"philanthropic" poems
Wake Up Wretched World,
I assert my Indigenous heritage
I self identify
With the ancestors of my continent
Identity afraid to articulate
Culture, unknowingly belonging to me
Cycle of shame now shattered
Product of love, hatred, lust, and desire
europeans plundering my mother Latin America
In chaos and violence, my skin's pigment
Has been engineered through the mestizaje
Of my Indigenous forefathers
How could I not forget my lineage
When the historical legacy of modernization
Has been to massacre the consciousness
Of where my people really come from
Erasing indigenous pride
Making Paisano and Indio
Synonymous with poverty and alienation
Insulting the humbleness
State of hunger you've left us in
Original lineage within me disturbed
So you push me to ambiguity and embarrassment
Not white, not indigenous?
Pure indigenous brothers and sisters silenced
Not an exploitable consumerist market, not in your campaigns
Not benefactors of your philanthropic development tactics
Bodies too costly to abuse, no reason to bring them
Into the neoliberal multinational corporate circuit
Constantly driving them off productive land
Because they choose to assert their identity
Live in collective communes, not owing you nothing
Waiting for them to make barren lands productive
So you can take those lands too
Not capturing an obscure history, these are not colonial times
This is the legacy of the european presence entering mother Latin America
21st century still defiling Indigenous cultures to civilize and modernize
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
My French Gem
The Rose tickler
finely handwritten
The movie part gave
her the sign life
crossed over gem
French kiss the morning
The burst of Kaleidoscope Sun
Double touched but forbidden
On the Cheetah necklace chase
The French Lieutenant
her body and lips moonstruck
On her chaise
To get over it another work of art
that got more attention
To revive her from drowning in
the gem scattered like a
benevolent
blue splat philanthropic
Looking more into his unknown
diving suit mixed
with envy green how she got mixed into
the stranger of Poison Ivy
Her love didn't show all her
attributes God spiritually well
She went to the pastry heart
how it flaked all
over like crystals
He was patiently sitting but got persuaded
That little gem of the lounge
Her firey gem was the canary
that got his tongue
Her gem stands taller
The crafted lines of quality in the
Pillars
"Le Bonheur De Vivre Gem-Art"
French kiss went inside the darker side of the painting
He's transformed.
Shape heart delicate uniform.
"Parisians on a mission
A kiss is a serious manner
LOVE" Gem birth opens her
He modifies her rainbow
Artwork of brush yellow
twinset platter hello fellow
the essence beloved to follow
So worth her wait being watched
By the crystal rock, he loved her
going up in spirit or she falls for him
The gem to be it
Magical modernly gem -fit clock.
See through hands meditation harp.
Lebonheur De Vivre fine art sharp.
Lips movement beyond hearts.
Le-bonheur De Vivre gem arts.
Artesian heels tapping boots.
Fall for Autumn love cahoots.
Beloved, divinely he's the healer.
The picture spoke she's the winner.
Wilderness he glides kisses prints.
Pushing her waves hints.
Everlasting one thought he's guessing?
Art never part beautify stem.
Eyes so genuine he's her gem.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 9:26 AM UTC
six-inch heels abandoned
in lampless corner grimy pennies embedded in carpet
rent's due
wedding band girl "fab polka dot frocks"
waterfalling past knees outta place
on casino bus destined for rest under Ft. Worth stars
now, now ********* borealis speckled dice
true love waits
socialite lip balm and bourgeoisie hips compete
in bidding war over which black face triggerpulls
which black face eyes the ground
passerby the red light the green light
all night diner egg on chin coffee-stained porcelain teeth
"I forgave, I think. I forget."
crowded and paranoid in the left lane the right lane
empty and weak and surrender and soiled underwear in ammonia nursing home
children is a word time is a lie the polka dot and the interstate ain't selling
divorce the consequence of acoustic shadows
reblog undo #sotrue reblog
living through x-ray radiotherapy the dotted gown
never the veiny calves or the blush or the eyeliner
somewhere in North Texas shawtys are in the club
shawtys are backin' it up shawtys are dropin' it down
hit me+hit me+hit me=blackjack mishap
the marvel of the wind and of wind turbines
cognac decade brides the epitome of class and natural elegance
standing like oil derricks and treated like oil wells
so secretive and philanthropic
this taxon remains nameless
casino turned dance hall dance hall skinny ties still a thing
this wine is good. is it a merlot? no. this is purely recreational
for birthdays for weddings and Ft. Worth missionaries
10-50 passengers we've got 53, no 54 #hahahaha #whoops #party
who needs unprescribed drugs? me, me (!)
decomposing mascara sweat on brow the interstate no longer lit
polka dots has got the suicide by Manet pulled up
on her iPhone the financial stress which shudders warm-blooded moms
on her lips every mother a librarian every mother a swing-pusher
but digression next to bitterness the lowest sin
edging the cultural gateway of the old west
miracles in and miracles out of tradition following
the slender bends of middle ancient Trinity River
children a word pattycake a game
and time time a lie we left to museum panoramas
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 8:12 PM UTC
A holy dip in a river, revere you may,
Or any philanthropic act may it be,
Only wisdom finds divine salvation,
From cynic cycles of birth and death,
Believe in boundless bliss beyond ….17
Relish respite in temple serene,
Cherish in the shadow of a tree,
Squat or lie on a flat ground,
Renounce worldly comforts,
Peace prevails in plenty.
Believe in boundless bliss beyond ….18
Dwell you may, in ecstasy,
Of fanfare and fortitude,
Attached to materialism,
But, to revel in the divine bliss is;
The only redemption of lingering life.
Believe in boundless bliss beyond ….19
Delve into the divine discourse of deliverance,
Sip the holy drops of sacred rivers,
Worship the lordship of Almighty
The Lord of Death dare not pinch you.
Believe in boundless bliss beyond …20
Pangs of birth, panic of death,
Over and over, again and again,
Make one and all sick and sullen.
Cultivate divine diary of deeds,
Enroll the ultimate bliss of eternity.
Believe in boundless bliss beyond …..21
He who cogitates cool inward,
Be content with what he has,
Contempt to what he has not,
May look like an innocent child,
Or an indecent mad cap outward.
Believe in boundless bliss beyond …..22
Question yourself –
Who are you and me?
And other kith and kin?
There lies delusion in delight,
Of experience and exposure,
Of trials and tribulations,
Ending up in ****** dreams.
Believe in boundless bliss beyond 23
Almighty is all pervasive,
In you and me and all around,
To be furious is to be foolish,
Drop ego; uphold equality& equanimity,
As the best way to sacred sanctum
Believe in boundless bliss beyond 24
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 7:44 AM UTC
Do I believe
There's been a breakthrough
With some significant findings
Through time-released research:
Using study groups,
Control rats,
And free range monkeys?
The announcement's delivered
By a team of thesbians,
And once I was convinced,
I took a decisive step
To get the Japanese water filter.
I almost felt philanthropic
Knowing third world countries
Benefit from my purchase.
I was, I think,
Deceived by a soporific placebo.
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 6:06 PM UTC
the invisible hand is in my pocket
pilfering everything
and there's nothing i can do
to stop it from robbing me blind
it does not guide it only destroys
personal expression under the
whims of an outmoded model of economics
capitalism
a philosophy that subscribes
to the metaphysical conclusion
that a spiritual malady
plagues every human heart
a harsh chorus that rings like a melody
of triumph in the multi-million dollar
mansions of the 1%
convinced we're born selfish
it seeks to reward us for our own malpractice
an edict predicated on social darwinism
that forestalls the possibility of future charity
as it drowns in the throes
of misanthropy and butchers any hope
of philanthropic community or basic humanity
to vanquish our more maleficent impulses
relegated to paying taxes
to ensure the illusion of security
while our money finances endless
war and police brutality rather than
healthcare or education
they know if they keep us sick and dumb
they can get away with ******
if the population shirks in horror
from the looming specter of terrorism
they can justify ubiquitous surveillance
that robs us of our right to
self-determination but
people should not be afraid of their governments
governments should be afraid of their people
they say we can't be trusted
that this is for our own good
but i'll call their bluff that
bull on Wall St. is full of ****
and like a matador i'll entice it to
lower its horns and charge
when itsjust a hairsbreadth away
i'll turn to one side and let it skewer
the slave-driver raising his whip behind me
that same skulking shadow that turns
veterans into homeless wanderers begging
for loose change in Central Park
a pale horse haunting the aspirations
of college students it
leaves the poor and
oppressed shivering after dark and
overburdens broken backs
god doesn't hold up the world
like Atlas we shoulder the globe
now watch us shift the weight
brought down by the people you tried to suppress
this is not some petty expression of vengeance
but the rallying cry of a dream deferred
exploding out to meet your injustice
mark my words
we're taking over the world
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 10:22 AM UTC
How come
I am always dying as a martyr?
My thoughts constantly drifting
To funeral marches and sobbing relatives
How will I die?
A botched parachute jump?
Saving a small child
From a moving vehicle?
My funeral will be adorned
With white icing
The flag of my nation
And a flock of doves
Testaments
To my infinitely philanthropic nature
And unending commitment
To human liberty
Why is it so easy
To tack a medal to my breast?
Maybe because
I exist
As my bloodline
dowses its progeny with ****** praise
So eager
to bathe
In the violent tears of this world
That are ancient castles and monuments to men wearing wigs
Or maybe
Because I'm just selfish
And I often *** all over myself
On my paunchy stomach
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 4:31 PM UTC
Love is the root of missions
and sacrifice the fruit of missions
Glory to the anointed King
the creator of a chosen offspring.
Ever so delighted to be enlightened
by the ignited spirit that is heightened
from the light rays of a new dawn
til the warrior within is born
The essence of being radical
is the will of good
the conceptual of a root
rooted and built in God’s image
a fully-fledged seed of Abraham
As Apostle Paul’s spirit
overflown with thanksgiving
his objective was to implement change
strengthen our faith and live in peace
Pieces of greenpeace
misunderstood by malicious-minded creatures
I recall hollowness
dearly engraved in the
hearts of many
superficial increment in
today’s youth
often inferiorated from the truth
they’re spiritually pretendin’
to be naturally defendin’
Oh, lily of the valley
make their minds pure.
Do you ever wonder how God sees you?
A radical Christian who’s simply a quality
of a New Testament normality
it is in your core to be pure,
to be called by the Lion’s roar,
to not live but to live who’s in you.
Apostle Paul’s awakening
was radical
thought-provoking sensation
as being biblical
the words he spoke were profound
his temple so refined
yet his view on earthly living
was actively passive to godliness;
to live is Christ
and to die is gain, he said.
The ideology of being radical
is to live in the sense God created you to be
politically and socially,
its force is to make you philanthropic
boldly empathic to the notion of being rhapsodic.
I am artistic
poetic instincts in the fullness
of embodying metamorphoristic mystic.
Theology unfolds a mystery that
we should be the change we want to see
a generation that profiteth free
a ministry holistic as can be.
Be vigilant.
Be diligent.
Be practical.
Be radical.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
Philanthropic gesticulations are an evident dismissal of Anglican legends.
In this Northern hemisphere, we are unified on the verge of an axial tilt, whilst equestrian ladies in jodhpurs of champagne delicacy seek profanities beyond the confines of social respectability.
Let us sit under the wise branches of the oak tree in nocturnal dimensions of Newtonian questionability, and broaden our horizons as we contemplate our ancestors.
Listen to the bubbling brook as she whispers timeless stories of enchantment.
Oh, bearer of liberated pain, I resent fox-hunting.
The rooster always crows at dawn.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC
Signals are indicative of current warnings, just like a beacon of light which penetrates the abyss of parliamentary speeches which are designed to evoke contemptuous laughter.
Such animated gestures are not dissimilar to crumbled biscuits which are catapulted before throngs of anticipatory populations.
However, there are varying degrees of rectitude, where the graded fraternity assume grandiosity as they lodge in the fabric of society with loyal deception.
Lurking in the esoteric shadows with the adorned regalia of blatancy and defamed characters - our captors are hidden in plain sight with political sanction.
Gestures are a form of non-verbal communication, where specific messages are planted in anthropological soils with intended purpose.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
And so they asked' bruh
What is love?
And then I said... thus...
Love is an unexplainable trago-chemical curse ******
into your heart leading to a kinda shock
That neither ABC nor CPR can resolve
But instead of dying... you hearts keeps fighting
And instead of crying... your eyes keeps igniting
with lights that's almost blinding
See, what I'm implying....
Is though love strucks like lightening, it still feels exciting
Pretence, judge, privacy, remorse
Nah, love is far from stuff like such
Love is the brother of loyalty and trust
The great grandpa of affection and lust
Who happens to be the uncle of honesty and Wisdom
And right next to the wall of love
Lives heartbreak and hurt
Even though they're not related by blood
The same boundary engulfed their hut 🏠
But see, even at detriment of abuse and insult
And when the whole world connive
to bring love distress and strive
True love thrives and survives
All the tempo of life
True love is the upgrade of Love and Like
Yea, I said love and like cos they're alike
Love is immortal; it never dies
Love don't give up; it don't say goodbye
And even if it gets weak; it play back the golden times
Love attracts enmity; unlike water 💧
But like Leonidas and em 300 Spartans; love don't falter
Yea, love slaughter; any obstacles that tryna taunt her
to Moses and Samson in the bible; Love is stronger
Even box to box; Tyson Fury wouldn't last a quarter
Love don't lie, love don't hide
Love ain't fly, but it touch the sky
Love don't cry; love don't deny
Love don't oblige to picking side
Love don't die; love survive
Love don't sly when bad time arise
Love ain't man; but its arm is open wide
Like clouds up in the sky, love dont lack supply
Love is philanthropic; love don't deal in hate
White or black; love won't discriminate
If you're rich, and I'm not; love won't disintegrate
Love will share with you every grain in its plate
Love is transparent; no tricky games
Love don't give space for hate to lay
Love don't hibernate; it's brain is wide awake
Love don't stray from the right-filled way
Love forgives, love don't seek revenge
Love repent wholeheartedly; love don't pretend
Love don't hold grudges; yea, love dont resent
And when its blood boils hot; it clicks reset
Loyalty and honesty is what love do pledge
Love is trust; love don't set cunning tests
Love believes; it don't need evidence
God is what Love represents
Aug 5, 2022
Aug 5, 2022 at 7:38 AM UTC
An overall’d uncle stabbed over homemade champagne drifts around the bend.
A commemoration quilt and the Adamsville population shifts around the bend.
There’s an old hymn torn out of Martha’s hymnal, an elegy, a black dress.
“These details seem important,” Preacher says in European swifts around the bend.
The rains come and wash away the things we bury, bodies and toy cars.
Lowlands become lakes and a lone, malaise blackbird lifts around the bend.
A boy, all elbows and knees, in corduroy everything, in the thick of it,
drives a truck with no wipers, no license, the stick shifts around the bend.
The homes with electric lose electric, and the newspaper floats off porch.
No news today, nor tomorrow these are philanthropic gifts around the bend.
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 12:49 PM UTC
It seems as Mr. Sun kneels down to pray
each night the earth below responds—a ray
of light, across a pool of shade, tired earth
at rest in night’s still arc. Thus the earth’s worth,
all its gracious growing, is a topic
for admiration, a philanthropic
metaphor, a formal language, found fierce,
found daunting—like armor no light can pierce.
Still, Mr. Sun looks down. Is gravity
his slave? All night his informality
will keep less certain syllogisms fun.
Cogito, ergo sum. It thinks. The sun,
so startling to man—its violets,
its rose—will be enough. Thus, it forgets.
Jun 20, 2010
Jun 20, 2010 at 2:20 PM UTC
Philanthropic devotion of your tears
To my self-asserted sense of importance
To the wake of a vessel leaving port forever
And the mighty sun sets where I saw you last
On the horizon, without looking back
But I stand in desert sands
It is all a mirage yet I remain alone
And so even my imagination holds truth
Time and time again I find myself alone
Whilst you are surrounded by love and prosperity
But is it true that I have lost you to the changing tides
To the trade wind's mighty gust?
Have you set sail and left me here to perish
Alone and breaching insanity?
Am I merely imagining falsehood in reality?
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 12:50 PM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; [email protected])
No place on earth is the center of world poetry
Each and every geo-point is a central geo-poetry
Each center in universal connexion and disconnexion
To one another in the poetic cobweb of human love
which oozes out not for fame but service to humanity
Linking subaltern poetry to the paternal muse
That has the universe its philanthropic quoith
Spokes of culture the rivers flowing fresh blood
Into the life of poetry in the globaletic realm
Each cherishing the tempo in the song of otherness
African poetry feeding the world with lyrics of negretitude
As Russia of Europe in dystopia of whititude
Sings to humanity the songs of French love
Paving the way for India to chant to the world
Into dinted dance of the British ways of the baby
Thrilling Latin America into the songs of Spain
That buried the poor dog behind a rich man’s house
Laughing Ameri-relasia at its poverty of culture
As the gods of money takes center stage
In the dynamics of globaletics.
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 6:41 AM UTC
I have liaised with ancient phantoms that have sprinkled seeds of magical faculties, deep within the borderline of the soul. I am a mere passenger - but we are all susceptible to enlightened impressions which resemble the sound of an empty can, as it is blown up a cobbled street by Westerly winds.
So, my ancient and philanthropic partner, it is important that you realise that the legitimacy of our captivations is suspended in an atmosphere of interrogatory purgatory.
However, let us forever acknowledge that our beloved spectres bear witness to the true nature of psychopathy. Are you able to balance the moonlight silhouettes on your tightrope of materialistic nirvana?
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 9:50 PM UTC
Just like I told you:
It was not Jesus the Jewish reformer,
the philanthropic teacher,
That caused my grief
- I had admiration for him.
My revolt was caused by
The Christian Jesus, you see?
The arrogant only begotten,
The "You must accept Me as Savior,"
The Jesus of Paul and the Evangelists,
The Jesus of the various councils,
the many churches,
denominations, creeds -
The Jesus that they created...
While crucifying His doctrine.
- fr
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 5:16 AM UTC
Concerns held as laden
Toxic contagion
Leveled with a thetan
Embodied by satan
Cast its presence in philanthropic light
Take up the cause of an international plight
Meaning held to juxtapose
The congregation of those
Holding up their nose
For a lie they chose
Join a syndicate of shell game dealers
Collecting charitable gains
Join the big game wheelers
Motivated by social pains
Bleed the weak to feed the meek
And go to bed on a good night's sleep.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 7:22 PM UTC
Will you remember me,
Long after this day has passed...
Will you remember these words,
These thoughts that I put down now-
A stranger, acquaintance-
Whoever you may be ?
Will you recall me
When your day ends;
To you I am, but
A nameless faceless entity .
I am a thief, a murderer,a convict
Awaiting trial.
For, as you read, I steal !
Your time, your space, your mind!
I hold you captive with these words
No matter how weak my bonds may be...
And YOU are no different my friend,
For, you too steal this time I spend
And take a peak into my deepest sins -
As you invade my privacy that
I risk to share with you,
It's a consensual theft this -
A strange agreement
As is indeed the life that surrounds us,
Meaningless transactions
That bind and shackle.
Will you remember that girl next door
Who failed to get that Howard degree
Or that old man who always sits on that bench
Perhaps pondering about life ,
and the myriad mysteries it holds.
Or maybe that woman who walked past,
With the cheap perfume and simple shoes...
Or perhaps that little boy down the street ?!
Will any stranger remember YOU?
Without an invention or achievement to your name ?
Without a hefty bank account
Or that ideal philanthropic heart ?
We are all just chemicals,
An experiment gone wrong
And I Know a mundane encounter won't
Make it into the book of your life.
With tomorrow's dawn
These words will fade,
Erase from your memory.
And I know you will forget
To Remember Me ...
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 5:54 AM UTC
We’ll steal their pensions and their land
Won’t that be amazing and grand?
And there’s not a stinking thing they can do.
We’ll blame it all on the opposition
Then take an outraged position.
They’ll elect our congress and governors too.
USA, USA
How many brown people
Did you **** today?
GOP, GOP
Which of your promises
Did you break today?
We’ll concoct a bunch of lies
And convince all the unwise
That everything we say is the truth.
We’ll fool the older Republicans
And win some undecided fans
Everything but the clever and the youth.
In no time at all, we’ll succeed
And underscored with greed
We’ll take this gullible country back.
The Democrats will help us to
Do everything we plan to do
Because the dummies chose to elect a black.
USA, USA
How many brown people
Did you **** today?
GOP, GOP
Which of your promises
Did you break today?
Our war against intelligence
Is really making a difference
In getting voters to not smell a rat.
The richest civilians are helping
With the lobbyists they’re buying
And we gratefully tip our MAGA hat.
They are letting us make laws
That defy any philanthropic cause
Except when we get our hefty share.
We deny them their health and aid
And needn’t be the least bit afraid
Republicans will ever become aware.
USA, USA
How many brown people
Did you **** today?
GOP, GOP
Which of your promises
Did you break today?
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 8:25 PM UTC
Jet propulsion
My verbal compulsion
An anarchic animation
A philanthropic fascination
Writing for writings sake
But not as fast as my thoughts fall and break
A thousand pens, a thousand pages
Shining a light through our dark ages
At times medieval
Our futuristic principle
The world today and tomorrow, our cultures, our social status,
Thinkers, doers, lovers and haters
Our homogeneous habitat, segregated by points of view
A world that's not really bothered about the likes of me and you
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 10:06 AM UTC
The tension is rising slowly, as the blood pools beneath fingernails
I can hear the ropes start snapping, brittle as a leaf
The bells begin tolling, the vultures swirl amid the frigid air
Of the televised devastation of the week
I hide my true intentions, I do
Somewhat well, if I must then
Admit to something,
I didn't really care too
Stop me if you've heard this one before
Or heard it better, somewhere else
---------------------------------------------------
Sending money through the wire
Never ending crimson flow
Past the thoughts of victims
Intuition caught in undertow
Masqurades with musket powder, kegs
And lampshades tinted red
Festering my own psychotic
Philanthropic need for death
Sending money through a wire
Rising slowly through the smoke
Laughter bursting through the cracks
Of somebody's final joke
Celebrations, conversation
Windowpains and slitting throats
Powers set to loosen grips
But destitute, watch me still choke
I think its time we could talk about the ending
Open the intent that we're pretending
Its something to be said aloud
Lost within the frigid clouds above
Oceans slowly forming up above
torrents under spoken like a flood
Oceans slowly forming up above
The mainland
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 6:04 AM UTC
Money didn't save Steve Jobs from death.
The physicians couldn't restore his health.
Sadly, he passed without taking his wealth.
So, in God Almighty alone invest your faith.
Steve Jobs built a very great empire
In which he had planned to retire.
Though he died, his name will never expire
Forever to his legend, will generations aspire?
Steve Jobs was a very good man
philanthropic with a helping hand.
Even that too didn't save him at all
In the end, death came with the call.
He gave us the iMac and the iPod
He gave us the iPhone and iPad
So he will forever be in our lives
In our homes and in our kid's lives.
#IvanBrookspoetry© #@Bassapoet©
Aug. 2.2019
Aug 3, 2019
Aug 3, 2019 at 11:56 PM UTC
organizations or persons
of philanthropic bent
can assist the Hello Poetry site
by donating five thousand dollars
for a mobile app's content
as the members of this literary forum
aren't millionaires
there is a need to fund
the app's affairs
it is hoped that lovers of written art
can give a bountiful hand
their valuable contributions
could easily cover five grand
now that the seeking call
has been placed online
may donors soon flood in
with a veritable gold mine
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 6:10 PM UTC