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Classy J Feb 2015
Man why is so hard for people to acknowledge me, why is it so hard to say thank you every now and then. I don't want some brass ring and a parade, i just want two simple words, "thank you". Respect is earned not taken, same as anything else, its the untold law in society. Why don't we appreciate other people, a lot of them had to sacrifice a lot to accomplish something. Respect is not given easily, it is not something that is bought, for the people who say they respect you really just want your money or something else. That is not true respect, respect comes from hardships but sometimes it is not, sometimes its through acts of kindness, sometimes its doing the extra. Respect can be two simple words, "thank you".
Athena Dec 2021
When do we get respect?
We're told from a young age
to respect our elders,
to obey - not just listen
We're told we don't know better
because we're kids
Then we become adults
and still, we're treated as less.
What is respect to the modern man?
Is it blind obedience
and a fear of arguments
in all forms,
or is it the sensation I get when I see women supporting women?
But you don't respect that.
Actually, the idea of respect that I've been taught versus
the reality I have experienced
is showing me more and more
that when older people
demand 'respect'
they usually mean fear
and complacency.
But I'm not afraid anymore.
I know what respect is.
You do, too, or else you wouldn't spend
so much time teaching us
that respect is synonymous with terror.
And I think that you spend so much time
demanding our fear
because you are afraid of us.
You are terrified of
the girl with colored hair,
the boy who wears a dress,
the woman who demands autonomy,
the man who stays home with his kids,
the artist who sings about the abuse you dished out,
the little babies sleeping in their gender-neutral rooms.
You are afraid, and we're not.
But it's basic respect, isn't it?
Fah Aug 2013
Respect
for the mother and fathers who build this playground for us to roam ,
respect for the floating flowers sweet seed sprouting into blossoms tree
respect for the love of self - selflessly
respect for the helpers helplessly
respect for the boundaries

rises climatic waves crash onto soft shore
breakfast on the patio
what could one ask for more
then a wake up call without using a phone

last night's revelries spill over into today's serenity
sacred ground
sacred sounds
early bird gets the worm they say

share the love
spread the love , doctors healers
love knows no bounds
but seeks to reach each tip of wing in illuminated golden heart seen on first meeting
glows the fireflies
who light up the night time so bright
nor the wonderlusting princesses moving in her own skin with so much filling to the brim
overspilling with kisses and loves
spilt beers and american dreams turn to dust on the desert plains
and the silken haze hangs low across the city
bike riding race styling high flying
we already die to live to give
we already sing to the silent tunes of water droplets
and bird calls
tree's sigh in daylight delight and fight no one,  not even the night for ...


the tree's photosynthesise by moonlight
leaves drink in the cool wise light and give off dreams of softly fading starlight
and laughing at Jamican tour guides....*exucse me while i light my spliff....har har har har.....and over here is the kitchen...
Gentle homes gentle homes gently home to the highest of hearts.
humankind is loyal to mankind
humankind is humankind loyalty
loyal is loyalty to mankind
loyalty is a honor of loyalty
loyalty is a honor of mankind
to honor loyalty is to honor mankind
respect is in honor of mankind

respect is in honor of respect
mankind respect is humankind respect
mankind respect is humankind honor
mankind respect is humankind loyalty
glory is glory of honor
glory is glory of humankind
humankind is glory of humankind

mankind glory is humankind glory
mankind is mankind glory
defeat is defeat of humankind
defeat is defeat of glory
glory defeat glory
glory honor the defeat of glory
honor, honor the defeat of honor
my writing is called philosophical writing. i only uses middle ages words,words from the renaissance for instance words liked gracious,extravaganza,etc... this poem is about the satisfaction of glory and respect. i don’t add capitalization’s on my writing.
Emily Marie Aug 2014
Your "treatment of me is not a direct reflection of my value as a human being", so what is it?
Maybe it's because you're surrounded by people and still feel alone.
But it's probably because of your daddy issues.
You've forgotten what it was like to be respected by a man, so you went searching to fill the gaps;
But all you found were empty promises.
You got tempted along the way and somewhere you lost your self-esteem;
Self-Respect turned into Self-Hate, and your bitterness grew bigger and bigger.
You're losing more and more each day,
but you lost your innocence a long time ago so its okay.
Your daddy used to tell you that Respect was love;
But somewhere along the way you tried to replace it.
You confused yourself by thinking that Love was respect.
You've lost all respect for yourself,
and tried to tear me down so I'd take myself down too,
And I'm glad to say that I may be a stranger to love,
But I know respect.

So I'm here to tell you that you don't need a man to give you respect,
as long as you love yourself.
Not the kind of love you buy on a street corner,
or find in your bed,
But the kind that you feel in your heart,
and know in your head.
*Quote from John Green*

First attempt at spoken word poetry. First poem ever, right here. There's a girl at school who walks around like she's better than every one and she's not afraid to let you know it, and she bullied me alot through junior high and elementary school. This is my response to her.
Simon Jul 2020
MajorityOne like many other instances of power known solely from other literary passages as both the Oblivious King and the High of Confusion (and a little about the seminar of truth here and there) … …However what makes this particular instance of power very intriguing is that it means a solitary sign of “respect”. Meaning it’s a one of a kind. And even better whilst being on a universal platform…so to speak! First and foremost, like all the other “instances of power” of its kind. Just as the Oblivious King means your already a bonafide king, but is completely oblivious to its whereabouts upon it’s secrets. (And the identity of that very secret in repeated questioning.) Or the High of Confusion which surrounds you both inside and outside yourself entirely with a confusion that goes beyond normal realized confusion altogether. (However, the seminar of truth is something to do with your very inputs that have a very serious seminar about discussions, and what to do about the “truth” in all it’s very facts. A VAST parliament of inputs exchanging many facts of truth whilst the seminar heavily ways over their very discussion!) The name for a sign of respect revolves HEAVILY around how of the entire majority, there’s ONLY ONE among who has dominion over ALL respect amongst its common majority. A specialty like the High of Confusion being not the normal realized confusion when going past someone’s first initial realized impression of it. A respect that goes beyond what the entire majority can EVER handle. That’s why it’s called the MajorityOne. Showing that there’s only ONE who could be of the total respect amongst the entire majority. But who could take up this very title, I increasingly wonder…? Well since it’s an instance of power… It’s also an impressionable mini avatar for the universes both properties and meanings. Showing time and time again that it’s different in its own way. Vastly hinting at it having its very own sentience of sorts. A sentience motioning a by-play in its own regards for bypassing the entire majority that has respect over itself entirely. Surpassing the entire common majority with it’s very own! A respect that’s now (forevermore) part of the universal spectrum platform!
MajorityOne being the simple, but very complex sign of respect isn’t something to take on their very own mantle EXTREMELY lightly… It’s very important for you to either handle or revoke its very claim altogether. Because if you have respect for yourself or for another besides yourself entirely, then you have yet to know of the respect that comes from the one who has respect over an entire common majority…!
PS… Universally speaking!
Quentin Briscoe May 2012
I cant find my self resepect...Cuz I fail my little brother...In his aspect... at 13 he sees me like a father...But I dont' wanna be bothered...No hes not my concern...he dont need to be fathered...look at me I had to learn...
But i can't find my self respect...Cuz i fail my mother....In her aspect...she sees me like my father...Cuz i dont want to be bothered....How she gets on my nerves...Like I need to be fathered...Like she even had hers...
But I cant find my self respect...Cuz i fail my first lover...In her aspect...She sees me like her father...But I dont want to be bothered...Im just in it for the verbs...Like I remind her of a father...When I treat he like a girl....
But wheres my self respect...I cant find my aspect..For I never knew the correct way to view...these situations...******* up my relations...
With no self respect..I fail my self...In my aspect...I had no mans help...And I dont wanna be bothered...Inside im so bitter...but I just want to be fathered..
and I found my respect droughted and withered....
Peter Hall Aug 2015
John Mann
Well meaning and average
Hard working and normal
Accumulates much.

Accumulates wealth
Accumulates knowledge
Accumulates self respect
Accumulates an identity.

Confident in his knowledge, and
If you do good, you will get good
If you do bad, you will get beat
Reward comes from work, and risk
And self respect.

Mann is self motivated
Self educated
Self respected
Self sufficient
Self made.

Yet Mann
Self doubts
Self loathes
Self harms in his mind.

Mann is in an everlasting kingdom
Yet lives in a self destructing world
And lives a self depreciating life,
But with an everlasting God
Who has a multi-faceted and a many sided wisdom
Mixed with love from an everlasting power...

...the cocktail mixed by God.


God calls this cup, "glory"

Why ?.

He doesn't always tell
But He always knows
It always works...

It works deep
Hard
Is an incisive scalpel ,
Yet most powerful,
Past finding out.


One night,
A black night,
No moon to reflect the sun's light
A place where he has never been
A place where he has never seen
A place where no one else has known; they who criticize,
Where accumulated knowledge has no answer
Where accumulation of experience brings confusion,
Brings a great horror of darkness.

There is no one there
Except Mann and Jesus.

John Mann uses all his strength
And his accumulated wealth
His accumulated knowledge
His accumulated self respect
His accumulated identity
His self education
His self respect
His self sufficiency
His self made mental creations
To defend himself against this vulture.

But Mann gets exhausted in the fight
The exhaustion bring doubt to his doubts
Brings questions to his accumulated knowledge
He is misunderstood,
Self respect starts to dissolve
Identity is stripped away...

Mann feels naked.

His fig leaves of self sufficiency is not sufficient
He doesn't respect his self respect
His education was in the mind; not in power
His identity was misplaced
His wealth of knowledge made him bankrupt.

God's cocktail begins to work
For John Mann must now rest to survive
He must stop.

He screams , "let this cup, this cocktail pass...
Isn't there a better way ?
An easier way
More convenient ?
That gives respect" ?. 

In His sleep
He breathes
Rests
And realizes...

There is nothing left...
Only Jesus.

His Kingdom
His knowledge
His wealth
His sufficiency
His position
His rest
and more powerfully, His identity.

John Mann starts to see
He is not God's counsellor, and
That the questions of God become more satisfying than the answers of the world.

This was a most expensive drink
It cost Mann everything;
Yet gave him everything.

This cup is now always full
Instead of always needing to be topped up.

When the vultures come, from the externals
He just sits and smiles,
Resting in work of the black night and the cup he drunk from 
For now Mann's source is not self
But that which has been imparted deep within,
Deep has connected with deep.

Mann is forever altered,
He doesn't look the same
He doesn't feel the same
He doesn't think the same
He is not the same.

He walks with a limp
He sings with his heart, not his head
He talks with a new tongue
Poison no longer harms him.


He loves what he used to hate
He hates what he used to love,
Now his prayers start with thankfulness
Gentleness has smoothed the hard edges,
Through grace glasses he sees differently.

From the black night,
The uncomfortable cup,
The inconvenient cocktail of night and horror...
Is the stripping process...
Brilliant, clever, loving and eternal.

Always works
Always powerful
Always better in depth and richness.

Now Mann doesn't need external virtue
For John Mann was stripped of himself
And now possesses another life in exchange,
Internal.


The day breaks
The night is far spent,
John Mann is now ready for the next time night comes,
With power.
Life always brings a stripping process to all of us "John Mann's"
Olivia Grace May 2015
No respect
No privacy
No consideration
Of my feelings
Nothing
Gives them the right to do that
Nothing at all

Even after I had told them to
Stop
They didn't care
They just continued
No respect towards my belongings
No respect towards what I had to say
No respect towards my feelings
No respect towards me
Earn my hatred, if you shake my self-respect,
Speak with caution, if you are on a dream target,
Deal with me like a human being, else you regret,
Criticize me constructively, else I would put you to upset.

Talk with me,
But never interfere in my self-respect
It is nothing but my life asset,

Control your speech like a budget,
Never hit my self-respect, Else,
You will face my words like a bullet,
You will lose your respect, at the speed of a rocket.

In my little heart,
I bear huge wounds, dreams, desperation and sorrows.
Never shake it, Else
You put my relationship to gallows.

I acknowledge your self-respect,
Double than what you give back.
With triple disrespect, I would hit back,
As you dare to humiliate my self-respect.

Forget my happy face for you,
If you prefer to play smart with my self-respect.
Witness my intensive angry face in a seconds or few,
If you are ready to treat me like a toilet.
Akta Agarwal May 2021
If we want respect then we have to respect others
no matter who they are
If we cannot able to respect someone's beliefs
they how can even we expect the same from others
it's like a give and take policy
Give respect and take respect
If we want respect then we have to start treating them respectfully
otherwise we ourselves have to face the consequences.
Storm Raven Aug 2015
Oh little child.
Don't judge.
Show some respect.
For an old man who thought the war.
Fought for our freedom.
For someone who is openly gay.
Someone who does nothing but love.
Show some respect.
Don't judge.
Just because someone is not like you.
Show some respect.
Oh little child.
Help making this world a better place.
While visiting the neighborhood, and you're drinking with your friends, please clean up the mess, when the party comes to an end.
A LITTLE RESPECT IS ALL I ASK.
When you gather around dancing, before a very large crowd, don't forget your neighbors, please turn the music down.
A LITTLE RESPECT IS ALL I ASK.
When you discover, your bladder can't hold it all, stop stepping under my window, to release ***** on my wall.
A LITTLE RESPECT IS ALL I ASK.
I've been trained all my life to have respect for you.  Don't you think it's about time to respect others too?
A LITTLE RESPECT IS ALL I ASK.
By, Author & Poet, Sandra Juanita Nailing
Jodey Ross Oct 2014
The best respect to have
is respect for yourself.
I need to try to remember this, I have a bad habit of forgetting I'm a person.
Peter Hall Oct 2015
"Respect" is a word many people use
"Respect" is a word many people abuse
Most people spend their life to learn it
Most people spend their life to earn it.

So they can all say "look up to me"
and prop up their false identity
But respect doesn't come by achievement or funds
or looks, or houses, or car type or chums.

You find "respect" hanging on a cross
not by the gains but by one's loss
You find "respect" between sky and land
with a different crown on a crucified man.
Respect can only be given by those who deserve to give it....
The way to her heart,
Is through respect,
You want to love her,
You need to love her friends,
You need to love her family,

Before you ever ask her,
Ask her father,
Show him,
That you are the man that respects him,
That you respect his daughter,

Get his permission to date,
Get his permission to be serious,
Get his permission to marry her,

Wherever life takes you,
Wherever loves takes you,
Respect her,
She is fragile,
She is precious,
She is the most valuable thing that you will ever have.

Love her as if you would never love again,
Kiss her as if it is your last,
Hold her as to comfort her,
Look her in the eyes when you tell her you love her,

Respect the things she says,
Her heart only trusts so many times,
Don't use all your chances to make her happy or she will find someone who will,

As the quote goes,

Protect her like a daughter,
Respect her like a mother,
Love her like a wife.

Be

Responsible,
Empower her,
Support her,
Personalize her problems,
Enrich her life,
Communicate,
Together live life
Birdy Aug 2016
day 1 (uno) that we talked you tried to whisper the clothes off my body and told me you wanted to see the folds of your fingers inside of me (as if it was nothing) and while I rejected he formulated and cracked a new plan — to tell me thats all he wanted to hear, and demanded self respect while pushing for lack of self respect.
His eyes couldn’t lie but when I tried to locate them, he carried me away in his personal blue seas (this is a cliche) and made me taste the waters (I got addicted as a result) and I guess that even my logic obsessed self couldn’t make out what was right and wrong anymore, so I drowned myself and floated in his rivers

Proceed to day 34 (teintra y cuatro) where you admitted under a drunken spell that you loved me all along and wanted a future. Phase 1: Terrified. Phase 2: Relief. Relieved that my love was not only mine, but ours. Relieved that I could drink from those waters forever. But terrified, so, so terrified of the mess I made from the man who only wanted to have my naked body and infect it. I had only shown a glimpse of my skin around my lower back, and you could only demand more while judging my self respect (or lack thereof). My logical self had decided that this behavior was him at his finest he was just setting me up and wanted to invade my skin. My loving self was convinced that he was acting out on his newly found addiction. Since I had just fed him the same venom he poisoned my body with.

In the end, it was all just a test of my self respect.
Or lack thereof.
"When you came along I had my oasis. I didn't need to keep on searching"
Andrew Leparski Feb 2016
A Friend In Respect

As your Guardian
I wield a shield of protection
to guard you from threats until your death

As your Counsel
I scribe your word in promise
to keep you honest behind every breath

As your Advocate
I defend your allegiances in diligence
to strengthen the cause of your pursuit

As a Friend in Respect
I vow to keep my words encased in truth
As a Friend in Respect
I Duirno, expect the same from you
An Uncommon Poet Dec 2014
I lived in the rink
Cold and Damp
I lived on the field painted in white lines
Lit by the scorching sun or blistering winds
I've seen things you could not imagine
I've done things you cannot comprehend
I've stuck up for my team-mates
I've popped shoulders back in place
Treated wounds, sewed gashes
I've sacrificed every inch of my body
To feel triumph and success
But there is a limitation
I will never destroy my opponents
As this is not war
Nor am I a warrior
I am human
My respect is endless regardless of our feud
I've seen people hand their jerseys to those less fortunate
I've strived to make my opponents tap out
But as they begin to lose consciousness
I've removed their mouth guard and supported their neck
I've hugged and cried for what we do for the love of the sport
I watched a wrestler of only 11, orchestrate a loss
To his opponent whom had cerebral palsy
Question my desire to succeed
But I will never elevate this desire over someone who needs to succeed
I am a fierce competitor but I will never harm my opponents
I will pick up the soccer ball if my opponent lays in agony
I’ve watched a man tear his hamstring
Yet limp and crawl down the track
Because he will never sink to a quitter
It’s worth more than a win
Its personal growth
I've seen old team-mates now opponents
Hand over awards
With the utmost open heart and congratulations
And although they are against each other on paper
This does not disperse them
Their respect and love for the person did not seep between the cracks in the ice
I’ve defeated my opponents and lifted their heads
To congratulate them for how hard they’ve worked
At the end of the day a trophy sits on your shelf
Win or lose, the success is growing beyond what once was your capacity
I’ve seen man and boy carry their family through triathlons
Swimming across lakes with ropes tied to the boat where their member rests
Carrying the weight of 150lbs on the front of their bikes
Push the extra weight in a wheel chair
Because they did not seek success
They seek the moment of triumph and achievement
To share with their family
To force them to experience overcoming the impossible
How can you disguise the power of sport?
How can you disguise its beauty?
Its successes and failures?
Its heart breaks and companionship?
The power of sport unites us as a society
Never disrespect its illuminated opportunity
Never shun those who've experienced its chaos
At our most vulnerable lows
Your friends, family, opponents and bystanders
Will always be here for you
Because this is what sport ignites
The fiery flame burning through the pits of your stomach
Capsizing your heart
Forcing you to show respect for one another
Sports is not about receiving the gold medal
Its about becoming faster, smarter, stronger, quicker
Ultimately better than you once were
The bar that once barricaded you from success
Becomes in-existent
Because you've grown and overcome the barrier that stands before you
And this should never come at the cost of your opponent
For as long as they are your opponent
You will respect them
Because like Canada’s Prime Minister once said;
We may be opponents but we are never enemies
Think twice before you disgrace the numerous games
Which have written millions of memories
I’ve been there
The power of sport is undeniable
You should crave the highest level of achievement
For not only yourself
But your opponents too
Respect their mental capacity and push them
To be better than the man that stares back at them every morning
Do not ever disrespect the power of sport
As you will experience moments which will be tattoos to your mind until you pass
You are as good as your work ethic
The trophy is only a bonus
The gold medal is staring yourself dead in the eyes
And recognizing you've grown
Recognizing you respect and love your opponents
Despite your differences
Recognizing that you will do anything it takes
To help others become 1% than they once were
Because the smile it brings to their face
And the fire it starts in their heart will never die
There pride will elevate beyond the furthest stars
All because of you
So I plead you,
Get off your couch
Step away from your computer
Roll out of bed
Step away from the kitchen
And work as hard as you can
To achieve something you want
Something you want to bad that you cannot even explain your desire
I grew up being told nothing will ever stand in my way
I will achieve everything I put my mind to
With an unstoppable work ethic, respect and desire to achieve
I will become better every day
So why shouldn't you?
Rachel Apr 2015
A incredible word which possessed everything
A virtue that is hard to gain but easy to lose
Its as fragile as glass and can be broken with a single mistake
Just like any damaged material
respect can be sometimes impossible to remake
The cracks and fragments of a shattered trust will be still visible
and time can't heal it
Sometimes its more than love
Because what is love without respect?
Its nothing, Its nothing but lust
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2018
.wow, i never thought it would ever be possible,
i'm sorry, i have no empathy for these youtuber "creators",
any idiot can regurgitate the news,
venture into vulture journalism,
  then again: gone are the days of closely associated
with people like Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein...
they are really gone: what the hell was gamer-gate
compared to watergate? gate after gate,
and all i'm hearing is response videos,
it should have never come to this,
whereby journalists are as untrustworthy as politicians,
and of what remains, come the saturday and
the sunday editions, when the petty bourgeoisie
come out of the woodworks of a week,
album reviews, book reviews, t.v. reviews,
restaurant reviews: real, real journalism,
all the grit you'd expect from a warzone...
           journalists forgot they were not kindred spirits
of politicians: but immediacy historians...
the front-line history chroniclers...
i find... these days, esp. these days...
    you know why i like heidegger so much,
and forget the fact that he joined the **** party?
in 1938 he was already disillusioned by it...
so the ad homine fallacy bites the dust...
   even a **** deservers a redemption...
but i find that these days, of all days...
   man, as a historiological creature has to bow
before the unshakeable facets of the biological man,
esp. in the english speaking world...
    in terms of history and biology:
     history has all the fun stories,
and a sensible "concern" for time,
   well... if not "concern" then at least a bearbable
time-frame...
                  after all, i am the one who said:
all the great deserts of the world,
akin to sahara? they were once great
mountain ranges... you already know where
to look between a mountain range akin to the alps
and a desert... bound to h'america...
   monument valley: utah...
  a mountain becomes a rock after a while...
while the desert expands...
    ayers rock (uluru)... but monument valley (utah)
is a transition period between a mountain range
and a desert, if we're going to stand outside
of all space and time, and look back in...
we have plenty of time to catch-up on...
           just like i believe that black holes
are actually 2-dimensional objects:
   that spin really fast, giving an impression
of them being 3-dimensional objects:
as usually represented by a gravity dip associated
with them pulling matter into themselves...
i think that black holes are paradoxes...
since how can a 2-dimensional object
actually exist in a 3-dimensional space?
   that depends on the size of the "3-dimensional"
object / space... the universe is a medium,
it's defined as a "space" but to me...
      it's beyond space... it's only space on the grounds
of isolated time, 365 days,
the time and space it takes for the earth
to orbit the sun... which is an isolated example,
outside? well: there's atmosphere on earth,
outside? vacuum!
who's going to prove my theory wrong?
               not anyone in my lifetime -
besides the point with these youtube content
"creators": where credit is due, credit is due,
but once might have cared for their vulture
journalism... two old farts akin to felix (black pigeon
speaks) and sargon of akaad talking about how:
the youth are congregating to youtube to listen
to music: that's what i've always done...
  i discovered these youtube "creators" by accident,
i just wanted my jukebox back, man,
i wanted my algorithm back, my imprint back,
now that the devil's dozen scenario took hold
of the platform: 1 video playing, 12 back-ups...
and they're all the same, unrelated, *******...
        talk all you want, please, just give back
my algorithm imprint, where i can discover new music...
again... i never thought i'd see another
compilation video, 173 videos bound to one...
and, mind you... after finding about 6 googlewhacks
(googlewhack? when you use the sort of
language that provides you with only one search
result on the behemoth platform of billions
of results, 1 is grand, but 6? it's becoming too
predictable)...
                        so here's what i found
   (band - song):

wooly mammoth - mammoth bones / kyuss - space cadet,
rainbows are free - last supper / grand magus -
                                                mountain of power,
zed - lies / om - cremation chant I & II,
    smoke - hallucination / weird owl - white hidden fire,
orchid - son of misery / witch - seer,
               unida - you wish / black mountain - old fangs,
b.r.m.c. - ain't no easy way /
              jack daniels overdrive - ****** to death,
shrinebuilder - blind for all to see,
                   datura - mantra / the heavy eyes - voytek,
the machine - infinity / clutch - the regulator,
   colour haze - mountain / maligno - son of tlalocan,
dozer - twilight sleep / gomer pyle - albino rattlesnake,
blockback - dead mans blues / greenleaf - witchcraft tonight,
cactus jumper - right way / borracho - bloodsucker,
alabama thunderpussy - motor ready,
                    earthless - sonic power,
my brother the wind - death and beyond,
   zaphire oktalogue - carrion fly / siena root - reverberations,
unida - slaylina / pothead - toxic / sungrazer - mountain dusk,
   rotor - costa verde / blizaro - it's in the lighthouse,
planet of zeus - woke up dead,
     kongh - pushed beyond / ufomammut - smoke,
high on fire - to cross the bridge,
              the secret - bell of urgency,
      unida - wet pussycat / dozer - big sky theory,
cavity - chloride / brutus - swamp city blues,
the grand astoria - something wicked this way comes,
sasquatch - the judge / pharaoh overlord - skyline,
baby woodrose - love comes down / kamni - **** of satan,
lay with me - the flying eyes / cowboys & aliens  -
                                                out of control,
sons of otis - liquid jam / hainloose - recipe,
    ridge - rancho relaxo / bongripper - ****** sutherland,
skraeckoedland - cactus / grails - satori,
    lo-pan - chicken itza / five horse johnson - people's jam,
blind dog - don't ask me where i stand,
     wiht - orderic vitalis / hisko detria - nothing happens,
liquid sound company - leage for spiritual discovery lives,
   goatsnake - black cat bone / gandhi's gunn - rest of the sun,
the egocentrics - wave / propane propane - it's alright,
heliotropes - ribbons / mother mars - price you pay,
che - the knife / annimal machine - condenado,
   earth - tallahassee / the whirlings - delirio,
orchid - heretic / maeth - horse funeral,
siena root - rasayana / graveyard - longing,
           tia carrera - hell / hainloose - recipe,
      burner - five pills (and a bottle of whiskey),
dala sun - guilty for ****** / vulgaari - lie,
        slo burn - muezli / stonehelm - zombie apocalypse,
smallman - evolution / spiders - fraction,
         shakhtyor - e. jaspers / earthmass - lunar dawn,
evoke the lords - dregs / colour haze - silent,
     sutrah - el septimo viaje...

  

who are "these" people,
who: "supposedly" live for the future...
they always cite it,
as the one motivational
momentum of the present -
it's as if they've never seen
a bull itch the ground
with its front hoofs -
   imitating building up momentum
before a charge...
or how a slingshot,
or how a bow works...
   to these people,
the ******* sideways movement
of a bow against a violin...
sometimes...
      you do not retreat into
the past, to hide, to amount
to nostalgia...
     sometimes
the only reason for the reflexive
affirmation, confined to maxims
and aphorism, nay: even poems!
is to look back...
     to reap what was once
sowed, rather than sow blindly,
and reap: what no one wants
to reap...
    drunk? getting there...
       it felt so relaxing paying off
a 100 / 250 part of a debt
i owe her...
            while buying a russian
standard liter,
   asking for a 100 cash-back
of the supermarket cashier,
- the limit is 50,
   but if you buy something else,
i can give you another 50...
- oh... ok...
   so me went to and took a bottle
of shveedish cider...
   rekorderlig...
   mind you? the swedish,
what they perfected fermenting
better than what the the irish claim
to fame is?
    sorry... magners:
               irish? stick to the guinness...
(it's actually the only cerveza
i'd go into an english pub to
drink from the tap... bottled? canned?
not the same)...
     but with such swedish delights
such as the above mentioned,
  ålska and K  ö   nigsberg
                            *œ
?
no competition... the suede(s) just
do one thing grand...
    cider...
- what was i talking about?
  ah... the "dreaded" past...
     the people who say:
  but you can't live out a life,
   holding onto a private past,
a memory...
    so... these other ******* were
allowed to implant a false
past, unrelated to me,
teaching me whether it was
Newton, or Leibniz who first
invented the infinitesimal calculus
method?
                i'm betting on Leibniz...
after all... he took the position
of a ******* librarian...
   and he wasn't buried with pomp
& circumstance at Westminster Abbey...
sometimes...
         one person can't have it all...
but if the education system
is a system that is indicative for
the erosion of memory, esp. private
matters... and juggernauts in
with these selective rubrics of science
and history...
fair enough the basic
implants: numerical arithmetic,
and lettering arithmetic -
    and then... lessons in mental
entertainment... when applied
           to menial labour...
memory is: supreme...
          i can't give my memory up...
that's what: killer proteins
eating the fat tissue of the brain
like starvation in reverse
        of a case of Alzheimer's?
memory is: cameo cinema -
    however distorted it might be,
although i beg to differ on
whether time per se,
  is not the better psychedelic
component
when coupled with memory -
esp. the cinematic aspect of memory...
there was never a "living" in
the past -
      there was a point about memory
to sharpen the edges of
    "dasein"... all speculation and
questions regarding consciousness,
as championed through
a chimpanzee's *** are somehow
pointless:
    given there's a higher tier of
conceptualization -
   working from dasein...
            hierjetzt -
      or in english?             presence...
- because why would i treat
a personal memory,
like some inorganic entity of
a schooling system,
under Catholic measures,
  that made it necessary to include
Pythagoras... but not Horace?
that's inorganic memory...
and unless i turn into some
inorganic entity -
   the organic aspect of my psyche:
my past, my cameo cinema?
   that's going to be a leech,
attached to me...
  and i'm not going to give it up,
just like... when i walk about
my door, and enter the england
that i know on the peripheries...
i'll speak the lingua franca -
     but with my privacy?
    you'd better cut my tongue off
before i stop speaking
my western slavic heritage...
    and it pains me...
when certain groups of immigrants...
don't know the POINT
where immigration becomes
insensible... self-lacerating...
           i once hated their approach...
now i just pity them...
anyone ****** can juggle
     two oranges rather than three...
p.s. old school cure for a cold?
forget the pills...
   glass of warm milk,
  an egg yolk,
     and a good scratch of butter...
  (on the rare occasion,
  milk infused with garlic)

mixed together...
before bedtime...
  if the ****** won't sweat out
the bacteria during the night...
     well... stick to the synthetics...
i'm pretty sure i know why i drink...
certainly not to: PARTY PARTY PARTY...
i always aim for
the one safety net of "pharmacology"...
ssssssssleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

p.s. so much for children loving their
parents...
        in vitro and the whole
m.g.m. debacle:
so, sweet little *******,
       no *******, no chance for your
for a quickie satellite launch date from
Tehran, under all the weight of
monotheism turned secular...
christianity: the only "monotheism"
with overt tinged of polytheism,
lutheran, baptist, catholic, orthodox...
just today i opened my door twice...
once to a confused curry house delivery man:
did you order some food:
i too replied with a confused look
and the word: huh?! no.
then a black woman with a a white ol' granny
came by with a leaflet...
the jehovah's witnesses were on my trail...
lucky of my grandfather,
   the profanity brigade of the hebrew name
i will not dare utter came by...

  and if you have lived a good enough life:
memory? memory beats hollywood
technicolour and CGI...
at least in the cinema of memory i always
get to play the cameo (role)...

oh i get the youtube creators:
   living with his parents... still. aged 33...
funny that i don't mind them,
since they're getting older they're settling
into their solispsism,
        annoying as ****, but i stand them,
thank god the protruding caduceus veins
on my phallus protected me from
a circumcision...
  i can ******* like a girl with a web-cam...
no scented candles:
the no. 1, 2 & 3 on the throne of thrones...
the toilet, simultaneously masaging my ****
and prostate...

men were not exactly supposed to derive
pleasure from ***: they were,
supposed to give pleasure,
and in giving pleasure to one outlet,
they were subscribed to finding out what
best pleases them: ergo?
women would always derive more of
the people from *** than men would ever...
*** is not a story of bragging about
a harem... the woman lies flat...
the man pumps her...
after all... she is the one burdened
to carry a child, why wouldn't she be
the one deriving more pleasure from *** than
a man could ever?
72 virgins! ha ha!
   ah ha ha!
             what's the ratio?
   last time i checked... a 3 hole caravan...
of a woman's worth...
   mouth, ******, ****... and man?
only two points of entry, well...
"entry"...
                    seems that the tomatoe,
really is a fruit, but is treated like a vegetable
nontheless!
homosexuality in the 1960s...
william burroughs in Tangiers...
                    when Islam was quiet radical...

well... i cook, i clean...
                what are my other options of continuing
to write and living the ed gein "lifestyle",
i tried getting social housing in england,
but, i'm not a somali with two wives and a dozen
kids...
              rent, in london?
extortion...
                   housing shortage...
                 well there's me hating my parents,
the outside world just needs to see
an ed gein imitation...
               or there's me living off acorns
in the woods, or rummaging on the streets,
making the N25 bus from oxford st. to ilford
my own personal mobile hotel as a homeless
man in london...

   i think it's time to succumb to your
parents prejudices, if only for the jokes,
no point in making ethical high judgements
to fit into a zeitgeist narrative surrounding
yourself with people: you'd never eat a meal with...
that's how i define the highest form of respect:
if i'll eat with you: implies that i respect you...
i drink alone...
a high school fwend once thought he could
bribe me with his company,
that i "had to" drink with him...
      no... not really...
          i much prefer drinking by myself...
these days you're not expected to honour your
mother and your father,
i.e. make them proud...
               honour is a double-edged sword...
just don't be ashamed of having
a mother or a father...
not that hard: given western divorce rates...
i.v.f., frozen eggs... yadda yadda yadda...
lucky me in having went to university...
oh... really? so much cooler in a cosmopolitan
environment with your contemporary
flat-mates?
               get the picture?
                 paying rent while literally living
in a diguised cardboard box?
i can't help the fact that poetry doesn't pay...
that there are economic factors beyond
my control in play...
   maybe if i was the grandson of my parents,
born in england, and not elsewhere,
there would be some sort of + leverage...
for a bricks and mortar start-up...
plus... i hoard...
         books and music...
                     mind you:
neither of my parents spoke english as their
mother tongue...
  neither did i...
they didn't teach me this tongue:
i had to teach this language by myself:
for myself...
           aged 8: thrown into the deep end
of the pool: now swim ******, swim!

i just feel sorry for the immigrant parents
who gave birth to their children into the *****
of the land they immigrated to...

two days ago i found a heartbreak,
a romanian couple, with a child...
the father was stubborn in teach his daughter
his / her native sprechen...
romanian... but she was already speaking
perfect antithesis of accent kindergarten english...
and almost non-responsive to her tongue
alligned to her biology...
    clearly she was born in england,
but her parents were both romanian...
i've had that conundrum in my head
for a long time...
   what if i married an english girl...
and i was unable to teach my offspring
my native language,
what if i had to silence my native tongue,
"forget" it, or only speak it by myself,
via reading a book in western slavic?
what if the woman i married:
wouldn't see the benefits of bilingualism,
outside of the mainstream economic
mantra of ensuring your children
learn either german or mandarin or arabic?
that worried me...
          oh believe me, i enjoy my lapses
into english: since i am providing the groundwork...
but in the case of having offspring...
e.g. teaching them the western slavic tongue
so they could speak to their grandparents
(i.e. my parents)...
       even my grandparents lament
the scenarios when a woman would marry
an austrian... and she wouldn't teach
her children her native tongue,
and when the grandchildren would visit their
grandparents... they'd be speaking
a crude variation of braille, morse,
   sign-language: na migi...
               i know that my mother is alive
in me even under this veil of english...
because she's more than the womb,
the genitals of my conception, the breast fed off...
she's also the Atlas of my vocabulary
of the "hiding" tongue beneath this one...

i already knew the "game" was rigged from
the get-go... i've seen how one hindu woman
suffered being married to a scouser...
she never managed to pass on her language
to her children,
she bought a library, thinking her children
would succumb to learning: however poor
they might end up being...
but she was suffocated by the english
tongue of her husband...
and her children didn't express even the most
vague of desires to learn their mutterzunge...

that's what worried me to begin with,
marrying an english woman i was afraid
of the ignorance that someone bilingualism
was en route toward a psychiatrist disorder
i was diagnosed with: schizophrenia...
this anglophonic ignorance still scares me...
like: everyone is expected to speak the revisionist
globalist lingua franca: this anglo lingua...
if i didn't meet a bilingual / polyglot woman,
i'd return to rearing idiotic children...
anglo lingua was only supposed to be a middle-ground,
a "no man's land"...
             a language of trivial economic transfers...
a language primarily orientated around usage:
rather than an ethno-centric basis for "englishness"...
to **** with: god save the queen...
the british grenadiers' fife & drum...
                 old scot dragoons': auld lang syne...
those where my forever anthems...
see...
        what gave birth to a jihadi john?
his mother "forgot", his father "forgot":
his "mother" forgot, his "father" forgot to speak
the "ancient" tongue...
there's a point to integration of the immigrant,
an immigrant is a forgetful creature,
an ever pleasing creature...
never to mind himself as an ex-pat...
you ****** forget your mutterzunge...
you'll be speaking in cockney accents
with broken affairs of arabic beheading people
for zombified reasons of grandeour!
*******...
          you, you: you are to blame!
you were so ashamed of your parents that you
delved on honoring them to the point
of thinking giving pride unto them was very
much akin as keeping shame away from
their girdle of the wedlock of your own existence!
death has not made your a martyr...
i guess you deserve those 72 mishaps,
those 72 annoying voices...
and i pray to god that you receive your reward!
i hope that among the 72 you will never find
a chance a repose to find your: self!

integration is one thing,
pandering to the "elites": plebs who think they
are kings among the plebs,
is quiet another...
plebs who go places and think english
is a universal tongue: just because
uncle sam says so...
of those i respect:

y cymraeg: pwy dal eu tafod...
an gàidhlig: cò fhathast bruidhinn an cuid teanga...
i nawet moim: co ma mówić
to nawet tyle: co znaczy tak niewiele!

there are boundaries... learn the customs
of the natives, but ensure you retain the customs
you were born with...
a child, born in a foreign land,
ought to ensure his parents teach him
the words to speak to his grand overseers...
complete immersion,
this cultural abortion,
this cutting of the umbilical chord
from: i have never met a people so
content at having been subjugated outside
the indian sub-continent,
cricket... for ****'s sake...
       as to demand other europeans
to treat them as superiors,
when sitting alongside an englishman...
****-bud-bud, the **** are you on about?!
once again: england has become the circus
for the grounding of what began
with engels and marx...
   wasn't communism born from
engels and marx observing english society?
sure... first experimented en masse in
mongolia... but its origins?

   so of course i had problems finding a suitable
mating partner... i was afraid that my nativ-zunge
would die a slow but solemn death...
that an english bridge would not consider
the worth of a bilingual child, or a polyglot,
or that she would repress the chance of my
"biological continuum nuance" to respond outside
of the anglo lingua refrain of: beside the english language?
there are quiet a few one might want to learn...

it's not easy being a first generation immigrant,
esp. if you moved aged 8, mute as a wolf
to a domesticated dog's barking...
but hey, no jihadi john in me...
           jihadi john should have been raised
bilingual... i wouldn't be the one speaking broken
tourist arabic while beheading someone...
jihadi john spoke tourist arabic...
the dichotomy of the mind to the biological
reality, beside the current, western,
"biological relativism" debate...
      clearly darwinism was "wrong"...
man is, these days, left with neither a biological
reality, nor a historical reality...
              but there is a historical reality:
but it's so knit-&-picky...
come on... philip augustus of the capetian
dynasty?
                 casimir III...
                        jeremi wiśniowiecki...
konrad I of masovia...
                           kuno von lichtenstein...
alles ist gott: und gott ist alles -
  gott mit, uns!

              mit eine leben wert leben:
    erinnerung ist die nur kino
             wert sehen eine film beim;

hell... could be worse:
   i might have translated some latin
of horace into pig-trough comfort food.
Towela Kams Oct 2014
I've never really liked the idea of culture
How it supports the African man
For the sins he commits
In closed doors

He calls his father and uncles
And reports his wife from youth
Says she doesn't do anything right
Says she doesn't respect him

Almost immediately,
His Uncle grins
He is reminded that
He once had the same problem

Recites the same words
That he was moulded into
As a young groom
To his wife from youth,

"It's true, they never do anything right.
They don't respect. They don't respect!"

His wife's mother is listening
She has flashbacks as well
From back in her day
She tells her, what her mom told her,

"Don't answer back, Mo. Don't defend yourself. When you're wrong, you shut up. Even when you're right, you shut up!"

She's astonished, but she accepts.
She goes with her husband
To their matrimonial land
As he continues to mock her

On arrival, they meet a lady
The African body, with braids hanging from her head
Beads on her hair, waist and feet
Standing all so proud

"Esther!" He cries. "What--are--you--doing--here?"
"I'm pregnant for you baby!"
"What?!" "Really?!"
"Yes love!"

Mo is about to scream now
Esther has always been a threat to her marriage
But when she tried telling Wanjala, he would lay his hands on her each time
So she keeps quite about the events she witnessed, a month ago, with Wanjala's brother, Sam, and Esther in bed together.

Sam was a good lad. He respected women.
He loved Esther very much. But so did Wanjala.
Wanjala stole her heart recently, simply through a flash of a few coins to her.
Sam was not wealthy as Wanjala.

Esther's baby could belong to Sam.
She can't tell Sam because he never knew about Wanjala's affair with his girlfriend.
She heeds to her mother's advice.
She keeps her mouth shut, like the African woman she is.

She remembers what happened earlier
When she overheard what her uncles said
Her husband had falsely accused her of adultery
And yet, here he is today, receiving the fruits of it.

* The END
The African culture supports men with everything. The African man is arrogant and proud. He is influenced by the crowd which always agrees with him depending on his financial position. The African man can't be told what's wrong and what's right. He is always praised and adored by his fellow men. He has no regard for his wife from youth. The traits of the African man are found in each and every male born and brewed in Africa. I don't want my children to live in such a world with traditions from 100 years ago!

Women, respect your husbands. Esteem him and he'll exalt you. Embrace him and he'll honour you.
Men, respect your wives. Esteem her and she'll exalt you. Embrace her and she'll honour you.
You are 25 and still a ******, much
respect... But don't judge those
who are not... You are 18 and
pregnant, I still respect you... You
had an abortion, who am I to judge!!
You had your reasons..and I
respect you!! You are single.. Your
choice and I respect that.. You are
H.I.V positive... I don't know how
you got it!! (You might have been
*****) so who am I to judge.. I
respect you.. You are Gay/Lesbian I
respect U for who U are.. I respect
everyone irrespective of their
situation.. Why judge someone
because of their past/choice, no
one knows what your future holds..
No one is perfect. We were all born
to make mistakes.. Life doesn't
come with an instruction manual
but we must learn from our
mistakes or others mistakes.....
While visiting the neighborhood, and you're drinking with your friends, please clean up the mess you made, when the party comes to an end.
A little respect is all I ask!
When you gather around dancing, before a large crowd, don't forget your neighbors, please turn the music down.
A little respect is all I ask!
When you discover, your bladder can't hold it all; stop stepping under my window, to release ***** on my wall.
A little respect is all I ask.
I've been taught at an early age, to respect you.  Don't you feel it's about time, to respect others too?
By, Sandra Juanita Nailing
elle Mar 2012
The laws of respect aren't in black and white
There's not a book to tell me who to respect
                                                         ­                    And whom I should spite
I do respect those who work for the do
                                          Do what they love
                                          Love what they do
                                          Learn to love
                                          Love to learn
                                          Expect nothing
                                          Fear nothing
                                          Want nothing
                                          Hate nothing

I do not respect those who act mature; you're translucent as glass
                                                Aren't themselves
                                                Crave attention
                                                Need Approval
                                                Loathe the world
                                                Are ignorant
                                                Are blinded by the beauty of life by their arrogance
                                                Wish too much
                                                Complain too often
                           

What does it mean when I say I possess all traits under list two?
Do insecurities drive me to disrespect myself?
Or do I just have high standards?
cheryl love Jun 2013
RESPECT
Mr C Penguin the head of the house
Wears a uniform and listens to Strauss.
Seals plonked by the door as a draught excluder.
Chimps are taking tea in the parlour Room.
Judging how many cakes they can consume.
“Get a brush Foxy and sweep up those crumbs,
I will be charging them double when the time comes”
Mr Badger making endless trays upon trays of cakes
For the ignorant posh chimps and the mess thy make.
“Bag the goose and send the felloe to me,
I will give the chimps something to do for free”
The penguin cracked his knuckles and gave a cough
He had told the chimps he had taken the day off.
“The goose is here” half smiling “the goose is here”
The chimps shook, gulped and felt a trifle queer.
The goose frog marched in and the chimp went limp
“Right you posh lot, eat nicely is that clear chimp”
“I’m not old fishy pengy” he snapped straightening his wing,
“no hanky panky on my watch, nothing, no anything.
“I run a tight ship chimp, my rules old chum.”
The chimps heard right and put an end to the fun.
“Respect, respect,” the goose patrolled his little space
The chimps now ashen with a worried look on their face.
It is all about respect
Cat Fiske Apr 2016
To those whom this may concern,

I am 17 years old,
I am a junior,
and I wish to be treated,
with the same respect,
I have given out,
to all faculty,
no matter the location,
I understand that in life,
not everything,
can go your way,
and people,
make mistakes,
it's part of being,
human.
I myself,
have made tons,

the difference between,
my mistakes,
and that of the regions,
is how I know to,
admit my wrong doings.
I have not once,
lied about anything,
I have done wrong,
I have been taught,
to say,
that I made a mistake,
or messed up,
but our region,
has taught me,
that when,
you mess up,
you should lie,
to save your face,
rather then admit,
to your shortcomings,

With that said,
The respect,
that I have,
given to the faculty,
has been nothing but,
respectful,
It's shocking to see,
how this region,
can not return,
that respect back,
to me and,
other students,

However,
I cannot speak,
for other students,
and I will not,
but in my own,
experience,
in the region,
it hurts me to know,
that several faculty members,
think that it's respectful,
to lie through their teeth,
about matters of where on,
the regions side,
the mistakes were made,

It's hard to perceive,
that people are lying,
when you have heard,
more variations,
of incidences and reasoning,
then you can count,
on your hands and feet,
The story you tell,
should be similar,
day to day,
week to week,
but it never is,
and the reasoning behind it,
always places the blame,
on someone else,
As I have learned,
the region likes to push blame,
onto others,
until the blame,
has been moved around,
so much the faculty,
no long know,
the lies or truths,
they have told,

I have tried,
to forget and forgive,
and when I do,
things that still,
do not work out,
or fix themselves,
like I have been promised,

I have sat though classes,
where the faculty,
egg on my classmates,
to throw the same insults,
they say, towards me,
Eventually these classmates do,
because they learn to,
from the educators in the room.

How do you punish kids,
picking on you,
saying things that only,
the faculty members,
in the confidential meetings,
are suppose to know,
When things in,
your confidential meetings,
are shared by participants,
in the meeting,
in an un-confidential setting,
as they ask you questions like,
"why can't you do this",
"why do you need more time?
Everyone else has finished,
stop being slow and get it done,
like everyone else,"
"why can't you do this,
why don't you at lest try,
come on its not that hard,
everyone else can but you,"
this would make you feel bad,
about yourself,
And the faculty,
makes the students,
think it's okay,
to say these thing to me,
like they have done,
many times before.

This is not old news,
because these are things,
that have failed to be addressed.
This is one source of trauma,
I have to keep living though.
I am tired of being,
scared and fearful,
every morning when I try,
to come to school,
because I am hoping,
nothing  bad will happen,
today or the day after,
I am stuck,
in a constant fear,
because of my un-addressed past.
Most days I can not,
ignore these fears,
and I'm lucky,
that its is not as bad,
as it used to be,
but none the less,
it's still a constant struggle.

The fact that I feel,
I can no longer trust,
some of the faculty,
in the building,
because they push me away,
during my times of struggle,
But I would hope,
at a high school level,
they wouldn't try to play me,
for a foolish little kid,
like they used to,

I'm not okay,
with people trying to,
pin me and my mother,
against each other,
The region has made me,
and my mother,
lose our relationship,
for almost a decade,
We finally have started,
to get close again,
but once again,
I see the region,
ripping my family,
to little pieces,

It reminds me,
of my third grade self,
Who didn't understand,
what was wrong with her,
and why she was treated,
so differently,
who was getting yelled at,
in school,
and then got punished,
at home,
because teachers couldn't see,
some things were hard for her,
She would pull her teeth out,
to leave the class,
and if her teeth were not loose,
she pulled her hair out,

I've been scared of school,
since I got there,
I used to *** my pants,
if someone came near me,
and said hello,
I was confused and scared,
of everything,

Yet everyone told me,
how I was stupid, and different,
and then they told me,
I was fine at the same time,
None of this,
makes much sense to me,
but would it make sense,
if it was done to you,
or if you were in my shoes,
No school system,
should tear apart,
someone's family,
and make a child,
traumatized by trying,
to learn,
like everyone else,

I'm getting tired,
of being nice and respectful,
to people who lie to me,
to cover up their own mistakes,
and I've mostly dealt with it,
with a fake smile,
across my face,
But I can no longer,
let people walk all over me,
like I'm dirt,
on the side of the road,
I will not walk away,
until I am treat and granted,
the same respect,
of that of an adult,
I'm old enough,
to know,
I have to respect the faculty,
at the school,
but they seem to have forgotten,
how to do so,

I can only change,
myself and I can not,
change anyone else,
but what I have learned,
from elementary,
through high school,
is that you have to,
cause a problem,
to get anything done,

So if I must,
throw a tantrum,
and scream and yell,
and be disrespectful,
against my own nature,
to get my point across,
so be it,
But I'd rather,
be myself,
and talk to the faculty,
at the school,
person to person,
adult to adult,
It's harder and harder,
to see who I can trust,
when the faculty,
doesn't trust me enough,
to tell me the truth,

I am 17 years old,
and a Junior in high school,
I have never been held back,
so don't treat me,
like a sophomore,
or try to hold my hand,
like I'm five years old,
I have learned to use my voice,
and speak up for myself,
This is why I'm stating,
how I feel,
I'm mature enough,
to see what really works for me,
I know better then any of you,
what works and what doesn't,
You are nothing close to me,
because I am nothing close to you,
The only thing,
that you can do for me,
is truly just treat me how,
I treat you,
so let me use my own voice,
and ask for help,
when its needed,

Please stop assuming,
you know all the answers,
to my problems,
Maybe then,
I will be less anxious,
about being in school,
Or maybe what has been done,
cannot be erased,
and I have to learn,
to deal with it,
on my own.

If that's true,
so be it,
but I'd love it if everyone
could stop trying,
to provoke my anxiety,
It would make me feel happier,
then I have in years,
All I ask of the faculty,
is for the same respect,
I give to you,
Respect is a two way road,
I've given it to you,
now it's your turn.
I sent this in email form and letter form not poem form to my school. they told me "cat if your having a problem, please stop by my office and make an appointment. Have a good weekend"
We are who we are
We love who love us
We love who hate us
We love our Gender

Call us Girls
Call us women
Call us Ladies
We are TransWomen

Stop being confused
Stop being surprised
Stop calling us He or It
We hate that pronoun

We are females we as others
We deserve our rights like others
We deserve love and affection
We deserve Respect like others

We are tired of your nicknames
"Is a he or a she", "what is this?"
It hurts please stop stop stop!
We are fine ladies! Full stop !

You scared our fellow ladies
They are crying in closet
They are lonely in families
Because we are Transgenders!

Stop abusing my brothers
They men and so proud to be
Don't be confused by what you see
A transMan is a powerful Man!

Respect them now and forever
Stop calling them ladies or things
They are men **** and classy
They are men always and forever

See us slaying down town
We are lovely and attractive
We know who we are friends
You can't change us Sit down!

Don't be confused by Breast
That the **** chest of our brother!
He is strong enough to be proud
We love our bodies and gender

We won't hide because you hate us
The more you see us feeling proud
The better you understand us
We are Proud Transgenders!

We ladies need our Freedom
Government think about us
All women are equal in the country
We need all care and attentions!

Stop calling us Monsters
We are human beings
We deserve our Rights
We are citizens like others!

This ain't western culture
This ain't Sodoma and Gomollah
This is the  gender of Us
We are Proud Transgender people!

Pastors stop that hate preach
That hell you need us to go in
That Sodoma you always sing
All were from Those Bibles

If you accuse all LGBTI people
To bring back ***** or Gomollah
First remember that bible you read
Was brought by Evangelists

We had gods and goddesses
Africa knew no White God
We had Love and respect
Read , reread and Rereread!

Love wins and will win
You are taking us nowhere
We are here to stay and slay
Ourselves Genger our Pride

We are done by your hate
Is our time to shine bright!
You gonna hate us today
And you will love us later!

TransWomen are women
TransMen are Strong men
Transgender is a Gender
Respect us we hurt no one!

"Transgender Right is Human right
TransWomen are women too
TransMen are men as well
We claim no war but our Freedom
We claim no hate but our Respect"



Poet : Skylar G Peter

Poem: we Are Proud Transgender people
Skylar is a 23yo transwoman originally from Rwanda but had recently fled to Uganda. Both countries are very transphobic and homophobic so I can only imagine how much she is struggling especially with her own safety. I would be most grateful if you can at least share this poem as much as you can to raise awareness. Thankyou
you see an old man, struggling on his stick,
you hurt him with your words and go your way.
but you expect to be honored, each time the clock ticks,
forgetting that you barely do the same.

a teacher advices, but you reject her with your noise,
she leads you the right way, but you ignore her stress.
then why want others to listen to your voice,
when onto others you don't show a little respect.

respect is just a word, you may never consider,
but when your world starts crumbling, you will be its believer.
don't do tomorrow what you would have don't today,
respect is respect, do it and go your way!
respect is very important. give it to those who deserve it, and sometimes go out of your way to help!
Give thanks for your Family

Give thanks for your Water

Give thanks for your Body

Give thanks for the Earth

Give thanks for the Air

Give thanks for Others

Give thanks for Mind

Give thanks for Food

Give thanks for Life

Give thanks for Fire

Give thanks for Art

Whatever it is
for which you give thanks,
I beseech of us all:
just please show
some respect and gratitude!
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
i.

i really want to write this like a poet, but i'll probably
ramble on, i want to create this poetic haiku
or what one might call a punchline
in a joke, i will, obviously,
           i will (obviously) provide
how the alternatives would look like,
but sometimes i think that the poet
is enraged by the idea of the narrator:
or the consolidator of personae -
defeatist poets write from a personae
perspective, as if each poem is
a new and nuanced character -
a nuance of the narrator,
   yes: not novels, a plateau of literature
that poetry is...
           the setting is unknown,
but these people simply congregate
and say something, akin to the burning man
festival, and then return to their
day jobs...
          i don't know why poetry is less and less
resonating with music: maybe because
the old critique of poetry being faced off
with philosophy doesn't make sense
given that there's this rainbow of musical
tastes and the general diversity?
looking at the classical circumstance of
poetry vs. philosophy makes no sense
when the *logos
is removed and the phonos
is inserted in its place...
   bad grammar, bad spelling... why look for
meaning in words in the almighty sphere
of all things holy, when in the trenches
   people are shooting bullets not at targets
but at empty space?
    that's why i love the notion that writing
can become something akin to a will to power:
the power over not of those illiterate -
urbanism has dissolved such a concept...
  we became literate in order to read adverts:
or the iconoclasm of the alphabet:
pretty coca cola nearing arabic for all
those magpies out there...
           the myth goes that the magpie spotted
the shimmer of a silver spoon and stole it
and as the debate of the fates go:
i was to marry a rich woman and leverage
myself into a calm suspense... but it wasn't
to be. such is the case: when writing
can become as difficult as arithmetic of numbers,
and certain blemishes on the fountain head
of humanism that's literature can provide
the right arithmetic complexity...
   given that, what could possibly be the sum
total of this "poem"?
  the irony of the cartesian 1 + 1 = 2...
                in terms of meaning? in a polyverse
   of the what if? universe?
        a cinema better than the Hollywood industry...
that could fit into my concept of man enduring
for eternity, even with the vain hope of challenging
his mortal frailty... have a historiological cinema
of the what ifs... i'd sit in there and be like: wow!
Adolf graduated from the Vienna Art School
and world war two didn't happen?
    the treaty of Versailles wasn't a version of
colonial powers against expansionist politics
concerning a European nation? wow!
they basically didn't join the club of colonial power,
and they were punishing the colonial powers of
the time... or that's how i see it:
i don't see myself needing to ascribe myself
to pronoun pluralism in any shape or form:
it just breeds some overt concept of paranoia;
and obviously this has nothing to do with the title,
because it i shunned the narrator, i'd be a poet,
and if i wrote a cutiepie version of this
i'd feel hungry for not having played the piano
long enough while tipping a glass of whiskey
into my mouth... just is the curse of
enjoying typing: hurrah for our loss of handwriting
and that beautiful circumstance of writing
words with connectivity - by modern standards
undecipherable as if Hebrew or acronyms
and emoticons: puncture after puncture and nothing
concerning waves or serpentines of encoded talk...
beautiful... absolutely beautiful.
  the new form italics? syllable-ism, to stress,
punctuation marks in words: beau-ti-ful!
there, goes a weeping pair, that's Ludovico Arrighi
& Aldus Manutius...
    and what i do understand, and it's pivotal,
take the concept of a narrator out of the prosaic mosaic
and take away the concept of personae out of
poetry, and mould the two together...
you get an implosion worthy of a Hiroshima...
a bit like what the Beatles conceded too after
releasing their revolved album... they stopped
live touring... they had an implosive moment
and said: as any artists in the background,
we are the invisible hands of the plumbers
who connected toilets to the pipes: hey presto!
the Beckton ****-stink on the A406...
poetry can become this...
        it can also become something akin to:
etymology is a version of archeology,
although there's no physical space to engage with it,
   and i know why Heidegger turned the word
being into beyng... it's not a mutilation
of the word, he was practising a version of
archeology (not etymological) in that he was
excavating (as archeologists do) an archaic word
from the modern equivalent... Sherlock Holmes
of the black forest... found an amber tear
                      wedged in a tree...
i never know why they called it the Baltic sea...
i'd change it... i'll start calling it the Amber Sea...
given so much amber can be found on the shorelines
of it...
             and yes, this prompted the additional bits
in the title: considering the idea that it's twice as important
as what i will eventually write with dues for
the lightning bolt's worth of a title...
    language has to be mandible, language has to
be plasticine... it can't be dittohead bound -
strict, regulated, ivory encased in a museum hush...
   esp. if it doesn't need something controversial to
be spoken... exactly at that point...
          what was i originally intending?
            language as form archeology? perhaps...
no! no no no... the pro-life vs. the pro-life debate...
    a destitute woman, perhaps a *******, perhaps
a woman who was *****...
                         as the laws in Poland currently stand:
she has to give birth...
      i never said i agreed with the stranglehold of
my "brethren", i simply said
           bilingualism as a rhinosaur (dino remnants?)
        stampede against multiculturalism...
what is the perspective? i respect the culture that
assimilated me, only through having the capacity
to speak the language of the culture i was born in...
    multiculturalism has no respect for its
host culture, the multicultural argument goes:
if i speak good enough English, i'll still be able
to wear Pakistani pyjamas in public...
it's the hijab wearing English-pristine girl who
knows ****-all arabic: but speaks good English,
so she's assimilated well enough...
       and there's me... when everyone is going
muddles berserk in their groin regions
     flirting with bisexuality... so few flirt with
bilingualism... well: how could all that fucky-sucky
go to waste, eh?   multiculturalism doesn't work
if the person attempting integration doesn't
have a moderation minder,
    if you don't respect your own original society
in the least, as in: ensuring you keep your
mother tongue and do the utmost to speak two
languages... multiculturalism of people who
don't do this are just plain lazy...
   lazy!           is that an excuse if you were born
in a host country? only if your parents were
so worked up thinking that knowing two languages
was a disadvantage... and so the byproduct
of all things that aren't part of the multicultural
franchise... if you have no respect for your mother
tongue / culture when moving to a different
country... you don't have respect for your
country of birth... or in a more succinct way said
by Napoleon: a man who knows two languages
is worth two heads... etc.
       ah, the debauchery of narrating and not
orientating yourself around creating characters...
bliss... and also the main reason poets feel guilty
about writing poetry... the missing characters.
but onto the title and the main point i was going
to make...

ii.

over an egg.

iii.

can't we simply argue the point
between pro-life and pro-choice
over breakfast of scrambled eggs?
or poached eggs... or fried eggs...
or eggs boiled for 5 minutes
so the yoke is all runny?

iv.

and they said there's no purpose to
abortion...
         the most popular food of
choice for breakfast... is an abortion.

v.

i'd say... make sure those pro-life protesters
stop eating eggs...
           they're eating abortions...
but ****... can you imagine anything
                          more yummy than an egg?
don't worry, Darwinistic existentialism
of furthering the human question
   has already been answered by an abundance
of the Mandarin and the Sanskrit population.
WE LIVE IN AN EVIL WORLD WHERE PEOPLE JUST DON'T CARE.  YOU CAN WATCH THEM PULL ONE ANOTHER DOWN, JUST ABOUT EVERYWHERE.
PEOPLE NEED TO BE TREATED WITH RESPECT, EVERYWHERE YOU GO.  MAKE THEM FEEL UPLIFTED, NOT LIKE SOMETHING LOW.
PEOPLE NEED TO BE TREATED WITH RESPECT, WHILE THEY ARE IN THIS LIFE.  THEY DO NOT NEED TO BE AROUND HATRED, AND A LIFE FILLED WITH STRIFE.
PEOPLE NEED TO BE TREATED WITH RESPECT, AND FEEL GENUINE LOVE.  DONT FORGET TO SHARE IT, START BY GIVING THEM A HUG.
BY, AUTHOR & POET,  SANDRA JUANITA NAILING
like know just time mind life feel world lost say we're things think love there's does people night away way thought got words long reality want better left make end eyes day man human dark experience remember really right death memory going place high good live city thoughts soul meaning great pain home sky believe shall change living oh fall light choice god consciousness existence years cause hard feeling thinking fear times 'cause dreams ask alive heart need past felt days dream sensation truth true use power knowledge wrong stars understand baby tell state thing face wave broken old you'll wave new broken nature you'll **** mental look far ah drug moment best ago air lose sleep dare try leave beautiful blue born lives escape sublime doesn't body dawn friends waiting feels young daze game control perception gone story mean sun head given writing act difference reason poetry philosophy psyche little trying touch deep greatest wonder choose drugs exist we'll moments score hold play 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Composed on 00:53, 21/09/2016 using Hello Poetry's 'Words' algorithm. We don't assume this means something.
Autumn May 2014
how is it okay that the people we elect, the people that demand my respect,
are just as morally corrupted as the rest of us?
You ask me to give you respect but, where is my respect?
I don't care if you find me rude.
I will not give you respect when you look down on me, or others for their appearance, or how they talk, or their sexuality.
I refuse to give you respect when you try to shove your beliefs down my throat.
Why should I give you respect because of your tittle?
How do I know you earned that?
On the other hand where do I get off, suspecting that you didn't earn that tittle, that placement of power?
aren't I just as bad as the person who would demand it, as I judge that you don't deserve respect?
Where is the line?
all too vague,
is respect demanded, or earned?
or a courtesy?
Nat Lipstadt May 2020
Shiv Pratap Pal  writes me:

“Every elder must be respected even if he is elder by a single day. This is tradition. Please let me follow the same. A poet never gets tired and poetry never dies.”

<>

Oh! this leaves me gasping for so many reasons needing enumeration.

The world reminds me daily by email and text, television commercial,
I am a privileged one, by age and right, among the most vulnerable,
so stay, baby, stay, inside your apartment and your mind where the
only virus that can come, is the one you’ve planted and tended all your whole life long.

Oft have I writ about being closer to the end, and this, untroubling,
a relief of sorts in what I fear is a new Dark Age that will arrive,
that will make writing poetry, sadly, an unlikely survival skill,
so I rite furious and furiously to give the best, the rest, of me, away.

Few are the societies that do not venerate to some degree, the elderly,
as if living long bestowed wisdom, in addition to an irritable crankiness,
(why the Inuit Indians put their elderly on an ice floe to die)
neither, both, of the “ain’t necessarily so” conditionals as wisdom deevolves and crankiness is a perpetual, a perpetual annoyance.

Do I deserve respect?

This haunts, for by right, we all believe it is
a conditional that must be earned, and not acquired by a general,
genetic lottery. R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
I do not, and a man who announces,
“I am deserving of same”
by saying this, clearly is and was not, or ever will be.

A single day!

What an amazement!

This relativity theorem, this luck of the draw, can’t argue with it, because it is tradition, somethingthat I’m well acquainted, because when I suffered on Saturdays, as an Orthodox Jewish  Child, who wanted to worship with the brothers at the Riverside Drive basketball courts, was dragged to a synagogue where he joked, they could of just inserted the video tape of the prior week, prior year, thousands of prior centuries, a previous millennium, who’d notice?


Who deserves respect?

The teacher, the one who gives it instant unflinchingly,
he who accepts a task from a stranger to translate
his words to a language he knows not even the alphabet,
indeed, a tribute to another, and executes it so well, but best! best!
no questions asked.

Who deserves respect?

One who respects tradition,
giving respect unquenchingly,
for the things that we cannot see,
only observe, come only in a size of limitless,
come unasked, freely given, even happily, and this is
why, for all of the reasons herein listed above, I give all respect to
a fellow poet, and pledge to arm embrace before tradition’s always untimely messenger says to me अब और नहीं!  (no more!)


                                       Shiv Pratap Pal

— The End —