"subordination" poems
They tell us we need education
It's a part of creation
It becomes your foundation
And you know what, I want to write a dissertation
But there's a sly deprivation
a twisted and greedy **** that creates this limitation,
our gardens are drowning in them.
Let's stop this perpetuation.
Let's stop the subordination.
We need a reforestation.
They have the education yet they lack communication.
Can't you see the starvation of education? It's causing me frustration.
They hold the apple of knowledge and dangle it above our heads,
I am surrounded by dead ends.
A ********** over education.
Lets demand our own salvation from this privation.
How would they handle a confrontation? Or even better a collaboration?
If we share education as a nation,
Then we can all go to graduation.
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC
sure, first we had the schism
of the church & state...
"oddly" enough...
we now live in the 2nd tier
of schism -
the segregation of
state & media...
no?
really?
we're not?!
i'm kind of enjoying
this ongoing schismatics -
the segregation of church
from state, at least left us with
the Vatican (i.e. the church-state) -
but this, current...
segregation of state from
the media?
**** me cram my testicles
into a monkey-wrench
and subsequently watch me laugh...
and there i was thinking,
that psychiatrists,
were the new priests of
the secular age...
prescribing the alt. to
the metaphor of cannibalism
in the form of big pharmacological
pills, to replace the wafer for
bread,
or the watered down wine /
grape juice of the...
so how does that party trick goes?
is that the wine turned into blood?
symbolically:
turned water into wine:
flag-wise...
white,
cardinal...
and then burgundy of
cardinal red teasing the bishopric
coloring of purple?
i'm not here to undermine
the faith...
i'm here for the self-deprecating
humo(u)r...
you don't even require
atheism to get a laugh
out of the conundrum -
you, simply need...
the deviation from the catholic
rites...
an apostasy -
but sure as **** it's there...
secularism has allowed
journalism a monastic status...
first came the schism of
church from state -
which remained intact in
the church-state of the Vatican...
so... FAIL...
secondly had to come
the schism of the state from
the media...
i'm watching a schism
take place...
apparently...
the comparative concern
of church's divorce from
the state was easy,
having imploded into the Vatican...
but the divorce of
the media from the state?
apparently... not so easy...
the media is already locking-down
on obstructing the schism -
arguing from an entertainment
perspective...
a century or so later,
and still, the persistent,
media symbolism -
of crafting caricatures of
a state...
as the state embodied in
nothing more than subordination
to its will...
media is the new church...
and if the separation of the state
from the church took so long...
how much time, do you "think",
it will it take, for the state
to segregate itself, from the media
baronage?
i suspect - as much time as it
took to segregate itself from
the church's cardinal-lineage.
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 11:34 PM UTC
I. To sleep...
As if I needed affirmation
of the weekend from a mouse
As if I needed mutually
indecipherable dialogue
As if I need a hip social setting
when Insomnia gets off on my inside
As if I need a drink for the prodding
of my eyes or charisma for the charming of hers
As if we need a hotel or a bed
for that matter in Dormiveglia
II.* ...perchance to dream.*
Darling Insomnia
how you dazzle in your quilted
queendom of suction
Darling Insomnia
**** out the vanilla gumming
up my timid lungs like sugared venom
Darling Insomnia
I promise I won't burden you with moans of
fantasy-inflicted headaches
Darling Insomnia
let your sirrah latch his inhalation
onto your majestic ***** like an asp
Darling Insomnia
does subordination in my windpipe
do right by your despotic grasp?
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 11:57 PM UTC
Free yourself from yourself;
transcend your own Mind.
Mind is a tool that can be used, in any way seen as fit, but, it can also abuse;
it will ultimately dominate your existence, if allowed to.
Mind tends to lead One down the Paths of Overstimulation; Overindulgence. Overthinking.
To overcome these forces is to forge in fire a stronger and more complete Self:
Ride the Waves; but take heed of the Undertow.
You are in control until the point where you sacrifice it for peace of mind.
It is either a conscious decision or an act of desperation; subordination. Surrender. Defeat.
To sacrifice self-control for sake of comfort;
this indulgent peace of mind is hollow and fleeting,
a mere moment in the ebb and flow of Time.
Cling not to Peace of Mind; you shall be dragged downstream.
Seek it not; lest you **** yourself to a wild goose chase.
Claim it not when you have it; to disrespect it is to forgo.
Simply attempt to realize the ways in which you restrict yourself;
they ways in which you've yet to set your Self free.
Try to acknowledge the ways in which your Mind is your puppeteer,
rather than it being more mutually beneficial.
These malevolent mental marionette strings exist,
for no one is it ever a one-time struggle, it sure isn't for me;
Shadow seeks always to gain power within;
to corrupt your being from the inside out, and
it will always succeed if you don't redirect it.
*Mind can break thy chains as quickly and easily as it makes them.
It just takes awareness and willpower.*
Free yourself from yourself for yourself; though it's neither easy nor simple.
Free yourself from yourself for yourself; it is up to you alone to grow as a Being.
Free yourself from yourself for yourself; no one else is able to do it for you.
Free yourself from yourself for yourself; though you must teach yourself how.
Free yourself from yourself for yourself.
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 4:20 PM UTC
Crúzate conmigo wey and let me dream
No liase que seamos undocuqueer
Al cabo que el amor no ocupa visas
Firma con tus labios el contrato de mi piel
March next to me
Aquí no vale el papel
Propose to me at a demonstration
Kiss me and retaliate at this ******* system of subordination
Baby we are fighting for love
(and against deportation)
No pardon needed here for being fierce
The only paper I need right now is the one embracing this ink
I also need you here
No human is illegal
And love is undocuqueer.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 2:42 AM UTC
It's true that they belong together
Freedom is just another word for fetter
To have it all and have no better
That is life's eternal weather.
It's true that meaning is lost in translation
Because no one cares to hear your explanation
As they hear the words that befits your station
And you've learned to speak as befits your subordination
It's true that there is nothing to thought
Poring out without a clot
Yet will never reach the point it ought
Instead used and swayed as they are bought
It's true that pain is just a stern friend
While hope just leaves you in the end
Pain's **** is the advice he'll lend
Which you should heed or another he'll send
It's true that there is fault in truth
Like beauty blunted by its youth
The horror of it was its proof
While a fraction of it still lies aloof.
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 3:15 AM UTC
**** you and your little intelligentsia
group therapy sessions
basing its roots in caveman cartesian
theoretic - i know you know that
the blank canvas are the ********
and that artists work on that -
because normally grey citizens are no
blank canvas but a subordination -
but still, **** you, why not concentrate
on the blank economics of a beggar
to exercise your little intelligentsia
get-together sessions?
there are less social securities in that
department of inquiry -
mental health and art... what's that?
you jealous of the caverns of the mind
crafting an escape pod to your
****** exercise of mechanisation -
**** on me, crosswords! su doku!
all matters of encryption!
endear your lack of creativity with
the synonymousness act of creativity
decoding encryption,
because you obviously can't encrypt
on a complete lack of encoding parameters (blanks).
you can't encrypt originality unless
you start with encrypting nothingness
with stars... and how often does that happen?
perhaps once... i care to make you
feel something akin to bombastic,
a football stadium size of appreciation lost -
skull kickabout with commentary:
to create the post-relativity warp
of quantity-quality, akin to space-time,
for indeed the answer to science's
space-time hyphenated couplet
is quantity-quality - and that's hardly a measurable
consideration, since there are too many particulars
involved, i.e. too many individuals, choices
and disparaging wills - too many particulars
in the hyphenated couplet quantity-quality,
since science is offering universal breadcrumbs
with its space-time rationalisation
for each and every for a share in populating
an insignificance, whether on a personal
scale or an impersonal / collective scale -
and both are indeed expressed,
the famous parasitical comparison found
in too many numbered essays by individuals -
but still humanism has a quantity-quality parabola,
while science has its space-time parabola,
and indeed both in dip, provide waves,
for example the former with Plato and Neoplatonism,
and for example the latter with
the revisionists of Einstein - the revisionist excavators
arguing precision to 100% proof of measurement
in exponential scaling of the mind theorising
a bus trip to Saturn like a bus-trip parallel-akin
to a 1 mile trip on the same vehicle in the earthly atmosphere.
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 8:40 PM UTC
A piece of longing that pinned by me ....
At the heart that no longer had a side....
Lattice that hard to become a imagination ....
Unfettered grating of heart that getting tired and kept moaning ....
Deep inside my soul implies a scratch wound ....
When the angel that i wish can't afford to carve a smile longingly at the horizon soul ....
Where is the peace that you hide for.... ?
Where is the love hat you intimated.... ?
I'm tired of constantly treading....
Take me to every your wishes....
Don't let your white sheet blank without a love story with me..
Come on.... !
Moving forward and leave the mirage behind....
We're greet the days with love....
We're knitting the bridge of love to warm the soul....
All will be meaning on....
Because i didn't want my days always sore and wrapped by moan....
O desert....
In your desolate, reveal the secret spring of love....
So that i can satisfied this subordination......
Ended this suffering....
I've been long time felt subordination in anxiety....
Loop of time is misleading me to the valley of hesitation....
Endless suffering..
Restless with no direction..
Come on.... !
Lets dance and doing jaunt together with the amours....
Leave the sadness behind....
So that grief never again to come....
Love.... ?
where is the love.... ?
In the bottom of my heart....
I'm still wishing.... !
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 9:03 PM UTC
If I decide to take it out on the world tonight, it’s safe to say
that it’s just what the world had coming.
I’ve never been good at holding these things inside my head
for too long;
somebody always comes along and drags it all out into the open.
If I decide to speak my mind tonight,
it’s just because my tongue is so raw from
biting down on it every other sentence, it’s just because
no one was ever very good at
saying goodbye on their way out the door.
I’m sick of playing
a million different games and I’m tired of learning
a new set of rules every day.
If I decide to speak my mind tonight, maybe
you all had it coming, maybe
my sentences will stop being fragile and I will learn
to crush bones with them instead.
Or maybe, I’ll wake up tomorrow, put on a new air
sew my lips shut, and the world will keep on
knocking me flat
and eventually I’ll become accustomed to wearing
stitches on my lips like the mark of subordination;
eventually, in the name of self defense
I think we all learn how to care a little less.
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 9:08 PM UTC
The animated mystery
Inside every sunset and crescent moon
An optimistic journey
While the shadowed silhouette
Covers an empty spoon
In the cradle’s motion
Destiny is determined for the chosen few
And to what devotion
Or earthly friend
Can the poor turn to?
Living below the surface
Of human consciousness and material worth
With no political office
To end hopelessness
On this mean earth
Nothing but misery
And alienation covers their injured minds
Caring is a political primary
With insincere oration
Leading the blind
No law of value
Can nurture a child or free it’s mother
No white statue
Of truth defiled
Will care for another
Groomed for a process
Ruthlessness assumes advantage gained
It is through applied duress
And forced subordination
That wealth be obtained
Scorned at birth
Exploited and discarded under a cross
Venturing forth
With faith to depend
On an ancient promise
With grace upon them
And love showers as never before
The masses of poverty
Of whom you never knew
Are free of your violent war
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 9:35 PM UTC
If you cut my skin
There would be no blood.
Words would rush out
In a steady stream
All of the things
I've wanted to scream
In your face.
Your words have seeped
Into mine.
I've started
To believe the lies
And somehow,
I feel safe in subordination.
Safe in bottling up
Half of this oppressed nation.
Okay with the slap
Of a dominant hand
Because I am a brand
Of human
That they label
"She"
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 12:09 AM UTC
it seems that everywhere i turn
another mirror gleams
brilliantly hopeless facsimiles
who smile vaguely
while shifting through
perpetuations
to stammer in clamorous gaits
at the doorstep of my dreams
and at the top of my tower
i barely here them call
sifting through stars and motes of dust
i see my petty wall
isn't ******* high enough
the thought to me
is crippling
how could we not avert
the **********
with all the glances
we have stolen from our pasts
how could we sever worth
in search of "progress"
as if life were a contest
instead of an event
is it not obscene
how we grow like cancer
and deceive ourselves
in thinking we have
all our answers
it seems that everywhere i turn
another terror grins
inconspicuous in the hearts of men
who obliviously commend themselves
for subordination
to hammer with calamitous endeavor
on the pillars of my paradise
condemning forever
the kingdom of my dreams
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
A charmer with a soul as dark as ghoul
alluring the strongest smartest, of you.
In a moment of lust.
in a moonless night.
under layers of charcoal thoughts;
whilst the shadows glare and dance-
he'll SWEEP you off your feet!
your own existence, he’ll make you regret.
Ohhh Diablo, Diablo. Who did you sin with?!
WHAT abomination have thee brought on us?
thy hell, thy scalding hell is, heaven compared to his.
Backwards I speak.
in dead languages I breathe.
my bones I break, heal and break
music to his ears
all day, all day
my bones for his entertainment I break
the long nights we await.
Don’t be fooled!
he is a gracious, charmer.
your woes he’ll be inflating
your pride will rip and chew.
The blood drops dripping still.
you see it
he'll say what blood?
I haven't eaten in days, doll.
Drip drop, drip drop.
No exorcism is strong enough.
to free your
he'll know how to ****** the evil-
hidden in the cracks of your soul.
Not looking for subordination
he ain't Lucifer
he is the son
with the 7 sins done
for the 8th looking under the sun.
Together with his doll
the obsidian damp nights floating
in her raven coloured, double laced dress
his mouth with her blood smeared.
mind you the feeding, denying still.
drip drop, drip drop
in pain there was rapture
delusional prey she might be
yet delusionally gleeful
Oh what a doll!
"Oh Father Diabol who have you sinned with?
I am the abomination
dolls I'll be gathering
on the shelf abandoning
our ending in blood I shall be writing"
On the shelf panting woes
listening to the lying tongue
cursed in love
with Lucifer's son
Jun 16, 2017
Jun 16, 2017 at 2:22 PM UTC