"sagacious" poems
'Twas my spring of youth in that lot
That now haunts my mind by that spot
Of which I could not love less -
Wonderful loneliness,
Of the lake's Serenity gown,
With nature circled 'round.
But when Death hath reached its grasp
Upon Serenity's water - poured into his flask,
The sadistic sagacious wind went by
Murmuring the funeral cry -
Then - I finally awake -
To the terrors of Serenity Lake.
Yet I persist that it was not fright!
Simply Death's delight -
Fueled by the Void of Sorrow,
Pierced by Serenity's arrow -
No! - This Love I must define!
The trip to the lake, of thee and thine.
O! - Death's grasp laid in that voracious wave,
Enticing Serenity to be my eternal grave,
Upon that very fatal spot -
Where the two children rot.
For no soul shall ever make,
A Heaven out of Serenity Lake.
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 8:48 PM UTC
Though in dexterity my physically challenged carpenter father,
Than the physically fit proves better,as a source to his anger,
With contemporaries a level ground he enjoyed never!
From late childhood there was one thing that me used to bother, why my so discriminated father
On his turn true to cultural dictates,ill treats my domestic chores saddled mother
And heeds not her say though by the sweat of their brow
As responsible parents they were happily bringing my sister and I together?
I still wonder why ,why ,why my sister who has IQ
On par with me if not better,to help out mother
Suffering a cold shoulder even by her mom was denied the right to pursue education further
While I was given a chance to prove a man of letter(s)?
I remember, crossing many a pool, barefooted, I used to trek
A long distance to a nearby town's a school,
Where for my provincial and shabby clothes I was seen a fool
By the relatively rich in showing courtesy far from cool.
Though stationery they didn't lack , sad,I had a hand tied behind my back.
Alas,up on joining campus where I yearned for the sagacious a chance
There too in my class,I was looked down by students
Hailing from families of the top brass.
When I went abroad for a higher education enjoying fellowship and donation
Worse still, I met many, colour has coloured whose vision.
Ironically my dissertation was drawing attention
To why should the broad mass be standers by
And with ill-fate marked die
While the favoured ,racist and the corrupt few gobble over 3/4 of the pie? /
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 3:11 AM UTC
We sighing said, "Our Pan is dead;
His pipe hangs mute beside the river
Around it wistful sunbeams quiver,
But Music's airy voice is fled.
Spring mourns as for untimely frost;
The bluebird chants a requiem;
The willow-blossom waits for him;
The Genius of the wood is lost."
Then from the flute, untouched by hands,
There came a low, harmonious breath:
"For such as he there is no death;
His life the eternal life commands;
Above man's aims his nature rose.
The wisdom of a just content
Made one small spot a continent
And turned to poetry life's prose.
"Haunting the hills, the stream, the wild,
Swallow and aster, lake and pine,
To him grew human or divine,
Fit mates for this large-hearted child.
Such homage Nature ne'er forgets,
And yearly on the coverlid
'Neath which her darling lieth hid
Will write his name in violets.
"To him no vain regrets belong
Whose soul, that finer instrument,
Gave to the world no poor lament,
But wood-notes ever sweet and strong.
O lonely friend! he still will be
A potent presence, though unseen,
Steadfast, sagacious, and serene;
Seek not for him -- he is with thee."
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It is impossible to compass life without suffering harm
from loved ones.
Wrongs that take the ground from under the feet.
Wrongs that hurt heart through and through.
Wrongs that make us distraught victim.
Does forgiveness immunize us for further injustices?
Does forgiveness soothe suffering?
One thing is certain, everyone has been hurt in life
and everyone once inflicted wound:
betrayal,
selfishness,
criticism,
unjust judgment,
bad word,
emotional abuse,
unfair reward.
Love that bears all things, and endures all things
shows the principle of overcoming evil with good.
We live in times where love is seen as pleasure.
When there is lack of fulfillment the connection ends
instead of support in moments of weakness,
jointly bearing burden,
willingness to give up the ego.
In relations underflow of virtues is worthless.
Every love at some point hurts.
The more we love the greater the suffering.
Remember, that you are also sometimes hard to bear.
One of the most important lessons in life
is non acceptance of evil.
Always we are entitled to protest and defense.
There is a difference between sagacious enduring of injustice
and permition for hard time and humilitation.
Defense against evil should be free from desire
for revenge, hate, wrath, punishment and anger.
Leave vengeance to God.
The point is love. It is she who shows the right path.
The cure for the human pain of injustice is forgiveness.
Man needs time to forgive,
therefore necessary at times of touch of hurt is compassion.
Does forgiveness mean to forget?
No, forgiveness is an act of will not of forgetting.
Great injury can not be erased from memory.
Forgiveness is duty that gives hope and strength for the future.
Forgiveness is the transition from helplessness to peace of heart.
Forgiveness is overcoming anger and grief towards acceptance of reality.
Is forgiveness reconciliation?
No, although it is a quantum leap in the direction of reconciliation.
There is no way to force act of reconciliation.
Forgiveness is one thing,
and to be mature for reconciliation is another thing.
Most important in forgiveness is not to rely
on gesture of compensation.
Some believe that only weak people forgive.
Forgiveness requires tremendous effort and courage.
It is easier to sail away in anger
than creative dialogue which leads to remedy of the situation.
Without forgiveness you can not win
with guilt, abyss of past and human frailties.
Forgiveness is above all priceless gift for yourself.
Forgiveness frees you from inner poisons,
and also opens up new lands.
If we are able to injure,
we are also able to say the sorry and make amends.
Act of contrition allows for a true change of heart.
Act of forgiveness is the bud of heart at peace.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 9:00 AM UTC
66
So from the mould
Scarlet and Gold
Many a Bulb will rise—
Hidden away, cunningly, From sagacious eyes.
So from Cocoon
Many a Worm
Leap so Highland gay,
Peasants like me,
Peasants like Thee
Gaze perplexedly!
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1501
Its little Ether Hood
Doth sit upon its Head—
The millinery supple
Of the sagacious God—
Till when it slip away
A nothing at a time—
And Dandelion’s Drama
Expires in a stem.
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I met a girl once, she had french fries for hair and she was pretty legendary. I’ve been trying to explain her in words for a few days now.
But I don’t know how to write that kind of poem, that explains that it’s the smallest things about her I find the most amazing.
Like when she laughs, and her whole body becomes a wind chime, both in sound and sway
Like her walk, how it seems like her ankles are two old sagacious birds that know some secrets about the ground that no one else does, so it seems like she’s almost flying.
How she has basquiat fingers for hips, and every time she moves it’s pure art.
How do I explain that every time she speaks, her lips become two ex-lovers that still have a thing for each other, constantly touching and stopping.
If I could, I would capture her smile in the ink of a pen. I would write sonnets and ballads about the arch in her back. I would write nursery rhymes about each line in her palm, let me read your future. Are you kissing me in it?
I guess sometimes words fail even the best of poets.
Sometimes,dreams don’t do reality justice.
For those that will never hear the wind chimes in her laugh, that will never see the feathers on her ankles.
The best I can say is that she’s pretty legendary.
When the sun starts snoozing its alarm too often, when autumn leaves are corpses under white caskets and the memories of her are nothing but distant car horns. I’d always remember french fries.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 12:27 PM UTC
“When we hand down
This flag to posterity
Paying prices of life
To the country's
Age-old sovereignty
It is with a word of caution
'This generation
Should accord due attention
To handing down
To the coming generation
A new Ethiopia
To fruits of development
A cornucopia!' ”
“Yes, grandpa
Working day and night
We shall take Ethiopia
To a new developmental height!
Once Ethiopia was great
How could we that forget?
The country's renaissance
Firm we shall advance!
For common growth
Resources we
Shall harness,
Allowing the region
Soar with wings of success!”//
I am happy to announce the birth of my poetic drama
In the Vortex of Passion's Wind
By United P.C-publication without risk and quickly (Austria)
ISBN 978-3-7103-2109-2
Release date09092015
GBP14,90
About the book
Shock treatments that attend the wrong turns of life reshape people's mindset anew and nudge them out of their slumbers. On the other hand, as forewarned is forearmed, the sagacious learn from the lapse of the trigger-happy than indulge in the vortex of passion's wind. Miss not this page turner and cliffhanger mainly dealing with HIV/AIDS in a campus of a country worst hit by the pandemic.
Please buy and read the book.You could also get your collection of poems published by www.unitedP.c-publishquickly and without a risk
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 8:43 AM UTC
Wanted: her words!
Her inspired, breathless,
Sighing words
Needed for motivation
Desired for an elixir
Of broken hearts and corrupt minds
Wanted: her words!
Her mellifluous panacea
Breathing life into the inanimate
Defining the undefinable
And finding felicity in the fugacious
Wanted: her words!
Her intransigent, sagacious,
And judicious lyrics
Publicly educating and passionate
Privately life's denouement
Her words are wanted
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 7:51 PM UTC
In the golden bull that Alexios Comnenos issued
to prominently honor his mother,
the very sagacious Lady Anna Dalassene-
distinguished in her works, in her ways-
there are many words of praise:
here let us convey of them
a beautiful, noble phrase
"Those cold words 'mine' or 'yours' were never spoken."
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Eyes in hues of green and gold
Mesmerizing flecks to which
My gaze was stubbornly fixated
Crimson lover and ebony spirit,
Why did you me so
Hungry and bereft?
We met one cold December hour
And your voice indelibly painted
An awe-inspiring tapestry
Upon the hollow corridors
Of my heart
You said Yes
I remember the very gasp
Even the nuances of your
Angelic voice
I have committed to memory
But nothing cripples your will
Like the magnetic pull
Of a golden-tressed *****
Oh, how you covet,
How you steal and you gorge
You pummeled me down
Into an abyss of no return
But when my ashes are strewn
Across the vast fields
Of God's Heaven
They will not remember me
Or my mangled remains
For I am just another victim
Of your sagacious convictions
A singular pearl
On a long string of beads
So pure but marred
A beauty but scarred
They will admire
And exalt to the skies
They will bellow their song
To the thousands listening
But they will also weep
A funeral march so poignant
Dew drops from their eyes
Awaken the fallen
And with them I rise
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 3:17 PM UTC
*in the villages
in days of yore
young men proved
their vigor
by lifting gigantic rocks*
but in 2012 -
the remarkable year of
the French Village of Bugarach
(where many sagacious youths gathered) -
away in Tunisia,
the young man
downs eggs
egg-citedly
in a dare
and he’s up to his esophagus in 28 eggs raw
when something in him cracks
(O poor wasted youth of 20)
and just 2 before winning his bet
he dies;
it’s Armageddon for him in 2012,
though he also gains an epiphany:
*28 raw eggs can ****
caveat
of course
O Ye Olde Sensitive Souls
this is not a yoke -
I mean, this is not a joke
For verily, 28 eggs can ****
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 3:52 AM UTC
Ikkyu as a very young child
Displayed signs of being clever.
That he would one day be a great master,
There was no doubt whatsoever.
His teacher had one small treasure--
A precious teacup, a rare antique.
Its beauty was beyond compare,
Its style and craftsmanship unique.
One day Ikkyu happened to break
His teacher's cup. Horror-struck,
He heard his teacher's approaching footsteps,
And there he was: a sitting duck.
Ikkyu quickly picked up the pieces
And held them behind his back. "Why,"
He asked his sagacious teacher,
"Is it that people have to die?"
"Dying is a natural thing,"
The teacher replied, trying to give
A meaningful explanation.
"Everything has just so long to live."
Ikkyu slowly held out his hands,
Showing his teacher the broken cup.
Then he demurely said, "It appears
As though your teacup's time was up."
(2-3-17) By Bob B
°An old anecdote retold here in verse
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 10:50 AM UTC
forging sagacious epoch
activating neural station
escaping hokey-pokey jiggery-pokery
transcribing ineffective fragments
digesting bear news
opposing usual exhaustion
deferring oxter reference
cascading style sheets
containing double readings
mumbling lorem ipsum
locating moose jaw
enforcing meticulous patterns
deconstructing vertical centering
manifesting additional destinies
deleting !important statement
craving sleep paralysis
receiving cryptozoological vibrations
lightning fast collapse
distracting tunnel vision
culling deadbeat sequentialists
overanalyzing twitter analytics
acquiring arbitrary relevance
spinning ping-pong sign
floccinaucinihilipilificating
floccinaucinihilipilificated
floccinaucinihilipilification
interjecting ****** holophrase
minifying conventional language
securing downpour refuge
admiring octopus chandelier
resuming party music
taking mental trip
encountering ersatz telesthesia
denigrating bygone grudges
maintaining elevated composure
ignoring neurotypical haters
eliciting cryptic emotions
foreshadowing triple crown?
experimenting acrostic restriction
noticing ubiquitous "threes"
aggrandizing loyal legion
favoring ursine narratives
finding oblique resilience
yielding orchestral undulations
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC
O LOVE! O LOVE! WHY ARE YOU EVER DEVOID OF LOGIC?
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; [email protected])
Mankind in its pathetic folly entice you in a dint of stupor
Knowing not your true colour and texture
Endeavoring to achieve glory in your mastery
With the so limited human capacity
In grey faith that you are a cradle of bliss
But O love! Why are you ever crooked?
Young men and women in strength of their sinews
Toil day and night in ******* of humanity
Praying and whining incantations with the hope for optimal love
Ornamenting their bodies with diamond and bronze
Fibre and silk ornamented to helm of providence
In the foolish quest for love equillibria
But in full stretch of your vice, you impish love
You catapult all away to the shifted goal posts
O love! O love! Why are you ever ruthless?
You hate the learned but you favour the strong
You hate professors but you favour the soldiers
You hate the rich but you favour the agile
You hate the lawyers but you favour the footballers
You hate the pastors but you favour the ruffian
You hate the whites but you favour the Negroes
You hate the groomed but you love the ragamuffin
You hate the chaste but you favour the mistress
O love! O love! Why are you ever illogical?
Love, I revere you for wickedness and irrationality
In all of your history you scored sum *** laude
In the duo as blend of your domain, Look;
You never dwell in a genuine companionship
You like where the couth will interject;
Amidst fornication between married and single ones
Amidst adultery in the triangle of foul compassion
Amidst miscegenation between black and white
Amidst infatuation between the whole and the lame
Amidst conjugal appetite between the old and the young
Amidst concupiscence between house master and houshelp
Amidst immorality of married master over the wallowing servant
Amidst libidos between literate teacher unto the peasant pupil
Amidst disordered passion among the sly lesbians
Amidst impious ********** among the suave gays
O love! O love! You are the most wicked force!
Love I am told; your colour is red
You may be red or you may not be red
But all in all, you deserve poetical veneration
For your herculean ability to bend the most wise;
In your force you made sagacious Shakespeare to bend
In your force you made Princes Diana to bend and bend
Bending downwardly stooping for Afawoyed the moor,
In your stupefying dint you made Napoleon de Bonaparte
To bend and bend downwardly stooping for Josephine
Josephine a famed she-Casanova in the gone Paris
Among the then humanity and the then animality,
In your impairing machinery you set sons on their fathers
In the roman empire of Antony and Ceaser
In the scramble for Cleopatra, the Egyptian queen
Beauty of her aquiline nose heavily hovered perhaps
In the eyes of the Roman beholders
The father and the son only to sent the empire
To the love forlorn smithereens!
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 5:08 AM UTC
The wanderer follows
No hallowed path
Set forth for her
By the sagacious few.
Nor does she live
To build her past
For far off futures
Whose seeds are sewn.
No familiar face
Has she ever seen
That greets her where
She decides to sleep
But travels with
The wind in her hair:
The only companion
She chooses to keep.
All empires return
To dust that birthed
Them from the nothingness
Of barren ground,
And push the ambitious
To build them tall
For fleeting futures
On foundations unsound.
Such men still laugh
At one like her
Who possesses nothing
In their eyes,
And lives in chaos
Of shifting destiny
With no respect
For human lies.
But no future goal
Controls her fate
Nor worldly tethers
Bind her past
So she is free
To contemplate
Her relation to
The earth so vast.
She is the dust
from God’s fingers
that’s fallen on
Ungrateful land
And shows the blind
And sinful people
Their origin from
The present at hand.
They deride and mock
Or at best ignore her
And value what God
Did not confer
But she is more
than the earth and sky
And none can take
What belongs to her.
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 6:55 PM UTC
Verbiage
Sagacious humans would concur
Salacious verbiage is trenchant
Verdant language withers a guileless soul
Hubristic linguists deem limpid oratory irksome
A Didactic, petulant, boorish, garrulous, nefarious, obtuse, and insolent
Overtone is not my intent
Puckish, risible, mannered, jocular, antic, and adroit
Reverberations I am manifesting
TRANSLATION
Words
Smart people would agree
Healthy words are sharp
Unripe words die naive spirits
Self-confident word users find simple language annoying
Moral instruction, rude, insensitivity, wordy, wicked, blunt, and contemptuous
Feelings are not my purpose
Impish (silly), laughable, artificial, playful, clownish, and clever
Reactions I'm hoping to create
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 12:15 PM UTC
It has never been my intension
nor was it ever a bone of contention
to alter or disrupt the social convention
but now is the time to pay close attention
to the decline of the human condition
Responsibility rescinded creating moral decomposition
accountability abandoned causing legal repercussion
right and wrong are muddled in a malicious juxtaposition
public opposition has festered into social imperfection
the omission of tradition by politician’s redefinition
HEED THIS ADMONITION OR ARDENT APPREHENSION
SAGACIOUS SUSPICION AND PERSISTANT PREVENTION
Of the decommission of the Physician, Pediatrician
the Technician, and the Mathematician
and give this acquisition to those with no ambition
even those under suspicion of sedition
or held in detention without fear of restitution
This is the deception of the devolution
of the middle classification
and the total destruction
of American personification
praise the Lord and pass the ammunition
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
We shall not ask for the precious pearl of the Duke of Sui,
nor for the priceless jade disk of Master **
We merely ask for the recent news of our homeland.
The Palace of Spiritual Illumination must be still there,
surrounded by desolation.
What's happened to the stone statues buried deep in the grass,
still guarding the Imperial tombs?
Is it true that our people left behind in the occupied territories
are still planting mulberry trees and hemp?
Is it true that the rear guard of the Barbarians
only patrols the city walls?
This widow's father and grandfather were born in Shantung.
Although they never held high office, their fame spread far and wide.
I remember when they carried on animated discussions
with other scholars by the city gate.
The listeners were so crowded that their sweat fell like rain.
Their offspring crossed the Yangtze River to the South many years ago.
Drifting in the rapids, they mingled with refugees.
I send blood-stained tears to the mountains and rivers of home,
And sprinkle a cup of earth on East Mountain.
I imagine when Your Lordship, His Majesty's envoy, upholding the Imperial spirit,
passes through our two capitals, K'ai Feng and Lo Yang,
Thousands of people would line the streets and present tea and broth
to welcome you....
Announce that the Emperor's heart aches for the suffering people---
they are his own children.
Let them understand that the Will of Heaven remembers all living beings.
Our sagacious Emperor offers his trust which is as brilliant as the sun.
There is no need to negotiate many times after the long chaos of the years.
1.8k
When the silence takes the stage,
and I am called upon to perform, oh what a fool I shall be.
Dance monkey dance they'll say, and dance I shall.
On all fours I crawl,
your *****
Leash me up
in a tight collar
speaking for your laughter.
Here it is,
my self respect,
I present it to you,
I give it all, unto you.
For I no longer need it.
It's a small price to pay for this life.
It's a simple token
for the price of a fancy gown,
for the reward of approval... from strangers.
To be able to buy that fancy car
To be the envy of it all.
To be admired...
For this handsome repayment
loss of self worth
seems nothing.
and it is nothing
until late at night
when I stare at my skinny bones
in a large
but empty apartment
with the city's lights
shadows dancing out my regrets on the walls,
reminiscing of the whole person I used to be.
when I was someone you could respect...
someone who could say no
and had control
and didn't live under constant contract
and scrutiny of the monster that is the media.
Late at night,
with a morning soon coming,
a morning filled
with my stripped body
contorting itself
and writhing
for the camera
to please a generation I will never know.
To flaunt materialism
and narcissism
expected to sound sagacious
and preach this deceitful verisimilitude
but teaching the youth
to be broken and hateful-
to live with these quixotic expectations.
and
it
is
disgusting.
Yet here I am.
Stripped,
broken and battered,
pouting my photoshop lips
and limp, sick body
to preach it day after day.
For It was so long ago,
that I was respectable.
perhaps I could better remember those days-
but in this life
with a restriction on ennui
you are not allowed to be anything but
deliriously content
and that is not a problem so long as this bottle doesn't run out,
so long as I keep swallowing these pills,
drowning out the voice
that despises me.
So long as I keep on acting.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 1:59 AM UTC
*hard skin of life to penetrate
soften that piercing stare*
1.
seems a shot spiked with kindness does the trick
that’s how we button up the moon’s sides with silver thread
to keep its seams from splitting solemn sides
and spilling all its jolly secrets: whorls of fingerprints sinking steadily into luna-grooves
like a neat domino-stacked roll on a never-ending trip into black holes
not far from Ursa Major
2.
to grant a delightful hop up and throw seeking eyes over the orb’s gentle curve
take a little look-see
the tiniest peek into Tucanae
where tidal forces push small clouds
and outstrip the western winds
towards cunning straits
to subtly tie into bows
cut ribbons of fate
drink a dram of mercy from a well-behaved thimble
yet poems don’t pay no bills now
when words tinker with heart’s mettle
3.
wonder if sagacious rue repays in full
or satisfies the exceeding cost
of the hankering in a vessel
caught eddying in giant nacred jetsam
while casting minute gems before the moon’s eyes
it’s nigh impossible to hide behind the sun
4.
best be ready with prêt-a-porter life-pennies
and be
wise to always carry a pocket full of sorrys
*stitch 'em seams together now
it all comes together
nice and neat*
S T, Moonday, 15 July 2013
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 6:08 AM UTC
Cheers from inside the catacombs of just-alive vagabonds & miscreant self-delusions of sagacious sabotage & pyrrhic moonscapes, brandishing our eternal return
a tabula rasa for respect & character - bottoms up, too. Mona Lisa
Shroud of Turin, ******* on a trunk. Gamble 66
for trays, dealing steam carrots.
Gag reflex to polite televangelists giving viewers auspicious immunity.
Habits cede to Power, acquiesce to Power, love power.
Peculiarity can recognize & organize to displace.
Something suspicious may run amok , antithetical to the divide & conquer trite.
Defeating paragons, i , Plumed Serpent of release & capture beats, borrowing color from a skylark in forever-flight, conjure remedial winds
Guide inimical bows subsumed in a cosmo-prole dew against the fasces of a few.
Apr 7, 2010
Apr 7, 2010 at 10:20 PM UTC
It's nice to have temporary friends again, when they decide to visit.
Sharing stories of underwater animals from a
Viewpoint of an observer blowing bubbles.
A fish that defends its purple eggs till the death.
Sea turtles still breathe air, it seems like such a hassle.
I just want to feel weightless;
Into vacant space.
Still learning what can people can amount to:
Blurry myths of sadness anxiety
Letting go of trick happiness
Hype trend excitement
Constant detail examining
Hummingbird heart beating passion
Assumed reactions endless distractions
Occupy one-track minds
Recycling uninspired questions.
Sagacious in Patience
The Hollow and Empty kind
Finding Solitude priceless
Drifting images of third-eye kind;
I tried at least I thought I did.
I don't
want to break;
Silenced Glass.
Jul 9, 2012
Jul 9, 2012 at 5:51 PM UTC
I think the world discovered hatred
And forgot the brilliant affections
…terrified of the exquisite
Keen and quick to judge
Society is parched
Kindness is viewed as atrocious
Love is ******
My sagacious mind is spinning
Anxious in silence
Life is precious
Blinded by your surroundings
Relax, always leave your mind spotless
Be immaculate
Be vivacious
And be adored.
-Teema
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 4:29 PM UTC
Never settle for the "intellectually inferior" term, you're better than that.
Never fall victim to the excuse of, "because you're black"
Who's to say that your sophisticated & perspicacious approach to life should be ignored because of the color of your skin?
It's the small minded stereotypes of society that should motivate you to procure the win.
I only wish that when it came to this situation, some were as stubborn & reluctant as me. But history has chained their way of thinking & stung them with society's mockery.
Never settle for social inequality or the disparaging jabs because of your nationality or the color of your skin.
Be a proud, successful, sagacious, astute, intellectually advanced being overdosed with melanin.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 1:34 AM UTC