and ties
stepping over them. dangerous speculation leaves behind another gutted home.
the country isn't poor at all:
the wealth is just hoarded
and goes rotten, and skeletons of industry rust.
in all of history, never has the world been richer, never
have individuals been richer, and communities never so barren.
the country isn't poor at all:
the wealth is just hoarded
and goes rotten.
children cry up from the depth of debt for bread and help and shelter
met either with the ideologue's injunction "AUSTERITY."
or deaf ears and tax-payers money
invested in guns and bombs sent abroad, and rhetoric behind the barbed fences of our shores, and the tools for plundering all the people and every corner and resource of the earth and the as yet still fluid future: the tools to cement our early doom.
all that is wretched is integral to the structure:
it is what the system stands on, everything it crushes,
squeezing out the life and stealing it;
we must come to understand this, and step back.
we'll have to face—or be forced to—collapse.
the country isn't poor at all:
the wealth is just hoarded
and people are forsaken, starved, blown up, drowned, deprived of voice and value;
profits are made. life comes at a price, too much for most.
the country isn't poor at all:
the wealth travelled north - taken - into open arms,
those brave, desperate souls in flight who followed
were handed - abandoned - to the waves or absolute destitution.
the country isn't poor at all:
the wealth is just hoarded—
"SAVE THE BANKS, SAVE THE COMPANIES, THEY'RE TOO BIG
TO SINK"—they're titanic—"THERE'S NO TIME TO BE DEMOCRATIC—IT'S A STATE OF EMERGENCY—THEY CANNOT FAIL."
the country isn't poor at all:
the wealth is just hoarded,
hundreds of thousands of houses are empty
and skeletons of industry rust.
the country isn't poor at all:
the wealth is just hoarded,
and so the world goes rotten.
justice will take more than just good deeds:
open the borders and break down the walls!
set no destinations at which to arrive, but towards horizons strive;
we need not firewood, but the seed:
make union and defiance your call!
open the borders and break down the walls!
produce and allocate according to need
and there shall be enough—for us all!
(and i might add: please,
forgive me my youth and naivety...
but i am no believer in the Fall.)
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 11:13 AM UTC
There he sits on his throne
ordering people around
I hear him shouting at me
I see him crying to see
the person within
I know I am not the same just like him
he thinks I am but I am not
I'm not the person he thinks I am
thinks I am this treasure as queen
the one who believes in love again
this beautiful queen
this beautiful land
he thinks I am one of them
but he's wrong
oh yes he's wrong
again. again. again
I see the land lord
counting their money
I see the land lord
giving them interest
I see the land lord
lying to their rate payers
oh yeas.
what an unfair world this is
The king is happy
That he's got everything he needs
He doesn't need no more wives
No more children
No family
He is a king
With money, houses
He has everything he could all for
Coz he is a king
A one in a million
So he thinks it to himself
He thinks it to himself
He thinks it to himself
And then, and then, and then, again, again, again
I hear him calling for me
He's telling me
It is my duty
To lead this country
To happiness
And then there's that chance for me
He keeps shouting for me
He expects a lot from me
Oh yes
What unfair world this is...
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 1:33 PM UTC
I have been in search of the self of self’s
to end the war being waged inside,
for years now between the masks I hide
I’m a son to the trees and seas.
I’m a brother to those that bother, and
those who are blind to color
I’m a student to whomever wants to teach.
I’m a lover of words, and hope that bloom in a rose
I’m a believer in the shadows that move between spaces.
And the sweetness heard in the soul and seen in the sky.
I am a lover of who yells “keep the peace.”
I am he, who sometimes does not practice what he preach,
he who sometimes could not tame the devil at bay,
and so he comes out to play.
I am he who stalks life with blindfolded anger and say “why have you forsaken me?”
I am he, a true believer of God and the hereafter.
A sinner who can’t shake off the temptations of life,
he who knowingly dances at the edge of his knife, and
he who must answer for his crimes, his crimes, his crimes
for his waste of time,
The lies! The lies! The lies!
I am he, who sits alone in a dark room,
A dark house,
A dark world,
thinking about death,
being exhaustingly terrified of death,
sometimes wanting to die but knowing his hereafter isn’t as………
I am the student that sits on his hands,
who doesn’t do **** and probably won’t amount to ****
I get scared not because it’s a scary world, which it is, but
because of the people in it.
Not people with big guns, sharp knives, hulkish anger issues, or
people in power doing bad things.
Because of my dad, my moms, my brothers, my sisters, my teachers, my lovers, my friends, tax payers,
I get scared because this tower of dreams
I’ve been put in
It will crumble,
these shoulders of mine will brake badly
I have been anticipating and fearing the pain.
While I was it came and came not with fear.
It came and all became clear
Simplicity is a hunger that cannot be satisfied.
No one knows my secrets except the shadows I lay with.
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 1:55 PM UTC
They are officials of the state religion
They don’t have Muhammad or Jesus in the piety,
But the tentacles of their filthy sink deep
Into the placental matrix of the revolving state
The crudeness and repugnance of their faith
Obviously and deeply funded by the state coffer
From the jeopardized tax payers,
Managed by their blameless adherent son
Nourishing all with absolute power
To put poor sons of the soil on the coffle
In nemesis for their contrasted sanctimony
Down to the common grave of seven men.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 8:33 AM UTC
I don't pity poverty.
Low lives disgust me.
Undependable if you can't count on yourself.
Who can you count on?
Sell you're *ss for some quick cash
Dance naked for money
to find yourself a rich honey.
Get a minimum wage job.
So you're not a broke-*ss slob.
Work the night shift and get robbed.
Don't out of fear ever sob.
Bad karma is their flaw.
Their sin is what you saw.
They'all be snatched my Hell's claw.
Your sinning soul peeled raw.
Try to challenge me and I'll sock your jaw.
You broke the law.
Don't even try to deny it by saying "nah".
Your fingerprints are left by your ***** paws.
Guilty as Sin.
The devil wants you in.
He always knew your life was *******
Don't act so surprised to see your demise.
Nobody will hear your cries.
Hell's door is open for souls to be floating.
You ruined your own self.
From the cards you're dealt.
When the Devil seee you sin he smiles for every d*mn child.
Greedy and selfish you're two of a kind.
Soulless without a good friend
You will pay for all your crimes time that never ends.
A will that bends.
A messages that never sends.
Hope & pathetic with no logic.
Out of touch & out of focus.
No Hocus Pocus.
You stand in a line up.
A finger points you out.
Without any doubt.
Go ahead and pout.
No one will care that you're sad.
You're getting so mad.
The system is glad.
No parole.
Thanks to the tax payers bank roll.
Pay karma's toll.
You gargoyle troll.
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 2:52 AM UTC
Follow along ...
the porcelain doll fell from the wall
And when she cracked...
It all came back!
escaped in vapors
Seeping into the wooden floorboards
Like oozing wounds
And **** from sores...
Putrid the smell
Straight from hell
Now loose from its porcelain confines
The binding inscriptions
Are Your worst fears
Your deepest convictions
Your frightened tears
Dollie’s secrets and admissions
She heard your payers and your childish wishes
Also your sins you whispered into
Her tiny white ear
Yes she could hear
And you had forgotten
She know your true black heart was rotten
Oct 9, 2019
Oct 9, 2019 at 3:30 AM UTC
Land of love, our moon
half your face in darkness
the other a bright pale visage,
and so constant with the sun
You make romance a preterite
changeable is your face
sometimes red sometimes blue
yet your pale sweet face
is what I love about you
you have been guide's to marinas
the payers of many saints
the rhythm, of all life here
All that are heaven bound
will always look at you
even wolves in timber lands
cold in perma frost
howl thier praise to Luna you
as the hunt in the name of you
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 9:29 PM UTC
Another day, another dollar
Going to school to be a scholar
Sitting here in physics class
I could really use a homework pass
Mrs. Harvey is teaching and being loud
Everyone's so calm, but i don't know how
Learning Thermodynamics and specific heat
As i sit unaware while my mind retreats
Thinking about a single person's lies
Which caused my constantly twitching eye
Only thinking one thing, asking myself why
I keep telling myself that the end is nigh
Giving the tax payers a tight, stiff collar
Just so i can write this poem...
Another day, another dollar
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 3:17 PM UTC
They put deep roots in my veins
Just so I can write one line on this paper
I ride my trust to the government, the tax payers and the liers
Who stood still for liberation
Enlighten me with your creativity
"Ya ***** nergo! "
And That same ***** headed afro centric nergo who picked cotton
Who marched for the same textbook like you and I
Got lyched because he wrote with his right, he hid away at night to write my struggle in his blood.
Cut that dark flesh for righteous teaching
Let that wound sink in 246 years
And we still ain't gain no type of freedom
Our culture has poetry in pages & pages
To weep the sad tears of slaves
And it's sad because people still ain't humble about their education.
Erasing the pain of our own ancestors
Does the color' of your skin
Define your education?
Society, nowadays sing the same ol song
" A change gon' come " As they take away our freedom
But one thing they CAN'T take is our education
One thing they will NOT take is our education.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 7:19 PM UTC
Have some confidence,
smile a while and think of cuttin' back,
think of how hard this winter is
most places where it is winter now,
and all the houses are rubble, we see
we almost…
in some ways…
on some levels… true, we can feel
we breathe the same winds, we hold
truths self evident, by faith we found,
sheer mind fog hedge hog white horse
chase minding, hedged bets,
we'll laugh every day,
in joy, for strength,
l'chaim
peace of mind is what we stalk.
We think we pray silently.
We think we all do,
hope and wish and pray all call
fix it make it better for all, eh
liberty, completely agreed to by
most…
we must imagine the old trick,
freedom isn't free, inside the fence/
----------------
How come we to be the first generation ever
to breathe dust from Alamogordo and beyond
co incident… in the scope of what we can imagine,
Earth, as seen from Saturn via global science access.
Any where such truths are not denied by law.
How come is not the same query as why, because
words mean things, ghost
of Limbaugh. Being causal
points, peak mind share,
Superbowl .64% All eyes worth, all the value
rushed
to all the advertisers and stakeholders
on the line,
oh, you know, it could be money,
on the line…
99.36% of all attention payers, paid none.
But… stop
think 127000000 or so, simultaneously hoping
that's a lot,
to high heaven they don't choke, oh, the thing
e-feared holy hell we say some stupid blessing
sneeze gnosisnot too fine
to finally think gesundheit, so fine.
Feb 13, 2025
Feb 13, 2025 at 7:41 PM UTC
It’s a different world underneath this steeple
Church doors swinging open
To a congregation of cruel people
Black ink on a page tells me I’m evil
Condemning sermons broke my soul
You preach “God is love” yet remain hateful
Without end, my soul screamed from inside
While everything you command of me forced me to lie
You demanded so I tried
But lost the fire in my eyes
With every day that I pretended
Another piece of me died
Your reputation and position no longer matter here
I was never enough for you in those miserable years
Secret journal pages wrinkled by tears
Scribbled confessions in cursive, words you’d never hear
Paranoid that I’d injure your career
My parents and Hell were my two greatest fears
You use smoke and mirrors to hide your pretension
Force feed your religion through cold condescension
Wearing a mask
You put on an act
Then exit stage left
Ignoring your own lesson
Behind closed doors
You wage your secret war
In your church congregation
You’re trusted and adored
But come home with your pride
Lay your costume to the side
Take a break from the lies
Abuse safely hidden from tithe-payers eyes
Your narcissism and contempt
The reigns you pull from making amends
Years of servitude ill-spent
I’ve forgiven but you still resent
Dust covered Bibles and empty prescriptions
Remnants of misery-fueled bad decisions
You study verses on love and acceptance
Never practiced but quoted in sermons
No book or religion is worth the price of a life
My own strength was all that kept me alive
By walking away and breaking all ties
I reignited the fire behind these green eyes
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 1:46 PM UTC
Optimo, they say in Pahree,
of course, you knew,
fine is just fine for the unworldly.
For such as inhabit my spirit realm,
nothing but the best of days remain.
Madness, as a pastime,
suffices as artificial, made artwise,
too beautiful for any common sense…
ah, yet, on such a day, we may
agree we find time expands,
at a glance from those
makers
of perfect sense
from pastence, old lines
yes, optimo, fine lines
the best, in fact
oh,
some time ago, when all were mad as I.
---------------
While watching Hepburn
as the Mad Woman of Chaillot,
because, voila, I sought a forgotten line, from when,
as a boy of seventeen, I played Yul Brenner's role,
while then, my best friend,
some while dead, now,
had the role Danny Kaye plays
in the movie, I never watched
until today.
But, why,
of course, your curiosity is piqued, perhaps
the perfect point,
what we reexperience
is richer than just fine, it must be truly optimo
to meet criteria of old age mere satisfaction,
whereby we call all our ghosts
to laugh once more, exactly as before.
Of course with somewhat greater effect.
Assuming you know what I mean,
those Jungian types are quite alive… the greedy,
the payers of tribute
to Trump and his ilk selling
Israel fine American genocide tech.
Aug 1, 2025
Aug 1, 2025 at 3:09 PM UTC