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Secret-Author May 2016
Do you ever feel confused?

I see a million different
            r      r      r      r      r      r      r­      r      r      r      r
            o     o      o     o     o      o     o     o      o     o      o
            a     a      a      a     a      a      a     a      a     a      a
            d    d      d     d     d      d     d     d      d     d     d
            s     s       s      s      s      s      s      s      s      s      s        ­in front of me.

Yet I hesitate to move.

All are entirely d i f f e r e n t,
                                                       yet distinctly the same.

I can make out face
                                     f a c e
                                                 f a c e s
                                                             ­           in the distance.

But they merge together
                                            into every possibility.


They are:
warm.     cold.      livid.       smiling.      
                                                  ­           mine.     yours.   ours.

All  S M I L E at me.
Some show their teeth.

They are:
there.      here.    nowhere.       everywhere.        
                                           ­                                   past.    present.      future.

All  H I S S  at me.
Some have no tongues.

They are?
living.     dead.    or somewhere in-between.

Where your prejudice is my pain -

                          The grey reflected so brightly
                                        from your black and w h i t e  eyes.


In a space where your victories make me warm,

                           Or when your pain is bursting
                                         through my own heart,


Only then will we truly understand what road we should take.

For we are all one.
                    
                          We are all the light

                                                   all the dark

                                                           ­     and every road.
Krison Jul 2018
He who stands for something is prone to prejudice.
He who is prone to prejudice
Is quick to act
He who is quick to act
Is ultimately destined to folly.

For it's said "He who stands for nothing".
"Falls for anything".

So, with breath held
And careful consideration
Ask yourself.

"What do you stand for"?

Is it natural design.
that your action is not of your
Making?


So much control, smacks of huberis.

Like a stubbed toe
On the best of days.
and when I thought
perhaps I was
undead in bloom

felt so unsure
what to do
what to do...

dropped to knees, praying
for cosmic signage
like I do

and when I walked in
to my parents' house that evening
the very first thing my dad says to me:
we're watching this tonight

in his hand, a DVD
Pride and Prejudice Zombies

I can't make this **** up...
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2016
<>

Every summer, I relearn a new language.
Every winter, it departs for warmer climes,
Its charms and naked arms,
Its own alphabet,
Clean forget.

Multi-lingual in the summer's peculiar
One language, one aleph bet,
With a mega-millions of dialects,
Know them all, cold,
know them all, hot.

I speak Woman.

Summer is soft, shapely, sweet,
Clean, bare, lush in a sparse way,
And Woman is spoken thusly.

There are no harsh sounds,
Guttural exclamations, nein!

I speak Woman.

There is no ugly in the summer.
Ugly being an ugly word.  
It cannot exist in an atmosphere of
Sun, greenery, sand, carefree days,
vacations, no school, no ways
Is there ugliness in any woman of the summer?

You could take this writ many places.
Most of them wrong,
So sputtering sexist or other labeling words,
Makes you ugly and wrong.

Could not give a good *******,
In the summer of 2013,
There should be no ugly, no prejudice.

In any summer,,
There should be no ugly, no prejudice at all.

Long past my primal,
I still speak Woman
With almost perfect fluency,
Au naturel,
Naturellement, à la française.

Gym clothes, denim short shorts, yoga pants gone mad,
A-line skirts swishing in the breeze,
High, god, so high the heels,
Flats clip clopping, flips flip flopping,
Stilettos making love craters,
All over my heart, like a surgeon doing good work.

It is the bare arms and the fluorescent, mint stripe hints of
Summer Cleavage, the short skirts,
Body hugging one piece fabrics,
stretching from here to down there
That do not hint.

The shoulder strap of the underthings,
Asking, commanding me to
Wonder where these paths lead...

Even the light shoulder wrap,
Casual over bare shoulders slung,
A late night elegance that mocks me,
Like gift wrapping over a
Smile demure, a teasing blindfold...

All these say:

Write us poetry in our very own tongue of
Woman.

Will oblige.

I curve with curve of the *****,
Invert geometry of the S arc of the waist,
Mystifying, how it is the designed place
For my hands to grasp, never failing...never letting me fall

The crayola musical colors of flesh variations,
Boggle the senses...
How can
Tan and pale,
Dark and Light
Have so many
Symphonic variations?

Adagio, slow and leisurely, a pas de deux
For two eyes, following ******* by eyes sparkling,
Timpani crashing heart and thunderous pulse quickening,
Violin heart crying out, joyous wailing need and desire sparking.

Just as Byron wrote:

"Music arose with its voluptuous swell,"

Yeah, just swell,
a voluptuous sea swell.

Well,
Enough.

My eloquence is a poor instrument to portray my
Fluency.

Early May man glorious loves life,
Late July, sadder man,
Knowing  the summer foliage colors will soon, fall-fade,
Come August, my vocabulary, already diminishing.

But
Never forget
how to say in the language of Woman, this:

Without you,
I am nothing,
With you,
I am more than everything.


Tho I can no longer say it well,
It is is still true and
Beyond belief.

My one true language of love
In a world gone mad.


August 2013 ~ July 2016 - May 2017
First posted here on August 22, 2013
Edited July, 2016, May 2017
Aleena Oct 25
When I step outside
I see many eyes dart
Away from my direction
prejudice overcomes the seers
Therefore leaving me to become
A mere shadow of existence

I leave therein to a comfortable space
Away from your unwelcome view of me
My Existence is nothing of value in your eyes
I must flee from your biased prison
I hide behind a mask
No one knows the real me
George Carlin's wife died early in 2008 and George followed her, dying in July 2008. It is ironic George Carlin - comedian of the 70's and 80's - could write something so very eloquent and so very appropriate. An observation by George Carlin:

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider Freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things.

We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to ****. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete.

Remember to spend some time with your loved ones, because they are not going to be around forever.

Remember, say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.

Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn't cost a cent.

Remember, to say, 'I love you' to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.

Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again.

Give time to love, give time to speak! And give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.

And always remember, life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by those moments that take our breath away.
after some research...it appears this may not belong to Mr. Carlin...so forgive me for not digging a bit earlier. Especially, my sincere apology to George!
Angelina Aug 2017
Life, in a mannerism, they proclaim
Is fragile, untouchable, limitless, rather a chain
Life, the folks sing, as delightful and indescribable as it is, is only here to stay

I do not know where, I do not know why
But thoughts mingling within my nerves apply
A paradox of significance within the definition
Of the purposeful journey we call life

Albeit the good, we choose to focus rather unwisely
Precisely of course, over delusional mastery
Understanding only comes in hand when necessary
When it threatens our existence, calling Bravery

You see, humans as smart as we are perceived to be
Might as well be a laughing stock to the rest of the scene
What we value, we fail to pursue, what we preach, we fail to reach

Would it hurt to let go of Prejudice?
An individual who has been imagined by generations beforehand, woven by bits of uncertainty and; well, where is he?

Hold on, here comes another
Violence and Destruction stand on the porch
Should we let them in? Should we not?
They are there, ready, ready anytime temptation hits now

Humanity degrades what she has created
Humiliates what she has achieved, and criticizes her dignity
Worth has lost its value, hence wonder
What have we done to help save her?

Sense has lost all contact
With wicked games being played, selfish pact
Response no longer yearns for Suffering
Such that, we deceive our own sect

Where is Understanding when we need her?
A few doors down the street, go ahead and wake her
She has not heard from us for a while now
Last time we spoke, I reckon, was when our own path was in danger
Tyler Matthew Dec 2018
Gunshot, blood pool,
black body, yellow tape,
white chalk, white cop.
"White America."

Tattoos, white hood,
tight rope, black hearse,
red flag, white stars.
"White America."

Blue sky, black sun,
bluebird, blue song,
black stripe, white light.
"White America."

Blue lips, white teeth.
"White America."
Red brick, green grass
"White America."
White coat, black button.
"White America."
I am CRITICIZING racist culture, not glorifying it.

your pride tries to optimize
my persona, to suit your needs,
and if it doesn't, you criticize...
Yet, you're good enough...

your prejudice makes you
suspect even my good deeds,
and you demean me for them too....
Yet, you're good enough...

your control freakiness
makes you restrict me
even if i act right...
Yet, you're good enough...

your self centeredness
wants me to fit in the standards,
you define and ever-changing ...
Yet, you're good enough...

the veil of your hatred
doesn't let you see
my love and concern for you...
Yet, you're good enough...


Sometimes people have personality traits, difficult to deal with, but still they are good enough. Better to be grateful for their positive side
Madeline Harper Aug 2018
While I am not a casualty
I hide behind the transparency of blame
My name is the name of privilege
When privilege is confronted with a name.
My objective reality
Still remains subjective to a forgotten claim
While the prejudiced are still pillaged,
As privilege and prejudice play a deadly game.
I wrote this a while ago, following the tragic shooting of Charleston Church. Please let me know your thoughts and insights on my writing.
Lawrence Hall Nov 2018
The old order changeth, yielding place to new

-Tennyson, Idylls of the King

Like dinosaurs our institutions gasp
In spasms of existential death; they pass
At first unnoticed by the casual unobserver
Who trips over a covenant that isn’t there

If you vote they give you a sticker

The ephemeral Constitution changed
Like sweaty skivvies by each president
Law libraries catalogued for pulp
By obedient functionaries in tees

If you vote they give you a sticker

The faithful escorted out of the cathedral
By a bored security guard on overtime
The altar linens for sale at Goodwill
And the sanctuary repurposed on T.V.

If you vote they give you a sticker

Some of The Just Plain Folks cheer for the Reds
And the others cheer only for the Blues
As the reincarnation of Jack Chick
Blesses their four-wheelers and plastic caps

If you vote they give you a sticker

Election placards on abandoned buildings
Promise again prosperity for all
The **** lab cooks behind The Kute Kidz
Private Academy of the Dance and Math

If you vote they give you a sticker

An outreach of the Bright Light Free Will
Missionary Temple of the Lord Jesus Christ
Of the Lamb Sanctified 501C The Reverend Doctor Master Bishop Billy-Bob Hairdo PhD, DD a-brangin’ Messages and His Esteemed Lady Apostle Heather

If you vote they give you a sticker

And blessed be the Holy AR-15
God gave to His People to defend themselves
Here in the freest country in the world
Which you can find behind the barbed-wire fence

If you vote they give you a sticker

While fleets of luxury presidential jets
Arc high over our public housing projects
Reminding us of our prosperity
Here in the richest country in the world

If you vote they give you a sticker

And them Jews for Jesus I guess they’re all right
But them other Jews they just ain’t no good
Nor them Cath’lics nor them Mormons neither
And don’t you get me started on them Baptists

(We seem to have been otherwise engaged)

“The old order changeth, yielding place to new” –
(But neither cares at all for me or you)

But if you vote they give you a sticker
labyrinth Sep 23
What I will emphasize may look to y’all as history
From humanity's standpoint; it’s a big shame and mystery

It sure happened in the past, this ain’t a current topic
Or maybe still around, hurtful and traumatic

I’m not saying it all did start out with Avery
But it’s been a good home for too long to slavery

Man was treated and traded as goods in public auctions
Disgrace was all over but not a single sign for conscience

It’s not just the body, you also bought mind and soul
Wow! You must’ve paid a fortune to buy’em all

What happened to empathy? Please answer me Dear Sirs
Are you taking the fifth? Don’t you know what it refers?

You never thought of yourself in the body of color
Yet gave long *** speeches on dignity and honor

Rough and proud on surface to make them obey.
However rotten inside, and that was all okay

Why captivate a race and give them the stupid belief?
That they are secondary and all they deserve is grief

Motivation’s obvious; too much errand to take care
And Blacks came in handy to use rather than share

Don’t run away now, we just heated the subject
He is a human being mister, not a ******* object

Oh, I see, you don’t wanna face with the sheer fact
That indeed your cruel ancestors attacked

These innocent African tribes for no good reason
In a barefaced manner against the age of reason

And you’re not ready to pay for their deadly sin
Alright! Stand up and admit that we’re all close kin

It’s **** important. Do you even know why?
That is to say residues of slavery bye-bye

Opportunity gap, project houses, ****** education
Are the real meanings of the word, discrimination.

Biased justice with never ending prejudice on black
Are updated slavery forms deserving a good smack

People are haughty for the things they didn’t earn
Race and color are given, but they are yet to learn.

No man’s been a property for your royal dynasty
Facing and accepting this takes a lot of honesty

Freedom became vague, when society was stratified
Where the privilege owners were safely identified

By color, neighborhood and school in the whole nation
In ******* good-old days, during segregation

Therefore, do me a favor and don’t give me the cliché
That all **** sapiens had an equal say

That’s even nowadays neither valid nor truth
Let alone it would be then effective in sooth

For all the years they have chosen to be violent
Slave owners don’t even have the right to remain silent

Before giving me the crap on Afro-American’s wrongdoing
Let’s put you in their shoes and see how you’re doing

By the way, it’s not like Blacks need a defense from me
Look around, you’ll see how they get even with thee

Jazz, rap, hip hop, soul, reggae and blues for that matter
Or non-blacks dropping pants, what a cross-cultural endeavor

Look at youngsters' hands, when they’re saluting each other
Trust me, there is nothing white, it’s all from black brother

In return all belittle, denial, tyranny and attack
They are transforming and painting you solid black

It all began in New York with the Harlem Renaissance
Artistic, rebellious and witty. Possibly the best response

I know what I’m talking about with absolute faith
Once my home address was 135th and 8th

Stop pompously calling this junk as modernity
It’s in fact nothing but big-fat-white sovereignty

Nonetheless you are more than welcome to anticipate
That communities of color will in fact emancipate

You from yourself if you know what I mean
Too deep to grasp, huh? For what you have been

I seem to hear people are constantly asking me
As a white person. Oh no, sorry. A brown maybe

Why on earth am I now irritating the past?
Like what happened back then is not manifest

I suppose it’s both because of my aching heart
Feeling in the history for this vile part

And also because of my Turkish nationality
That’s Europe’s Black these days, with Asian paternity

Add to that as well, keenness for reality
Truth needs to be cried out, it’s my personality

This way or that way, what difference does it make
Ignore who says it. Embrace the truth for God’s sake

In case you couldn’t fathom, to whom I am addressing
I’ll clear that part for you, so you won’t have to be guessing

Aiming at the racist ones, words are my sole arsenal
And if you’re like them too, go ahead and take it personal

All great thinkers somehow felt deeply for human
With their vast and perpetual acumen

It’s not a duty assigned to philosophers only
We must do the same, so no race becomes lonely

There is no other way to the salvation of mankind
Notice it already and don’t insist on being blind

In case you still didn’t realize, what matters the most
It’s your effort to correct the problem we just diagnosed

Make no mistake, we don’t cry over spilt milk here
Action must speak louder than the words to clear

This longstanding injustice along with insincerity
A bleeding wound that is, blocking solidarity

Here’s your chance to make it all right again
Treat people equally. Regardless of why and when

Kindly stop acting like nothing happened in the past
Labyrinth says you can’t be enlightened without the quest
Copyrighted work
Mark Oct 11
Born with prejudice, throw it all about  
By extracting color within the blues  
You’d all still enjoy it, no doubt  
Without any clues, you got nothin’ to lose  
The colors of blue, were made to be taken out  
Now listen again, with newborn ears  
Remember, you’d let dirt, get in and about  
Baby face baby face without any fears.  
  
Tired of racism, going on and about    
By liberating, we strike new tunes  
You’d all still enjoy it, no doubt  
Without any clues, you got nothin’ to lose  
The colors of blue, were made to be taken out  
Now listen again, with newborn ears  
Remember, you’d let dirt, get in and about  
Baby face baby face without any fears.  
 
All of society, from near to far about  
To all city slickers, outback folks or hippie communes  
You’d all still enjoy it, no doubt  
Without any clues, you got nothin’ to lose  
The colors of blue, were made to be taken out  
Now listen again, with newborn ears  
Remember, you’d let dirt, get in and about  
Baby face baby face without any fears.
Two strangers met,
A long road they walked together,
Neither of them would've bet,
The end would be so bitter.

Hand in hand,
They fought against prejudice,
To the end of land,
They hoped to be into this.

At some godforsaken point,
Fate chose to intervene,
The road split in two,
Why was life this mean.

Each road bore one name,
In the name of love this was a shame,
For this they didn't know who to blame,
One became scared the other turned untame.

They thought their bond was strong,
How foolish and how wrong,
A demon named distance came along,
He ripped their bond and wrecked their love song.
sparklysnowflake Aug 2018
I agree that
you are the epitome
            of perfect
everything you do is
            impeccable, flawless
your life is free of paint splatters–
                        unless they are symmetrical–
            wild, unbridled adventures–
                        unless they are in your schedule–
            loops of messy cursive–
                        unless they are precisely designed
                        to embody a particular style–

and nothing you do
            is ever wrong
ever disorderly
ever imperfect

but
what are you
            now that you can produce
            perfection?
            can you say
                        with the pure honesty you are so proud of
                        that you are
                                    free?
                      ­  that you are not a slave to what you make?

did you ever stop cleaning
                        wiping
                        e­rasing
                        redoing
                        re­writing
to notice that
you have eradicated with
            blind disdain and vehement prejudice
            what might be considered
                        art?

that the joy of flawlessness is not real–
            just
                        the temporary absence of fear?

that true, natural, unplanned beauty has become
            not only your enemy but a lethal weapon?

that maybe
in your relentless process of perfecting
            you have generated imperfection?
a note to myself
OPENINGS
( for Onelia )

The openings of famous novels
follow me around

for days on end

or just lounge around
waiting for me to say them.

The opening of MOBY ****
has gone for a ***.

The opening of A TALE OF TWO CITIES
has fallen asleep by the radiator.

The opening of PRIDE & PREJUDICE
is sipping a cup of Earl Grey tea.

“Call me Ishmael...Call me Ishmael! ”
pleads the opening of MOBY ****
returning from the loo.

“Have you washed your hands? ”
I ask it.

“It was the best of the worst of times...”
declaims the Dickens
confused upon awakening.

“Say me...say me! ”
they all clamour...crowding around me.

I just stare
at them in silence

wondering how
I got into this.
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