"respectfully" poems
Dear America,
Do not call my generation stupid.
We were the first group of kids to learn a computer.
Think about that society: A group of kids learned this intricate machine. Yes, I'm talking about the O.G. Apples with the green type where you had to save with a floppy disk and if you put a magnet to the screen it went purple forever.
Yes those, same kids grew up and created everything you see before you now.
Everyday.
Do not call my generation ignorant.
In a short time span of years, as children, we learned about oral relations with interns and terrorist attacks.
From Clinton's impeachment to the World Trade Centers/Pentagon/Flight93 Somerset.
As children we learned; emphasis on the children part.
Our minds grew knowledgeable of a world at hand long before society gave us credit.
We grew up.
Do not call my generation lazy.
When we were sixteen and just received our license, gas rose to the highest it had ever been in our country's history.
We got underpaid and disrespected jobs:
cleaning up bathrooms and serving your foot-longs.
The ability to travel on our own, it was our new found freedom.
Like the early travelers roaming new found lands:
Our wings were spread.
Do not call my generation weak.
We are the same group of people who entered college or the workforce with the worst economic fall since the Great Depression.
You ask, "What did it do to you?"
Buried us in more and more debt until it consumed our life.
But, we became enlightened.
We majestically thrived in the chaotic times by finding out who we are, what we are capable of and that life will take us our journeys before we even see it coming.
The light still shines even when you are buried the deepest.
It does not matter what you throw at us next.
We will rise and conquer. It's the world's hidden secret.
I'm proud to live in this time.
I hope you are too.
Never giving up is our morale.
Respectfully,
THE PERENNIAL MILLENNIALS.
cc: (No HashTag Necessary)
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 8:12 PM UTC
Misconceptions
Fasley smiles
Psychoanalyzed
Could it be my OCDish
Would they agree or disagree
Respectfully - with no referee
Whatever matter - It doesn’t
Let it be
I’m carefree
It’s the best defense
Not a draftee
A perfectionist I am
It stems from many forces
My moral sense
At any expense
Not remorses
Their sweet jabs
From the start
Yes
From day one
Like Mr. Shukar - they see
I'm the new prospect
My disposition in scrutiny
As I take in with fluency
No unity
Let it be
I’ll take it in my dome
Its my best cover
Not styrofoam
I'll take it whichever way it's thrown
Please...
Pass the twisted news along
I continue staying strong
Detail-oriented is my syndrome
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 2:55 PM UTC
If you are single do not stress it, mainly it's because you understand the complexity of the relationship recipe you're a child of destiny and a victim of intuition, morally gifted, respectfully lifted, GPS couldn't follow your mission, eagerly itching; but if they don't cut the standards you know how to dismiss 'em, If they're not sharp enough they have no place in your kitchen; not smart enough they don't deserve a compound sentence PERIOD
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 6:20 PM UTC
The best way to give a woman a compliment is to call her BEAUTIFUL
When I hear the word beautiful I think of God with tools crafting the earth in the perfect way not like a kids who put red and blue together and accidentally came up with purple
But THE master artist who has a plan and purpose with every single dot that is on the page and without that dot the world would not be the same
A sun rise is beautiful the way that the angle depicts the color and alters the way that the naked eye can see it
How slow time moves but how fast it goes by you can actually see it move from one part of the sky to another in moments
Beautiful is watching the ocean flow it just goes any which direction it feels with no set destination
Beautiful is God’s promise to never cover the earth with a blanket of water to clear it of the sinful nature it was in, by way of a combination of colors otherwise called a rainbow
So if man should respectfully call a woman beautiful she should be thankful she is in good company
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 4:41 PM UTC
Here in America,
we improvise morgues
as needed.
in the cafeterias
or by the lockers,
near the ticket booths,
and at the altars.
We divvy up the dead.
Tally them
and report the number
like an answer.
13, 20, 49, 58, 6
Every death count
a timely national shock.
Almost as if
our well-televised
monthly tragedy
was ever anything less
than a game of roulette.
anything less than a matter of time
and time and time again.
Covering them each
with our bed sheets,
we try and stifle it.
Do our best to
staunch the the sights,
the noises,
(“just like chairs falling”)
the names
that keep bleeding out
onto our thoughts
and tongues,
Far too much and
too often
not to choke on.
Here in America,
we’ve learned that
horror is level-headed.
It is debatable.
It is pangless.
It seeps, deep to the core,
perverting with a silent smile.
the steady, feverish dread
weaving itself into the mundane.
the “god help us”
annulled by the
“respectfully disagreed”
the nightmare that lies
always just underneath,
and just out of mind,
Until it insinuates itself
Again and again...
Here, in America
We line the bodies,
death slumped, and
bled out on the pavement.
We arrange them-
Side by side.
Most are missing things-
a hat, a piece of face.
one shoe, a dulled pencil
(fill in C)
phones
buzzing on the ground
lit up with unread messages
(“Please call me”)
They are missing-
an upcoming
7th birthday party,
(Star Wars themed)
They are missing-
their vacations.
their first dates.
their college applications.
job interviews.
kids.
fiancées.
Lined up lifeless,
they are missing
far too many things
to gather.
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 3:14 PM UTC
Ask me, not
Why it will not be the last?
Seriously,
Agreement was made to water
The roots of the plant
But again,
The water was poured over the leaves
For the temporary calm
On every change in season
Leaves get turned pale
When roots gave up to live in
And the fasting
Begins
Struggling to breathe in
Respectfully yours,
15th and the next
Why do one fasts?
When we are so hungry...........
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 8:28 AM UTC
My superman, my duke, my demigod!
Ahh your visage was absolute perfection!
"I'm in control, you're in my world now"
I chanted in my thoughts many times -
I approached you with so much confidence
Femininity was my golden armour
Seduction was my double edged sword
Slowly, lustily, hungrily - - - -
WAIT!
**** This dream was my realm
Then why was she here with you?
I gulped down my surprise because
You stared and smiled at me gently
"Oh, my prince charming" I thought
You nodded at me and said respectfully
"My fiance & I would like to order our lunch..."
I didn't hear you because I fell on a black-hole!
I suddenly woke up with tears on my cheeks
I didn't know which was worse actually
My dream last night about you and her or
The reality that you will never be mine - - -
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 9:10 AM UTC
I needed safe schools because my parents did not have the education to teach me what my feelings about myself were.
I needed safe schools because I did not have the education to know about myself.
I needed safe schools because I was educated that liking people of the same *** was a sin.
I needed safe schools because I was taught that I was wrong to feel the way I felt about myself.
I needed safe schools because my peers do not know how to talk respectfully to a trans person.
I needed safe schools because I had no refuge from the judgement of others.
I needed safe schools because I didn't know that transitioning was a possibility.
I needed safe schools because I felt I had to suffer in silence, believing I was the only person who felt like I did.
I needed safe schools because education is key to a functioning society.
I needed safe schools because it is a chance to better the future.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 1:48 AM UTC
The shoreline bites at the toes of attendees,
watching the little appendages curl up together.
The footprints there have been etched into fossils,
the sand crunching together and sounding like
echoes of war cries and whispered endearments.
The raft is loaded. The time is traced.
A caterpillar in a chrysalis hums a love song,
glows with the light of ‘vita vita vita’ as
the gathering crowds taste dead languages.
Children eat from lunch boxes carved with runes.
Sometimes a glipse of twenty years is caught,
a journal is forced open by the wind; it’s pages
creak, the voices from the world's coffins
that have been wrenched open start a hymn
and the songs pile up in our ears as dust.
Those who are do not mourn titter respectfully
as men in white coats try to push the raft
into the water, but you were so lovably stubborn.
You always returned and even here you knew it;
your final laugh was filtered through sign language.
I step forward and push, float you off into
the water, put my fingers over the candle and
over the lips of dead kings as masses shoot the sky.
The match roars and your raft gasps as it burns,
old things being laid to rest and new ones kindling.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 6:28 PM UTC
Another Mature October arrives
And your Frog takes to the Pool once again
Showing that Bronze Moment on endives
That same Monument inspired by then
Now, how is she? Healed after that long wait,
Eager to join your leavened momentry
Her hands, clasped, in Solemn Prayer ascend
Hoping your Form connects respectfully
Yet this the Replacement your Father left,
A Prospect extend to your Future Seed
Will test your Patience; Unless by one's Theft
Takes her Bounty more than what you will Need.
You knew all these; Yet to blindfold your eyes
Whilst high on the Board; A Truth or a Lie.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 11:57 PM UTC
Wandering through a field of flowers,
Petals sway with each gentle breeze,
Only to stumble and embrace the rich soil,
A purple rose to my face, respectfully bowing to it.
Its vibrant purple hue set it apart from the rest,
I was entranced by the way it stood out,
So I knelt down and offered it to dance,
Carefully plucking it from the ground.
The purple rose swayed like a graceful dancer,
As if it were the one controlling the wind's rhythm,
I met an extraordinary partner in this floral waltz,
I lift it above my head, and it twinkled with delight.
What if I let the wind carry you to the sky?
I released the rose, and it vanished from sight,
As darkness enveloped the deep blue sky above,
Only to reveal the moon, with a twinkling star beside it.
Front row seats to admire its beauty,
A hidden gem, beneath all this earthly rubble,
Who knew you'd ascend so high,
Flamboyant and shining ever so bright.
The soil is not where you truly belong,
For it has hindered your growth for so
long,
To stand out, high above, with that radiant glow,
Is what you've always deserved to know.
Oct 13, 2023
Oct 13, 2023 at 1:49 AM UTC
on a flight back home
you trade places with the girl next to me to be seated closer to your friends
mine are so far back that i don't even bother
includes me in your conversation immediately
you are funny
attractive
read my signals respectfully
and i like the way you think
when i drift off to sleep
i hear you telling your friends
you are looking for the real thing this time
i carry a book from the museum of broken relationships in my bag
two hours have passed
you ask for my name
it's funny you say
that we've been speaking for so long without knowing
when the plane hit ground
you jump in terror
cut of guard in the middle of a sentence
a hand on my knee
you laugh
with a nervous side-way glance
you ask me out
you could be all i ever wanted
and i still wouldn't be there
when you leave
you look back and smile
you got a sad expression on your face
but good manners
i stay behind
you are not him
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 10:14 PM UTC
Summertime on Broadway
in Spanish Harlem.
Wide sidewalks glinting
with mica, as I walked alone
up this hill in our neighborhood
for the very first time.
Flag Day, my parent's anniversary,
and a wish to give them flowers
I would buy all on my own.
Inside the hushed florist shop
the flowers and plants
seemed ready to interview
any potential new owners
who wished to take them home.
A dignified, kind woman,
spokesperson for their domain,
looked down at this earnest
little shrimp of a girl in a
striped T-shirt and shorts,
who wanted so much
to be taken seriously.
Respectfully, she opened heavy
glass doors where the roses slept
in orderly, long-stemmed rows.
Heady, chilled. Their fragrance
enveloped me, and still does.
I chose one red rose, and one yellow,
and the woman solemnly wrapped
them like a baby in swaddling clothes,
adding baby's breath and fern leaves.
Cradling my paper bundle, I walked on home.
Something deep inside of me had made that choice.
It felt as though the flowers knew what I wanted
to say to my cherished mother and father:
*That this life they were creating for us,
was abundantly full, and balanced.*
Time flew by, and one day I learned
from a holy and compassionate sage
that my heart had chosen an ancient
symbol for fullness of life:
Two flowers, one red,
one yellow, whispering
the secret of life
to the heart of a child
who wanted, more than anything,
to actually hear it,
who wanted to know,
above all else,
what was really real.
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 8:25 PM UTC
oh.have.the.heart.to.welcome.a.stranded.soul
1.
If you’re given the jolly gift of a green ribbon
Would you use it as a link to answers
Or to hang your pretty neck?
2.
If a tree has been yearning to the sky for more than sixty years
Would you now stub out your ciggie in its folds
Or embrace its giving energy?
3.
If such books have been written many millennia ago – saying a multitude
Would you shut your ears to debate and follow blindly
Or respectfully ask bold questions?
4.
If a man kneels repentant in the dust to wipe your shoes
Would you offer a hand up
Or trample on his fingers and spit on his bent head?
5.
If the insipid cashier annoys your sensibilities
Do you leave it unattended
And later sickeningly vent and shout at the wrong one at home?
6.
If a once-beautiful cat lies dead in the road
Would you let your rapid wheels contribute to its messy mince
Or do the ***** job of humanely scooping away its remains?
7.
If a powerful dream comes mayhap to honour you
Would you ignore its seemingly-confusing message
Or follow its signals (in a maze) to certain life-enhancing enrichment?
8.
If constant calamity touches your being on stretched resources
Would you keep popping those three sublinguals with alarming ease
Or try to surrender and accept the pain under arborescent canopies?
9.
If an old woman suffers a stroke in the heart of festivity
Would you refrain from visits while sending easy bouquets and fruit-baskets
Or take the time to help her struggling steps to the toilet?
10.
If the moon shines tonight on your wretched suffering
Would you hurl silent abuse and curse its half-light
Or glance up to catch perchance the echo of your deepest wishes in the air around ...?
*you.can’t.honestly.say.that.it.matters.not
for.it.touches.you.too*
S T, 16 July 2013
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 12:52 PM UTC
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) - 64
BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem
Oh the Loved one, Who is my Beloved!
In the deserted land, there is a Sacred Mountain’
Fondly, called as The Mountain Of Light’s (Jabal Al Noor) '
Where my Divine Creator Imitate His Own Light'
And carefully guarded by the Numerous Angels,
Towards the Sacred Mountain (Jabal Al Noor)!
My Beloved visits daily towards the Peak (Jabal Al Noor)
Where his rest place Cave (Hira) itself based.
He climbs at rosy dawn, towards the sacred peak,
To freely meditate towards his Divine Creator!
Allow me, to unfailingly follow you;
Until the Cave (Hira) entrance,
And comfort Your attractive Paws as your feet dust.
I devotedly follow You, Oh my Beloved!
Towards the Cave (Hira);
Upon the Peak (Jabal Al Noor)
Don't look down for stack of crude stones,
Or don't be worried about any cruel thorns.
At Dawn, Very difficult to track the visible path,
I dearly want to live as his dainty shoes'
Hence, He can climb carefully every glorious day.
Let my Beloved’ peacefully sit and Meditate
Let Him recite, The One and Only (Iqra Bismi Rabika)
Thru the Dear Angel (Jibreel),
Therefore, He can reveal the Divine truth!
I will wait respectfully outside,
Until He solely speaks, the divine truism.
Therefore, I can correctly grasp;
Through My Beloved the eternal truth (Noble Quran)!
The unknown truth of the Divine Creator (Allah)
And His Eternal Existence (The Noble Throne)
Upon the sacred Mountain Of Light’s! (Jabal Al Noor)!
Allah Khair..... Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem
Ummah Thurab - Badshah Khan.
©UT-BK 2019
Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 5:13 AM UTC
Blue **** sparrows and some rather pretty birds indeed
Gathering around their special wooden box of feed
Respectfully waiting for their turns to pick a seed
Then they fly away and I'm thrilled about my good deed
For I'm the supplier - in their eyes the Mighty Lord
I know a few things but mainly where the food is stored
Feeling a little superior is my reward
Though most times they believe I deserve to be ignored
Feb 14, 2022
Feb 14, 2022 at 10:18 AM UTC
I find that when
I'm covered in soap,
my mind wonders the most.
. . . .
Racing down my face
is a streak of blood,
a betrayal of my body,
it longs to feel air
because it's jealous of my skin.
. . . .
He hands me a cigarette,
a gesture of friendship
which I respectfully decline
because time can heal wounds,
but it takes more than
a few seconds of silence
to rekindle a friendship.
. . . .
The wind clings
the blood to my face
a reminder of your betrayal
and I wish it would go away
but It can't, can it?
. . . .
And the soap washes the
red off my face, down the drain
shaping my aspirations of flying away.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 10:10 AM UTC
I sat by the window side at the bus
And ate some chocolate cake with gusto
Headaches from last night's partying
And suddenly I dozed off while eating
How strange...
Someone tapped me on the shoulder
I ****** and opened up my eyes
And saw you with your gentle smile
My face with smudges of chocolate
How embarrassing...
You asked if the seat beside me was vacant
I nodded unable to speak for shame and fear
Of opening my mouth full with chocolate cake
Too conscious how my teeth would look like
How pathetic...
Side by side, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder
Instantly felt the warmth of your smooth skin
You glanced at me and smiled again very slowly
My cheeks were blushing of my indecent thoughts
How pitiful...
You asked softly if where my destination was
I answered politely afraid of looking directly
Too distracted by the musky scent you have in you
I wanted to ask what perfume you were wearing
How awkward...
The journey was tediously long and I had hangover
We sat there for five hours in companionable silence
But my insides were screaming with excitement
By your mere presence, I felt I was safe and sound
How weird...
"Excuse me sir, may I pass?" I nudged you respectfully
Your eyes widened a little bit and nodded in silence
I got off the bus and stared as it continued on the road
Regretted that I never even dared to ask for your name
How hopeless...
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 11:56 PM UTC
I have been pacing enamorately,
standing in airport terminals
not looking for your arrival.
But my eyes began to respectfully
look elsewhere as you came.
My words seem lackluster as we spoke
but I'm just captivated.
I want to write to you,
but i am unable to.
The departure time fast approaches,
and my destination awaits,
can we have just one more conversation,
so that I can listen to you.
Jan 23, 2010
Jan 23, 2010 at 10:49 AM UTC
Dear Mrs. Lorraine;
It brings me a great deal of pain
to tell you that for the third time
(and really this should be a crime)
that the score on your credit
you gave us was not how you said it
We know that the offer sent in the mail
said no credit check, but read the fine print
it said that that was on approved credit.
So with all the due respects, we respectfully
and with understandable distain, regretfully
must inform you that your credit has been declined
and if you must so be inclined
to ask why we even bothered writing this letter
we, by local and state law, (and mostly the latter)
are required to inform you that you are worth nothing
zero, zilch, nada. So with respect and courtesy
stop sending in applications, for you see
This company is trying to go green
and with every application you **** another tree
And also, with a courteous plea
(and this is just between you and me)
I am really getting tired of staying after hours
to write the responses to these repeated declines.
So if you could do us all a favor, stop replying to
the falsely advertised credit cards we send you
This will take an effort on your end, because
the marketing department won't remove you
from the mailing list without just cause.
-We greatly appreciate your business-
Sincerely from the credit department;
-Chris
Feb 24, 2011
Feb 24, 2011 at 7:53 AM UTC
The world wakes gently today
humankind taking welcome pause
from inconsiderate rushing
unfamiliar faces become fellows
on this travel day we share
a young brother and sister
and their sweetly doting
hijab-draped mother
her smile, the rising sun
sit down across from us
kids munching chips
before an early a.m. flight
the brother got the last bag
of Doritos, his older sister settled
for the sour cream and onion
she attempts to negotiate
a chip for chip exchange
little brother politely refuses
but after seeing her disappointment
grins and hands over the whole bag
the same mother and children
leave the empty waiting area
return to find it brimming
a young father and son
settled, bag-laden, it would clearly
be an inconvenience to move
yet he respectfully stands
and offers their seats
his gesture, a prayer
the young mother
flustered, blushing refuses
profusely thanking him
as she pushes the stroller
toddlers trailing behind
to a less crowded space
our eyes lock, we smile
and I know we're thinking
the same thought
the world wakes gently today
and it feels good
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 11:57 AM UTC
Actually Awesome
Beautifully Broken
Courageously creative
Differently Dazzling
Eagerly Edgy
Fascinatingly Fastidious
Gracefully Great
Handsomely Harmonious
Independently Intelligent
Jokingly Joyful
Keenly Kind
Lovingly Lyrical
Marvelously Magnificent
Naturally Narcissistic
Originally Open-minded
Passionately Pleasant
Quintessentially Quirky
Respectfully Rebellious
Sarcastically Smart
Typically Twisted
Unbelievably Unique
Vigorously Viscous
Wonderfully Wild
X-tremely Xenodochial
Young-fully ******
Zealously Zany
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 2:45 PM UTC
Good girl's don't tell,
You should do as I say & not as I do.
Mama said
respect my elders so respectfully
I'll lay here and not make a sound.
You've told me
God
rewards good girls when they obey their parents and being my foster parent I must do as
God
tells me so obey you I do,
I brush my teeth and let you brush my hair,
you lift a trestle
to your nose ,
smell deeply then brush my hair some more.
I must be a sacrificial lamb and let your will be done.
The pink lace type nightgown fits me a bit big, the perfume makes me
sneeze
- -
ahchoo ahchoo
I don't like the rouge on my cheeks and this light brown powdery stuff
smell like old women and itches,
but
I smile cause it hides the swelling purplish bruises
on my eye and right cheek.
It also makes me feel so beautiful,
specially cause of the look in your eyes,
I know that
You
like how I look from
the smirk on your face.
I sit down as you've instructed,
watching you as you go to the door
locking it,
I don't know what to think or how you feel
but you tell me that
I'm special,
magically so and you'd die
if you can't have me.
I don't know what you mean
still
I come up to you and rub your back.
It always worked
when my
Nana
did this to me,
giving me comfort as any good parent should.
You on the other hand
hold
me and tell me I am so lovely
Yet your
not accepting the
father/ daughter comforts I wish to give you.
My naivete's got you looking at me
strangely
and in this fortress- locked room you take it upon yourself
to demonstrate just what I truly mean to you ,
you kiss,
you kiss my lips
, touch my chest,
sliding your hand down
my
underdeveloped
body
with a hunger in your eyes of which
I can't place,
I'm frighten and worried
yet you tell me
to relax and lay on the bed,
repeating to me that
Good Girl's Don't Tell.
Always Me Ayeshah ®
Copyright 1977 - Present ©
K.A.C.L.N ©
All right reserved ®
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 4:52 AM UTC
*Sapphire currents
engulf consciousness
'neath waves of
ancient sunken treasure,
delving neath oceans
cobalt manifests,
lost riches of bygone eras
destined to respectfully
resurface its significance,
midst new horizons' creations
as clarity's power deeply inhales
the depths of salty sea's tumult*
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 6:27 AM UTC