"perspectives" poems
Lollipops to cigarettes
Cooties turned to pregnancy
The cute little girls and boys we once knew at recess are no more, some are drop outs, some are on the news for ****** and others have seemed to disappear from existence
How did this happen?
How did the life we knew so well as children, filled with jump rope and four square, turn into the monstrosity of modern society
The drama now is about boys, drugs, and flunking school, the only so called 'drama' back then was when someone else had the blue crayon you needed to finish your color by number
Computers, televisions, and phones take over the lives of children nowadays, the big pass times when we were kids was to go back in the woods behind our houses and catch salamander, play hide and seek and cops and robbers when it started to get dark
Now?
It's lying to your parents to go out and get drunk, skipping class to go smoke **** and and turning the lollipop in your mouth into a cigarette
Did you ever consider that the lollipop tastes better? That maybe this sticky strawberry mess gives you a better outlook on life?
When you're a kid and you're happy with your crayons and hopscotch you don't care what problems you're faced with: if someones lost; find them, if someone's feelings are hurt; say sorry, if you wanna lose weight; lose it
This lollipop of yours has turned an upside-down world right-side-up again creating brighter perspectives and healthier pass times
So instead of curling our fingers around disgusting cancer sticks and pregnancy tests, maybe we should grab hold of that lollipops taste and lever let go...so the only downfall to life, is cavities.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 4:32 PM UTC
The night is only a sort of carbon paper,
Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars
Letting in the light, peephole after peephole --
A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things.
Under the eyes of the stars and the moon's rictus
He suffers his desert pillow, sleeplessness
Stretching its fine, irritating sand in all directions.
Over and over the old, granular movie
Exposes embarrassments--the mizzling days
Of childhood and adolescence, sticky with dreams,
Parental faces on tall stalks, alternately stern and tearful,
A garden of buggy rose that made him cry.
His forehead is bumpy as a sack of rocks.
Memories jostle each other for face-room like obsolete film stars.
He is immune to pills: red, purple, blue --
How they lit the tedium of the protracted evening!
Those sugary planets whose influence won for him
A life baptized in no-life for a while,
And the sweet, drugged waking of a forgetful baby.
Now the pills are worn-out and silly, like classical gods.
Their poppy-sleepy colors do him no good.
His head is a little interior of grey mirrors.
Each gesture flees immediately down an alley
Of diminishing perspectives, and its significance
Drains like water out the hole at the far end.
He lives without privacy in a lidless room,
The bald slots of his eyes stiffened wide-open
On the incessant heat-lightning flicker of situations.
Nightlong, in the granite yard, invisible cats
Have been howling like women, or damaged instruments.
Already he can feel daylight, his white disease,
Creeping up with her hatful of trivial repetitions.
The city is a map of cheerful twitters now,
And everywhere people, eyes mica-silver and blank,
Are riding to work in rows, as if recently brainwashed.
15.4k
*The hotel balcony is the highest
That I could get, just as lying down
On the greener grass in Luneta Park
Is the lowest that I could ever be,
All because she is with me,
All because my hand fits, feels just
Right about her hand, and all because
All the warmest stars kept on
Staring back at us, inspired.
We are the farthest satellite
That they could ever find.*
© 2014 J.S.P.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 6:39 AM UTC
It is in my blood
I can feel its presence
When it’s on the verge
To emit a surge, every time my heart beats
An impulse,
Scurrying it’s way through the crevasses of my brain.
Tainting the walls of grey matter with a tendency for unpredictability,
Out of my reach.
I hate it
I don’t want it
I never asked for this
I can’t slow my mind down
Thoughts so fast, hit me with whiplash
It’s insanity.
No.
I’m not insane
I can’t be
I’m rationale
I think about how I think about things,
Like it’s a cycle that never stops..
Which I guess could be my downfall
My vision says it all
When thoughts travel my mind
In dark tunnels at times
My eyes blind to the surroundings
Tunnel vision that make you claustrophobic;
You feel trapped
When all you see at the end of the tunnel,
Is the darkness of insanity
But..
I’m rationale
I acknowledge I have a tendency to be blind to my surroundings,
How can I be blind if I can clearly see?
Is life objective or subjective?
I just want to understand--
You're stupid —
What was that?
Felt like a surge, on the attack
An impulse
That voice
That’s it.
Unpredictability
That lies,
In my brain waiting to be brought to the surface
With the surge of an impulse.
It’s the insanity that taints me,
From seeing what really is
I’m not stupid, I’m a learner.
Granted with the gift of analysis,
But darkened by the cruel nature of impulse
To taint my minds innocence
I'm not scared to think about it anymore
I am insane, because it’s what you make of it.
Insanity grants me with the gift of perspective,
Throwing a million different ones my way
Ones that are positive and ones that are new
Traveling at hundreds of miles
And this even includes
All the negative perspectives as well
At the times when I don’t want to hear them.
Insanity must be embraced and never repressed.
Repression tells you no don’t do that, it’s wrong.
When insanity isn’t embraced, it is feared.
When something that’s inevitable is feared
You’re no longer insane,
You’ve completely lost it.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 2:25 AM UTC
The world is the same
for you and for me—
What we see
depends on
where we stand.
Sep 21, 2025
Sep 21, 2025 at 3:44 AM UTC
*Inclusion: the action or state of including
or being included within a group or structure
Solution: a means of solving a problem or
dealing with a difficult situation*
**Now, is ‘inclusion’ the ‘solution’?**
Is confiding not always in yourself,
but being able to confide in people you trust:
a group,
a team,
not an impeccably simple way to solve complications?
Some people that dwell in isolation
succumb to despondency and desolation
and invariably,
wrap themselves in a costume of facades.
Inclusion eradicates these issues.
We as humans
want answers to our questions,
resolutions to our complications;
a myriad of different perspectives
can quickly enlighten and open the eyes
of those who truly seek a solution.
Solution to what?
Solutions to those “impossible questions”,
Solutions to those “exasperating situations” we can’t seem to get out,
Solutions to those “family troubles”
"relationship troubles",
"work troubles",
most importantly,
those “social problems”.
Inclusion is no secret,
it’s the biggest weapon we as people have.
Inclusion gives all of its users the power
to control.
Inclusion is power,
the real wealth beneath our skins.
With inclusion,
we have the solution.
(d.b.d.)
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
Time collapses between the lips of strangers
my days collapse into a hollow tube
soon implodes against now
like an iron wall
my eyes are blocked with rubble
a smear of perspectives
blurring each horizon
in the breathless precision of silence
one word is made.
Once the renegade flesh was gone
fall air lay against my face
sharp and blue as a needle
but the rain fell through October
and death lay a condemnation
within my blood.
The smell of your neck in August
a fine gold wire bejeweling war
all the rest lies
illusive as a farmhouse
on the other side of a valley
vanishing in the afternoon.
Day three day four day ten
the seventh step
a veiled door leading to my golden anniversary
flameproofed free-paper shredded
in the teeth of a pillaging dog
never to dream of spiders
and when they turned the hoses upon me
a burst of light.
7k
The name Theodore has its Greek anthropologies, Jewish anthropologies and also Germany anthropologies. The Greek anthropological perspective of The name Theodore indeed has something to do with the gods.However, the Greek way of looking at life was a frustrated thinking.To them everything was a god. They had a plethora of gods; utopia,cacotopia, Thespis, muse, clio, calypso, and Theodore was a half a god like Gabriel who impregnanted Mary on behalf of God as Joseph the cuckold carpenter patiently looked musing the ballad of a cuckold peasant . So Theodore and Gabriel were godsend.I have not delved to know what it means among the Jews, But am aware of the the cultural and anthropological surroundings of the name Theodore in Germany . It is a name of a male person signifying extra-masculine behavior. I also write poetry in Deutsch, so i know substantial cultural values of the people of Germany. Like in this case the modern social naming systems . I am aware of the anthropology of this Deutsch nomenclatural position.Why would link this name to Greeks but not Germany may due to some silent social and emotional disposition in Europe that the English speaking Europeans have a soft spot for the Greek culture.While at the same time they become victims of high adrenaline level when exposed to anything Germany. they always get repulsed when the word Germany is mentioned.So one's thesis on nomenclatural values of the name Theodore depends on which side of European consciousness one is found; is it Germany friendly consciousness or Germany threatened consciousness? The dystopic component of the name Theodore is purely cacotopic with zero element of utopia , as extra-masculinity is a swine of engendered civilization all the times.
Yours
Alexander k Opicho
NB/ i kindly invite Theodore to come to Kenya so that we do a joint research on the Swahili perspectives of the name Theodore, in Kiswahili the name Theodore is subverted to bwana tadayo
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
Dear Colin
What an inspiration
A role model
See I know how you feel
I'm like you
Mixed race, perspectives of two
From a young age
And to this day I'm ashamed
I hated my blackness
I saw what the world offered them
So I didn't want part of it
And I saw my people
Crying out with no one to listen
So I used my voice
To scream their message loud
They'll call you a traitor
They say it's disrespect
But to be more mad of an anthem
than lives that are lost.
Lives these soldiers fight for
Lives these soldiers die for
You are my hero Kaep
You saved me.
The light in a dark world
Where hope evades the privilege
of a mulatto kid, with white parents
And hope burns in darkness
It shines it's light strong
10 years from now people
who so hated this movement
Will understand
This was the time
You led the rebellion
Against injustice for all.
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 11:27 AM UTC
sometimes i wish
you'd see beyond
the color of my eyes
and the cloth wrapped around my head
i wish you would
think of me as an individual
put away my appearance
and regard me as a person
my thoughts matter
my ideas aren't all bad
i have opinions
and i choose to speak my mind
if only you would
listen to my words
and try to comprehend what i'm saying
rather than focusing on my accent
and the way my lips curve when i speak
the cloth on my head
does not rid me of ideas
it does not limit my mental capabilities
it does not lower my tolerance
*have a debate with me
spark a conversation*
instead of complimenting my smile
compliment my mind
instead of assuming that my beliefs are enforced upon me
*ask me what i believe
ask me what i value*
tell me what you base your morals on
*question me
give me counterarguments
talk to me*
instead of staring at me
and making biased assumptions
already concluding who i am
and where i come from
before you've even
said hello!
i am not just the color of my skin
i am not just the size of my thighs
i am not just the design of my clothes
i am not just the price of my purse
i am not just the pattern of my headscarf
i am not just the length of my nails
i am not just a body
i am a mind
i am a heart
i am a soul
i am my theories
i am my thoughts
i am my perceptions
i am my opinions
i am my viewpoints
i am my objectives
i am my purpose
i am my outlooks
i am my intentions
i am my reasons
i am my perspectives
i am my choices
i am my principles
i am my ideologies
i am a thinking, feeling, living, stimulated, motivated, inspired being
i've got a world inside of me
take a look see
before you choose to pass judgment on me.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 11:52 AM UTC
An abstract of an academic paper written by a doctoral student: "In this semimanifesto, I approach how understandings of quantum physics and cyborgian bodies can (or always already do) ally with feminist anti-oppression practices long in use. The idea of the body (whether biological, social, or of work) is not stagnant, and new materialist feminisms help to recognize how multiple phenomena work together to behave in what can become legible at any given moment as a body. By utilizing the materiality of conceptions about connectivity often thought to be merely theoretical, by taking a critical look at the noncentralized and multiple movements of quantum physics, and by dehierarchizing the necessity of linear bodies through time, it becomes possible to reconfigure structures of value, longevity, and subjectivity in ways explicitly aligned with anti-oppression practices and identity politics. Combining intersectionality and quantum physics can provide for differing perspectives on organizing practices long used by marginalized people, for enabling apparatuses that allow for new possibilities of safer spaces, and for practices of accountability."--an abstract of a paper by doctoral student Whitney Stark
Atomic particles, how can it be so
that your purpose is not just to flow
in and out of existence, building reality--
the stars, cosmic gas and galaxies--
but to “ally” with groups of humans fighting “hierarchies”
and demanding “safe spaces”
(even though their entire race is
at the top of their planet’s food chain).
In this mysterious universe there is no safety,
accountability or identity,
only elements, and energy.
Brief combinations make life
legible for a nanosecond in cosmic time, and doomed to strife.
Biology does not know oppression,
only generation, reproduction,
until our growth chokes us and we fall
like so many of our ancestors, who lived and died
on this blue-green ball.
And one day the sun will explode and blow
even our atoms, which have endured (despite oppression),
and the particles will go far until maybe they sow
new life, in bodies unfamiliar, on planets unknown.
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 9:31 AM UTC
let's all revel in the duplicity
duplicate posts that lack authenticity
authentic thoughts fall to the simplicity
simple minds are guilty of complicity
a new origin of no originality
original thinking crushed by formality
formal rules lead to our commonality
common perspectives to lower our mentality
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 3:00 PM UTC
I am not born as yet,
five minutes before my birth.
I can still go back
into my unbirth.
Now it’s ten minutes before,
now, it’s one hour before birth.
I go back,
I run
into my minus life.
I walk through my unbirth as in a tunnel
with bizarre perspectives.
Ten years before,
a hundred and fifty years before,
I walk, my steps thump,
a fantastic journey through epochs
in which there was no me.
How long is my minus life,
nonexistence so much resembles immortality.
Here is Romanticism, where I could have been a spinster,
Here is the Renaissance, where I would have been
an ugly and unloved wife of an evil husband,
The Middle Ages, where I would have carried water in a tavern.
I walk still further,
what an echo,
my steps thump
through my minus life,
through the reverse of life.
I reach Adam and Eve,
nothing is seen anymore, it’s dark.
Now my nonexistence dies already
with the trite death of mathematical fiction.
As trite as the death of my existence would have been
had I been really born.
5.1k
What flows through me,
flows through you...
They all call it
some ancient kind of voodoo.
When the cash is not enough,
you have to open new doors,
sit back with the dancing shadows,
as the feeling leaves your pores.
There is some news coming,
and it is not on CNN.
It is the new-coming,
with proper particles of zen.
Beginnings with no ends;
an apocalyptic change...
phenomenon to transcend;
we will never be the same.
The world is awake,
doing all that it can.
Do not make the mistake
of sleeping on the plan.
Different perspectives
under one light;
Different projections
of all that is right.
Walk with the wind,
and feel the depth of the river.
Also feel the cold --
There is no heat without the shiver.
Be calm like a giver.
Plant a vine and let it grow.
Persevere and do not whither...
There is more for you to know.
Take a path and sing a song;
run, walk, and fly.
This is your marathon.
Now, ask yourself why...
You have a purpose,
whether sun or fog,
it will be worth it,
for what you will fight along
the way. Which way?
If you do not know where to go,
hear what they say,
listen and then glow.
Evolution is occurring,
and anxious souls await,
but do not be in a hurry;
it is a door, not an escape.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 3:37 PM UTC
some greedy little bitter man has put together a picture-perfect person and out of pure laziness and malignant attempts at control he pays off a psychopath to make it happen but we’re just a little body, flesh and bones come between them and their paychecks so why not make it easier? they made a factory out of our garden and nothing grows in factories it’s manufactured, easy as one two three four five six, we’re all sitting on an assembly line waiting for some alcoholic man to shout at some pimply-faced twenty-something “FASTER! FASTER!” so it begins! press of a button, we’re created, step one: your parents were given the baby books, kids! infants, they’re all the same anyways. they’re not individuals yet, they haven’t been encoded so relax, parents. want them turn out like you? sure, do what your parents did, worked out well, eh? been occupying this factory your whole life, then? well anyways, step two: they spend less time with you because you’ve been in this world for three years so it’s time you get out on your own…. step three: they gotta YELL and scream and children aren’t supposed to touch things or say things or scrape their knees because that’s more work for the adults, and they work all day, just like they were programmed for, good little machines 'cause they forgot what it’s like to be a baby or an animal or a plant or a God but also the resentment, a child wants to live but how ridiculous? there’s no life in industry… all about the money baby step four: you buy your education because it builds your character because money says power but when did meaningless power equal respect? I don't know but they force you into reading the same old instruction pamphlets left in the break room at the plant for the past century or so and five: your turn to work for fourty years in this polluted place because it’s hard to break free from twenty-three years of moulding into a cookie cutter you never did fit, that’s why it hurts so much when they try to push you through, your muffin-top is sliced right off and you’re contorted to fit the view of perfect sugary sweetness but just to make sure you're ready they coat you with vanilla icing to cover up your imperfections, perfect, now step six, and this one is the doozy, and because you’re **** broke: go back to mom and dad’s and grab those baby books and again and again and again the cycle repeats and repeats and repeats….
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 9:03 PM UTC
I killed someone you see...... He's who I used to be
The people I used to know are strangers today.
They no longer stay much to my dismay.
I try to make amends, but it still comes to an end.
Even as reality bends into my nightmare.
I stay aware of the moves I make choices I take.
The truth I know doesn't change even as estranged faces come into my view to start anew.
But the roads the same I seem insane. Hopefully the line won't fade......... I guess that's what I said previously the lines faded now jaded perspectives clash my protective walls crash....I stress it again as I hope to regain purity.
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 4:46 AM UTC
The neglected child know reasons they feel that way.
Maybe mom placed another before you.
Like a lover or two.
Still wanted to party.
When her focus should have been on raising you.
So you can see their perspectives and views not highly of you.
The neglected child know why the world dad means nothing to them
And any excuse offered will not easily attracts them to loving you.
Many very aware of the logic used and your reasoning too!
I was young.
I wasn't ready.
Excuses many neglected children's have heard over times
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 9:55 AM UTC
For so many reasons;
When the wow creativity
Of the young, new baby poets,
Bursts all over me,
Making me question
My egotistical perception,
Not a slap, but a belly laugh!
At the old fool, who once thought
Ever so secondary briefly, momentarily,
Unofficially, of his own esteemed self-worth,
Only to be reminded, deaf~dumb & blind~sided
By the fresh air, the aggravating sight of new insight
The delicious!delight of reading the whole of all night
The explorations, the baby hallucinations, the trembling,
Insights of the explorers of the old, not re!newed, but, but.
Made anew, re~viewed with perspectives boldly unknown,
With crazy wisdom to expound, here, you! right here, right now,
I leave you and return to delight, taste, new extra languages, that
I must
learn not to speak
but to peak, even to
Cry, Laugh even Smile
In all my new native tongues
Friday, July 18
5:39 AM,
2025
In the sunroom
Dictated in one fell swoop, not a moment to lose, dispatched while
Still laughing at myself...
Jul 18, 2025
Jul 18, 2025 at 6:03 AM UTC
Let out my ego and sense of order this comes from beyond this comes from the me between me if I listen I may hear it speaking, it's sleeping but talking and rocking, not still, and perhaps it awakens, perhaps it will open its eye but we mustn't depend on the idea that once he has opened his eye the whole dream of the world will just fade like my dream tomorrow morning which I already know I'll forget, like specific angles and perspectives of specific places in space and time that have slipped away but once in a while break through to consciousness
Like the sliding breakaway walls of Timber Drive elementary school
Or the rippling pond into which I fell and the old smile and laugh of my flesh and blood rescued me and held my body afloat in the air for a moment; and once I was the proud owner of a wind powered hovercraft, another invention spilling out onto the table of attention like the actual pig intestines the popular girl's parents used in her science fair project, the one that dragged on until the last monkey refusing to be locked up with the windows 98s in the archaic computer lab was tranquilized and convulsed on the gym/cafeteria floor in front of the PTA, who'd peed blood all down the front of their sweatpants; he was firing wildly hoping to commit suicide by zookeeper
Not knowing that humanitarian laws would prevent him from achieving his bliss, for the monkey knew as the Gnostics did that to bring a child into this black iron prison is a sin.
Did the Jonestown Kool-aid free them from the prison? Do they now walk among gods within the kingdom of the heavenly spirit? None shall know until the 13 crystal skulls are re-assembled and total gnosis emanates to the people in globe-spanning shockwaves.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 9:08 PM UTC
"she's a simple girl"
they say about me
judging me upon
my plain clothes,
and even plainer face
"she's a simple girl"
they say about me
judging me upon
my lack of words
regarding frivolous topics
hair, make-up,
who's dating who
"she's a simple girl"
they say about me
judging me upon
the fact that i'd rather stay in
with a book curled up in bed
as opposed to a wild night out
downing glasses of God knows what
but would they invest the effort
and just a little bit of their time
to try and understand
the complexities of my mind
*the ideas
the perspectives,
the roads less traveled*
would they ask me what i am passionate about
they would receive not a few words
but uncountable volumes full of my greatest dreams
and most sacred desires
ask me what i love and i will tell you
about how deeply i care for the concept of community
humanitarianism, how my biggest dream
is to bring people together
if they saw the thoughts which keep me up all night
*how was i created? why was i created?
why me? why not?
my purpose and philosophy of life?
to be, or not to be?
who? what? where? why?*
if only they tried to look beyond the surface
and dive in deep
they would realize that i am no shallow pond
but a raging deep ocean
full of emotion and thought
belief, and purpose.
i am a simple girl when it comes to matters of materialism
i am a simple girl when it comes to speaking my mind
i am a simple girl when it comes to my lack of interest in manipulation, mind-games and gossip
i am a simple girl
until you stop judging me for what you see
&
begin understanding me for who i am
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 1:27 PM UTC
Bias
Is a little *****
The alliteration is merely a coincidence
But it is
Everyone has their own views
Their own opinions
Their own perspective
Negative or positive
Like the moodswings of a mother in menopause
It's still a *****
Hah just like your mother , jk
Bias is everyone
Everyone has a bias
It's their perspective
No matter their age, their IQ, or the amount of muscle mass on their perfectly chiseled body
They have a bias
It's rarely good
So look out for that *****
Bias
It'll bite you in ***
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 2:29 PM UTC
I can't have these feelings but I do,
And unfortunately it's for both of you.
Although, technically it's the same objective,
The situations come from opposing perspectives.
I feel everything I can imagine possible,
But the ending result is nothing probable.
My soul feels empty, echoing deep,
And now all I'm begging for is answers, or sleep
Whatever comes first and lasts the longest,
Whichever has effects that work the strongest:
My poisons won't save me this time,
No, with this one the responsibility is mine.
And I'm sorry if my pain hurts you so,
But i swear it's not your fault, I know:
I did this to myself, now must face my own demons,
Alone I must fight until I discover the reasons.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
The real subjectivity of life is overwhelming;
Prospective consumes our frontal cortex
But there is no escape from this vacuum seal.
We see the faces of our own delight,
The know how of the here and now,
But we are too blind to look past our own perspectives.
Even when we fathom the hearts of others,
Our understandings are predisposed to our own Identity.
Objectivity is a fleeting notion of reality, of truth
and its as though the ground we hold so dearly
Is constantly fleeing from our grasp.
Today we call this individualism,
a disconnect between one's self and society.
But I so selfishly and foolishly believe
that this chasm stems from being lied to so often.
Am I lying to myself or am I being lied to I do no know,
but it is important to understand that it does not matter
that nothing matters, because everything exists in my field of view.
The only question remains: am I correct
Or has the devil made me a fool?
But this does not confirm nihilism
only hints at its initial potential.
Yet there are common truths that are irrefutable
no matter who you are, real or not:
The reality is the here and now,
No matter what ghosts or demons there may be.
They affect the consciousness constantly
indifferently to whether or not they are fraudulent or true.
And my experiences are true, the emotions are radical,
and even if everyone I know is a figment and interpretation,
they still hold a grasp onto my withering heart.
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 1:28 PM UTC