"societal" poems
Can you feel all the suffering, can you see it?
Stop embracing the hate of your own humanity, just quit it
Why all the hypocrisy?
Challenge your democracy
Aim for enlightenment
Fight against all ill torment
Oppression, alienation, inequality
The government's manipulative utilities
Explore your human aptitude
Your mind and your magnitude
Because passion is power and
You can make all evil cower
Work to open your third eye
Don't cry or comply, but rather ask "why?"
Empathy and compassion are most important
Without them, moral principles remain impotent
Our world is nothing compared to the entire universe
We are so small, egoistic, and it's getting worse
Focused on all of the wrongs ideals
Creating terrible and false ordeals
Our world is cruel and mean
Too many people die hungry
There's no such thing as equality or true justice
It does not exist in this realm of consciousness
If only we could shift the system and our ways
Then things would continue to fall into place
But change is virtually unachievable
Especially when entities with just intents are inconceivable
Human beings are clueless, trapped in a trance
Don't let yourself fall victim to your ignorance
You need to expand your knowledge and your perspective
Aim to be more pensive and introspective
Challenge absolutely everything you are told
Form your own beliefs, don't let your mind be controlled
Remove yourself from conformity and complacency
And you'll realize a multitude of problems, that I guarantee
*You can't trust anything
Hear what I'm saying
No you cant trust anything
Believing is damaging
Creating is everything, it's promising
Stop adhering to societal norms
Why do you conform
To all that
The government tells us
All that society spells for us
Why don't you realize
Wake up from all the lies
The world is an intricate place, that you can't replace
But you can change your ways and your pace
Create some displacement in the system
Stand up your rights
And what you believe in
Be genuine
Imagine
Not one person, thing, or system
Can tell us, control us, conform us*
With enough minds open and motivated
We can help those oppressed and alienated
We can change this race for the better
Let's all work to be that kind of trendsetter
Come on, let's start a movement
So we can see some real improvement
In our world, our ways, and our wisdom
But most importantly in the system
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 3:29 PM UTC
The Kingdom of Morocco has a rugged mountain interior which reminds me of the British meal of mince and potatoes. But hold that thought, and examine our seemingly superior Western legislation. Just like the pickle, the dynasty of death is a brazen festival percussionist who is celebratory in her bitter and gustatory inevitability. Jizyah is that taxation which is imposed upon those who fail to conform to those expected societal norms. Although we have the status quo, one cannot help but wonder what happened to the rectitudes of individuality and paradoxical equality? So, where do we go, oh navigator of the great and mighty West? Marrakech or Rabat? I have no concrete awareness of where solace is to be found. I am lost! Therefore, I can only offer the following direction: Contemplate the ever-changing intricacy of the dunes in anthropological amazement and acknowledge the sky at night. Allow the celestial pole of the North Star to speak to your deep uncertainty. Our purpose is openly displayed if we simply open our heart in the midst of our Bedouin oasis. That, my friend, is the essence of being psychosocial.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 2:48 PM UTC
I looked at society in the eye
and asked her
why she's so flawed.
she glared at me before saying that
I cannot antagonize her
when all she did was
give identity to a lost world
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 1:53 PM UTC
If you weren't dark skin you'd blush,
You and your pleasantly "spring" demeanor,
blooming smiles in secret inside your hazmat suit,
from any type of feelings,
you are already infected,
-- and contagious,
yet refuse to admit the goosebumps
on your neck,
without the fortunate luxury of showing your emotion
society has deemed you timeless,
an eloquent flagrant aroma,
the definition of fine wine with a zest -- a spiciness of an impatient "summer",
you are warm,
and the stem of your smiles comes with thorns of poison,
weapons of mass destruction,
so you're cloaked,
tucked away from societal norms,
and expectations -- who are we to judge,
you are correct,
your skin,
is the right tone,
to
grab the attention for all the unwelcome,
literal and figuratively baring a cluster of
ideas,
wants,
desires -- requested by only the elite,
pasteurized and preserved until then.
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
It's 3:09am
I'm im the library
Desperately trying to write a research paper:
'LGBT Familes'
How fitting.
Caffeine courses through my veins
Coffee overloads my bladder
Bathroom.
I hate bathrooms.
When you have no gender
The simple act of relieving yourself becomes a chore
The heavy weight of that key decision
Chokes your lungs as you stand outside the doors
Two doors.
Men.
Women.
Not me.
The choice becomes simplified:
While I sometimes pass as a man
I often do not.
I can choose the men's bathroom
The consequence of which could end in physical violence
The same hate I explain through my essay.
The same fear that plagues my community.
The women's restroom is also an option
The consequences likely less dire than the former:
Heavy side eye and the potential of yelling.
A much safer choice.
Obviously.
Per usual, I walk into the women's room.
I take three strides inside.
Then I stop.
I've never used the men's room.
My fear of violent reactions has always won.
Yet at a time like this
How likely is it that someone is inside the men's room?
Now is my chance to face my fears.
Now I have a safe chance at peeing in peace.
In a bathroom potentially more suiting
Of my gender identity
So I turn around.
Let the door slam behind me.
Half a step into the men's room
The smell of rancid ***** hits my senses
Toilet paper liters the stalls
I have missed absolutely nothing in my years in the women's room
Women have nicer facilities
A significantly more advanced hand dryer
Cleanliness
Air freshener
Men do not have these luxuries
Now I question,
Do men not take as good of care of their bathrooms as women do?
Do the workers intentionally prioritize women's sanitation?
What causes this undeniable divide?
Is the messiness of the men's room a result of their conscious decisions?
Or simply a response to societal expectation?
Regardless,
I think I'll stick to the women's room
While I add bathrooms to my compilation
Of more discrete gender inequality
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 2:23 PM UTC
Lost highway
of stolen dreams
The do by any means
Men of this time
dimmed our
societal shine
Consumer paradise
American Dream
dim land
lacking the stream
of consciousness
Consumer paradise
Hell to most
Heaven to some
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 7:55 PM UTC
Is love at first sight something real?
Or is it a concept created by media?
Is it just an idea to keep us looking?
Keep us searching like pirates for gold?
Is love even real?
Or did everyone just settle for what they could get?
How will I ever know if I only see it in movies?
Did they spread it around like an idea also?
Did they use it to make people keep hope?
To make people realize that there's nothing worth this life
but emotional turmoil and endless working for a societal outcome?
Maybe there is love at first sight
maybe there is love
but how do you teach your children that when all they see is pain?
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 10:22 PM UTC
¤¤¤
I've had dreams by day
That brought the nightmares back.
In the daylights exposure it was dark
When the negative light was bright.
In the sea of people
I was the floating remains
Of a Great White's meal.
On the lonely roads of thought
My mind was in gridlock.
Comforting memories were suspended
Over a psychic black hole
By jagged and rusted
Medieval-type surgical tools.
My remaining senses
Were nailed to a cross-section
Of psychically atrophied grey matter
Along neural pathways
Guarded by gladiator-type tormentors.
Left with nothing
But the stinging desire to be freed
From a curse that had to be cured
And the hell of searching for a cure
When I was convinced there wasn’t one.
The powers that be come with force
To quell primal lusts & desires
Forbidding you of them
As they seductively
Dangle them before your eyes
Until you are so frustrated and unfulfilled
That you no longer
Care for your world.
This cracked glass remains empty
Even though it is constantly being filled
Then spilled or leaked on the floor
Until you learn to lap it up
Like the lapdog that you have become
For their amusement.
You remain with a love for freedom
But your cage is so large
That you think you are free
Lost in societal fantasy.
You think for a while
That these fantasies are real
Until you come to your senses that aren’t
As you join other fools
In comfort that you're not the only
Broken-back pack-mule.
But in spite of it all
And in the face of them all
Don't let these birds of prey
And powers that be
Deprive you of what they
cannot see
In that hidden corner
Of what is still untouched--
The real you
Uninfected by the world.
Take care of your spiritual affairs.
Don't let the global beast
And your primal hissing forces
Make you be your own pallbearer.
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 6:28 PM UTC
A Friday night of imbued strangers
Streets full of all walks of people
Mostly staggered and tipsy
Haggered and narrow minded
As they sing the only one anthem of
pumping alcohol inside their veins
A Friday night of rejection and temptation
I couldn't give my cash to enter a joint
Thoroughly rejecting a norm construct
Unhumbled and judgmental
As they sing the only one anthem of
pumping alcohol inside their veins
A Friday night of inspiration and joy
Where I saw a mirror of myself on the streets
Vagabound souls sat begging for a today
Justice and truth prevails
As they sing the only one anthem of
pumping alcohol inside their veins
A Friday night of me sat on the ground
At the entrance of a busy closed shop
Begging for the homeless soul as people sneer
The abuse and hate ejected
As they sing the only one anthem of
pumping alcohol inside their veins
A Friday night of broken promises
When all they do is try to have ******
People set traps of unfriendly gesture
The rotten and pompous society
As they sing the only one anthem of
pumping alcohol inside their veins
A Friday night of me wooing the drunk
Melodious symphony of "change please"
Negativity beakers but we made money baibe
A reflection of minimalism
As they sing the only one anthem of
pumping alcohol inside their veins
A Friday night of concluded perception
Their souls touched me, they can go back a time
They try but have no strength within
Sour love was the wound that brought them hassle
As they sing the only one anthem of
pumping alcohol inside their veins
It's not a Friday night anymore, the dawn smiles
I have a warm home and access to facilities
They have no options and crack is their hope
Police huddles and societal direct abuse
As they sing a song for strangers to listen
For your smile and talk can be the only hope they got
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 5:22 AM UTC
Heroes and villains seem harder to define
when somethings happen to blur the lines
The villain style of justice may appear better than no justice at all
When the system fails the victim and makes the victim feel so small
Where are the Heros when evil abounds?
Are they still around?
Who fights for truth and justice throughout the land?
Who is brave enough to take a stand?
Remember heroes often are easily disguised as ordinary people and don't stand out in a crowd
Their anonymity allows them to work behind the scenes
they effectively crush the evil villains dreams.
The Heros tirelessly fight for truth and justice and selflessly care for others in need.
They support and encourage those that the villains of this world have knocked down.
The villains can too easily be found courtesy of our television screen they often make a showing on the 6 or 10 o clock news they are promoting violence they don't care about anyone else's views.
As far as Heros go you may discover that a Heros heart is contained inside of You.
Hero or Villain?
The choice is yours
Today you could take a stand to right some societal wrong
Today you can be strong and be a Hero to a friend or loved one or a stranger in need. To them can make a difference indeed.
Hero's Traits:
H elping
E ncouraging
R espectful
O pportunity
Perhaps these traits are within you
Be the Hero that you long to see!
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 9:46 AM UTC
I just hate this, I don’t hate you
until we kiss I’ll escape you
oh where’s the twist, I’m enraged, who’s
the god of fate to complain to
do you love me like I love you?
but I always know when a love’s true
see fire, into it I tune
chemistry shatters the whole room
sent me an angel too early
you are too pretty and pearly
and you could heal me or hurt me
I’m bad and broken, you’re holy
too much unspoken, you don’t see
below the surface I’m hurting
I dream of barriers burning
you pull me back as I’m turning
run with me, keep this a secret
make up for a life filled with regret
exiled societal rejects
star crossed love lost, now we reflect
I severed ties, sent a letter
the final feeling, forget her
bore the burden, barely better
she’d lose her life, they won’t let her
the fantasy failed to survive
it was as though she had just died
our dangerous dance was denied
fell into smoking, drugs and wine
so hollow without the saviour
forced to get stronger and braver
seek solitude that I favour
give myself the love I gave her
can’t give the choice to the chosen
goodbye, our meaningful moments
in november were the omens
in winter forever frozen
Jul 27, 2021
Jul 27, 2021 at 8:39 AM UTC
A little aloof I shall stay
Before another tempest hits the bay
Anchoring me down again
Into surplus societal pain
Sharing the ocean can get rough
Absconding high tides is tough
I need to gather myself in vain
Before I crash once again
So I shall breathe, smile and have a good time
And hold on to things that are mine
Whilst I cover up the timeworn stain
And soak my wrath in the rain!
-Zainab Attari
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 3:53 AM UTC
I yearn to be an outsider.
To stray from society...
All in order to be
Who I'm truly
Created to be
I'm willing to face inner and outer adversity
All in the name of freedom
Judge me
Ridicule me
I care not, for I yearn to be
Everything I was created for
Living life purposefully
Breaking societal norms
I care not for the path created by
The government
But rather live happily
Fruitfully
In accordance to
Who I am created to be.
Wandering Unconventionally.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 12:28 PM UTC
Scars scattered on my skin,
Pain storming deep within,
Yet, I am proud to say,
I'm a survivor;
Catcalls are a norm,
Yet I don't wish to conform,
To the societal rules,
Because I'm a survivor;
I've seen life at its worst,
I've been through so much that I could burst,
But I won't let them be satisfied,
Because I'm a survivor;
They say I'm alone,
They think I am prone,
To fall into the shadows called depression;
Oh I'm a survivor;
They say I'm a poor child,
They say I'll run away wild;
But I won't do anything as such,
Because I'm a survivor;
They say I'm sugary sweet,
They say I'm a sheep that'll bleat;
Oh they are sadly mistaken,
Because I'm a survivor;
To you, I may look like harmless,
To you, I may look characterless,
But I'm a fighter through and through;
Life's hit me with a lot of punches,
But you must remember, my darling,
I'm a survivor;
I don't know,
Whether I'm high or am I low,
What matters the most is,
I'm a survivor;
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
Do you ever feel so ugly in your own skin?
Where you pinch and grab at your physical reasons to hate yourself
All the taunts and cruel phrases relive in your jiggles
You fad diet yourself into comfort,
Only to be reminded of your deep scars as you catch a glimpse in the reflection
You strive for societal perfection as you let yourself slip into a cracked version of someone you were
The fear that happiness is gone for good
And this is all that's left
Jul 5, 2019
Jul 5, 2019 at 1:06 AM UTC
We are a puzzle with missing parts
That is why we make art
It is a healing start
We are all dream chasers
Until pencil meets eraser
Until boat meets glacier
Reality we must face her
When we sacrifice imagination
For societal integration
We search for placation
In lonely play stations
And through vacation
We experience migration
When the results are doubtful
And the response a drought mold
Because people are skeptical
Until there's a shiny scepter sold
Then you're put on a pedestal
And have your pecker pulled
By various industry tools
Loading you like a mule
With expensive jewels
Art must be the only motive
Not climbing any totem
Because once you're dead
Your art can still be read
Audiences may still be fed
But there's a frivolous influence
So you must be vigilant and prudent
To cut that from your life
So art may be your wife
That works to end strife
Yet that kind of help
You can't put on a shelf
I strive to make my art timeless
Though my pockets are dimeless
We live in a world of depression
That carries the risk of regression
My art could help push past it
Now that would be classic
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 5:43 AM UTC
I am a woman , I should be timid - They say
I am a human , I know no limit - I say,
My existence is not meant for your judgment
Crushing me is not a sign of your triumphant,
My love for you has always been abundant
Why am I the one to make all the adjustments,
Look into my eyes , you'll see a twinkle
Savaging it , is so sinful,
My demand for freedom makes you reluctant
Clothed in societal norms , I have to bear its repercussion,
How are the governing laws so different for Both
What makes you so nervous of my growth,
Why do I have to fight for what is my right
Why do you enjoy my plight,
Being submissive is declared my attire
No one hears what my heart desires,
I am not the one to dance on your note
I am a volcano that erupts on my own,
I don't demand anything extraordinary
All I seek is equality,
Equality to Breathe without fear
Equality to be safe my dear!!!!!
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 3:36 AM UTC
Your pre-frontal cortex is delectably oral amidst this maze of psychological violence.
Oh, mistress of certain uncertainty, I cannot articulate the essence of ontology, as human language is inadequate. But, you truly capture the flow of irregularity in this mass mockery of societal fabric.
Therefore, I simply appeal to our mutual and primitive impulses. Let us be rough, despite the misguided assumptions of those who claim to have affiliation.
I like old school choppers, because they are not polished.
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 11:06 PM UTC
Long before she was born
The balance, the societal scale,
The ground upon which her wobbly feet
Will learn to stand upright and walk steady
Had been socially disintegrated.
Arms with which her clay mind
Is to be molded and framed
Had been morally fractured.
The ‘responsible majority'
Saddled with the making of serious decisions
Had decided against her-
The minor, with fewer rights
And a body like hers-
Double jeopardy, I will say.
The verdict always the same,
Unanimous more often than not
Guilty!! Is the girl child;
If she grows too fast
Or he touches her inappropriately.
So she learns from her early days
The skill of helplessness
All through the pain and the shame
For it is always her fault
Always has been
Long before she arrived
©Belema .S. Ekine
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 7:07 AM UTC
Your riding on empty, your riding on fumes
Aint it about time you started paying your dues?
Hey snowflake move out of daddy's basement
Aint it about time you started paying your rent
It's been years since you've earned a red cent
Hey snowflake move out and live in a tent
The cronies you adore are taking you for a ride
Aint nobody here that's digging your jive
You have no concept between wrong and right
News flash: You're just a young parasite
You have this idea you're better than most
The sad Truth is you're nothing but toast
It's about time you owned up to it
You're nothing but a societal misfit
Hey snowflake you're on the wrong path
Hey snowflake start doing the math
Nobody seems to be safe from your wrath
Do us all a favor by taking a bath.
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 5:17 PM UTC
Feeling fail.
A shallow discontentment
only brought about
by the success of others.
Challenges conspire.
Everywhere I look
beauty and joy
laughing
mockingly.
My poor body,
weak and restless,
struggling to breathe
under the pressure.
Water surrounds me,
pounding in my ears,
and it is done.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 5:54 PM UTC
A bridge from colloquial to courtly fare
A span where idealism and fantasy pair
A railway to the existential realm; celestial lair
A conduit through which rational discourse can flare
Deep medium to: forage, inculcate, and inform
Broad brush to paint rare beauty; sculpt surrealistic form
Incisive scalpel to surgically alter the societal norm
Delicate utensil to educate on civility and decorum
A literary ***** a prosaic construct
A mechanism our syntax to deconstruct
An analytical tool; an observational viaduct
Introspective milieu to reduct; extrovertive sphere to reconstruct
A semantical edifice that aspiring wit, lofty orations implore
An experimental structure gramatical anomalies to explore
A thematic repository in which concrete ideas, abstract notions to
pour
A vernacular cathedral butressed by an idiomatic core
Jul 25, 2012
Jul 25, 2012 at 6:37 PM UTC
Oh dear sir, you are many things
But wholesome is not one of them
You are very incomplete and fragmented
But such parts are unseen by most eyes
And though you are unconsciously longing
For someone to fill such hollow holes,
You are sidetracked by societal expectations
That you'd resort to the boring entertainment
Of busy days and bland tasting wine
Oh dear sir, you are many things
And lonesome is one of them
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 3:20 AM UTC
I'm just a simple person, just like the rest
Well, not entirely simple, but nonetheless
It's like society and the media just say what they want
To create new forms of discriminations, that will forever haunt
As if the already existing ones weren't bad enough
They must make sure that you feel flawed,
and make your life tough
I'm just another person; I removed the word simple
People nowadays even get trashed for having a dimple
"HA, it's just a deformity on your face!"
Well, I hope you trip and fall on your own shoelace :)
I'm just another person, with a not-so-great vision
I need glasses, so that I don't squint at the television
It makes my life easier, but the media has made it tough
Their influences and the consequential societal mentality,
has made my childhood rough
Beauty is said to be in the eyes of the beholder
Yet friendship is considered beauty,
when it gives you a shoulder
To cry on, is what I meant
Not literally
I mean it could
Just didn't want to be misunderstood
Why are glasses objectified,
like in The Princess Diaries
Is it not considered dignified
to not want your eyes to get all fiery?
Trust me, I'm just another person;
who needs the help of glasses
Media's interpretation has ruined this too,
to profit their theatrical farces
This is not an appraisal piece
for the object that makes us see well
This is a shoutout to those,
who feel pressurized by this societal shell
To define beauty may be complex,
but it should not be controlled by someone's interest
You're beautiful the way you are,
to have you the world is truly blessed
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 9:46 AM UTC
we have been blessed with womanhood.
not in a biological sense, nor a societal one,
but a blessing, due to our values.
no man could ever make my blood so darkly crimson
make my heart race, beat
in places within me for which
i should be so condemned.
i live for the subtle pain
of lying down once
you've torn my back to shreds–
it's the ghost of you keeping me on my toes.
i want the wine to hit you like it hits me
like it makes me want you
what it makes me want
to do to you
the way the black and grey lines
make your face in my mind
and the screaming color which
you actually are
and on occasion–i am taken to
that place
where my clinical proudness
(and therefore, reserve)
is gone
and it doesn't matter except
that you are mine and
i simply want to make that
very ******* clear
every time i look at you
i want you to know
that i am thinking about
the most carnal viciousness
and how it might
feel to be wanted
by you
how it might feel to
have you screaming
my name into my neck
how it might feel
sweet god among women
in my bed
let me tear apart the stitches in
your skirt
my dream
is to not have to sacrifice
one for the other–
as in,
you wanting me
for me taking you.
Oct 22, 2019
Oct 22, 2019 at 9:26 PM UTC