"shunned" poems
it was probably a mistake
the day you swore her eyelashes were wet from the rain;
the night you promised to never belittle the importance of the sun
because here she lies,
tears precipitating,
stomach lurching
at the thought of you and
I promise you, I swear
that the sun could never shine
nearly as bright as she did
when she started
rising and
falling
for you.
you have opacified her
radiance
you have shunned her
selfless light
and she who was once a sun
is now a hopeless, spiraling
monsoon.
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 4:53 PM UTC
it is my birthday.
but the world has long disowned me.
honestly--I ask--why do I bother?
as there must be something there for me--out in the viscera.
for I, am still here.
it is my birthday.
but the public has long shunned me.
faces thick as bedrock and eyes as dull as mint wrappers.
and they use sound to blind them.
it is my birthday.
and no one seems to help.
for it is not always happy to know,
you're one day closer into the arms of the cease-r.
it is my birthday.
and words rule no meaning.
for no one listens to me.
and no one hears what I'm hearing.
it is my birthday.
and my marrow weakens as I breath.
but bones sleep with welded lips 'neath the coat of earth.
and--with shame--I shall, too, be nothing but empty research.
it is my birthday.
and I force myself to nature.
O sand, is it true they pick you up and throw you in the wind?
O sea, is it true you get stuck in the mouths and stomachs of the young?
O hair, is it true you scream when the air beats you?
but I don't hear--and I know many.
it is my birthday.
and I breath false air.
is it true the ones that speak ill are on their death bed?
is it wrong I wish for them to speed up time?
is it wrong I point the reaper in their direction?
so I needn't worry of their illness spreading to mine.
it is my birthday.
and we are all gathered for tea.
the masochists sit by the sadists; that's the rule,
so the sadist may draw that ball-point pen deep along their slate skin--and whisper the names of forgotten authors,
so they may both moan with delicious harmony together--for two presents in one.
it is my birthday.
and the masochists ask me to join.
they write each other's eulogies
and revise--revise--'til there are none.
it is my birthday.
for now you know not,
of what I wish, but what I need,
a master.
for I am not one.
it is my birthday.
and not all wishes deem true,
for it seems no one cares of my words--my work--my blood--my tears--
a hymn to whomever it may concern--have you no mercy?
it is my birthday.
and I have not found them.
I have not found the right.
for only airless voices with no mouths, eyes that wish for many more, and souls that have lost time have found me.
and I am one of them.
and 'neath my heart,
I always will be.
for it is my birthday,
and wishes don't come true.
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 6:57 PM UTC
I walked along this path through the trees
Lo and behold, I fell on my knees
For what do I see, but this vision of beauty
**** no, tis a hunk, boy was he a cutie
His muscles well oiled, as he flexed before me
My heart all a flutter, knew not how to be
So what do I do, shall I play the shy dame?
Or should I strip naked regardless of shame.
A moment had passed, I planned what to do
Despite the feeling that I knew I would rue
I walked to this god, who stood still as I watch
Looked into his eyes, as my hand grabbed his crotch
“how dare you ****** me! I’m a woman of grace!”
“you shall not demean me, no shame I will face!”
And so I turned to walk away
I would not let this man ever sway
To let me lose the virtue I gained
Despite my desire, oh how I have pained
I turned my head to take one more look
So many I’ve shunned, I could write a book
The doubt in my head took hold of me
And doubled my pace, so that I may be free
…..then I went to the 7 eleven to buy batteries
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 3:23 PM UTC
There she sat upon the wall.
Longing for springtime to come,
she wished to blossom into a beautiful bud,
Although, beautiful was not expected to come about.
Nevertheless, she was to bloom,
into a wallflower-
a flourish that was shunned by the most prized beings-
she desired to cut the vines from which she sprouted,
to be erased from the lineage of her loved ones.
She yearned to fall among the soil and the pasture,
to be trampled on by the glorious.
Because at least there,
lying in the fallow,
she would’ve been touched by the legendary.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 7:10 PM UTC
May I join you in the doghouse, Rover?
I wish to retire till the party's over.
Since three o'clock I've done my best
To entertain each tiny guest. My conscience now I've left behind me,
And if they want me, let them find me.
I blew their bubbles, I sailed their boats,
I kept them from each other's throats. I told them tales of magic lands,
I took them out to wash their hands.
I sorted their rubbers and tied their laces,
I wiped their noses and dried their faces. Of similarities there's lots
Twixt tiny tots and Hottentots.
I've earned repose to heal the ravages
Of these angelic-looking savages. Oh, progeny playing by itself
Is a lonely little elf,
But progeny in roistering batches
Would drive St. francis from here to Natchez. Shunned are the games a parent proposes,
They prefer to squirt each other with hoses,
Their playmates are their natural foemen
And they like to poke each other's abdomen. Their joy needs another woe's to cushion it,
Say a puddle, and someone littler to push in it.
They observe with glee the ballistic results
Of ice cream with spoons for catapults, And inform the assembly with tears and glares
That everyone's presents are better than theirs.
Oh, little women and little men,
Someday I hope to love you again, But not till after the party's over,
So give me the key to the doghouse, Rover
7.8k
A beautiful mountain, white with snow
A light breeze, a wind ice cold
Frozen in time, I stare in awe
Under ice is a heart so raw
Diamonds glistening, ice shimmering
An imbalance of time and minds dancing
Beauty and despair frozen in ice
Waiting for summer sun to pay the price
Still and quiet, but the pain screams in your head
Frozen in place beside your bed
Staring into the pains
A hundred rocks flow through your veins
A thousand needles biting skin
Outward calm, but screaming within
Summer warmth approaching
Ice slowly melting, diamonds gleaming
With perseverance you break the ice
It falls, shattering, what a sacrifice
I watch as there is nothing I can do
As your body shed the ice encasing you
It is beauty and despair, intertwined
Dripping to the floor, Oh how I adore
To watch you come alive. An uproar!
No longer frozen, full of motion
As if watching a glistening ocean
You stand tall, high above us all
For you melted the ice, made it fall
Leaving only a memory
Your fight so strong, dauntlessly
Standing, living, believing, and yet...
Your feet are wet, so with regret
I must inform of icy returns
Gone are the days of summer sunburns
For ice will come, it will be done
Your body shunned from our warm sun
You will freeze again, be lost again
Icy diamonds will shine like back then
You must remain strong while waiting,
Frozen in time that is crippling
Shed your ice everyday, overcome
One day Summer will stay and all this will be done
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 12:43 PM UTC
The young and bold Sir Lancelot
Had shunned the lady of Shalott
And all the swooning maidens, dear.
His heart belonged to Guinevere.
And were she not to Arthur, wed,
She'd have the heart-sick knight instead.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of sad sir Lancelot du Lac.
When first he came to Camelot
The orphan knight, Sir Lancelot
Did prove his worth to Arthur's Court
In jousting, and such noble sport
And with his charm and courtly grace,
His confidence and handsome face,
He won the heart of Guinevere,
And so he found his heart's one fear.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of sad Sir Lancelot du Lac.
In tournaments and deeds of arms,
He never fell to earthly harms.
His Lady's scarf about his breast,
He held aloft his knightly chest
And for her honor always strove,
And worshiped her with courtly love.
But she is wed, such is the luck
Of sad Sir Lancelot du Lac.
Beneath a tree, the young knight slept
And one day, four queens on him crept,
The chief of them, Morgan Le Fay.
With magic, they stole him away.
A choice they begged of him to make,
That one of them his heart should take.
But love is strong. They had no luck
In tempting Lancelot du Lac.
When Melegans stole Guinevere
A cart, Sir Lancelot did steer
To reach the hold where she was kept,
Then toward the treacherous knight he leapt.
He bested him with slash and blow,
But to Sir Lancelot's great woe
His Lady simply laughed in jest
And saw no honor in his quest,
For he arrived upon a cart.
Thus, broken was the young knight's heart,
And in a rage he left the place.
He longed just for his Lady's grace.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of sad Sir Lancelot du Lac.
The young and bold Sir Lancelot
Had shunned the lady of Shalott
And all the swooning maidens, dear.
His heart belonged to Guinevere.
And were she not to Arthur, wed,
She'd have the heart-sick knight instead.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of sad Sir Lancelot du Lac.
So when he quested for the Grail
He made a promise he would fail.
He said he'd not love Guinevere,
But as he spoke, he shed a tear.
He knew one day their love would end
The table round, and hurt their friends.
So when this promise he did break
The land of Camelot did quake.
For Agrivan, King Arthur, told
His wife did love Lancelot bold
And Arthur sent her to the pyre
To end her sinful love, in fire.
But Lancelot, his queen, did save
And Arthur fell into the grave
And all the knights of Table Round
Were torn apart, could not be bound.
And thus the fall of Camelot
Was caused by one Sir Lancelot.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of bold Sir Lancelot du Lac.
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 9:29 PM UTC
1718
Drowning is not so pitiful
As the attempt to rise
Three times, ’tis said, a sinking man
Comes up to face the skies,
And then declines forever
To that abhorred abode,
Where hope and he part company—
For he is grasped of God.
The Maker’s cordial visage,
However good to see,
Is shunned, we must admit it,
Like an adversity.
7k
Death doesn't discriminate
Quite frankly, He doesn't care
Once He's out of the barrel
Whizzing through midair.
Gay, straight, Lesbian or Bi
You have no control if you die.
But the finger that pulled the trigger
Now that's a different story.
But motives mean nothing to the family in mourning
This morning.
There's nothing you could say
or explain away that would bring comfort today.
If you told them it was religion or a hate crime
that doesn't give them any more time.
And it's the outpouring of speechless faces
Awestruck gazes
That should shake us awake
in every state from our state of denial.
These cold steel devices have become our vices
becoming our own rod of judgement in bringing "justice".
A disagreement in lifestyle does not warrant a life.
If you feel offended, just turn the other cheek
And prevent tears from streaming down cheeks.
Death might not discriminate, but those who discriminate bring death.
Whether it's in the form of a gun
Or a loved one being shunned.
Life is precious and sacred
And if someone has it, you shouldn't take it.
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 1:30 PM UTC
Out of sight
Are the unfairly treated
The ones excluded
That feel defeated
They have little freedom
In a country that's free
Though dark-skinned, they're human
Like you and me
But even clever
Nice and kind
They are shunned
Out of sight, out of mind
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 11:16 PM UTC
I've been focused on nutrition
sense before recognition
of a requirement of nutrients
for my life.
I eat for nutrition
I shunned the processed
chemical ick
a lifetime ago it seems
no longer remembering the taste
of chemically created
food stuffs.
though I know if I were to get a taste
it would satisfy my buds
they were made with my buds
in mind
hijacked my senses
lied and lied and lied
told my body it didn't need
nutrition
that is could live off of
intuition
and stuff in boxes
and bags
and cans
I've become my own food processor
now
I have mouths to feed
now I know what to feed
and where they make feed from
so we stick to the grass-fed
I'll teach them how to eat
even before how to read
its just how I see it
once that sugar laden
red
chemical construction
touches their lips
they will instantly desire more
Twain and Fitzgerald
will take them longer to digest.
so these are my priorities
now.
I am a nutrition seeker
a truth seeker
and I believe I come from
a line of healers
all who knew nutrition
is the key to life,
here.
the basic building blocks,
the amino acids
of life,
here.
when you're nourished
it all makes more sense
but stay out of those center aisles
their chemical composition
is too dense
my kidney could no longer clean
the code of food stuffs.
My strong little kidney
I'm so proud of it for
releasing its grip on its twin.
it wasn't for us anyways
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 7:10 PM UTC
kites riding the eastern breeze
inner child hiding in the canopy of leaves
singing to the tune of the birds
lies being highlighted by the omnipresent sun
bring to light what you buried, sweeter than my metaphorical cherry
you cannot escape what you have done, you must remember the ones you have shunned
even if it's only to take note of, what not to do
even if it feels too much, I know you could
even if the world is too rushed, you know what to do
going down the wormhole, deep dive
my memories come in handy, high five
to save my sanity as I live life
getting my light underneath the full moon
Oct 22, 2021
Oct 22, 2021 at 10:47 AM UTC
Blood, gore
*** *****
High, drugs
Thief, mugs
Anger, harm
Cut, arm
**** *******
Looser, *******
***** ****
Slutty, shunned
****** ugly
Smart, nerdy
Stupid, dumb
Perfect, come
Gay, handy
Ignorant, trani
Black, ******
White, *******
Lost, dog
Fat, hog
Illegal, immigrant
Immoral, rent
Discriminate
Hate
Procrastinate
Fake
We all give labels to everyone
All of us, let's have some fun
Let's go out and **** someone
Who hurts you, don't let them run
Make all pay for labels begun.
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 3:22 PM UTC
Today, in Bisexuality-"Pick a sided!"
Why should we? We have the right to-
"Shut up!"
BLOCKED
Today, in Bisexuality-"Men can't be Bisexual!"
Yes, they can be, and-
****
BLOCKED
Today, in Bisexuality- "Top 17 List of Gay Celebs!"
Bisexual Celebs have been listed as gay or lesbian. If you could, please-
"We said what we said!"
BLOCKED
Today, in Bisexuality- **** gay marriage! You, people, are gross!"
Then, avert your eyes. And, it's called same-sex marriage for a reason. I'm Bisexual and when you don't acknowledge that you erase-
**** you!"
BLOCKED
Today, in Bisexuality- "Y'all say Y'all like girls, but always marry men. It's so stupid!"
Did you ever stop to think it's because Queer women isolate and shun us? Did you ever stop to think most of us are fearful of coming out because we have to deal with Biphobia and always defending-
**** you *****
BLOCKED
Today, in Bisexuality- "Bisexuality isn't real!"
But, but, but, it's called LGBTQ because the B stands for-
"You are just confused and experimenting!"
But, I'm the B in LGBTQ and-
"Go **** yourself!"
BLOCKED
UNPLUG. RECHARGE. RESET.
I feel the cold. I'm forced in the void.
We don't have a voice. We are being destroyed.
Abused. Battered. Shunned. Lost.
You ignore our needs, and our lives are the cost.
No funding. No help. No representation.
We are the ******* children of a silent nation.
We ask for help and organizations wait for our week.
We aren't asking for much. It's Visibility we seek.
Using your voice is free. Make noise on your platform every day and night.
We aren't going away. For Visibility, we fight!
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 2:05 AM UTC
With the familiar blur of familiar frames -
Wearied, we wait discrete
Worried that we cannot breathe
for the wind is yet to take us away…
do you think much longer?
—
We blend in to the scene
like a sail in the overcast,
lingering in our subconscious -
striving, aching for the sting of summer to melt us in the sun…
when is it coming?
—
The frost bits our lips,
Fastening the deadly silence
A fascinating mind, hidden in fearsome chambers -
Collapsing with the dead leaves of our own trees…
How much longer?
—
We hesitate to bloom,
Blinded to our own beauty.
Another day, another season
Believing we are better by ourselves, the world is bitter…
Spring is shunned by the silence -
—
But we are fine;
The wind will take us away,
Summer’s sun will melt us,
The leaves will fall, and nature will bloom.
But we are more than we seem…
we breathe.
Sep 8, 2017
Sep 8, 2017 at 3:25 AM UTC
I don't desire to share my opinions with anyone
Too long, have they been bashed upon by peers or anonymous figures
"You should respect their opinion."
What hypocrites, even opinions could be wrong and hurt others
"For the sake of arguing."
It doesn't matter if they humiliate someone.
It doesn't matter if they turn others against them.
It doesn't matter if they were wrong as well
Even if you understand their perspective, they refuse to see yours
I long to be mute
I hate my own speaking voice
If all my words are unheard
"I can't express myself, this secretive awkward human."
If only they knew of the true cynical and diabolical thoughts locked away
Would anyone bother to accept and understand
Or would I be shunned
Isolated like I had been since so long ago
I don't mind singing
The rhythm and flow much better to the accented jumble words
However I'm merely a ghost that no one notice when they have stars to illuminate the room
"Ahhhh.. The jealousy and bitterness will consume me."
"Please see me."
"Please acknowledge me."
"Please talk to me."
"Please hear me."
*I'm fading away.*
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
Dark chocolatey skin bears the flag of red
Coloured, a sin; these feelings are cultivated and bred
So they're brought to toil on white soil
Reminiscing the scent of their native land, the sweet patchouli oil.
As they trudge through barren land, lost hope and ****** soles mark their path
This coloured discrimination instigates fair feelings of wrath
A helplessly agitated mind and yet they stand still
With wistful eyes, devoid of their free will.
At night, they sing to themselves songs of a land far away
As they drift off to a restless sleep, dreaming of being back there someday
Scalding feelings of entitlement and vengeance have taken birth and clouded minds
Working on indigo and cotton fields, on merriment and mirth have been drawn white blinds.
No matter how clean the records, the message is loudly heard
"When looked upon as a blue jay, you can never be a mockingbird"
These words passed down through generations deny them their say
Day to night and night to day but time couldn't change the black man's dismay.
Wanted is colour in life but shunned is coloured life
This clash of colours holds no value, only adding on to people's strife
So while i stand here trying to fathom out the meaning of it all
I hope, someday, realisation will take down this coloured wall.
May 9, 2021
May 9, 2021 at 2:31 AM UTC
The sun forever guiding,
Their hoods forever rising.
The times are never changing,
Our cave forever breaking.
A cause so lost in the dust of the Earth.
A pause so long, the ancients heard.
A man so strong, the river yearned
To cloak his self and the life he earned.
Under the waterfall,
I am shunned by nature's screeching cries,
And drowned in hooded leeching lies!
A great machine that changed the time!
Twisting in a brilliant path,
Above the cave, the water's last
Falls upon the empty man
Willful to be drowned in red.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 10:58 PM UTC
A yearning she cannot fathom
A whole 'nother level, she was mind blown
Hoping to blind herself with deception
Perpetually drowning in confusion
Said that she would never again be ****** with your sorcery
So everyone told her to be extra wary
But I guess that's a quality she lack entirely
Now she's drowning in confusions, perpetually
She never planned a pursuance
Though the force is strong, 'twas only a nuisance
She saw your face, she was caught in a trance
Perpetually drowning in confusion, an abundance
This animal is in dire need of suppression
And so she did, filling herself with depression
But then the prey showed a different sign of intention
Now she's perpetually drowning in confusion
Your sudden interest seems unfitting
Could it really be? So close to believing
It opened more, showed more, she's heeding
In perpetual confusion, she is drowning
She was taken aback, this impossibility
Yet you opened it wider, the eventuality
Or so she was led to believe, the absurdity
The confusion is drowning her in perpetuity
Doubts, doubts, doubts were running
In her head, seconds from wilding
But you calmed her fears, ever growing
Deeper in perpetual confusion, she's drowning
With every positive response of yours
She was driven crazy, hoping for more
For a moment, it felt certain, she was sure
Perpetually drowning in confusion, no more
Now her true self was put into question
For the longest time, involuntarily shunned
Is she truly worthy of this identification
Perpetually drowning in confusion
She was quite lost in traffic
The signals were all but messed up
Wandering around like some lunatic
She's clueless of what's true enough
Perpetually drowning in confusion...
You were a swimmer...
Yet you never even bothered to save her.
Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 11:23 PM UTC
America, rollin’ its dice,
hurlin’ ‘nades on the ice.
what're we lookin’ for?
***** we huntin’ for?
whether it’s a score to settle
or another lie to peddle
where do we go from here?
how ‘bout that future we held dear?
gone, done, buried, shunned.
eat crow, ***** retch, and—
run?
don’t run. can’t run.
these colors don’t run, I’ve heard.
though maybe they flow against
each other like water and
oil in a grating chemical fash-
ion that can’t be calculated
or be sufficiently integrated
like we dreamed they would.
and dream we do, for America
and her future, or so I hope,
given that each year that passes
leaves bruises and gashes
in that fabric, so fragile, I hear.
sad, wrong, and crooked;
Trump’s America.
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 5:34 AM UTC
This is my mono-monologue.
I stand alone befoe the world,
My lonely clean white flag unfurled,
Wondering when the winter sky
Will melt my wings and let my fly.
Perched upon a mountaintop
With not a soul in sight
"When will my isolation stop?"
I cry with all my might.
This is my mono-monologue.
The wind whispers
What I hoped I'd never know:
"You are so far away from them
Because you are below.
"But maybe you are
The one who lives above.
Maybe that is why
You never could be loved."
This is my mono-monologue.
I've lived a shunned life
(It can be hard to see)
Although I haven't felt much strife,
My freedom's far from free.
I do not truly know
What you mean by 'best friend'.
I'm fated to live alone
Until the very end.
This is my mono-monologue.
Jul 7, 2019
Jul 7, 2019 at 11:51 PM UTC
To a Louse
by Robert Burns
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Hey! Where're you going, you crawling hair-fly?
Your impudence protects you, barely;
I can only say that you swagger rarely
Over gauze and lace.
Though faith! I fear you dine but sparely
In such a place.
You ugly, creeping, blasted wonder,
Detested, shunned by both saint and sinner,
How dare you set your feet upon her—
So fine a lady!
Go somewhere else to seek your dinner
On some poor body.
Off! around some beggar's temple shamble:
There you may creep, and sprawl, and scramble,
With other kindred, jumping cattle,
In shoals and nations;
Where horn nor bone never dare unsettle
Your thick plantations.
Now hold you there! You're out of sight,
Below the folderols, snug and tight;
No, faith just yet! You'll not be right,
Till you've got on it:
The very topmost, towering height
Of miss's bonnet.
My word! right bold you root, contrary,
As plump and gray as any gooseberry.
Oh, for some rank, mercurial resin,
Or dread red poison;
I'd give you such a hearty dose, flea,
It'd dress your noggin!
I wouldn't be surprised to spy
You on some housewife's flannel tie:
Or maybe on some ragged boy's
Pale undervest;
But Miss's finest bonnet! Fie!
How dare you jest?
Oh Jenny, do not toss your head,
And lash your lovely braids abroad!
You hardly know what cursed speed
The creature's making!
Those winks and finger-ends, I dread,
Are notice-taking!
O would some Power with vision teach us
To see ourselves as others see us!
It would from many a blunder free us,
And foolish notions:
What airs in dress and carriage would leave us,
And even devotion!
One Sunday while sitting behind a young lady in church, Robert Burns noticed a louse roaming through the bows and ribbons of her bonnet. The poem "To a Louse" resulted from his observations. The poor woman had no idea that she would be the subject of one of Burns' best poems about how we see ourselves, compared to how other people see us at our worst moments. Keywords/Tags: Robert Burns, louse, church, bonnet, lace, Scotland, Scots, dialect, translation
Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 5:26 AM UTC
i took your **** and ran with it,
went miles into distance while you constantly clinged to the past
girl I'm tired of it.
How am I suppose to get in if he still has the original and I was givin the spare key,
I'm me and no where near him reason why you always keep runnin back lookin for a safe haven, but in reality sorry that ******** I ain't takin ,
must be mistaken,
I'm havin you second all the time I made you first,
like an unwelcomed tenet,
or low rank lieutenant,
I'm undermined, while hes underlined,
made into a bold figure,
but I stack real figures,
and don't make you feel bitter like this *****
Just don't mention why you quiver , I know the reason why you internally bleedin , stress in ya eyes swollen from the cries in the night, it ain't right.
but yet you fall back to him , then call me later? I gave you my words, last time was the last. So to bad if it didn't last, and both ends of the ties leave you to grieve and gravel on the gravel , yeah sit there and babble , yeah I ponder the river creeks for years
now im off the love boat, I skidattled , faught the more fishes in the sea with broken paddle promise not to commit unless it was suicide or a contract with a person I don't trust after marriage and can't truly settle with.
so the others who wanted me are shunned, and you ? Is of no concern to my conscience , my once brown poccahauntus who haunted
my nights , and Asian moon cake who left with the wrong shake wen I coulda move mountain cause I was the real earthquake to shake the floor beneath you and let you see the plummit to a deeper meaning. Thank for leavin.
Asmathic or not,
I remain breathing.
by Emmanuel Hernandez
aka
Linguist Musician aka Deep thought
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 6:31 AM UTC
Out on the road in the middle of the night,
I made my way with no one in sight.
Hugging all the tight corners and vrooming on the straights,
Burning tyre rubber at alarming rates.
Little did I know at that hour along the next turn,
There'd be another person.
With the wind in her hair and one of the most lovely face,
She rode her little pink vespa with amazing grace.
I happened to have crossed paths with her in a traffic rule breaking fashion,
A move I made with deadly precision.
Instantly she uttered that lovely swear word with a sweet loud tone,
******* she said, raising her middle finger alone.
Wrong I was and would've apologized if I could stop,
But in a hurry I was and a high speed it all to top.
Late that night, those stream of events ran through my head,
I pondered on it as I lay in bed.
Swear words! Instantly blurted in the spur of the moment,
Yet originating from the heart's deepest cavity and vent.
Pure to the core,
No hidden meaning they store.
Swear words may have been considered in appropriate and shunned in the world,
Yet they convey what a person feels most appropriately when they are hurled.
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC
Gunboats ahoy there’s pirates about
Speeding from Somali’s shore,
A fast flimsy boat and some black skinny men
With grenade launchers, cannon and more.
They’re coming to capture the tankers
They’re coming to capture the crew
They’re coming to take you hostage
Because fat cats will pay cash for you.
It’s happening more every day now
Ships are held to ransom for gold,
This contagion is out of hand now
The Somalian pirates are becoming so bold.
Hard men in the west prepare crackdowns
Gunboats sail for the Gulf as we speak,
With instructions to shoot to **** now
And make eradication of pirates complete!
But you ask, why is this happening?
Why does a man, a pirate become?
What instigates this crazy morphosis
From fisherman to pirate with gun?
Somalia has no Government to speak of,
It collapsed and went long ago.
No law or army in place here,
Life is dangerous, chaotic and low.
Some fat cats made use of the vacuum
They ditched toxic waste in the sea
They irradiated the coastline region
Making this a poisoned place to be.
The coast folk were dying in thousands
Sick mothers lost babies and kids
Black illness spread madly in villages
Then blind panic and pain hit the skids.
Some fat cats made use of the vacuum
They trawled the coastline clean
Somalia’s fishermen were destitute
The catch went from vast to lean.
The villagers were starving and hopeless
And what was pain became death.
The leaders appealed for salvation
But those with the means, had turned deaf.
Who would take this problem on now?
Who would make these ******** pay?
Most turned around and shunned them,
The world had turned and looked away.
So hit transgressors where they’re vulnerable.
Strike in sea lanes where it’s free.
Hit them near the Horn of Africa.
Attack with blades of piracy.
Hooray for the small man’s justice.
Hooray for his skinny, black shanks,
Please God help their quest for deliverance
For the West has arrived with their tanks.
Now I ask you, in all fairness
To stand back and view the scene,
Where the richest and most powerful
are doing something that's obscene
For not only are they poisoning
The most vulnerable race on earth
But compounding it with genocide,
And I add, for what it's worth,
The West, in righteous arrogance,
are crushing poorest fellow man
In his struggle for survival
Against their mammoth, global hand.
Marshalg
@theGate
Mangere Bridge
25 April 2009
Jan 19, 2010
Jan 19, 2010 at 7:33 PM UTC