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Infinity Jul 2018
Honey you must be
High risk, high return ;)
I've lent you my love
But you'll most likely be a bad debt
I'll have to write off
You've got a high risk of default

You're not a public offer
Won't give me the disclosures I need
Darling you're private debt
And the riskiest type

Babe, you're the riskiest investment
A structured product
Only the most accredited investor

Can afford your risk
Im only a retail consumer
Barely making ends meet

But you're a bad boy
Risky
And I'm nothing, if not risk-seeking
I thought I'd write a silly poem, it's not fully edited and there's a lot of finance terminology here so I hope it's understandable. This was inspired by cheesy/lame accounting pick up lines.
American
Whiteness
the greatest mental illness of all time
even before they were diagnosed
the world has become safer
because the world finally
has funded a wall around America
a padded room institution
where the dissociative disorder
can destroy itself
and not everyone else in the process
the casual crisis
is an emergency
whiteness the coup d’état
is wreaking havoc
on the human soul
domesticated whiteness
riskiest to do business with
spilling blood all around the world
quarantine the biohazard
whiteness on its journey of impunity
when my family was most vulnerable
to the morbid lust
of the mental illness of whiteness
we gently genocidally refer to as social construction
which is really the deconstruction
of the black human
and the origins of humanity
American
American built by the pieces of my family
glued and mortared by the blood and sweat
spilled from them
the most dangerous deconstruction site
in the world
biological warfare
spewing
leaking
uncontrollably
contaminating humanity
polluting its evolution
at war with symbiosis
for the purity of fascism sake
a coup d’état called American whiteness
which is also been a long
untreated dissociative disorder
Ignatius Hosiana Jul 2016
"Being an introvert in an extroverted
world can absolutely be difficult."
Came across this on some blog.
Think it's more complex to be a mediocre, an extro-intro or an intro-extro...
you can't go all out... you won't remain all in...
you're doomed to be in the twixt. Yet the middle is dangerous...
The middle of the Ocean is the deepest, the middle
of the jungle is the riskiest... the middle of the garden
of Eden doomed an entire race...
for its existence... no driver would drive freely in the middle lane,
most run to the climbing lane soon as they see it.
Some say the Earth is trapped between Heaven and Hell...
maybe we're a compound of Paradisal elements and
the rumbles of the Hades...
the pawns in the Chess between God and Satan, the Jobs in the bible of now...
I'm a Junk of all trades & I'm afraid being in between trades makes me a master of non...
I know too much and yet I know nothing... I am an extro-intro...
I go out only until the plank starts to swing the other way...
I go out until I sense the cold and quickly run back to the lukewarm
betwixt for the hot is as fatal to my kind as the cold.
Am not an Author and neither am I a poet... Am a "Poether'' or an "Auoet", Am not philosophical neither am I Theological...am "philological" or "Theolophical".
I'm trapped at the equator... I'm neither an Eskimo nor an "Antactico"...
Not Ugandan nor Kenyan... Tanzania can't claim me
but there's yet to be a concrete East African...
maybe I'm African.
My point is some people think the middle is safe...
but I believe different. it's my opinion if you want to be a piglet be one,
if you want to be a puppy be a puppy for its fatal to be a Pipet or puppet...
both are instruments... even their use is similar.
My tragedy is am in between, am a mediocre, a pother,
an opssimist, a philothopher, a ctranger or say "Ukantan".
I'm just there... Don't be caught in my place...
find a place to belong... no matter how dangerous and risky...
always choose where you lie...always strive hard to find a prowess...
Go past the lines for History remembers those who are unique...
whether for the worst or the best.
Be the last if you can't be the first...
*Everyone will remember Mabirizi for he knew how to be the last...
And sadly everyone will remember Museveni for he's good at keeping his place.
Who will remember the one in between.
Who will remember Besigye? Who will remember the servant boy that
cautioned Achilles against fighting the Thessalonian?
Who will remember me?
Mimi Kurpier Jan 2016
Feeding the past only nourishes the demons of the future

Every second is a step into a better future
and away from your troubled past

Scars are powerful reminders of life's riskiest adventures

Stand today for a stronger tomorrow
Allyssa Jun 2017
Theres a saying that goes, "once you've made your bed, lay in it."
I supposed I've made my bed,
My choices were the mattress,
My dark desires were the sheets,
My secrets were the pillows I slept on,
My thoughts covered me like my blanket.
Frankly my bed was better left alone,
It was better before you climbed in,
The sheets ruffled,
The blanket pulled back,
The mattress bowing in beside me.
I could hear the crumple of the pillow as you rest your head upon my secrets and covered yourself in my thoughts.
You took my dark desires and made yourself apart of them.
I allowed you to come into my bed
And
I guess that's why my mattress
Is so heavy.
You were the riskiest choice I had made and you piled on,
Sank into a dark desire,
Became hidden away in the pillow you occupied,
Covering me like the
Warmth
You once provided.
You became the bed I slept in,
Rolled upon,
Never let me leave.
Why I had spent so long amongst the bed you helped make always made me wonder why.
Your scent was a permanent fixture,
An added amusement to my suffering.
Thank you for the company that's burned into me.
Momenter Apr 2018
I reinvented myself
After I had already settled on a career
It was the riskiest thing I had ever done
But I made the decision so quick
It was as if something had lit a fire under me
And I jumped to the opportunity
To do something that filled me with challenges
And triumphs
Rather than settle
For less than my potential
gmb May 2018
stage one: autolysis
all i know is that it is cold in your basement. i can't tell because i cant feel anything but the space where you used to be and the fingernails lodged in my spine.
soft electric whirring and rigor mortis.
there is nothing you can do about this, you will not forget this.
you will cower from it.

stage two: bloat
recovery has long passed by now. there is a garden of loathing inside of you and it has overgrown / there is a ocean of fever inside of you and it has overflowed.
the body can grow to twice its size in this stage.
this is its way of releasing the pent up anger/sadness/longing you felt as a child.
your organs whisper "lets stop" and "im tired now" and (?).
they sigh as they expand. they are at peace now.

stage three: active decay
85% of brain growth occurs between ages 1-3. this doesn't mean anything as the years pass because when you are 4 you will liquefy and when you rot you will liquefy again.
(child deaths are always the saddest.)
you will find someone who loves you and you will return the favor; you will give everything to them and save none for yourself.
this is the riskiest gamble you will take / this is the only gamble you are forced to make.
you will let this swallow you. proceed with reckless abandon because
being cautious will hurt more than fingers on bare skin and flowers tucked behind small ears.

stage four: skeletonization
why has someone who has been hurt so badly choose to live so softly, to remain vulnerable? weathering can destroy you,
even the smallest wave can destroy the largest rock with time.
maybe she wants to be hurt, maybe she likes the cold basement, maybe she lets other people hurt her because she's too afraid to do it herself.
she seeps into the earth / i seep into the earth.
this is not the place where we died, but this is the place we will be forgotten.

stage five: funeral
lawn chairs / popsicles / fireworks. she stopped aging when she was small, she still pins baby hairs back with barrettes and cries for her mother.
she stares straight into the sun / she is an optimist.
she is soft, but do not handle her with care.
dig your nails into her torso,
**** her and cut her up into pieces and shove her in plastic bags / the lake where she swam as a child will be her permanent home.
she will fall in love with you chained to the bed, she
will love you endlessly and with every part of her,
every piece of her you tucked in her mothers garden.
i think it's time to
sleep.

i love you, and i am learning to love myself. please be patient with me. i am trying. i am trying. i am

— The End —