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"slandered" poems
[Hashtag]MeToo Here it goes again, trending on Insta and Facebook. Where real awareness stems. Mind the sarcasm, social media’s a powerful tool not knockin’ that. I wonder though, does the mind of the follower understand the context of the hash? Do they get it should be a call to action? Not necessarily at the keyboard. More like on the couch with their children, Giving the conversation of consent.   Most people do not even understand it by definition . The meaning of yes and no convoluted by scenario.   Bias boils over like milk and water over full flame. The posts bubble out and stick to the side of the pan, quickly drying; leaving their mark. Until the soap and warm water flows over them, and the steam evaporates the confessions. Until they are again whispers we all hear and know. It’s whispers from the alley ways, and from married couples bedroom doors. The woman is the property,   the man is the proprietor.   We refuse to address the real problems, the failures of our up-bringers. We point fingers and slay names yet the statistics provide the truth.   One in four for females, one in sixteen for males. We all have been violated, slandered, and forced to say [Hashtag]MeToo Not going to say I did not share it, I know the touch of unwanted hands, the invasive *********** All for the sake of the insanity,   in repeating a useless gesture. The only difference is My hashtag went to my Senator.
0
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 9:25 AM UTC
#MeToo
There once was a black man... Old at heart, he fought verbally and accordingly with bold words, which abbreviated and arbitrated great art! He spoke of activism. Not just racial, and economic racism. He fought against demonic injustices for you, yes, made me see. He stood for principles of non-violence. Acknowledged corrupt government mileage, European knowledge and college. A philosopher, teacher and preacher as well as a civil rights leader. When he spoke his words of fire indeed chiseled and inspired. Causing some to conspire and also perspire! Born January 15th 1929 in Atlanta, Georgia. Named in honor of the German protestant Martin Luther. Bachelor of Arts degree in sociology. Making a mark in doctoral studies, systematic theology. June 5th 1955 This King married Corretta Scott in Heiberger, Alabama for many to see. Proceeding with four children: Yolanda, Martin Luther the 3rd to be! Dexter Scott and Bernice to increase the peace. Despite the European police, the movements and stressed protests, the silence, ****** and racial violence. The segregation and interrogations in force, instead of integration of course. Black mishaps, lack of differences in relapse perhaps! Plagiarized and slandered, demised by some of the wise. Accused of communistic ties. Blinded by others’ eyes and of our world’s twisted lies. Montgomery, Georgia bus boycott, 1955 was the year. However, forever in disguise, our fear of tears was apparently adhered. From here to near, also all those dear. Mere letters he wrote, from Birmingham jail I quote! From the slums, some of sums, hail and prevail! A creation prevailing into a deriving and thriving nation. Mr. King’s vision of a dream, mission, opposition, optimism and truism, on our wars, welfare and more. I suppose this sounds honest and fair. Mr. King’s theories and worries in emotionalism, evangelism, humanitarianism, racism and socialism. Nobel Peace Prize won in 1964. Regretfully, you may have heard of this before. Government conspiracies and indecencies. Assassination and discrimination, allegedly, by James Earl Ray. On April 4th, I almost choke, because for him, his blood did soak. Some thought this **** was a thrill or forced by will. Others still procrastinate in hate! However, forever Martin Luther King was and still is one of the late greats.
0
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 12:53 PM UTC
Poem Entitled: "Martin Luther King"
There once was a black man... Old at heart, he fought verbally and accordingly with bold words, which abbreviated and arbitrated great art! He spoke of activism. Not just racial, and economic racism. He fought against demonic injustices for you, yes, made me see. He stood for principles of non-violence. Acknowledged corrupt government mileage, European knowledge and college. A philosopher, teacher and preacher as well as a civil rights leader. When he spoke his words of fire indeed chiseled and inspired. Causing some to conspire and also perspire! Born January 15th 1929 in Atlanta, Georgia. Named in honor of the German protestant Martin Luther. Bachelor of Arts degree in sociology. Making a mark in doctoral studies, systematic theology. June 5th 1955 This King married Corretta Scott in Heiberger, Alabama for many to see. Proceeding with four children: Yolanda, Martin Luther the 3rd to be! Dexter Scott and Bernice to increase the peace. Despite the European police, the movements and stressed protests, the silence, ****** and racial violence. The segregation and interrogations in force, instead of integration of course. Black mishaps, lack of differences in relapse perhaps! Plagiarized and slandered, demised by some of the wise. Accused of communistic ties. Blinded by others’ eyes and of our world’s twisted lies. Montgomery, Georgia bus boycott, 1955 was the year. However, forever in disguise, our fear of tears was apparently adhered. From here to near, also all those dear. Mere letters he wrote, from Birmingham jail I quote! From the slums, some of sums, hail and prevail! A creation prevailing into a deriving and thriving nation. Mr. King’s vision of a dream, mission, opposition, optimism and truism, on our wars, welfare and more. I suppose this sounds honest and fair. Mr. King’s theories and worries in emotionalism, evangelism, humanitarianism, racism and socialism. Nobel Peace Prize won in 1964. Regretfully, you may have heard of this before. Government conspiracies and indecencies. Assassination and discrimination, allegedly, by James Earl Ray. On April 4th, I almost choke, because for him, his blood did soak. Some thought this **** was a thrill or forced by will. Others still procrastinate in hate! However, forever Martin Luther King was and still is one of the late greats.
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11
I don't apologize for my blackness and your fear seems like this beautiful melanin enriched skin is a blessing and a curse. police offers using our young men's as target practice ripping our rich black roots from the ground and scathing them them all over the cold blood stained concrete streets that my people paved.they just want us to dance sing and play ball to entertain them. they don't want us to succeed and move on to bigger and better things so sinister grins creep upon their faces as they watch us slaughter eachother in the streets. they watch us struggle to get out of poverty they say we're all on welfare and ain't **** but how can we move up in the world and get out of poverty when this system wasn't built to benefit us? we are more than the stereotypes. we are doctors lawyers entrepreneurs nurses designers filmmakers activist.we are intelligent intellectual beings with knowledge that surpasses all understanding. they don't want us to open our mouths and speak our truth...they want us to shut up and chuck and jive and kiss their pasty white ***** to the bone they want us to ignore the blatant racism and discrimination we face everyday and be content that we aren't enduring as much pain as the ones before us have. but we will not shut up. we do experience racism. we do experience discrimination. and our people are dying everyday from it.how dare you utter the words respect yourself and well respect your from the same mouth that slandered my ppl and taught us to hate ourselves with? we were taught to love everything that was white and hate everything that was black and love blonde long straight hair and blue eyes and hate our chocolate skin and ***** hair but these ***** roots are deep...no matter how much you try and destroy them they are deep and run through us all. so my brothers and sisters... be proud of your roots take care of your roots embrace your roots love everything about yourself from that ***** *** hair that breaks all the teeth of your comb to your chocolate skin that glows in the sunlight and those strong minds and powerful voices because black is beautiful, black is powerful black is brilliant, black matters.
0
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 2:12 PM UTC
Untitled (rough draft).
I don't apologize for my blackness and your fear seems like this beautiful melanin enriched skin is a blessing and a curse. police offers using our young men's as target practice ripping our rich black roots from the ground and scathing them them all over the cold blood stained concrete streets that my people paved.they just want us to dance sing and play ball to entertain them. they don't want us to succeed and move on to bigger and better things so sinister grins creep upon their faces as they watch us slaughter eachother in the streets. they watch us struggle to get out of poverty they say we're all on welfare and ain't **** but how can we move up in the world and get out of poverty when this system wasn't built to benefit us? we are more than the stereotypes. we are doctors lawyers entrepreneurs nurses designers filmmakers activist.we are intelligent intellectual beings with knowledge that surpasses all understanding. they don't want us to open our mouths and speak our truth...they want us to shut up and chuck and jive and kiss their pasty white ***** to the bone they want us to ignore the blatant racism and discrimination we face everyday and be content that we aren't enduring as much pain as the ones before us have. but we will not shut up. we do experience racism. we do experience discrimination. and our people are dying everyday from it.how dare you utter the words respect yourself and well respect your from the same mouth that slandered my ppl and taught us to hate ourselves with? we were taught to love everything that was white and hate everything that was black and love blonde long straight hair and blue eyes and hate our chocolate skin and ***** hair but these ***** roots are deep...no matter how much you try and destroy them they are deep and run through us all. so my brothers and sisters... be proud of your roots take care of your roots embrace your roots love everything about yourself from that ***** *** hair that breaks all the teeth of your comb to your chocolate skin that glows in the sunlight and those strong minds and powerful voices because black is beautiful, black is powerful black is brilliant, black matters.
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1
My name is Lilith The first female created I was cursed by God Because submission, I abated I would not heed To Adam's call I was his equal I too, deserved to stand tall You will not find my story In the ancient Hebrew book But I am everywhere If you take a closer look The world was new When I was cursed I was not Eve, I would be heard I too was created From the earth Just as Adam was He thought I should lie beneath him Simply just because I whispered Gods secret name Then I flew away Mankind has despised me Ever since that day I am blamed for everything By men and women alike Most consider me a demon And wish my head on a spike There are many legends That have slandered my name All because I wouldn't submit I shall forever carry this blame Different versions of the legend of Lilith can be found all through out history. She is the original feminist.
0
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 9:41 AM UTC
The Legend Of Lilith
Who knew that getting a Starbucks gift card would turn out so harmful and mean. When pleasant, harmless, innocent me fell for the spell of treacherous caffeine. Like a hype with a spike doing harm to his arm I  was hooked. Leaped before I looked, goose was cooked. Now I'm here to play the blame game. Innocent me, walking in free, joyfully, just getting a coffee. Then wham! or should I say bam! It hit me. I walked out a quivering, craving, slobbering creature... maybe not literally but like I said it was done treacherously, maliciously, instantaneously, I was a caffeine ***** So here are some of the reasons why I'm  unhappy with Starbucks: --- Starbucks caffeine influenced my body by elevating my heart rate (I'm not sure why I expected anything different). --- Starbucks crafty, subtley and slyly habitualized me ( Oh god, I'm  a creature of habit!) --- Starbucks (If possible) is too friendly --- Starbucks manipulated my accommodating nature (I just wanted to be friends, but now they feel more like, dare I  say it... family). --- Starbucks slandered me ( by assuming I'm lazy. "Sit, relax, make yourself at home, stay as long as you like"). --- Starbucks  exposed my weaknesses ( l feel naked to coffees influence). --- Starbucks made coffee hip and cool (I'm  going to go ahead and count that as a bad thing). --- Starbucks crippled my will power (my will power walks with a limp now). --- Starbucks  blew up the sun!   --- And the final reason I'm  unhappy with Starbucks...because they're probably going to sue my *** for writing this!
0
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 4:44 PM UTC
The Coffee in Me
Who knew that getting a Starbucks gift card would turn out so harmful and mean. When pleasant, harmless, innocent me fell for the spell of treacherous caffeine. Like a hype with a spike doing harm to his arm I  was hooked. Leaped before I looked, goose was cooked. Now I'm here to play the blame game. Innocent me, walking in free, joyfully, just getting a coffee. Then wham! or should I say bam! It hit me. I walked out a quivering, craving, slobbering creature... maybe not literally but like I said it was done treacherously, maliciously, instantaneously, I was a caffeine ***** So here are some of the reasons why I'm  unhappy with Starbucks: --- Starbucks caffeine influenced my body by elevating my heart rate (I'm not sure why I expected anything different). --- Starbucks crafty, subtley and slyly habitualized me ( Oh god, I'm  a creature of habit!) --- Starbucks (If possible) is too friendly --- Starbucks manipulated my accommodating nature (I just wanted to be friends, but now they feel more like, dare I  say it... family). --- Starbucks slandered me ( by assuming I'm lazy. "Sit, relax, make yourself at home, stay as long as you like"). --- Starbucks  exposed my weaknesses ( l feel naked to coffees influence). --- Starbucks made coffee hip and cool (I'm  going to go ahead and count that as a bad thing). --- Starbucks crippled my will power (my will power walks with a limp now). --- Starbucks  blew up the sun!   --- And the final reason I'm  unhappy with Starbucks...because they're probably going to sue my *** for writing this!
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26
I almost don’t want to voice my opinion because I like staying in the back of the mix but it’s hard to do. Straight from the mind, the mouth, of a transgendered person, this is honesty. I know that there are a lot of people going on about the bathroom laws right now. It’s ridiculous we even have to get to laws for bathrooms. They’re for elimination, but it generally doesn’t stay at that. Gossip, vomiting, crying, **** ****** etc. Things you’ll most likely, in this century, find in the walls of bathrooms. People are posting the meme, about the ****** Trying to mix it in with these laws. A ****** who is a man, and someone who is transgender, don’t fall into the same category, and even if it’s made to better the judgement of hate and redirect the criticism of keeping transgender people in a specific bathroom, don’t compare. Because he is a male, he is a ****** We are not the same. Now, recently, people are posting about the mass shooting and connecting the two. Saying how the last thing they want to hear about is how dangerous a transgender person is in bathroom now. And they’re correct, because it’s always the last thing on my mind. I hate myself, so you don’t have to. I have enough hate in me for myself so everyone can leave me be, knowing its strong enough. I don’t want to be me, I don’t want to be like I am and I live with that everyday. I haven’t been able to make peace with myself and love myself, yet. But I hope I can eventually. I just wanted to put this out there, so people can see this side of things. From someone who is transgender. The last thing on my mind in the bathroom is: you. I do not want contact with anyone in there. I fear you. I am scared to be there. I feel threatened. I feel in danger, not you. You should be ashamed to feel such resentment towards someone you don’t even know, because I am in the one in danger, not you. I feel ashamed I am afraid of you and that is embarrassing to say, but I am. So don’t dare make it about your safety, because you are the last thing on my mind, I promise you that. Being misgendered, being ***** being beaten, being murdered, slandered, assaulted, accused, uncertain, hated, dehumanised, alone. Fear. These are what I am thinking about when all I have to do is *** but all I wanted to have to do was get groceries. Or get McDonald’s, get cat food, my car fixed, an outfit, take my husband lunch, take my daughter to the park, etc. I have a family I love, very much. So yeah, you are the last thing on my mind when I just have to use the bathroom, and don’t even want to need to use one in public because I am so afraid for my safety and wondering if this time, is going to be the last time I walk in one and don’t get to go home to my family because of who I am. I am sure people have reasons to fear what they won’t know or understand, but understand this. I know you have your own fears and your own needs and expectations, but so do I. Don’t fear me, in the bathroom, because my fear is actually greater than yours, I promise you that. And honestly, that is the last on my mind, anyway. **I just have to ***
0
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 2:32 PM UTC
I Hate Myself So You Don't Have To
I almost don’t want to voice my opinion because I like staying in the back of the mix but it’s hard to do. Straight from the mind, the mouth, of a transgendered person, this is honesty. I know that there are a lot of people going on about the bathroom laws right now. It’s ridiculous we even have to get to laws for bathrooms. They’re for elimination, but it generally doesn’t stay at that. Gossip, vomiting, crying, **** ****** etc. Things you’ll most likely, in this century, find in the walls of bathrooms. People are posting the meme, about the ****** Trying to mix it in with these laws. A ****** who is a man, and someone who is transgender, don’t fall into the same category, and even if it’s made to better the judgement of hate and redirect the criticism of keeping transgender people in a specific bathroom, don’t compare. Because he is a male, he is a ****** We are not the same. Now, recently, people are posting about the mass shooting and connecting the two. Saying how the last thing they want to hear about is how dangerous a transgender person is in bathroom now. And they’re correct, because it’s always the last thing on my mind. I hate myself, so you don’t have to. I have enough hate in me for myself so everyone can leave me be, knowing its strong enough. I don’t want to be me, I don’t want to be like I am and I live with that everyday. I haven’t been able to make peace with myself and love myself, yet. But I hope I can eventually. I just wanted to put this out there, so people can see this side of things. From someone who is transgender. The last thing on my mind in the bathroom is: you. I do not want contact with anyone in there. I fear you. I am scared to be there. I feel threatened. I feel in danger, not you. You should be ashamed to feel such resentment towards someone you don’t even know, because I am in the one in danger, not you. I feel ashamed I am afraid of you and that is embarrassing to say, but I am. So don’t dare make it about your safety, because you are the last thing on my mind, I promise you that. Being misgendered, being ***** being beaten, being murdered, slandered, assaulted, accused, uncertain, hated, dehumanised, alone. Fear. These are what I am thinking about when all I have to do is *** but all I wanted to have to do was get groceries. Or get McDonald’s, get cat food, my car fixed, an outfit, take my husband lunch, take my daughter to the park, etc. I have a family I love, very much. So yeah, you are the last thing on my mind when I just have to use the bathroom, and don’t even want to need to use one in public because I am so afraid for my safety and wondering if this time, is going to be the last time I walk in one and don’t get to go home to my family because of who I am. I am sure people have reasons to fear what they won’t know or understand, but understand this. I know you have your own fears and your own needs and expectations, but so do I. Don’t fear me, in the bathroom, because my fear is actually greater than yours, I promise you that. And honestly, that is the last on my mind, anyway. **I just have to ***
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48
What failures oh the failures of leaving home at seventeen of living and thriving as a minority foreigner of working and studying to post-grad levels of maturing wonderfully and being up and decent of loving and marrying and creating a good home of no crime, no debts, not a drunk, not a player of no stained reputation, no borrowing or theft of being easy-going, nice and friendly, an all-rounder what failures the failure of being successful and capable in grace the failure of doing so well a white neighbor burgled the failure of saying that's not right, you're rotten thieves the failure of standing up to bullying thieving mobs the failure of being gangstalked and destroyed the failure of being an educated professional black the failure of being a solid, courageous, wholesome man the failure of knowing you can't do wrong and get by Ladies and Gentlemen these are my failures Its all there in black and white its the failure of being a minority In the british democracy of the Socialists for it is greed to work hard and be successful its a failure for blacks to aspire and do well when your white neighbor is a drunken, welfare dependent waster and thief And Blacks beware, for if you dare tell them to go change you will be stalked, hounded, smeared, defamed, humiliated harassed, bullied, slandered, sabotaged, and basically driven to suicide or a breakdown They manufacture Failures to reflect their own failures They call it Trading Places and dish it out to 'Uppity' Blacks
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Aug 18, 2019
Aug 18, 2019 at 7:40 AM UTC
Failure by design.........
What failures oh the failures of leaving home at seventeen of living and thriving as a minority foreigner of working and studying to post-grad levels of maturing wonderfully and being up and decent of loving and marrying and creating a good home of no crime, no debts, not a drunk, not a player of no stained reputation, no borrowing or theft of being easy-going, nice and friendly, an all-rounder what failures the failure of being successful and capable in grace the failure of doing so well a white neighbor burgled the failure of saying that's not right, you're rotten thieves the failure of standing up to bullying thieving mobs the failure of being gangstalked and destroyed the failure of being an educated professional black the failure of being a solid, courageous, wholesome man the failure of knowing you can't do wrong and get by Ladies and Gentlemen these are my failures Its all there in black and white its the failure of being a minority In the british democracy of the Socialists for it is greed to work hard and be successful its a failure for blacks to aspire and do well when your white neighbor is a drunken, welfare dependent waster and thief And Blacks beware, for if you dare tell them to go change you will be stalked, hounded, smeared, defamed, humiliated harassed, bullied, slandered, sabotaged, and basically driven to suicide or a breakdown They manufacture Failures to reflect their own failures They call it Trading Places and dish it out to 'Uppity' Blacks
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32
Once I met a platypus; I took her to my heart. We held hands by the lake at night, And flew kites in the park. We drank red wine by moonlight, And closer, by degrees, Expressed our deepest feelings; Explored our fantasies. And then, as these things happen, There came a happy day: We took an ad out in The Times Announcing progeny. But outrage at the outcome - Our beloved platy-pups - Was front page in the tabloids! What was the platy-fuss? We gave the papers interviews, We gave our truth and trust - But still my Love was slandered Just for being oviparous! We formed an equal rights group. We founded charities. To educate, to celebrate Our ovi-parity! We swore a solemn, binding oath, Between the two of us The Wedding feast and party was Quite monatrematous! Uncle Mallangong was tearful; Aunt Echidna was abeam: The Boondaburra “Moonwalking” Was something to be seen! There were Joeys sloshed on cider, Wombats smoking **** Emus snogging at the bar - Koalas wild on speed! For sickness, health; for poorer, Or for great prosperity; I will love and hold and cherish, Through all adversity, My nondarwinian lover; My mutant, duck-billed Queen! My unconventional ****** My monotreme – my dream!
0
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
Once Upon A Platypus
We've heard of a woman's grace, And romantic fables of her charm. But delve beneath the surface, And stir waters outwardly calm. A woman, if pleased is divine And will do plenty to prove her grace. when angry she'll turn serpentine And descend like a meteor from space. She’ll be sarcasm personified, Every sentence riddled with a taunt. You’ll be slandered and vilified, And derided as shabby & gaunt. When pleased she’ll be friendly and chatty And lure you to reveal your fears. But soon she’ll turn vile and catty, And delight in your failures. She won't leave a chance to ridicule And bring up things you’d rather forget. She will attack with every feminine tool, And force you to mull and regret. And when you've had enough of her satire And try to give her a piece of your mind, She will breathe out tons of fire, And to crisp she'll burn your behind. So don't **** a woman to show Her ****** and vindictive side Be a gentleman if you don't want to know That Far from being Jekyll, she's Mr. Hyde
0
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 5:07 AM UTC
The dark side to the fair ***
What's in a name? Let me tell you a story, Of how my life changed, And how my name changed, Every time it appeared on the newspaper. Replaced by a pseudonym, Something to do with courage, I was namelessly admired, slandered, and debated over, Media’s Exclusive Coverage! The newspaper headline read in big block letters: “14 YEAR OLD GIRL SAVES SIX KINDERGARTNERS”, That made me smile. Just maybe I thought we had come that extra mile. But no for I noticed, My name was changed, And the Printing Department was not at fault. That’s just how my country dealt with ****** assault. I never asked them to hide my name, They had presumed, of course, that I was ashamed, Of saving lives. It took me a minute to remember, I had called Jyoti Nirbhaya for years. I wanted them to know who I was, Hiding I thought was for criminals, Until I realized that I WAS one when, On returning from the hospital I saw, Pain in my mother’s, Anger in my father’s, And disgust in my relatives’ eyes. No idea why a part of me had come expecting pride. In school my “friends” guiltily refrained from talking to me, Neither were my teachers too happy to see, That I had returned to the same school, Bringing with me my painful story, Which I had mistaken as one of glory. And when I went to receive the “Bravery Award”, Only the trophy didn’t read compensation award. They looked at me with too kind eyes calling me a “hero” Their smiles told me they meant violated. As I received the award, I saw they were trying really hard, To not let it show, That they wanted me to know, The difference between: Bullet marks on the chest to bite marks on the breast, Blue around the eyes to blue around the thighs, Scratches on the fists to cuts on the wrists, Loud screams in the cold to muffled screams against the cold, The red of the torn ligament to the red of the torn ***** The difference between a soldier’s and a victim’s blood. And suddenly I felt as if I was, The rescued, Not the rescuer, The maimed, Not the fighter, The oppressed, Not the rebel, The hostage, Not the warrior, I thought myself to be. What’s in a name? Apparently, a lot.
0
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 11:36 AM UTC
What's in a name?
What's in a name? Let me tell you a story, Of how my life changed, And how my name changed, Every time it appeared on the newspaper. Replaced by a pseudonym, Something to do with courage, I was namelessly admired, slandered, and debated over, Media’s Exclusive Coverage! The newspaper headline read in big block letters: “14 YEAR OLD GIRL SAVES SIX KINDERGARTNERS”, That made me smile. Just maybe I thought we had come that extra mile. But no for I noticed, My name was changed, And the Printing Department was not at fault. That’s just how my country dealt with ****** assault. I never asked them to hide my name, They had presumed, of course, that I was ashamed, Of saving lives. It took me a minute to remember, I had called Jyoti Nirbhaya for years. I wanted them to know who I was, Hiding I thought was for criminals, Until I realized that I WAS one when, On returning from the hospital I saw, Pain in my mother’s, Anger in my father’s, And disgust in my relatives’ eyes. No idea why a part of me had come expecting pride. In school my “friends” guiltily refrained from talking to me, Neither were my teachers too happy to see, That I had returned to the same school, Bringing with me my painful story, Which I had mistaken as one of glory. And when I went to receive the “Bravery Award”, Only the trophy didn’t read compensation award. They looked at me with too kind eyes calling me a “hero” Their smiles told me they meant violated. As I received the award, I saw they were trying really hard, To not let it show, That they wanted me to know, The difference between: Bullet marks on the chest to bite marks on the breast, Blue around the eyes to blue around the thighs, Scratches on the fists to cuts on the wrists, Loud screams in the cold to muffled screams against the cold, The red of the torn ligament to the red of the torn ***** The difference between a soldier’s and a victim’s blood. And suddenly I felt as if I was, The rescued, Not the rescuer, The maimed, Not the fighter, The oppressed, Not the rebel, The hostage, Not the warrior, I thought myself to be. What’s in a name? Apparently, a lot.
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61
I've spent many years giving into demands I do my best to not ask others for favors That's because I can't rely on anyone But when others need me I'm quick to be there and help and get things done I'm one who puts forth effort once I realize you are a waste if time I'm done with you so I don't bother anymore. One of my so called friends who I don't talk to anymore. Texted me we are cool the nerve of this guy. He went after this girl who like me that does bother me but the fact he slandered my name to impress a girl who doesn't like him. Another reason I don't like this person he pretended to be a girl with a fake profile. You **** so bad you pretend to be someone your not. I'm usually forgiving but this guy is punk *** ***** He knows he can't fight challenging ppl. If he caught a best down this idiot would still run his mouth,
0
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC
Not associated
There was once a fox, a fox whose name had gone unknown, but nevertheless was in truth all on its own. With a pelt of fire and auburn, and eyes deep and serious,  it was no doubt why so many considered the fox "mysterious". Yet, this tale is different, and I will tell you why, this fox was not like the rest, he sought to be like the wolves- twas' no lie. He envied their beauty, their ability and strength, in fact his admiration went on to a fractured great length. He would try to howl and change his stature- hell even his look, it was a matter of great indifference, but try as he might- no matter how long it took. In time, after so much effort he took to the wolf, they welcomed him and never knew his story, pride and arrogance he was engulfed. He followed and lived as one for the while he was deceived, but after all the time had past, disgust and mockery from all other animals was what he received. It was only when the wolves outwitted him and made him a fool, that they chased him and slandered him, oh, the treatment had been cruel. Now the fox understood why animals each held their own class and identity, when he realized then why he was meant to be. A fox he was and would always stay, to the start of his life to the finish of his decay. Yet, he was reminded of why foxes were special, it was because they were no one else; it was stupid to compare, whether it be lion or mouse.  He saw beauty in an idol of its own, he became so mesmerized and driven, that even his heart he disowned. He saw no beauty in himself, when really all others did, that now his respect and dignity was so pitifully dead. Though he admired the wolves and tried to seek them without end, let it be known fame and popularity is a horrid trend. So there are others greater and have more to do, but have you ever considered they may wish to be you? Like the fox who wanted to be a wolf,  but in time fell too much in greed, be careful of the lies you choose to follow and take heed! Because not every beautiful face is as kind and free, be happy you are You and can declare "I am me." ❥
0
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 11:11 PM UTC
Vulpes Vulpes, Canis Lupus
There was once a fox, a fox whose name had gone unknown, but nevertheless was in truth all on its own. With a pelt of fire and auburn, and eyes deep and serious,  it was no doubt why so many considered the fox "mysterious". Yet, this tale is different, and I will tell you why, this fox was not like the rest, he sought to be like the wolves- twas' no lie. He envied their beauty, their ability and strength, in fact his admiration went on to a fractured great length. He would try to howl and change his stature- hell even his look, it was a matter of great indifference, but try as he might- no matter how long it took. In time, after so much effort he took to the wolf, they welcomed him and never knew his story, pride and arrogance he was engulfed. He followed and lived as one for the while he was deceived, but after all the time had past, disgust and mockery from all other animals was what he received. It was only when the wolves outwitted him and made him a fool, that they chased him and slandered him, oh, the treatment had been cruel. Now the fox understood why animals each held their own class and identity, when he realized then why he was meant to be. A fox he was and would always stay, to the start of his life to the finish of his decay. Yet, he was reminded of why foxes were special, it was because they were no one else; it was stupid to compare, whether it be lion or mouse.  He saw beauty in an idol of its own, he became so mesmerized and driven, that even his heart he disowned. He saw no beauty in himself, when really all others did, that now his respect and dignity was so pitifully dead. Though he admired the wolves and tried to seek them without end, let it be known fame and popularity is a horrid trend. So there are others greater and have more to do, but have you ever considered they may wish to be you? Like the fox who wanted to be a wolf,  but in time fell too much in greed, be careful of the lies you choose to follow and take heed! Because not every beautiful face is as kind and free, be happy you are You and can declare "I am me." ❥
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Hey you! Yea, you! You one-eyed Crooked-jawed Rat-faced Sad excuse for a human being! For too long your voice has left me in tears Too long your voice has killed me from the inside, out You have teased me and slandered me Depressed me and angered me You’ve taken advantage of my kindness And stomped on it For too long But that’s all about to change As I have recently come out of a shell I’ve come out of a shell of rage and depression And I’ve realized I have a voice And man my voice is POWERFUL! Not only that, but my voice has a message. I bet you didn’t see this **** coming, did you? Your voice gave me the message of self-loathing But my voice will now give you the message of your demise. You see, You can no longer hurt me because I’ve found I have a way with words on paper Now I’m the giver and you’re the taker And man it’s time to meet your ******* maker! You have no right to judge me because you barely even know me You have no excuse to torment me because I am not your pet You feed off of your ego and you make a scene to get noticed. **** you must be really insecure. Did you not get enough attention as a child? Are you not proud of yourself for what you have become? You must look in the mirror every day and feel a lot of remorse And anger And denial Which is why you continue to hate You hate yourself so you hate on others You hate your life so you hate those who have it better than you But you can’t hide that from me anymore And it’s time you fixed your voice To be more encouraging, Optimistic There’s one life rule I heard before: When the amount of **** taken Exceeds the amount of **** given, It’s time to get the **** out! I got the **** out So should you **** man I got a voice And my voice is powerful My voice has a message
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Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 10:15 PM UTC
The Power Of The Voice
Hey you! Yea, you! You one-eyed Crooked-jawed Rat-faced Sad excuse for a human being! For too long your voice has left me in tears Too long your voice has killed me from the inside, out You have teased me and slandered me Depressed me and angered me You’ve taken advantage of my kindness And stomped on it For too long But that’s all about to change As I have recently come out of a shell I’ve come out of a shell of rage and depression And I’ve realized I have a voice And man my voice is POWERFUL! Not only that, but my voice has a message. I bet you didn’t see this **** coming, did you? Your voice gave me the message of self-loathing But my voice will now give you the message of your demise. You see, You can no longer hurt me because I’ve found I have a way with words on paper Now I’m the giver and you’re the taker And man it’s time to meet your ******* maker! You have no right to judge me because you barely even know me You have no excuse to torment me because I am not your pet You feed off of your ego and you make a scene to get noticed. **** you must be really insecure. Did you not get enough attention as a child? Are you not proud of yourself for what you have become? You must look in the mirror every day and feel a lot of remorse And anger And denial Which is why you continue to hate You hate yourself so you hate on others You hate your life so you hate those who have it better than you But you can’t hide that from me anymore And it’s time you fixed your voice To be more encouraging, Optimistic There’s one life rule I heard before: When the amount of **** taken Exceeds the amount of **** given, It’s time to get the **** out! I got the **** out So should you **** man I got a voice And my voice is powerful My voice has a message
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Pencil, chalk, charcoal and erasers Walking hand in hand on a canvas Stretched and condensed observations Obstructions as concentration pins A walk and talk in a dark museum Stored birds, killed preys, stuffed game Tall giraffe, the lion, lionized Victorian art Quirky strokes of eccentric dashes mashes Staring in glasses to capture emotions Art resident mumble whilst erupting muscles The ***** strikes to meet  my ****** gaze Slandered, pasted and matted with prejudice Mouth flowing with filth like a sewage drain Don’t we all come from holes, sticks and bones? Don’t we all come in holes, sticks and bones? A lost sight of an insight, a skin stratified Misted and tainted with toned stinky **** A pigmentation structured in perceptions A plea to ****** stereotypical resolution A streamline of vagaries, unsettle the gallery
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Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 5:38 PM UTC
Art Gallery Vagaries
you of pharmaceutical lens, Concrete handed sharp edges rounded, colours slandered, you womb-safe, blanketed, bleeting sounds non-threatening, Shadow individual Deodorant mojo, the man-made park, well governed hair lips are moist and plumped up, a conveyor belt human, bowel movements and idle chatter are corporate losses, Neglect that which is outside this Kingdom, the office must remain hermetically sealed to ensure maximum shareholder profits breathing in sand and time, this here void of monotony, numbly dispirited poor food and no discipline (that's you), face is sallow sagging, you are nothing, not really, your bonus will be paid at the end of this month.
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Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 7:00 AM UTC
Anxious worker 5
In the old age black was not counted fair, Or if it were, it bore not beauty’s name; But now is black beauty’s successive heir, And beauty slandered with a ******* shame. For since each hand hath put on nature’s power, Fairing the foul with art’s false borrowed face, Sweet beauty hath no name no holy bower, But is profaned, if not lives in disgrace. Therefore my mistress’ eyes are raven black, Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem, At such who, not born fair no beauty lack, Sland’ring creation with a false esteem. Yet so they mourn, becoming of their woe, That every tongue says beauty should look so.
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1.5k
Sonnet 127: In The Old Age Black Was Not Counted Fair
I dress in black I listem to screamo. Asking alexandria and Bmth all day But emo tho? I dunno. I like black alot. I wear it alot And skinny jeans are my best friend. People tell me I'm emo Like it's a bad thing. I think being emo is a beautiful thing. I dont cut. Never will But i stand down sometimes. Being emo should be a privilege. Its not bad. If i am emo Than i am strong I have a spirit not rivaled by many. I can endure being screamed at because i prefer it in my music. I will grow out my hair because i can And my band t shirts will hold their own special place in my closet. If i am emo Than so be it But i will not be slandered For who i am
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Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 1:16 AM UTC
Emo?
To be defined as Conforming to standard To be just like any other ******* This is what is to be pandered The good name ‘Unique’ is slandered To be gerrymandered, Nonstandard, and substandard To be normal? Referring to the common type To understand ordinary hype To be stereotyped To have a good reason to gripe To be normal? To be defined as only average To live in societies cage To suffer such rage Looking for love on an empty page Missing out on a golden age To be normal? Bound in law isn’t free Conforming to minor guarantee To pay life’s admission fee If I were you, the joke is on me Normal isn’t what you should be
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Aug 2, 2010
Aug 2, 2010 at 9:30 AM UTC
Normal
Yevgeny Yevtushenko No monument stands over Babi Yar. A drop sheer as a crude gravestone. I am afraid. Today I am as old in years as all the Jewish people. Now I seem to be a Jew. Here I plod through ancient Egypt. Here I perish crucified, on the cross, and to this day I bear the scars of nails. I seem to be Dreyfus. The Philistine is both informer and judge. I am behind bars. Beset on every side. Hounded, spat on, slandered. Squealing, dainty ladies in flounced Brussels lace stick their parasols into my face. I seem to be then a young boy in Byelostok. Blood runs, spilling over the floors. The barroom rabble-rousers give off a stench of ***** and onion. A boot kicks me aside, helpless. In vain I plead with these pogrom bullies. While they jeer and shout, "Beat the Yids. Save Russia!" some grain-marketeer beats up my mother. 0 my Russian people! I know you are international to the core. But those with unclean hands have often made a jingle of your purest name. I know the goodness of my land. How vile these anti-Semites- without a qualm they pompously called themselves the Union of the Russian People! I seem to be Anne Frank transparent as a branch in April. And I love. And have no need of phrases. My need is that we gaze into each other. How little we can see or smell! We are denied the leaves, we are denied the sky. Yet we can do so much -- tenderly embrace each other in a darkened room. They're coming here? Be not afraid. Those are the booming sounds of spring: spring is coming here. Come then to me. Quick, give me your lips. Are they smashing down the door? No, it's the ice breaking ... The wild grasses rustle over Babi Yar. The trees look ominous, like judges. Here all things scream silently, and, baring my head, slowly I feel myself turning gray. And I myself am one massive, soundless scream above the thousand thousand buried here. I am each old man here shot dead. I am every child here shot dead. Nothing in me shall ever forget! The "Internationale," let it thunder when the last anti-Semite on earth is buried forever. In my blood there is no Jewish blood. In their callous rage, all anti-Semites must hate me now as a Jew. For that reason I am a true Russian!
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Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 3:04 AM UTC
Babi Yar
Yevgeny Yevtushenko No monument stands over Babi Yar. A drop sheer as a crude gravestone. I am afraid. Today I am as old in years as all the Jewish people. Now I seem to be a Jew. Here I plod through ancient Egypt. Here I perish crucified, on the cross, and to this day I bear the scars of nails. I seem to be Dreyfus. The Philistine is both informer and judge. I am behind bars. Beset on every side. Hounded, spat on, slandered. Squealing, dainty ladies in flounced Brussels lace stick their parasols into my face. I seem to be then a young boy in Byelostok. Blood runs, spilling over the floors. The barroom rabble-rousers give off a stench of ***** and onion. A boot kicks me aside, helpless. In vain I plead with these pogrom bullies. While they jeer and shout, "Beat the Yids. Save Russia!" some grain-marketeer beats up my mother. 0 my Russian people! I know you are international to the core. But those with unclean hands have often made a jingle of your purest name. I know the goodness of my land. How vile these anti-Semites- without a qualm they pompously called themselves the Union of the Russian People! I seem to be Anne Frank transparent as a branch in April. And I love. And have no need of phrases. My need is that we gaze into each other. How little we can see or smell! We are denied the leaves, we are denied the sky. Yet we can do so much -- tenderly embrace each other in a darkened room. They're coming here? Be not afraid. Those are the booming sounds of spring: spring is coming here. Come then to me. Quick, give me your lips. Are they smashing down the door? No, it's the ice breaking ... The wild grasses rustle over Babi Yar. The trees look ominous, like judges. Here all things scream silently, and, baring my head, slowly I feel myself turning gray. And I myself am one massive, soundless scream above the thousand thousand buried here. I am each old man here shot dead. I am every child here shot dead. Nothing in me shall ever forget! The "Internationale," let it thunder when the last anti-Semite on earth is buried forever. In my blood there is no Jewish blood. In their callous rage, all anti-Semites must hate me now as a Jew. For that reason I am a true Russian!
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Adam & Eve, originally, had all their needs provided for until the snake (embodiment of the Evil Inclination, an outside force) caused them to Sin (through Eve). The snake was the second most important creature after Adam. He actually had legs and walked upright which is a sign of dominance and importance. His punishment was that he would now lose his legs and crawl on his belly. So displeased was G-d with him that he made sure the snake's food would be plentiful so that He would have no need to ever again deal with him (directly). Remember, the snake slandered G-d, His Creator--just about the greatest sin one can do in this world! Perhaps, this is where the statement, "the bigger (greater) they are, the harder (lower) they fall," came from. **Eve made from Adam first sin causes them to fall men now fend alone**
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Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC
Forbidden Fruits - Haiku Poetry
There's a stranger at the door Eyes are blurry and sunk to the floor its the middle of the night and the noise causes fright you open the door and fear what’s more grabbed by the beard assailed in the night tribal lines feared by the victims of tonight They cut off my manhood they cut off my might Fanatic terrorism Is the cult I must fight But I would have rather died sleep through the perils I’ve eyed than to have this beard of mine cut my manhood, my pride This ego has fallen by the hand of slandered, misguided pride -Sam mullet must be tried -sa fool that must be tried When they stole my hair they stole my story This beard was much more than identity allegory They didn't steal it all though.... I escaped To tell a story of fear in a horse and buggy ride To alert the media and to simply confide We never locked our doors before you wondered “what violence” you s3nseless ***** Schism between the mainstream and Mullet and the scissors cut/divide communities apart like a cook does a cutlet Never forget the scissors that took my bucket-list , TerrorEYEz; learned helplessness, cult leader...fuck-it-quick. .fuck.youSamMullet.
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Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 1:30 PM UTC
.fuck.youSam:Mullet. an Amish Ode
I forgive you All who abandoned me Left me alone Forsaken me I forgive you Those who accused me Made rumors Slandered me I forgive you All who betrayed me Left me hanging Rejected me And at last! I forgive the hardest one I forgive you, myself
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Jul 13, 2019
Jul 13, 2019 at 8:10 AM UTC
The Hardest One
♪ ♩ ♫ ♬♪ ♪ ♩ ♫ [for Snare Drum] Client-centered, data-driven, yet their sins are unforgiven. Tweaking the assessment standard while the Word of God is slandered. Current practice (science-based) meanwhile, souls are laid to waste. Evidence-based evaluations fail to stall abominations. Power slideshows, bullet-pointed bypass Christ, the Lord’s anointed. Titled expert: talking wraith, buzzword-based, devoid of faith. Sources cited, praxis theorized. Mankind’s plight ignored, unrealized. Humankind enthroned, enshrined, entombed in shadows yet unshined. Branding, marketing, organized crime: brother – can you spare a paradigm?
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Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 6:21 PM UTC
Paradigm Paradiddle
*Silence! The voices stopped. The only sound I hear is the wind howling over the stones, the ancient building ruins, heaps ravaged by time punishes them as an invisible whip. Even the demons are silent now ... I hear the most croaking frogs and even the sound of crickets filled the night with their songs. Rooster was. His voice was quiet for forty-two years. The only sound now is the voice synthesis of old hardware, metal head that red-eye placed on top of the old marble counter. - Sir Water? - She asks - The radiation level is low today - finished. The same song sung once a week. The voices? They were silent. Demons are silent now. Ahh! I wanted to hear the voice of the old rabbi, that white-bearded long peyos when he said to pay attention to the little voices, the voices of the humble, enlightened wanderers, sparks of mystical alphabet, warning humanity that the day would come when voices calariam. There inside, the demons remain silent. Their voices were silenced by the voice of evil that planted residence in the left chamber of the heart of man the temple. The ghetto is cold today. People gather around the fire lit inside the old barrel of oil, black blood, called him. It no longer exists. The veins are dry and the blood no longer runs more ... The white spots covering skin. It should be a good sign, but it is not. Leprosy went devouring the souls of men, women and children. Neither the animals escaped. Contaminated are exiled. They send them to the valley of oblivion where the voice never will rise. They used maliciously. They slandered her. His calumnies were launched in the wind like the leaves of the old oak tree that stood in chaiim forest. He also stopped. The wind no longer howls more through its leafy branches. Ahh! Where is the voice of the rabbi? He was dead by religious dogmatists. His bright sparks no longer crackle through the air. Even the demons no longer speak. They shut up inside. Where are the voices of poems and poets? It is also silent. They were causing itching ears of humanity. They accused: - the mighty were the leaders of nations, with their palaces decorated with blood. Blood of the innocent. They made them shut. They caused itches to power the ears. The gleam in his eyes blinded. It was in 2029 detonated the old Russian gun exchanged for a piece of bread to feed the starving children. All of them died with nuclear heat. Silence! The voices stopped. The only sound I hear is the wind howling over the stones, the ancient building ruins, heaps ravaged by time punishes them as an invisible whip. Even the demons are silent now ... Ah! Where is the voice of the old rabbi? I wanted to hear it now. She stopped. Even there inside there is silence now, even the demons whisper more ...* By Deepak Sankara Veda (Misha'Ël Ha'Levi) Mystik Poet
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Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 7:20 PM UTC
Silence
*Silence! The voices stopped. The only sound I hear is the wind howling over the stones, the ancient building ruins, heaps ravaged by time punishes them as an invisible whip. Even the demons are silent now ... I hear the most croaking frogs and even the sound of crickets filled the night with their songs. Rooster was. His voice was quiet for forty-two years. The only sound now is the voice synthesis of old hardware, metal head that red-eye placed on top of the old marble counter. - Sir Water? - She asks - The radiation level is low today - finished. The same song sung once a week. The voices? They were silent. Demons are silent now. Ahh! I wanted to hear the voice of the old rabbi, that white-bearded long peyos when he said to pay attention to the little voices, the voices of the humble, enlightened wanderers, sparks of mystical alphabet, warning humanity that the day would come when voices calariam. There inside, the demons remain silent. Their voices were silenced by the voice of evil that planted residence in the left chamber of the heart of man the temple. The ghetto is cold today. People gather around the fire lit inside the old barrel of oil, black blood, called him. It no longer exists. The veins are dry and the blood no longer runs more ... The white spots covering skin. It should be a good sign, but it is not. Leprosy went devouring the souls of men, women and children. Neither the animals escaped. Contaminated are exiled. They send them to the valley of oblivion where the voice never will rise. They used maliciously. They slandered her. His calumnies were launched in the wind like the leaves of the old oak tree that stood in chaiim forest. He also stopped. The wind no longer howls more through its leafy branches. Ahh! Where is the voice of the rabbi? He was dead by religious dogmatists. His bright sparks no longer crackle through the air. Even the demons no longer speak. They shut up inside. Where are the voices of poems and poets? It is also silent. They were causing itching ears of humanity. They accused: - the mighty were the leaders of nations, with their palaces decorated with blood. Blood of the innocent. They made them shut. They caused itches to power the ears. The gleam in his eyes blinded. It was in 2029 detonated the old Russian gun exchanged for a piece of bread to feed the starving children. All of them died with nuclear heat. Silence! The voices stopped. The only sound I hear is the wind howling over the stones, the ancient building ruins, heaps ravaged by time punishes them as an invisible whip. Even the demons are silent now ... Ah! Where is the voice of the old rabbi? I wanted to hear it now. She stopped. Even there inside there is silence now, even the demons whisper more ...* By Deepak Sankara Veda (Misha'Ël Ha'Levi) Mystik Poet
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