"subjugation" poems
Perplexed people of a politically polluted land,
Are uncertain of who they truly are.
Sons supporting freedom's fight, fathers seem lost,
Seeking meager gains with no gain in power.
Subjugation and forced order is in play,
Forgotten the episodes of cold blooded ******
Rapes, intimidation and tormented nights,
All ignored, for they are not
our daughters or mothers.
No concern given to our neighbors strife?
Our humanity we sold, for positions in this land.
Strengthened the corrupted power at play,
Full of anarchy and devoid of mercy.
The foibles in name of government and development,
Oh Lord!Fill our fellows hearts
with compassion.
Open their eyes to the inadequacies,
Bring our nation back to consciousness.
©Perveiz Ali
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 8:08 AM UTC
To future conquering civilizations
in galaxies far far away . . .
don't worry about polluting the air,
our smokestacks have shot dirty-bombs
into the clouds for centuries,
mixing rain drops with the
black grime of industrialization,
transforming our children's tears
into cesspools of sulfuric acid and ddt.
We've also drained the bayous and swamps
and between you and me
don't even bother landing in Africa
there isn't suitable drinking water
for miles, you see.
You can thank years of colonization for that.
In fact, you may not want to land
on Mondays, Tuesdays, or Thursdays
in LA either-
on those days the air quality index
is 175 and far too unhealthy for any
biological organism to survive.
But at least you won't die of malnutrition
you've got decisions:
McDonald's or Burger King
choose
cholesterol and diabetes are your shock troops.
Send them in immediately,
there won't be much resistance
we've got these things call lazy boys
and daytime t.v which have
enslaved the population and decreased
the distance
between fully functioning
human beings and mindless apes.
Don't worry about bringing weapons
we've got those too
we've perfected the art of blowing each other away
there's not much for you to do.
we destroy cities with fire from the sky
and our mushroom clouds rise
at least ten miles high.
And god can't see, there's too much smoke
in his eyes
and our radiated children die
with radiated sighs.
While we are on the topic
don't worry about us spreading
propaganda
we've lost the ability to communicate.
We've learned
books turn a peculiar dark yellow
when lighted and burned.
And forget erasing history,
we've done that too.
Our subjugation of native peoples
is masked as 'patriotism'
under the red, white, and blue.
But don't get me wrong,
I tell you all
of this not to dissuade,
please come and attack,
please come and invade.
Here, I'll even turn
on the lights . . .
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 9:06 PM UTC
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance.
Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique.
What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion.
Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression.
We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms.
There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all.
We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural.
Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate.
Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success.
The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race.
How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’.
So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for.
Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism.
It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism.
Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights.
This is mandate.
The republic for which we stand.
Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 6:04 PM UTC
I had a gf that used to get called a feminazi,
but no one ever called me a feminanarchist;
I think what we really were is Feminihilists.
FFP opposed ***********
defined as the sexualized degradation,
********** humiliation, objectification,
subjugation, violation, psychological
annihilation, exploitation, & violence
against women as distinguished from
erotica based on the mutuality
of power and pleasure.
According to FFP's pioneering founder Page Mellish,
*********** provides the training for ******
assault & **** results in the objectification
of women; affects women's ability to get equal rights
& equal pay, & encourages men to associate
*** with violence; Page ultimately claimed
that _all_ feminist issues | [ , ], [ ]
are rooted in ***********
& in a 1986 letter to the editor of The Wall Street Journal,
she asserted that FFP is "not against love & not against ***
Page held that all men or women
who did not fight against ***********
were accountable for the violence
against women, claiming that women
who enjoy *********** or rough ***
had internalized the male [gaze] & |
male definitions of power
Page's positions on ***********
have been debated outside FFP,
including with respect to porn's agency
on crime & feminist & gay definitions of ****
Legislation alone was not a solution,
according to Page; it was also necessary to remove _"the need for ****
vehemently anti-censorship & pro-sex,
Page taught me to show everything from
all sides; my other feminista professors
were pro-monogamy [patriarchy] while
Page was a combat boot wearing girly-girl;
she had these cute little doe-eyed Q's following
her around carrying the placards [ ] for her
spontaneous demonstrations against underwear
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 5:54 AM UTC
a:\>_about_race_
oh, back in civil rights times
i would have been right
beside you fighting...
oh, what the hell you mean?
there-s no such thing as
racist police,
the conversation
should be about
black-on-black violence...
besides if he pulled up his pants
he wouldn-t have been profiled then
sure, mlk was killed in a suit,
but he was speakin' wild, man...
oh, and besides, i don-t see race,
i have colorblindness...
except if a poc gets a job over me,
then that-s the only
reason why they hired him...
why do we talk about racism,
it doesn-t exist, for
godssake can-t you see we have
a black president...
oh, please don-t play the race-card,
besides no one is more discriminated
against than we are...
oh, blacks shouldn-t say the n-word,
just cuz of how dreadful it sounds
oh, since we are best friends
can i say 'nigga' now, huh?
you won-t let me say it???
that-s discrimination! things are
different now, you are no longer
in enslavement...
catch up with this nation,
catch up with the times,
this isn-t about race,
why don-t you admit it?
just because i-m white doesn-t
mean i have privilege...
i mean open your eyelids,
i know blacks never got
indentured servitude
but for a second,
can we focus on the irish?
they suffered too, even if they
won-t subjected to
the same **** kidnapping,
mental breakdown to force subjugation,
and violence.
sure we always ostracized black people
but y-all put y-allselves on an island
y-all will get more respect if y-all just
stop embracing your race, your heritage
stop calling yourselves black
and african-american,
just call yourselves american
stop complaining,
and just be silent
i don-t like talking about race
so much controversy surrounds it...
you know the only way to stop
racism is just don-t talk about it.
j:\>_j_c_c_
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 6:56 PM UTC
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance
Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique
What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion
Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression
We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms
There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all
We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural
Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate
Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success
The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race
How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’
So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for
Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism
It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism
Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights
This is mandate
The republic for which we stand
Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 7:25 AM UTC
This empty ***** bottle,
has been cuddled and swaddled and squandered.
In my ***** it seeps to every dame between,
a dad and not knowing her own preponderance.
I **** I **** by the ****** of my hilt,
of the sword of unrighteous, self help,
and filling their wombs with guilt.
I've never helped anyone all of my life.
Though they would tell you different mistruths,
of their positional view, so skewed by proof,
undo, that I sent them through.
It's a fun house of lies and mirrors shaping figures,
of veneers, so botched that plastic surgeon quacks wouldn't own up to
the scars.
I ferment peoples living.
I turn drunk ****** into angels.
I mask charlatan as queens,
and poison my own gut with the fakes in my head.
Crops die.
Crust subdues verdance.
Chronos rhymes the days and night.
Course subjugation to penance.
But now I seethe my own head into my throat,
and end in ink wrote as prose.
Killing beauty. Art.
**** Art.
Today is.
Death.
Tomorrow's not life,
nor living,
breathing nor breath,
oxygen's just a molecule,
it causes no spark,
except in molecules charged,
with dividing and subdividing,
and rejoining and conjoining into something that can use it.
happy flights :)
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC
Each day is drowned in frigid waters.
Never able to dock against real land.
Little bubbles ripple to the surface of the ill-fated.
Riptides of hate and disgust slam the high towers of this mighty hull.
The icy cluster plunges into the depth of our core.
Defiantly this mighty bow of ours shrieks from its deathly hollows.
As if some ghostly being is wailing it's final departure to the sea.
Monotonous overtones creak inside this inlet;
as life and death flood to it's harmony.
Brimming with animosity and subjugation.
The majestic's heart yearns for land one last time.
Our innards displayed,
as our two halves fatally sink to their final depths.
Never reaching our idol port.
Never finding what was Solely ours to find.
A sinking Ship.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 7:04 AM UTC
Tonight's grey cloud hangs over the pearlescent blue and pink of today.
The gray is an avalanche
criss-crossed
with black
powerlines
that spread like cracks in a mirror.
The rain starts to fall.
To my right is a young blonde
age (17?) unknown.
Her bag and telephone
would
match
but for a shade.
The rain starts to fall.
Young lovers kiss in the calm embrace of one another
beneath an awning the colour of
old ladies - no
boredom - no
subjugation -no.
the under side of an old mattress.
The rain starts to fall.
Across the gap stands an Asian man with the complete accoutrements of a golfer.
Obfuscated now by a train
with the palette of a McDonald's ad.
The rain starts to fall.
The streets are become slick
and every lamp bleeds the start
of an oil painting
with brushes made of light.
The air is cool.
There is a canal that stretches between seats, walled by rows of heads.
In the distance a little girl peaks her head up in the middle of all this,
she wears a bright pink plastic bow on her head that blinks and glows.
Traffic lights streak
green and red
over black gesso.
Cars streak
silver and blood
down black gesso.
"I simply don't need to cheapen things further"
Matching work uniforms.
Matching looks of boredom
Matching shoes and glances
Matching telephones
Matching lack of conversation
Matching hair
Matching matching carpet and drapes
Matching posture
why is everything matching?
(they got off at the same station)
Suburban princess holds the phone like a bible.
I attempt to sketch her arm in my head....but I am too ******
I am hungry.
The outside air is cool.
This is a carriage for the antisocial
3 rooms of solitude.
Everyone is plugged in
No-one dares to speak.
The Art of Conversation.
An old woman sits in front of me, with the face of Ray Winstone in drag.
Her hair is a dandelion
and her eyebrows are birds
painted in the distance.
Hands wrinkled and knotty
like old fruit.
Trains are predictable
the purest form of modern transport
all the little fishies
in the giant metal can
are silent to one another.
The train conductors voice is boredom.
I mistake ambient noise for music.
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 11:13 AM UTC
my ***** Little Secret, symbolized
by ***** words and little idiosyncrasies and
secret secret liaisons;
je c'adore,
laying Control alongside
cast off clothing and kicked off wet *******
heartbeat aflutter beneath your
oh so deliberate ministrations and
thighs aquiver beneath your
oh so deliberate teeth.
my wrists chafe; bound by bitter steel to demure wood,
powerless
or rather
entirely in your power.
you've always loved it,
the thrill of exploration, of
Newfoundland, of
conquer and subjugation and ravishment;
your tongue flickering against my
**** like eiderdown,
fingertips tracing spirals and Möbius
Strips upon my *******
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
Living by ideology must be comforting.
The freedom of constraint, the security of single-mindedness.
It gives one a sense of position; rooted
Behind battle-lines, clear division.
I always thought Marxists naive,
But not in the way you might think -
I was impressed by the notion that the ruling classes
Knew what they were doing.
Subjugation is at least part of a plan.
Humanism simply baffles me:
One might as well believe in
The primacy and potential of pigshit.
Even nihilism is ideology; its comforting
Sense of community: "We believe in one Nothing."
Ideological blinkers preserve order
By blocking out the surrounding chaos.
Perhaps I should find something to cling to
Before the rising tide sweeps me away.
(Not poetry.
I've tried that;
Too unstable.)
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 10:21 AM UTC
The underlings stare
In submissive awestruck
Subjugation in landmine-filled
Landfills, are stuck
In the trenches, the feces
The carcass-strewn muck
Where the vermin-spawn ****
As they're taught how to work
And to fend for themselves
Like the Fall of Dunkirk
As the imminent doomsday device overhead
Incapacitates them
As mere prey to a web
Of a global dominion
Ambition connection
Subconscious hive-mind
Buzzing out the objection
And phobia-spreading
Pandemic misanthropy
Greed in disguise
Subsidizing atrocity
Not for me,
I am
The justified treason
The reason the man-hunters
Close open season
The cease-fire peacekeeper
Proliferation
The water war's rising
Desertification
An MIA runaway
AWOL defector
Still haunting the tombs of detente
Like a spectre
With what I assure
Mutually in the end
When I send go-aheads
On the ICBMs
And avenge the dependent expended
Caught in
This crossfire for-profit
Arms race it has been
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 3:33 AM UTC
A warrior of love, a perfect Amazon
you are well equipped for a war,
ready to take whatever it'd be to win,
beauty of such kind wages any war
only to conquer,the news has spread
that I am the one, you've set
your sight,so glad I am, for me!
Hypnotized by your painted dark eyes,
I am thirsty; instead of water, your lips
offer great solace, only disentangling
becomes a deed impossible at last!
Your armory is full,I could very well feel
the moment you employ embraces as a part
of your tactics of overpowering and subjugation,
I guess you still have more moves hidden,kept ready
in case of a prolonged war of ****** masterfulness,
I gather, but why, yes why ,should I bother?
Take me by my hand and lead,show me which way
to move to please you most.
To your bed,we'd retreat,
warriors of unrelenting amour, we'd take up
this beloved endeavor couched in ardent desire,
we'll play the parts riding the horses of passion,
till dawn shows us the signs to retire for a time.
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 6:16 AM UTC
The sun beams across the horizon.
Today is a new day.
My feet hit the ground, awakening the enemy.
I feel a pull on my legs
I fall to the ground
Crushed under the foot of the enemy
Today is a new day
I pick myself up, brushing the settled dust from yesterday’s battle.
Each step is taken in agony.
He stalks me wherever I go.
Every turn, every step you are there.
Breathing on my neck
I turn and run to my Lord.
The chains stop me and I fall.
Grabbing my hand, you spin me around.
Catching me and lifting me.
We dance.
Left right, left right.
Heel, toe, heel toe,
Spin, spin, sway.
You pull me away.
The chains keep the beat.
For I am under his subjugation.
He pulls me back by the chains.
Straining my every move.
He is the puppeteer of my life, staggering every step.
My bones ache, my faith quakes.
Bruised, broken, weary and lost am I.
Being walked by chains.
Every turn, every step you are there.
Breathing on my neck
I turn and run to my Lord.
The chains stop me and I fall.
Grabbing my hand, you spin me around.
Catching me and lifting me.
We dance.
Left right, left right.
Heel, toe, heel toe,
Spin, spin, sway.
You pull me away.
I stand in God’s house, defined by my religion.
“It’s all a show you see? You are my marionette.
Hypocracy lies in you, you’re a fraud in Christ’s name.”
Escape I try escape I will.
For my help comes from the Lord.
The enemy cringes at The Name.
The ground shakes, and the chains shake.
For there is power in the name of my Lord!
He stands before me.
Taking the chains in his posession.
He said it is done, take up your cross and follow me.
Jesus breaks the chains.
Jesus set me free!
No more addiction.
No more pain.
No more shame.
No more guilt.
No more sorrow.
For He holds your tomorrow.
You are not defined by the rules of religion.
For my spirit has
set
you
free.
The motions bind you in chains.
For I have broken every chain.
You are free to dance in my name.
Never again will you waltz with Satan.
My child may I have this dance?
Dance with me wherever you go, and I will never leave you.
God takes me by the hand.
We dance.
I cling to his garment, never letting go.
Lifting me and catching me.
Left right, left right.
Heel, toe, heel toe,
Spin, spin, spin.
God your presence carries me away.
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 10:19 PM UTC
You my Eraser
My words entering a vaume of contempt and your pompous praise
My glass is raised to you
As my head bows in subjugation
To you my muzzle
To you my totalitarian regime
To you my censor;
Never directly scolding
Never directly
Only molding fear
and unrest
with well postulated questions
Sculpting hesitations
Eradicating my compulsions,
erasing my freedom,
of
expression
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
Why am I called "white"?
Why am I an absence of color
To be associated with purity
Flawless innocence
A clean slate
Why am I called "white"
When I have the blood of monsters in my veins
There is nothing immaculate about my heritage
Simply from a lack of pigmentation
My hair is braided with the ******* of masses
My eyes see the broken lives of the oppressed
My ears hear the echoes of homelands invaded
And my hands hold the books with the historic lies enclosed
Why am I called "white"
Compared, as if, to the paper
On which my people's crimes could be written
Repeating so frequently with so many new victims
But we are never called to justice
And the cycle remains unbroken
When we are addressed
We stand up from our thrones, screaming
"Unfair, cruel, why attack me?!
I don't understand, what privilege do you see?!"
We act like the victims, fed by the system
And we eat it up with our metaphoric silver spoons
Why am I called "white"
I've been stained from the years of hatred
Perpetuated by a people who claim guiltlessness
Just because they are a newer generation
What was once called subjugation
Is now appropriation
But both are used to deny culture and rights from nations
But I won't sit by and prolong this delusion that we are any better
Any more beautiful then any other one of God's creations
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 5:52 AM UTC
Time is a dictator
It takes the form of all the elements:
liquid- slipping out of your hands endlessly.
Each wrinkle is two years multiplied by five,
impossible to keep track of.
Havoc is all it causes,
hand in hand with subjugation,
As the pair of crystalline eyes
dart ruthlessly
in a futile attempt to tally the seconds.
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 7:50 PM UTC
Bathed in a bruised fire-glow,
The gypsy's ball shows
The future.
A life for the wicked,
OH, the sins it depicted!
Nature wins.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
love is a
state of mind
an emotion
sometimes ephemeral
sometimes steadfast
its source
an archetype
formless
it is not a relationship
although it may exist
in a relationship
or only
in a moment
like a spark in the dark
it is a function of imagination
as is empathy
it is magical thinking
*** may be an instrument of love
or a powerful healing balm
in and of it self
a profound therapy
and seen as an act of
divine grace
the ancients knew this
but unlike them
we have taken
sacred prostitutes
from ancient temples
vessels of the
goddess eroticism
Astarte of the Canaanites
Áine of the Celts
Min of the Egyptians
Aphrodite of the Greeks
Kama of the Hindus
Inanna of the Mesopotamians
and transformed them into demons
by subjugation to the depths of our subconscious
the archetypal female was replaced
by the neutered holy ghost
the patriarchal symbolic genital mutilation of women
a gift of horrors by Romes Council of Nicea
crippling values written in stone
frigidity guilts child
an abysmal morality
a theft by
kleptomaniacs of freedoms desire
for two millennium
vessels of the goddess
have been transmuted into a profanity
inflicting
a cold homicide on
****** freedom
forcing the abandonment
of a most essential constituent of sanity
the miraculous repair and revitalization
of the soul
through passions physical touch
sensual love
and the release of pent up desire
and left in its place
a harness of deprivation
an expression of a regressive culture
that promotes
a barren terrain
between
emotional ****** insecurity
and the monotony of monogamy
I am a voice of Thelema for the coming Aeon of Horus
LOVE IS ALL LOVE UNDER WILL
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 6:01 PM UTC
I dream of you
A stranger with your face, like a mask, in front of mine
He has your strong jaw line, your brown eyes
Walks with your confident stride
But the emptiness I feel as he kisses me goodbye brings me to reality every time
A jolt like a ligatured body cascading to a halt…
A brutal surprise
Days do not pass, uneclipsed by need for rationalization
Teeter tottering from acceptance to dissent
Memories like worn film,
Played and replayed
Longing for the ending to change
I was crying in answer to subjugation
Unable to watch your mouth move as it formed syllables
Strung eloquently into carefully chosen words
Ultimately to assert our relationships Goodbye
I held my breath as you lingered at my doorframe
Felt the warmth of tear stained salty lips once last occupying yours
I watched you drive away
I waited knowing your headlights would soon fade
I dream of you
Infinite minutes of fantasy or fallacy
Made to blur factuality
Reverie in which no matter of the stories distortion
You stayed
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 2:39 PM UTC
the greateast lie of all is feeling of firmness beneath our feet we are at our most honest when we are lost - soren kierkegaard
think about people managing running this city state country how do they do it trouble managing myself today 3/19/10 eating alone at cantonese restaurant suddenly felt nauseous sick rushed to cashier paid drove hurried home feeling need to go maybe ***** ran upstairs pooped exhausted lied down sick anxiety attack could not breathe opened windows fetus position all in my head imagined hours later feel fine think about women how beautiful they are menstraution pregnancy giving birth menapause subjugation abuse stress am i pretty enough good enough property commodity find provider daunting pressures they bear tearing while typing think about my mom turning 90 alone trudging heavy purse think about children of the future so much weight on their shoulders so much dysfunction disarity how will they manage run reach their dreams think about myself so scared desperate about tomorrow future i have no money property belonging this world is tough with great sadness want to hear joke what do you call fish with no eyes fssshh not very funny
Mar 19, 2010
Mar 19, 2010 at 6:39 PM UTC
Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance
Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique
What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion
Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression
We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms
There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all
We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural
Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate
Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success
The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race
How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’
So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for
Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism
It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism
Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights
This is mandate
The republic for which we stand
Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC