"uncivilized" poems
Two uncivilized platoons
fighting each other like wild goons,
just for a small oval ball.
I feel like giving each one a ball
to settle the dispute once and for all.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 9:22 PM UTC
She said she was Ibo
And spoke with a fake accent
Wanna’s and gonna’s
Littered her speech
Not a trace of Igbo, in her exotic accent.
She smirked boldly
As I answered my phone
Greeting my friend natively
In a lavish of deep expressions
So deep, only Ndi Igbo can share.
With a ****** passport
She spoke better than most Britons
She was born in her village
Yet all she knows is “bia”
She thinks she’s cool, I think she’s lost!
The whole point of wooing her
An “mgbe-eke” from the east
Was so we could regularly, take a break
From all formalities and English
And bask in mother tongues…
I might as well be yoked
With a foreign damsel
For the whole purpose of looking within
Is defeated if your tongue is white
And we can only commune in “oyibo”
Call me tribalistic
Call me uncivilized
Call me superficial if you will
But what you call vernacular
The same is my root. I am proudly Igbo!
© Raphael Uzor
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 6:18 PM UTC
Apart
Departed
Parted ways
Discard
This card
Its a scar
A love scar
It tells
A tale
Of what once was
A stale
Stench
Fumes from the outdated
Perfume
The lipstick print
Burned
A permanent
Memory
I'll never forget
Those lips
Slipped
After i danced
With the devil
For a bit
I
The advocate
For too much pride
Abdicated
My position
As dictator
For your revolution
Your free
This civil war
Was uncivilized
Lies
Across the frontline
Frontin, lying
Guess
I'm a traitor
I traded
It all
For the greatest fall
I ever took
I know
I don’t deserve
A parachute
So let me loose...
.Suicidal Paratrooper.
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 12:33 AM UTC
Soft against my skin: comfort
because I don't care to pretend
or put on a show, and be pretend
or put on a mask, and be pretend
That **** shrinks in the wash, too
and faces aren't supposed to shrink.
There is that supposed to
supposed to straighten up, are
you trying to stoop? are
you trying to look uncivilized?
Power creates fear, but power
is our own illusion and
How does a brain incite fear into a mind?
Soft in a caress and laugh
we'll bypass power and fear
or cover our ears with our blankets
the world happens in a whirlwind
I missed it; I was too busy
finding happiness.
Jan 5, 2011
Jan 5, 2011 at 10:38 PM UTC
In every one-word world, exotic spaces' gradual state of life proclaimed as a melon . As the urges to divide the pleasures of the infernal forth from the happiness which has closed in to the square-shaped restless less rolling boxes. And what the treat is if all of the souls from the cypress take the higher breaths of the shrew and belabor them unto the points of humanity, uncivilized humanity that is quite bountifully.
During this autumnal abscission where the alizarin and pallid arms and edges, crooked and afraid, steep in the sullied tatterdemalion and the mysophilia that emimart
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:13 AM UTC
and she walks the heart’s road
one more time
the known letter becomes unknown
last time the first time
she allows vapors of thrill shape
as much as wisdom approves time
Know your place she says
don’t fly up too high
that’s uncivilized far
See I am standing calm inside
hear me?
on the ground
body feet well aligned
agreed ?
yes and no agreed
you anyway cannot disagree
It's only my politeness that asks
She walks like the wind blowing pure joy
a gifted natural balance of posture
being one with the time
of man and of woman and of child
whatever she becomes
at once the crowd
Their laughter makes summer
like a hypolimnetic volume in the temperate
reflects to universe as a place to perch
amongst stars (when you sometimes pass)
while they seemingly cross traffic lights
led by a black dog
and a red cat (hiding in a mysterious plant)
as if she knows us
from somewhere
or I her
as if this has no consequence
as if
she says
and the sound defines
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 6:42 AM UTC
The journey ends with no delightful kiss of comprehension
Yet no harmful injury has visited the mind
A challenge is acknowledged without any hesitation
As every single visitor who travels there will find
Uncivilized pandemonium reigns in as the mistress
Yet she is never seen as vicious or unkind
Always zealously providing a retreat of lively chaos
To visit on your unsuspecting mind
The mistress is delighted when your journey comes to an end
Stands smiling at the amazement on your face
As she shakes her head in denial to any questions asked
Only offering another visit, to her confusing space
You quietly depart in such a wondrous display of silent confusion
Satisfied to leave without comprehension’s kiss
Knowing you have enjoyed the challenge and the visit
Never caring that the journey was amiss
Jul 23, 2010
Jul 23, 2010 at 8:26 PM UTC
Savages
The sting of your words concentrated
at my left temple,
As cold as a barrel
awaiting the blow.
These wounds have torn me apart.
So many hands have
Snatched away my substance until
all I am reduced to is bone.
Savages,
cave dwellers,
ready to run like a cannibal
With my heart
in your hands.
How can I go on aiming my arrows in midair?
Hitting nothing,
going nowhere,
relentless but hopeless.
My identity is formed in your merciless hands
and ignorant eyes
which see beyond the petty and toxic names
you throw at me.
Didn’t I coax your wounds?
Wasn’t I there?
Didn’t I let you lay your head on my lap,
and tickled your back?
But now I realize you eat your two helpings
of manipulation and a vindictive
Side, cleaning the plate.
And with your belly full
you are fully aware
of how to trap me.
Why did I even tell you my past?
Expose my vulnerabilities?
I wanted to share so much,
I knew it would last.
But if trust is thrown around
like a grenade in the summer wind,
It will blow in my direction.
Annihilate trust for good, rip apart my soul.
You are uncivilized
While I am civilized
You are unpolished and ferocious
While I am polished and kind.
You are a savage
And I am an angel.
And one day you will be reduced to the filth
you walk on
While I will ascend to the sky
you will never see…
Kena SunGoddess Dawn 2010
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 11:28 PM UTC
A broken lock equals an open mind. An open mind equals a temporary peace of heart. I constantly write in riddles and lines that will never rhyme, that most will probably never read. In my subconscious I relentlessly attempt a Resurrection of civil engagements with an uncivil mind. My internal demeanor never abandons a detail, a key worth remembering and a lock that will always sway to and fro in a shanty boat that is inconsistently worthless and valuable. It will never dock, it will never be entirely worth the stress or the time it would take to tie and secure a ship of that size and quality, or lack thereof. There exists ulterior motives that Miss blonde esteem is seemingly not even aware of, or like her prior, accepts ignorance as a temporary escape until the uncivil mind returns civil. The fact is this. The uncivil mind was never civil, and may as well never be. Locks can be repaired, even when the thief begs for no replacement. What makes the thief the uncivil enemy? Has it ever occurred to any soul, that a thief is only stealing away precious moments that are rightfully his, that circumstances and uncivilized minds have locked away in a pitch black that they cannot call their own night? There surely has been an uncanny instance when the locksmith swiftly turned about to find his prior gazing at him in the golden grooves of the trap. The thieving of one’s own mind, to break a lock enchanted by the uncivil mind, should be easily empathized and understood. But alas, curly blonde esteem will forever submit under the spell of the uncivil mind, who will only cast a shadow upon itself and its priors. It will be remembered in the scent of cigarettes, where it will also be displaced. It will be avoided in the unrighteousness of a friend’s bed in another family’s house, where a respirator and the oxygen tubes intertwining the threshold no longer exist; neither do the white sheets. There will never again be an absence of music behind the actions committed between the uncivil mind and the civil heart.
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 1:27 AM UTC
Connecticut
Humanity in a rut
Which way to turn
As we all burn
Paying for that four letter word hate
The one that so many regurgitate
Spoken out loud
Emanating into the crowd
The crowd of humanity
That reeks of such profanity
That to hope for some saving grace
In this uncivilized place
Is, I am sorry to say, sure to fail
As the divine within us has become frail
What happened to LOVE?
Peace symbolized by a white dove?
In what direction do we as a species travel?
As our interconnectedness continues to unravel?
I have not an answer now
As all I can do is bow,
My head and pray
For all those affected on this tragic day
(c) 2012 Shawn White Eagle
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 8:44 PM UTC
Running away , running away
Running away , running away
Where am I running ..........?
To the place where there is no Pain
Where am I running ..........?
To the road where there is no humps
Where am I running.......... ?
To the place where there is clear vision
Standing at the edge of a Cliff
thinking how to cross it !!!!!
Wild Animals , Floods , Thick Forest
Uncivilized people , Desert Land , Corrupted Cities
Hard Manner , Selfish Nature ,
Troubled River , are there
Far across the Cliff
Can see a Child riding a White Horse
No Fear or Troubled heart What the Future will be ,
a Beautiful Rainbow , No pain in that land
T want to go there , I want to go there
BUT
Suddenly a second thought is coming ,Realizing
What am I doing ...........?
Why am I running away ........?
Will this pessimist thinking help me .....?
If I go !!! Will this make me happy forever ...?
Now I am thinking to go back
face the Challenges that comes across
I have the Potential , to change my thinking
To change the Place where I am
Just as beyond across the cliff
Will Sleep in peace now
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 6:29 AM UTC
The green crab's countenance,
has an allure so rare,
but those pincers up close,
are a picture of uncivilized eclat.
Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 6:09 PM UTC
The boys in tattered clothes huddle in streets like
bees
So primitive and uncivilized they don't even know
what an iPhone is
Looking famished hands stretched and standing
on their knees
Unfolded palms begging from the men in suits
and ladies in heels
Hoping the heavenly grace may fall on them so
they can find bliss
Their mama at home suckling the young kids
With their dark flopping ******* which produce
milk like beads
The father is dead the uncles are nowhere, who is
responsible for the needs?
So she sends the small boys to the streets where
poverty recedes
They get the few collected coins and buy flour
which their mama make the dough she kneads
These kids with their mama don't know about
education
They never go to school or work so everyday is a
vacation
Bitterness engulfing their lives and can never
avoid depression
****** insanity and malnutrition because of diet
ration
It's miserable to watch such beautiful beings
suffer in frustration
Why can't me and you reach out for them, or all
of us as a nation?
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 4:03 PM UTC
These one-shot wounds are piling up
Hit me again, one bullet’s not enough
Don’t stop firing till we’re corpses walking
Measly hateful human bodies rotting
My lashing tongue goads you into the fight
Broken bodies fighting for bruised pride
Burning tears are your only defense
And beautiful make-up to hide battered flesh
Meanwhile, I’ll wear a costume made of words
To hide the melted plastic burns
We can both easily lie to a world of fools
At least, until the next uncivilized duel
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 12:14 PM UTC
Oh, how we strut about the world
We, the civilized population
Unsatisfied until we've unfurled
Blankets of our cultivation
How proud we are of the machines
That gauge and plunder the earths crust
To farm by artificial means
Deemed by the "uncivilized" as unjust
The "uncivilized", those wayward tribes
That naively worship this blue globe
Need alcohol and such like prescribed
To adjust malfunctioning temporal lobes
Can they not observe our contentment
And our superior living standard
They squat and rant with some resentment
We are progressive, they have meandered
I wonder when those of tribal birth
Will mature and see we've got it right
And that their unkempt patch of earth
Will make a fine farm or building site
Or better still, once they're packing
Up their dwellings and possessions
We can begin some civilised fracking
With our governmental concessions
That's what separates us from them
I hope you have now realised
It is a government controlled by business
That makes us so very civilized
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 4:53 PM UTC
By name it's "USE ME"
Visible in populated places
Volunteer serving us
Night & day
Cleaning our society
Protecting us
It's nothing but a Dustbin
Among civilized bins
It's an uncivilized one
May you survive long
" " serve long-Written on 01.10.2012
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 11:35 AM UTC
I'm not sure if blowing **** up
was a fringe benefit or not.
I mean,
you can't do that kind of stuff
out here,
in this crazy
uncivilized world.
Homeland Security
would have a field day
if I started playing
around like that.
Then again,
why not live on the fringe,
it is a benefit
of the byproduct freedom...
I almost forgot.
Shhhhh...
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 5:02 AM UTC
Savages, animals,
uncivilized Creatures,
Fiend on Earth,
Unrully beings.
But do I complain?
NO!
Through Devious deeds,
Robbed me naked,
Devised weapons to
silence my Menacing
mouth.
But do I complain?
NO!
Wrote Memoirs of how
Dark & uncultured I
was,
called me a Devout
to my Unpolished ways.
But do I complain?
NO!
Mesmerized by my
wild and Beautiful face,
Dazed by the
Candidness of those
residing on me.
But do I complain?
NO!
Driven by Cupidity
stole both life &
lifeless,
Tall buildings Built by
my sweat & Blood,
my Kins sold and Tortured
on Foreign lands.
But do I complain?
NO!
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 4:01 AM UTC
If I look back
A black rose come on wet tears of streams
And she took off
In the womb of evening tide
If I look back
An old dusty city
Rows of abandoned cars, houses
And a raven stands on the rotten piles of *******
If I look back
A broken frame of glasses on a gray letter in a table
Mystic shadows falling on the light of autumn afternoon
Cradling with the words of unspoken love
If I look back
What gives love, I know also takes too many
Again cover in the dark
Letters of time come to fold
Every single word is a black stone
Comes out from the womb of the earth
Each word is exploded in a loud word, in synonyms
Certainly fire flashed in buildings, fake minds
Civilization of all uncivilized
And yet if I look back
A black spot comes back into the line of light
The old raven sitting on it
And on his lips that gray letter of love
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 12:54 PM UTC
Bullying, taking advantage of people, dishonesty, murders, killings, abuses
All sorts of violence
That can be seen all around
Humans fill the crowd
Yet humanity can no where be found
Since when did guns represent peace?
When did we start accepting this?
When did we start taking it as a norm?
All this violence and injustices they just don't make sense
Humanity has come a long way just to go back to being uncivilized animals full of hatred and eager desires to ****
Even that man who worked so hard to give his family a meal
What did he do to deserve this?
Who's behind this? The police? A random bystander? Somebody in power?
We'll never know, we'll never have the answer
Because he's been kept shut forever
Everyone talks about peace and how badly we need it
Yet no one wants to put the gun down,
No one wants to listen to this town
This town has shut its ears from the voices that long for peace and justice
The broken promises and crooked ways of peace
This town has been made to believe
That violence can be stopped and peace can be achieved
By holding a gun in our hands and being the bullies we don't need
Stop
Don't you hear that sound?
The desperate calls, desperate pleas that surround
Stop
Put the gun down, turn this around
Use your voice, use it as your weapon of choice
Use your voice, use your words to advocate love
Violence and hatred must be stopped
Bring humanity back
Love, respect, and faith that's what we lack
Put the gun down, turn this around
Because guns never meant peace
Violence is not the answer to this
So put the gown down, turn this around
Fight for peace, for justice, and for unity
Save this town
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 3:12 AM UTC
soul down
all lines have been crossed all lies spoken
we
.
are uncivilized!
......
madness crosses the land both ways
elders
children
.
all dead
.........................
(will you vote?
is this a democracy?
WHAT IS IT?
WHAT ARE YOU?)
.........
soul down
all love?
all hope for tomorrow?
...
suicide
....?
what are you
going to become?
.
who decides?
______
yeah yeah yeah
soon soon
whoopi doo, too!
hey hey
sooooooo!
.
uncivilized!
__________
are you going to vote?
why?
WHY?
.....
soul down
.
in the country
right here
.
Sep 3, 2011
Sep 3, 2011 at 6:20 PM UTC
“Our government teaches the whole people by its example. If the government becomes the lawbreaker, it breeds contempt for law; it invites every man to become a law unto himself; it invites anarchy.”- Louis D. Brandeis.
Beware of the uncivilized nation
Where mighty green reigns wildly,
And morals are for the most part ignored,
Corporations won't hesitate to betray you.
Waging a war means increased wages,
Take care, the army will shoot you.
A woman's work is worth less,
"Aliens"are manipulated for cheap labor.
Give the wealthy power
Over the poverty of the weak.
*Why are we so prone to
commercialized, cultural conditioning*?
Debt takes away all freedom.
Keep us in debt
To keep us under your control.
Modern day slavery,
Crown Capitalism the king and master.
Get it, Master Card?
Supported by a fickle impostor
Dressed in robes known as democracy.
The cruel system is designed to
Prolong and maintain already existing problems,
Often exacerbating them,
Even creating new conflicts.
The schools uphold the system,
Student is code for automaton.
Criminal is code for prison's big business.
Through it all, pillage the planet,
Divide, conquer, then destroy everything in your wake,
As if it's the main mission of some diabolical plan.
*I don't blame the new student in my class,
Long years ago, who didn't stand up
During the pledge of allegiance.*
Originally written 3/29/11
Revised 10/17/14
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
America was never just great
It was flawed first
It is practically an accident
But better here than India
The explorers came, and faster than a cinnamon skinned Arawak Native American woman could yell “the colonialists are coming!” The men in lily-white shirts shoved the unsuspecting indigenous off their land.
The explorers were as lost as Louis and Clark without Sacajawea
But a determined pedophelic peony planted itself in the deep brown soil
The invasive plant started a genocidal streak all over the continent
In return it won a couple cities and holiday and the Native Americans were bestowed with accidental exposure to smallpox and enslavement.
To repay them we allotted reservations where people live in crippling poverty, put Sacajawea on a coin and Pocahontas in a movie yet we cannot fully allow them into our society, our neighborhoods, our schools because they are uncivilized.
The only people who have any business being on this continent are uncivilized. What a shame.
America still is not great
It still shows scars and old behaviors from the 1400s, 1800s, 60s and even yesterday. The Band-Aid was applied but the wound never washed, never sewn up.
So it sets, burgundy bruises and gore gaping at our present, our future.
America’s past is far darker than anyone’s skin but is accepted while brown complexions are not. America’s roots are not up for discussion, white supremacy is not real.
We are imagining things.
We weren’t turned away at white linoleum restaurant counters, we haven’t been isolated from the rest of the country, our sufficiency in the English language hasn’t been questioned, our bodies haven’t been sexualized, politicized
It’s all in our heads.
Our heads, spinning with fiction, are buried
Sinking towards the earth’s core, waiting to come out of the other side where oppression is not pressing down on us like a molten red brick wall. Our brown heads will come up out of the grass and be greeted by the sun and all will welcome us.
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 9:28 PM UTC