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"pigeonhole" poems
The last kiss from you Lasted like a huddle in The snow blitz Rocking my anatomy In the frosty glitz The last words from you That barged in my eardrum You were in a hurry To smell a new leaf Draped in a diamond dew The last gifts from you Was an instrument Which still I use To recognize people Or to refuse! The last time You said I love you I remember I was laughing Hysterically as if I was watching Jared Leto’s jaded mimicry of Joker in YouTube Intriguingly, when the last time I saw you **** It felt like pretty Ivanka’s embarrassment Noticing her dad is a lewd The last time I was chatting With you on Facebook I was wondering why I shouldn't hack your account? To check your inbox Yea, it was filled with the message of ******* F- Bombs, **** shaming and tagging you as harlot All they were asking was your service of escort Either in full discount or in hefty cash drops! The last time I wrote A letter of love to you I discovered my Keyboard Began to blurt out No more, No more, No more… The last time I had a chit-chat With you in the Burger King or Pizza Hut I listened to your hissing clack-clack That someone else has become your puppy cat… The last time I became sick When I was with you I heard you threw a party Where you were whispering To your besties, how I become your double whammy! The last time I was With you in the bed I felt like I was indentured To **** a dummy toy Sans spirit and flesh! Loving you was like Santa Claus gifted me With a Pandora’s Box As soon as I opened it You decided to release Our *** tape of your having ****** In pornhub’s forum of interracial! The last time I heard of you Is that you were giving an interview To The Cosmopolitan’s board of review Facing the barrage of inquisitions You calmly joked, the series Of latest uproar about you In the social media or Internet Is because certain people always Love to rave about Women’s body Shoving in and out of their pigeonhole With their one night stand queen trophy To flavor your form in their fantasmic mouth You also smirked in a raspy voice Defiantly declaring “we (women) Have been locked indoors With no air, no food, no water” My last boyfriend is also no exception He certainly thinks I came this far Through ******* and deception
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Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 12:33 PM UTC
Oppressive patriarchy or self-imposed victim hood- Hasan Maruf
The last kiss from you Lasted like a huddle in The snow blitz Rocking my anatomy In the frosty glitz The last words from you That barged in my eardrum You were in a hurry To smell a new leaf Draped in a diamond dew The last gifts from you Was an instrument Which still I use To recognize people Or to refuse! The last time You said I love you I remember I was laughing Hysterically as if I was watching Jared Leto’s jaded mimicry of Joker in YouTube Intriguingly, when the last time I saw you **** It felt like pretty Ivanka’s embarrassment Noticing her dad is a lewd The last time I was chatting With you on Facebook I was wondering why I shouldn't hack your account? To check your inbox Yea, it was filled with the message of ******* F- Bombs, **** shaming and tagging you as harlot All they were asking was your service of escort Either in full discount or in hefty cash drops! The last time I wrote A letter of love to you I discovered my Keyboard Began to blurt out No more, No more, No more… The last time I had a chit-chat With you in the Burger King or Pizza Hut I listened to your hissing clack-clack That someone else has become your puppy cat… The last time I became sick When I was with you I heard you threw a party Where you were whispering To your besties, how I become your double whammy! The last time I was With you in the bed I felt like I was indentured To **** a dummy toy Sans spirit and flesh! Loving you was like Santa Claus gifted me With a Pandora’s Box As soon as I opened it You decided to release Our *** tape of your having ****** In pornhub’s forum of interracial! The last time I heard of you Is that you were giving an interview To The Cosmopolitan’s board of review Facing the barrage of inquisitions You calmly joked, the series Of latest uproar about you In the social media or Internet Is because certain people always Love to rave about Women’s body Shoving in and out of their pigeonhole With their one night stand queen trophy To flavor your form in their fantasmic mouth You also smirked in a raspy voice Defiantly declaring “we (women) Have been locked indoors With no air, no food, no water” My last boyfriend is also no exception He certainly thinks I came this far Through ******* and deception
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78
alexander k opicho (eldoret,kenya;[email protected]) Theodorousness is now on me it will eat me with aghast ravenity where will I hide my body an ugly and ripe corpus of my tomfoolery where will I exile my gadabout heritage flipping the world in quest for cultural bliss when Masculine theodority is relentless in the Armour of intellectual masculinity determined to thrash the sludge of flappishness out of my rectitude heart that is pulsing in derogatory fear where will i pigeonhole myself from the theodorous theodoristy of herculean Theodore
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Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 3:03 AM UTC
theodorous dystopia
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.
0
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC
40 KALENJIN DISTRICT COMMISSIONERS OUT OF 42
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.
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57
yodelaugh bluebells bugle the frenchorn debate; youngheld punchropes in freezing cordoba rain when the silt hits the sand we’re all ****** into oblivion like so much candyswirl into the labial plains of galaxyfrost are you in sentia where the sun don’t rain and the sky don’t glow grey beneath the hooded lambswool grain there ain’t no gumption like compunction like eating sand to feed your ****** daughters overripe mangoes hit the cement and explode in saffronochre gutspill when else does the world end
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Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 4:42 AM UTC
pigeonhole
Sitting on the bench on a windy evening, The bus schedule doesn’t seem right, He hears neither smoke nor that funky horn, He longs for that journey home. This trip back home had to come, He breathes a heavy sigh, exhausted, The weary look and the blank face, The ***** cap hides the grey lines, The silver watch still shows the time, Tonight, he goes home. “Mama, she taught me all she can” “She worked the fields and the mills” His eyes lit up at the sound of the engine, The bus comes around the corner, Dusty windshield with a crack, Tires that have rode a million miles, That’s where he’s going today, A million miles back home He sits by the window, A bag with his world in it, A wallet with pennies for a ride, A card for what he used to be, An identity that never matched the world, Lost and found, stamped on his forehead, Sitting in the ‘Return to Sender’ pigeonhole Days of joy seemed short-lived, Nights by the road seemed cold, The rain drenched and the sun burned, He closes his eyes and wishes it would change, Dreams of a cottage and a convertible, How they seem to be at a distant “Mama, I’m coming home” “Home is where my head lays to sleep” No more of loud bangs and broken walls No more screams and cries of the broken-boned “I’ve seen enough, Mama” “Of this world and what it can be like” The misery and disease, The war and terror, Decades of violence and they never seem to learn, An eye for an eye makes this world go blind. It’s hard to smile anymore, Yet, he still tries to manage one every day, No matter how difficult the day appears, ‘Cause he knew it would have been worse, He would have been dead under all that rubble, No pulse beating and no Sun to see shine tomorrow He’s smiling although his heart aches, He smiles although his cold inside, “I’m smiling…and I’m coming home Mama” “Back home, to your lovely bread and strawberry jam” He nods of to sleep, The dark and hardened lines visible on his face, He longs for his journey back. Vijaya Balan (2009)
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Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 3:56 AM UTC
His Journey Home
Sitting on the bench on a windy evening, The bus schedule doesn’t seem right, He hears neither smoke nor that funky horn, He longs for that journey home. This trip back home had to come, He breathes a heavy sigh, exhausted, The weary look and the blank face, The ***** cap hides the grey lines, The silver watch still shows the time, Tonight, he goes home. “Mama, she taught me all she can” “She worked the fields and the mills” His eyes lit up at the sound of the engine, The bus comes around the corner, Dusty windshield with a crack, Tires that have rode a million miles, That’s where he’s going today, A million miles back home He sits by the window, A bag with his world in it, A wallet with pennies for a ride, A card for what he used to be, An identity that never matched the world, Lost and found, stamped on his forehead, Sitting in the ‘Return to Sender’ pigeonhole Days of joy seemed short-lived, Nights by the road seemed cold, The rain drenched and the sun burned, He closes his eyes and wishes it would change, Dreams of a cottage and a convertible, How they seem to be at a distant “Mama, I’m coming home” “Home is where my head lays to sleep” No more of loud bangs and broken walls No more screams and cries of the broken-boned “I’ve seen enough, Mama” “Of this world and what it can be like” The misery and disease, The war and terror, Decades of violence and they never seem to learn, An eye for an eye makes this world go blind. It’s hard to smile anymore, Yet, he still tries to manage one every day, No matter how difficult the day appears, ‘Cause he knew it would have been worse, He would have been dead under all that rubble, No pulse beating and no Sun to see shine tomorrow He’s smiling although his heart aches, He smiles although his cold inside, “I’m smiling…and I’m coming home Mama” “Back home, to your lovely bread and strawberry jam” He nods of to sleep, The dark and hardened lines visible on his face, He longs for his journey back. Vijaya Balan (2009)
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55
All your friends are demons, I think I know The past won’t let you settle as you grow You don’t feel you can make life-changing moves Half your life to fighting terrors you lose There’s little you can do to take control Put your smile hidden in a pigeonhole Your emotions decline into freefall Let’s give your heart and soul an overhaul I can give you all the tools you will need The hunger that dwells inside I will feed I can give you love and trust hereafter I can turn the pain and tears to laughter I’ll help reach in to find the real you Harmonizing with congenial you We will fight, we’ll curse, we’ll scream, we will cry In this war it’s only the past will die Now and then, when they rear their ugly head I’ll be there to put those demons to bed When you say maybe I don’t understand I will simply be there to hold your hand
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Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 6:43 PM UTC
How To Beat Your Demons
'Tis horrible to wield a word To slight and slander me 'Tis better to deploy them For fable, myth and story There are maddest multitudes in words Contain divinest sense It's possible to convey magic In every single tense But bastardize words cynically If you really must But know in slight you've broken The cherishable crystal of my trust A bard is hard to pigeonhole So, really, mate, try it all you like I'll be waxing lyrical While you're still playing psych
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Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 9:44 AM UTC
'Tis Horrible To Wield A Word
i. i’d spent weeks fantasizing about how our first encounter would play out. how i would rise up out of the underground, face tilted upwards, meeting yours excitedly and embracing you wildly the second i reached the top. instead i was at a different terminal and you were at the wrong end of the baggage claim, and when i turned and looked up you were already there. you kissed me hard and after only being with you for three seconds i knew saying goodbye would be the hardest thing i’ve ever had to do. iii. i do not have a photographic memory, but there are things i paid special attention to; like the bridge of your nose, how your eyes looked bluer in natural light, the way you’d sort of laugh and say “thank you” whenever you hung up the phone, even if the call was to give you a new errand to run that put you out of the way. how you looked after your sister and how you looked at me when you caught me studying your face. everything you did naturally amazed me. v. writing this is making me cry again. vii. i knew i was in deep **** whenever your mother tried to pigeonhole me into defining us. i knew i was in even deeper **** when you avoided the question. ix. the last night was the worst. i’d had a drink and i was already drunk on you and your hand was down my pants the entire way to your house. your brother was home so we went back to the car and made out in the backseat while i cried. when you pulled over and wordlessly walked me out into the rain in a dark park i was cold but i didn’t question it and i certainly didn’t have the air to question it when you picked me up and kissed me, hard. “your trip wouldn’t be complete without making out in the rain,” you explain, and i can’t help but laugh. iix. when the plane takes off, i look out over the city, watching as all the little bright bits and pieces become enveloped in clouds. i miss you already.
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Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 1:32 AM UTC
five days wasn't enough.
i. i’d spent weeks fantasizing about how our first encounter would play out. how i would rise up out of the underground, face tilted upwards, meeting yours excitedly and embracing you wildly the second i reached the top. instead i was at a different terminal and you were at the wrong end of the baggage claim, and when i turned and looked up you were already there. you kissed me hard and after only being with you for three seconds i knew saying goodbye would be the hardest thing i’ve ever had to do. iii. i do not have a photographic memory, but there are things i paid special attention to; like the bridge of your nose, how your eyes looked bluer in natural light, the way you’d sort of laugh and say “thank you” whenever you hung up the phone, even if the call was to give you a new errand to run that put you out of the way. how you looked after your sister and how you looked at me when you caught me studying your face. everything you did naturally amazed me. v. writing this is making me cry again. vii. i knew i was in deep **** whenever your mother tried to pigeonhole me into defining us. i knew i was in even deeper **** when you avoided the question. ix. the last night was the worst. i’d had a drink and i was already drunk on you and your hand was down my pants the entire way to your house. your brother was home so we went back to the car and made out in the backseat while i cried. when you pulled over and wordlessly walked me out into the rain in a dark park i was cold but i didn’t question it and i certainly didn’t have the air to question it when you picked me up and kissed me, hard. “your trip wouldn’t be complete without making out in the rain,” you explain, and i can’t help but laugh. iix. when the plane takes off, i look out over the city, watching as all the little bright bits and pieces become enveloped in clouds. i miss you already.
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12
I've grown cold a close call from a stone's throw thrown from black souls acid seeps from necrotic holes in my resolve worlds unfold as I lose control to the arseholes who police and patrol break me like a criminal without parole they pigeonhole and troll like Interpol I duck and crawl, drop and roll then with gall stand tall 10 feet tall and sure face the ****** brawl despite the toll scream till I'm sore an immovable flesh wall of colour bold full of holes yet whole
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Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 4:42 AM UTC
Whole
don't you ever try to peg me into your narrow little view I'll change shapes, so as not to fit and lay back, just to watch you *scream and shout, foam at the mouth, let expletives fly* just to leave me lie discarded, unworthy of a place an unwanted puzzle piece manufactured to take up space don't you ever try to label me I'm not a 99 cent basement bargain my million dollar price tag got lost inside your uninteresting jargon don't you try to pin me as a monument to your prowess this butterfly has learnt how to lie becoming a dragonfly under duress don't you ever try to change me I'm resistant to heat and ******** I'm resistant to your loquaciousness a never ending river of it don't you ever pigeonhole the gregarious of my effervescence nor tunnel upon my vision because when you understand it we'll both just be stuck inside the same prison
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Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 4:10 AM UTC
Just...Stop! (I'm never going to fit)
She lives alone in a rented pigeonhole with a lone window forbidden from sky her skins now a parched scroll in her eyes no more sparks’ fly! In that april shadow as she stood at the stair she looked an absurd ghost from faraway time the world moved on but little did she care rested her beauty cocooned sublime! From across years looked her ethereal face as if she knew the question haunting me enough to shatter her fragile happiness why you never did marry! *Perhaps I had my fill in that first moon crush when my caged heart was dreaming to be free* pierced her words the evening hush one love was enough for me.
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Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
In that april shadow
My steps got slower as words flew into my mind My heartbeats got stronger as every sentence made sense The calm became blurrier and was nowhere to find The air became heavy and my feelings a bit dense As my eyes travelled along the dark black ink And each curve of each letter was a different confusion I could only feel my brain incapable to think And the relief I felt for finally knowing your conclusion I thought of the warmth and the passion in your touch I remembered the moments of ample satisfaction When we understood each other without saying much And we would both smile as a natural reaction The words were so meaningful Yet less than what you give me I must say I'm ******* thankful That now I know you won't leave me
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Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 12:26 PM UTC
Love in a pigeonhole
I am you I am me I am anybody you want me to be You can try to mold me But you cannot control me Or pigeonhole me So please let me be
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Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 10:15 PM UTC
Who am I
I'm sending you polaroids so that you'll know me though time may age like me I'm singing you ballads so that you'll never forget my single unending melody I'm writing you poems so that you'll always remember that love-filled dandy page I'm blowing you sweet whispers that your heart swallowed and caged.
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May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 11:12 PM UTC
Pigeonhole
Destined to rot away in woeful echoes that stay, the promises left behind burn my guts ,unkind like your words for me as I fade away the tree of the dreams that I build to be just be slid into the pigeonhole that they earnestly patrol.
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Oct 22, 2020
Oct 22, 2020 at 12:37 PM UTC
destined lives
We start as nothing, made from the depths of our soul A night of passion, a night of depression, we all have a story to be told A look in a bar, he may have come far, a little leeway as a sign of relief We all have our truths, some a little long in the tooth, life comes and goes with its woes Were they the right one, I need to question my sums, as I picked you from the crowd of plenty We could have met when we were young, or an older fantasy, but the time was right at around twenty The kids that we have and the knowledge we pass, all a cycle down the years by us all Not much has changed, it carries on through years, as we rise and undoubtedly fall You want to live forever but it all becomes a chore, The same job whilst checking your pigeonhole, well what a monotonous bore The everyday conversations with those people you tolerate, we have the few that we like, the rest become a daily mandate Now I'm not having a moan as this could be a short life, really, I'm not knocking it now We all have our ups, we all have our downs, reincarnation baby, I could come back as a cow But this deal has its one guarantee, and that we all know, you will always end up like me Say what you will, this time has its thrills, but who in the end will pay that final bill It always has the same ending, as forever its been trending, our race has finally been run Hence What we become JJB
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May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 7:40 AM UTC
What we become
Impeached, indicted, discredited, expunged, Forsaken and little short of being hanged, Does the punishment truly fit the crime, Inciting sedition and for that I need do time? Are they crazy or simply deaf, Do they think I work for UNICEF,, A do-gooder, a kind hearted soul, The kind of man to pigeonhole? I'm a maverick, a crusader at heart, The one to lead, feats to start, I change the world it doesn't change me, I push and I pull, won't let things just be. So someone please tell me where I went wrong, Was I not trusted to be valiant and strong, To Shake the tree, purge that swamp, On bureaucracy and waste simply stomp? Build the country, cut to the chase, Squash every foe, win every race, And now what, have I've gone too far, Plunging to earth like a falling star? Give me a break, cut me some slack, I did a great job, the country's on track, Save for this Covid all would be fine All other Presidents would I outshine. Don't undervalue, don't underrate I'm the one man you can't just abate, Count me out at your peril, think I’ll retire, For those that have crossed me, their future is dire.
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Jan 15, 2021
Jan 15, 2021 at 8:15 PM UTC
You really think I'm done - in Trump's own words
Carleigh is thinking of you, she wishes happy birthday and hopes the weather isn't drear. She's the girl with the right answers who lives alone with Topsie her cat and has an orchard of Apple trees. She likes the personal touch with fragrant letters she send to you, and bicycle rides in the early spring. But never pigeonhole her, her smile has so much abundance.
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Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 11:55 AM UTC
Carleigh smiled