"systematic" poems
Oh black negus. Why do you hate me so much?
Noticed I called you by your rightful title.
Negus
King, Ruler, Emperor
Not ***** or ******
The derogatory term originating from the crackers, or ***** the mild disparagement softened by society made to think that it's acceptable.
But anyway let's get back to it.
Why do you hate me?
Is it because of my full lips or my round hips?
My low tolerance for ********
The way that my stretch marks are engraved in my skin?
Or how the roots of my hair aren't so thin.
Is it my naturally sun kissed skin? Even toned complexion?
It just can't be my uncanny resemblance to Isis the Egyptian Goddess!
So why not praise me for my natural features
Why go on one knee for their paid for enhancements
Should I react like Angela Basset in Waiting to Exhale?
Screaming and shouting while my face is growing pale.
But pardon my melanin
I was perplexed by this darkness that stared at me in the mirror
That stared at me looking in my lovers eyes and taunted me
Smiles behind hidden hate they constantly berate my beauty
But pardon my melanin
My superiority is in my melanin
Encased in my skeleton
Our ancestors wouldn't like this
They would not be proud of that colorism that exist
They slander us for our features yet they list after it
This systematic thinking has our men slandering us but they won't admit
You continue to beat me down yet I am your mother.
I am the fruit of this nation.
But pardon my melanin
So I'll ask again
Why do you hate me?
We are carved in the same beauty and without each other we can't exist
I still remember the first day that we kissed but a few months later you left me for hailey in an unfortunate bliss
Melanin filled girls I am here to say
You are a queen never be afraid to be seen
The brother that disrespect and degrade are absolutely absurd!
You are not ratchet bitter or mean
Youre a stunning melanin queen
So pardon my melanin?
Naw enlightened by me melanin.
Mar 3, 2019
Mar 3, 2019 at 1:02 AM UTC
Fabricated.
Fictitious.
A fake floating feeling
Falls short
Of my fleeting fantasy.
This insidious infirmity
Isn't what I intended.
I've been inflicted
With internal indisposition.
In need of an ideal identity.
Who am I without
This ****** to make me whole?
How do I heave my heart
Away from this hole?
Have you seen how hard this is?
But it's been short of a year,
Of believing I can simply be.
And before I break
Bleed me of my bane.
And for me, bear no malice.
Tightly take me
Away from my terible tempest.
Time tells me it's time to stop.
Too long I've tortured my tenemet.
Tame the tantrum tearing through me.
Sober seems strong,
But it's systematic survival.
Stopping the surrender
To something stimulating.
Learning to stand sedated.
No I'm no longer numb.
No longer neglecting my need
For new novcane.
Knowing I'll never need
This vaccine again.
You are all my ambition.
Dispelling my ailments
And afflictions.
I am hard to adore, I know.
You are my new addiction.
You have me dreaming,
Praying we are real.
Made me feel.
Don't decieve my brittle belief.
Keep me, don't leave.
I'm not the kind to fly.
For you i'd try to dive.
Unafraid I might die.
I don't hide from the night.
This is what I've been trying to find.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC
Young people can you feel the suffering?
roca wear, gucci, apple, facebook, mcdonalds, apple bee's,
honda, lamborghini, harvard, Community College
american express, pnc bank, walmart
Wage Slaves, ceos, owners, lenders, renters, indebtedness
Structural dehumanization, systematic mechanization
Exploited labor feeding blood to your hungering consumerism
Young people you are embracing MISANTHROPY!
Embracing the hate of your own humanity! Why the hypocrisy?
Wealthy children, poor children
Trying for enlightenment through education
Parents garnering wealth through the oppression of their victims
Parents garnering debt through the oppression from economic inequality
Still you invest and promote the only legitimization of your being: CAPITALIST UTILITY
Capitalism engineering unrelenting misanthropy
Vicious economic system discarding humanity
Perfecting the concentration and accumulation of wealth
With the expansion of human alienation and murderous competition
Prostituting your body to labor exploitation and consumerism
Where does your wealth end up?
multinational companies? financial corporations? military arms contractors?
Loyalty lies in their pockets, backstabbing everyday tactics
Killing you through the exploitation of your body
Because they know the birth of another proletariat or bourgeoisie can replace you
Entities, not human, how much have they bought you for so that you cannot see!!!
Beware of these misanthropic missionaries granting your body power and agency
When your body can no longer be plundered for profit you will taste tears and blood
Young people will you deliver your forefathers and fathers
From worshiping capitalist misanthropy?
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 12:56 PM UTC
Every time people start to rise up, a whole buncha problematic mess gets thrown around regarding VIOLENCE.
So, what is "violence" really?... It's the use of force. Plain and simple.
What makes folks uncomfortable (who are otherwise comfortable in this system) is that UPRISING IS A SOMETIMES VIOLENT (read: forceful) REACTION TO SYSTEMATIC VIOLENCE: Yes, just like the Hunger Games...
Thus, there are many types of violence...
The fact that we are paying taxes that are funding the genocide and ****** of people of color (here and abroad) is violence.
People with guns (former slave patrols and overseers, now cops) who come from outside our community and treat our folks as criminals on the daily is violence.
Capitalism, i.e. wage/property/ecology-based exploitation in the name of profit is violence.
The fact that LA County spends more $$ than anywhere in the world on prisons and police is violence.
The fact that the US locks up more of its own people than any other country on record is violence.
US aiding/funding the genocide of Palestinians at the hands of Israel is genocidal violence.
From Congress, to the boardrooms, to the classrooms, from the gaze, to the unwanted touching, to the **** to the pay, Patriarchy everyday, is violence.
A few people jacking some **** at Walmart or breaking a window is really minimal violence in comparison.
A couple people throwing **** at armed cops is not serious violence.
The idea of owning property that other must rent to live is violent.
Systemic, chronic, global insecurity in the form of material poverty is violence.
Wage slavery is violence.
Gentrification is violence.
The War On Youth, i.e. the School-to-Prison pipeline, and, thus the War-on-Drugs with its attending 76% recidivism rate in the prison-industrial complex, whose populations are disproportionately black males, is violence.
The fact that people can't go to the doctor and dentist, or eat food every day is violence.
Deportations are violence.
Homophobia is violence.
The world's largest global military that vaporizes people without due process in dozens of countries violating their biophysical and national sovereignty is violence.
The United States government sanctioning the ****** of non-white, but especially Muslim bodies across the world... is violence.
So, when you condemn violence, do you mean resistance?
Because there is a whole lot of violence you should be condemning instead.
Adapted from Emilio Lacques-Zapien
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC
Dimension beginning of vile ****** exposed,
And the Emperor has no clothes,
While helplessly strut a mighty walk without a shame.
Course of history repeating itself,
Like the flow of water meeting in the river of streams,
But recycle through the clouds and back to the ground it flows.
Are we so blinded by the glimmer of the mirage of oasis in the desert,
We toast with sands of dune to quench our thirst of our plight,
And all is but a fickling light ducktaped by words of unintelligible muddled murmur?
This is truly the flawed design of our time,
When we no longer promote arts and crafts of philosophies,
And religious cults of zealots condemned the science and Academia by berating it's achievement.
Likes of ancient times of Agora and the height of it's human enlightenment,
There are forces of deconstruction of society of choas ensued by hateful fear mongers,
And systematic inward of national fevor of berserkers leveling progress.
Maybe another dark age is inevitable,
But little seed of hope I feel tangible,
And sometimes event maybe a phoenix.
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 1:11 AM UTC
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Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 2:54 AM UTC
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.
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 12:53 PM UTC
Education is the ladder.
Education is the key.
Education is the mother of success.
Education is the process of receiving or giving systematic instruction.
Enlightening experience of learners.
Learners stop making teachers lose the war of education because of being distracted by the social world.
Boys stop believing in drugs and alcohol because alcohol is an intoxicating drink that slow down and depressing the brain.
Girls stop believing in affairs and believe in education because your certificates will never leave you but boys can leave you and left you with gift of tears in your back.
Study hard because time wasted never regain.
When you are willing to learn you will stay humble and be the good coach to your friends.
Principal words
Time is money if you are wasting your own time you are wasting your own money.
Remember perseverance is the mother of success.
Education is the key .
Education is the ladder.
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 1:25 PM UTC
*Stranded in a car,
Parking lot castaway,
Babylonian sunset,
A star sleeping on regret,
The cold street lights now casting spells,
Down upon a pale face with these eyes painted,
With their shadows*
The rain soldiers are marching in,
They'll crown me with their arrows,
I am the queen of the orphans,
A city for a throne,
And heartless chest for a scepter,
It is rumored that there was a cool of the day,
But it is not found here,
If birds had songs then,
They choke and spit out cruel laughter now,
Therefore the gulls migrated to die on asphalt,
To collect the filth I leave upon the earth,
I have sticky fingers on me you see,
Attached to soggy gloves
**The rats keep eating at my bed,
The rats keep eating at my bed,
The rats keep eating at my bed,**
I cannot sleep tonight,
**The rats keep eating at my bed,
But feed the rabbits,
Feed the rabbits,
Feed the rabbits,
Feed the rabbits**,
The Commercialized Army is pressing in,
Following the systematic skein of procedure,
**Knit the net,
Produce,
Consume,
Expire,
Produce,
Consume,
Expire,
Knit the net,
Catch me,
Catch me,
Catch me,
Knit the net**
I shouldn't be here
Where can I find it?
I shouldn't be here
Where can I find it?
Will I stop myself?
I shouldn't be here
Where can I find it?
Will I stop myself?
Time moves too slow
I shouldn't be here,
Where can I find it?
Will I stop myself?
Time moves too slow
I shouldn't be-
And The Sun Goes
Down,
In,
My,
Brown,
Eyes,
Twilight fixation,
The orange star sleeps in the smog,
My mind in its fog,
Here comes the pale ghost eye,
Peaking through his veil,
Midnight fixation,
Staring down,
On my brown eye island
Where I washed ashore
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 12:44 AM UTC
Practicality is the reality
of ignominious totality
the devices of all sizes
and the grammatical mentality
of systematic duality.
Punctuation is the **********
the *********** of every generation
the permutation and saturation
of wordsmith temptation for re-calibration
the aberration and consternation
that leads to misinformation
and condemnation and annihilation
of the constellation colloquial conversation
the abomination of language urbanization
the fermentation and ionization
of linguistic complications
the desolation of commas and semi-colons
the affirmation of their vs they're
the augmentation of amalgamation
is just the lyrical ************
of a hooded basketball top nation
the culmination of devastation
the gestation and interpolation
that leads to appreciation isolation
and justification acceleration
the modification and assimilation
of poorly-worded implementation
and the contamination of myriad exploration
alienation in illumination
punctuation is the salvation of documentation
against the tides of violation
and the extermination of regurgitation
the classification of discrimination
and last but not least
the liberation of misrepresentation.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
The artist evokes his tormented psyche
Through gestural abstraction
a systematic colorfield emerges
The blurring of dreamworld and reality
All pretensions dissolve
But…
Critics still criticize
Snobs still scoff
the creative will still drink and drug themselves the death.
whichever way the wind blows
that’s where my dreams escape me
They transform to Queens of Hearts and Princesses of utter
Royal
Baroque
Beauty
Bygone
Be Gone
my heart must resist
I will not be controlled by the guild
Caravaggio kept painting until he got killed
Went insane like most artists
Couldn’t stop before he got his fill
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 4:37 PM UTC
Teasing the beast
Looking for a feast
Hounds barking at our ears
Vultures flying up ahead
Circling a bald eagle's fresh corpse
Compartmentalizing symptom after symptom
To hide the great systematic sickness
Labeling the suffering, outcome from desire
We, wholeheartedly accepting being
Appropriated, labeled, discarded
As construing our own oppression and sadness
Enduring the **** of our minds
Being castrated of our consciousness
Before we reap the products
Of its bold liberation and grandness
Its the belly of the beast
And its hungry
Insatiable, amoral entrails
Hoping to salvage a feast
From the casualties of d(e)moc(ratic) wars
Hoping we feed our monstrous fear
Thirsting for the greed
Dripping off of accumulating wealths
Impatiently waiting, we keep parceling out grudges
Disfiguring our minds, our souls, and our bodies
Its misanthropic nature lashes out without conscience
Knowing we'll never realize we are masses
Disappearing the individuals who realize their suffering
Ensuring there's no collective opposition or action
Trying to reassure we are weak
Knowing at some point or another
We all act mute, deaf, and blind when anyone experiences:
Oppression
Pain
Silencing
****
Hunger
Fear
Violence
Repression
Retaliation
Discrimination
Torture
Negation
Alienation
All forms of mental, psychological, physical, and spiritual mutilation
Fearing death more than fighting for necessary abolishment
Preferring to live out our veiled miseries
Endorsing their continuance
Instead of risking our lives for everyone's liberation
Always ensuring the feast of the beast
By its very efforts trying to decree our very human nature
Ingraining greed, fear, animosity, and weakness as if inherent of us
All parts of its most damaging weapon: the seed of discord
Its implantation, a socialized deep desire for self-preservation
Sheep bleating painfully toward our ears
Vultures flying up ahead
Circling a bald eagle's fresh corpse
Signifying the impending recapturing
Of our true transformative desires
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 11:30 PM UTC
Abstract:
And (why?) thus, is all I know so far.
the *question
which is never easy to ask
has an *answer which
is never easy to swallow
between introduction and conclusion
lies a happy marriage
of one jolly void and one fuzzy wish list
via (this) credibility and (that) validity
of all the methods jammed in a
rainbow of paradigms and databases
a qualitative doubt
vs a quantitative solution
critiqued to death
is not always a one way topic
but the only way forward
(to prove!)
I can smile but
I am not allowed to fear
nor like,
nor hate,
nor presume,
nor love my finding
although I desperately cling to
a forbidden bias
(reference this!)
passion is a dangerous domain
(I googled it)
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 2:15 PM UTC
I was a shape in my cosy little shell,
I stayed...
I nestled.
My cookie-cutter thoughts would
occasionally rebel...
And stray to the windows.
But still they were imprisoned by the
walls that surrounded.
I would steal bashful peeks
out a window.
I'd let my senses take unrestricted flights,
as I stared into the grandeur of the carnival
that seemed to have sprouted overnight...
Just beyond the confines of my home.
"What a marvellous circus!" I'd think...
I'd gawk with child-like adoration
and never blink.
The universe lay sprawled
in a celebration of systematic chaos.
It stretched far into the horizon...
A delight to the senses,
perceived through such young eyes.
The world had told me stories.
They were like fireworks
that speared up to the sky.
I wanted to be a part of the jubilee...
I longed for the validation of my existence.
I wished to claim the gift of life bestowed upon me.
I'd resent being held hostage by my indoctrinated ignorance.
I was a shape.
I knew I was a square.
I knew I had a home...
But not within those four walls.
Simply because...
My heart wasn't there.
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 8:32 AM UTC
How to move on?
I really don't know.
Moving on don't have formulas
or systematic process to follow.
It depends on you.
It all up to you, on how you can handle and carry on the
external and internal pain.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 1:31 AM UTC
Once I lost you
Once I tossed you
You never said a word
I never could have heard
Miracle you bore
A refugee in the wreckage
Sharpening your wings
Withstanding dangerous oppression
Young being, incomplete being
Trying not to succumb
To your own capitalist appropriation
Eminent commodification
Implicating your body and mind
Who remained unscathed?
Who wreaked the havoc?
Just...so many wings could gain wind
In this cage, lacking space
System simply cannot withstand
Cost of everyone's liberation
Convenient systematic predilection
Where some are never meant to fly
Miracle you bore
A refugee in the wreckage
Sharpening your wings
Withstanding dangerous oppression
How can any wings soar
When the trail of their shadows
Hide systematic traps for our failure
To ensure only a few course the skies
Liberation is not meant to be
Just yours or mine
No commodity for private consumption
Its usage, embrace, and appropriation
Has universal implications
A radical transformation that seeks to complete a human being
Emblematic of an ideological reconceptualization
A revolutionary new understanding of being human
A re-authentication of our own liberation
Purely predicated on that of others
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 10:22 PM UTC
Virginity
My virginity was bang, a brain against a glass-tinted window. It was child-locked doors and ax cologne. It was too much muscle and a 13 year old body to weak to tussle.
My virginity was a man who made **** seem like an art, the same systematic way the mortician dissects the cadaver. Striped from a name like i was nothing but a corpse
It was the bruises left for weeks. The ****** teeth marks left upon my once sacred body. It that deep voice with Alcohol on its breath.
Yes. My virginity was a ******* earthquake. It was 7 minutes of the worst kind of hell. 7. Where I stopped believing in heaven. Trust became the law, fear my bible. I watched as my foundations crumble. and I knew that this Earth was no longer safe to walk on. It was the aftershocks running down my spine and me, a vacant building constantly about to tumble
So here I am. 3 years later, standing in his rubble. mistaking a kiss for his fist. It's been panic attacks in grocery stores. It's been 3 years of hating myself more than anyone else possibly could. It's been 3 years of
Self blame
And the shadow of a girl I became
Unworthy is a word that takes up so much space
It was the carrying the scars of my last binge.
The night I convinced myself if it burned going down it must be holy water.
Finally Salvation
drinking so much I couldn't stand.
Drinking so much I could no longer stand myself.
I familiarized myself with the taste of concrete and forgot the smell of old books.
constantly looking for a new hook.
Blowing halos of smoking trying to make death look beautiful.
I found myself in a deep dark hole
Oblivion.. My only goal
Lately, It's been learning my body isn't an apology.
It's been learning that bravery cannot be measured my a lack of fear;
some times it takes a ******* soldier to look your demons in the eye and say.
This is my body.
I am the beautiful owner of busy breath.
I'm that shadow girl with a storm inside
No I am not that bruised soul in the empty bottle.
It's been 3 year of convincing myself that This world, it needs my voice.
It's been learning I am a miraculous dance floor of glittering molecules.
It's been learning that You will never have a greater opportunity to learn to love thy enemy, when your enemy is own holy, holy self.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 8:42 PM UTC
To physiciologicaly love some one
Do you have to talk yourself in to it?
Can you one time open your eyes
From a blink
And realize i dont love this person
I need this person to feel how i want to feel
How i think i should feel
To live directly from the heart
No thought more powerful
Than the systematic thought
Comprised as a future setting
The mind in the motion of
Calamitous decent
Into the distant abyss
A following into sympathy
A brightened bliss
Of a systematic reprograming
Of why do i always think of you
When a star burns out
And a fire does settle
A distinct remeberence of
Hey
This burning in my body
When i let my mind
Drift away from. You
Is not anything but the universe
Humming the wind through my ears
The way things should be
Hearing how under the love you give me
Without even knowing it
I am complete
Even when im. Alone
Snd youre alive
Happy
Even alone
With the figment of imagination
Of other people
Being able to handle you
Why wont any other mind perceive
The distinction between
Me chemically loving you
The way you insist your ways
And dont see my own
Because youre so worried about your body
And i frown but inside smile
Because i am the same way
And. You are far too scared to admit it
I am what you wished for
Because youre body was
Either wishing your mind wasnt
And you always decided
But wait. A minute
I wander into the desert
And all i can think about it my band
Hidden some how from the stars
Not there viability
But their influence
Since their pull has way more vibe
Than we would ever think
and so would other people to you
The way i lose pull of the world
And you notice
But only like it for a second
Untill you grasp back
At the blanket you call time
And the way i make it skip for you
Would you even hear all of this
Read into it in your own respect
Because. I love you and i wish you were but only because spirtually i wanted to fill the pop boop bebop
Biochemical rap once
Response
With the fact that you are the best thing that could happen to me
I have no idea why
But you are all i want baby
This is from the heart
But logically i can not depart
With the fear
That you will never love me
The same way
Sister.
The wind dies down untill i mention
That it is all we have in common
But the embers
Oh the embers
1122
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 12:21 AM UTC
It is not without remorse that I watch you suffer though I tell myself it is for the greater good.
Help would be delivered with a smile if you had an offering but alas you have none.
We commit to making this world a safer and more prosperous place, it grieves us to watch as systematic ****** takes place.
What's the word? Oh yes genocide!
But as the man says 'if you can't pay then we don't take it away'.
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
It's dark and the light leaks out
like the change in my pockets;
like the blood from her nose;
like knowledge from my head.
And I can feel myself being
swallowed by this systematic
long dark. I cannot remove myself,
a gut-worm in the lower-mantle
belly. Watching video-cassettes of
my birthday. I don't know what
happened to my birthday video.
I don't know what happened to
my parents or what I did to happen
to them.
The light leaks, again, and I
choke on my celebri-thoughts;
mentally-masturbating to the
waves I'd give on a book tour
or studio lot. Talking about some
movie that made some money,
somewhere in Santa Fe or L.A.
The news is channeling my president:
a swollen man that is the physical representation
that a lot of American people are parasitic;
lovers in racism, xenophobia, transphobia, Islamophobia,
homophobia; scared of everything except the 'straight-talking'
magnate they put in office. Not playing president; playing God.
I'd hate to get political, though. I'd hate to ramble on
and on about something I don't know enough about to
**** myself over. I can feel myself picking up steam.
I can feel myself getting redundant but embracing the
bruised ego and poor technique. Loving the entrails
spilling out of the splits of my fingertips;
more beautiful than the brains I bashed on the sidewalks
of old Morgantown. Morgantown, a town so kind you
are gently destroyed by its over-crowded masses,
dying to be different or drunk -- I suppose that's not very
different than most places.
But let's get back to these trees that I haven't even talked about.
Let's get back to the kitchen table with the hollowed hard-drive,
with wires and cords flopping to the sides, like a
gutted spaghetti eater with poor stomach acid.
How terrible. I'll never forgive myself for that last line.
I feel so rudderless. So cynical with a touch of cliche.
I keep pushing back that age for success, thinking
that I have the luxury of choosing. My vocabulary is
limited. My intelligence is assumed; probably a void,
where delusions manifest and asian **** rewinds and plays,
rewinds and plays.
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 8:38 PM UTC