"undermined" poems
Sisters,
We are in trouble
Overwhelmed by reality
We choose to sleep
Being awake is painful true
But what else would you choose?
Disconnected with the truth
Disillusioned with "inclusion"
But when we as women chose to stand
With other women
Away from our brethren
We undermined our people
Their problems weren't ours
Respect in our households and communities was never the problem
But now we're truly included
In the reign of terror
By the hegemony
that we were never actually excluded from
So now while we've branched off
Into this group and that
Engulfed in the rainbows, weaves,
****** objectification, drugs and popular culture
We are sleep crawling
To our extinction
It is better to live through pain
I n order to achieve gain
Than to nap through life
Never understanding your greatness
It is time to rise and return home
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 7:24 PM UTC
Perhaps, We have a worldview, that has turned a bit myopic.
Perhaps, We need a checkup from a doctor for Our optics,
Perhaps, We need for them to write Us out a new prescription, then
Perhaps, We'd see the truth in life that's written in inscription,
Perhaps, the Earth is weeping somberly, but We don't care to listen,
Perhaps, it warns us of Our doom when global profits are our mission
Perhaps, the World is run by men, whose only drive is for themselves
Perhaps, the few will **** the many, just for monetary wealth,
Perhaps, We're all too blind to understand the implications,
Perhaps, a future fraught with poverty and war is what We're facing
Perhaps, a different train of thought, is faintly running by adjacent,
Perhaps, it's one that wrests its life from the stagnation of complacence
Perhaps, We're living forms of life that have been cast inside a mold
Perhaps, estrangement from each other causes Our Hearts to grow cold
Perhaps, all concentrated power's an illusion, We behold,
Perhaps, We all could take it back, if We'd stop doing what We're told
Perhaps, Our Being is unique, and isn't something predefined,
Perhaps, Our priorities in life should they themselves be redefined,
Perhaps, Our voices are of import, and should not be undermined,
Perhaps, We all should organize, and build a world of new design
Perhaps, it is the Media that keeps Us all divided,
Perhaps, We should act neighborly and strive to be united,
Perhaps, in living as a People, We would find Ourselves delighted, and
Perhaps, We'd change the status quo, if We would only try to fight it.
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 5:01 AM UTC
Her eyes shine like undisturbed dew drops
hovering at the gentle fingertips of young moss
on the northern bark of a white cedar tree
under a lazy morning sun.
Spear points of obsidian pierce the disc:
banished from the core of a volcano
scorched by a molten heart
and choking on onyx soot.
The dawn warmth filters through,
carried by a serene and wafting breeze.
It illuminates the pleasant, tickling greenery,
bringing to light the depth of her irises.
Fire belches from the mountain's stomach,
and the flame ignites a gleam.
Her gemstone eyes shine
as though the embers have been captured within.
At the base, there is the earth:
firm and dark and cool.
Interlocking underbrush layers fawn with chestnut
overtaken but not undermined by powerful streaking tree trunks.
The rim is built of force and rumbles with strength.
A cast of bronze is seething and glowing.
Her intensity blazes as sun spots
deep within ancient amber.
She is as her eyes are
an indigo inferno:
seldom
and
elegantly alive.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 3:07 AM UTC
1738
Softened by Time’s consummate plush,
How sleek the woe appears
That threatened childhood’s citadel
And undermined the years.
Bisected now, by bleaker griefs,
We envy the despair
That devastated childhood’s realm,
So easy to repair.
4.3k
i took your **** and ran with it,
went miles into distance while you constantly clinged to the past
girl I'm tired of it.
How am I suppose to get in if he still has the original and I was givin the spare key,
I'm me and no where near him reason why you always keep runnin back lookin for a safe haven, but in reality sorry that ******** I ain't takin ,
must be mistaken,
I'm havin you second all the time I made you first,
like an unwelcomed tenet,
or low rank lieutenant,
I'm undermined, while hes underlined,
made into a bold figure,
but I stack real figures,
and don't make you feel bitter like this *****
Just don't mention why you quiver , I know the reason why you internally bleedin , stress in ya eyes swollen from the cries in the night, it ain't right.
but yet you fall back to him , then call me later? I gave you my words, last time was the last. So to bad if it didn't last, and both ends of the ties leave you to grieve and gravel on the gravel , yeah sit there and babble , yeah I ponder the river creeks for years
now im off the love boat, I skidattled , faught the more fishes in the sea with broken paddle promise not to commit unless it was suicide or a contract with a person I don't trust after marriage and can't truly settle with.
so the others who wanted me are shunned, and you ? Is of no concern to my conscience , my once brown poccahauntus who haunted
my nights , and Asian moon cake who left with the wrong shake wen I coulda move mountain cause I was the real earthquake to shake the floor beneath you and let you see the plummit to a deeper meaning. Thank for leavin.
Asmathic or not,
I remain breathing.
by Emmanuel Hernandez
aka
Linguist Musician aka Deep thought
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 6:31 AM UTC
Our lunar orphan has but
Reflected light to offer
As does a monolithic orphanage
With cold harsh policies
Being furtively undermined
By beautifully wise children.
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 11:23 AM UTC
born underwater a ****** to the birth of creation
complacent verses bathing in lakes wasted her patience
ocean poems emotive prose the notions grow
breast strokes sowed in silly string civilized sovereignty
divinity’s reliance divided by Earth’s dire needs
fires breathe regardless of the rain she breeds
seeds beneath the sand hold no reason to lie in wake
so we speak in foreign tongues with dominance a mistake
to take her language for another world
visions died with imminence and grandiosity
a coliseum’s misconstruction catalyzed combustion’s coldest counterculture
living within the wind sinning stings it’s singularity
glaring stares impaired all sages of their clarity
careful conscious turned rotten swimming in the toxins
glossy water robs apostles of oxygen
filtered riddles fiddled this conviction’s symmetry
& now the god’s live in ignorance and misery
crimson skies abysmal cries they’re looking at the ground
astounded to the loud doubts that overpower clouds
powdered optometry devoured flowers of their solitude
another rotten petal for every sentiment left misunderstood
confused prisoners gifted with the write to think
proles sentenced to wonder why the caged bird sings
a paradox of broken thoughts to question it’s intentions
matter undermined the undefined enlightenment
spirals in the light comprise a present tense
evanescent destination sensei keep I humble
so many stripes up in my wavelengths
widowed endorphins scrape the pain away
balanced chemically an efficacy of electricity
many marvel but the master’s prophecy is destiny
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
All defined, labeled, identified.
like quiet children who stand aside,
Silent as a dusty book,
Captivated by their own shoes,
must be pardoned, must be excused.
Those who mumble and avoid your eyes,
them do not mind, they’re just shy.
Imagine if everything still and reserved
Were undermined by such a word.
What would we say of those calm characters
mountains, towers, poetry, flowers?
If perchance one afternoon we met the horizon or the moon,
Are we to say that because often they stand away,
Afar in photos, landscapes, scenery,
off center, silent, beyond the sea,
That these defining features of the sky
Should be cast off and labeled shy?
Those amongst us, who silently
Live largely in their reverie,
Hiding behind their books and journals,
Heard not, but for the scratch of their pencils,
Will name you someday;
They'll have something undeniably brilliant to say.
Should you disagree, consider and think,
Violent, boisterous thunder is the voice of silent-seeming lightning.
Aug 3, 2011
Aug 3, 2011 at 11:15 PM UTC
September.
remember,
back in school
being seniors
meant we had rule.
we were on top
and nothing
would make us stop.
but that didn't mean
i didnt have deep secrets
in my dreams.
school had just begun
back when we still
had the sun.
but i had clouds closing in
thought i didn't tell a soul.
so i began my journey
into the deep, dark, hole.
October.
remember, when the days grew dark so fast.
but that didn't stop others from having a blast.
when i was asked to go,
i always said no.
because when the sun set,
that reminder became a threat.
i was busy
gathering what i need
to carry out my
one
last
final
deed.
November.
remember.
remember november?
i know you do.
i know you wish it wasn't true.
i know you wish i could make it undo.
but don't you see,
what people do or say
really does hurt me.
if you already know that,
why did you call me fat?
if you already knew i was sad,
why did you save what you had?
if you dont know why,
why did you let me die?
remember?
back in november?
sunday night
to
monday morning.
my heart stopped beating.
happy 18th, baby girl.
watch your blood swirl.
onto the floor
or down the drain.
outside her window,
it rained, and rained, and rained.
3 empty bottles by her bed.
mother's hands holding her head.
paramedics write it off
as suicide;
her own hands
is how she died.
now,
i know you remember.
back to december.
seniors you were,
but everything became
a sudden blur.
all the tears,
being blinked away.
wishing i could have stayed.
now that i'm gone,
you finally realize
what you had ll along.
even though you're too late,
you'll treat this matter
with more weight.
i wish you knew
before monday morning,
at 12:02.
september began.
october started to show.
november held all the signs.
december you are undermined.
remember how you felt
back in december?
feelings of then
will teach you
when it happens again.
so please,
learn from my death and me.
save the one for whose life
can be foreseen.
and lastly,
make me a promise,
never
ever
forget.
always
remember
december.
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 6:28 PM UTC
Thinking is an
overused
abused
undermined
misunderstood
under-understood
generalised
washed-out
Concept.
Language has killed it,
or rather people have.
The world now goes -
"Thinking is such a waste of time"
I am now thinking
how they got there
Without wasting their time.
What a waste of time!
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
Vows broken
Fidelity compromised
Trust undermined
Love betrayed
Time heals
Forgetting a blessing
Remembering the torture
Anger subsides
Pain lingers
Bitterness resides
Rings off fingers
Interests wane
Desires gone
Losing sleep
Losing weight
Losing focus
Losing drive
Energy low
Where to go
What went wrong
Why
All not lost
Will not cry
Will pray
Will soon pass
Will live
To love again.
Mar 17, 2010
Mar 17, 2010 at 1:07 PM UTC
All defined, labeled, identified.
like quiet children who stand aside,
Silent as a dusty book,
Captivated by their own shoes,
must be pardoned, must be excused.
Those who mumble and avoid your eyes,
they do not mind, they’re just shy.
Imagine if everything still and reserved
Were undermined by such a word.
What would we say of those calm characters
mountains, towers, poetry, flowers?
If perchance one afternoon we met the horizon or the moon,
Are we to say that because often they stand away,
Afar in photos, landscapes, scenery,
off center, silent, beyond the sea,
That these defining features of the sky
Should be cast off and labeled shy?
Those amongst us, who silently
Live largely in their reverie,
Hiding behind their books and journals,
Heard not, but for the scratch of their pencils,
Will name you someday;
They'll have something undeniably brilliant to say.
Should you disagree, consider and think,
Violent, boisterous thunder is the voice of silent-seeming lightning.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 11:02 PM UTC
_Crackling;_ it cracks, and cracks,
shaking the centre of glass,
Shaking the voice of words to comprehend.
As like in the ocean's centre,— undermined of where
it begins or ends.
Falling to the ground; a strike through darkest
weary clouds. It falls to the ground; loud as Lucifer
had fallen out of Heaven,— as with all those angels
kicked out.
Rumbling, and rumbling, falling lightening like
mountains. Rocks that are tumbling, tumbling,
and tumbling to crush.
A crushing feeling is on my skin; peering through
clear glass shadows.
_The first echo of thunder; has left a crack on my
windows._
Apr 15, 2022
Apr 15, 2022 at 3:44 PM UTC
Hey kid, I woke up buzzing, here
In the future ruins of ancient America.
Staring, after the imperial sunrise,
Listening to Los Angeles on repeat.
Insistent and purple, only
Sediment left in the
Bottles of night.
This third-world way
Causes Third World War
So I'm drinking at a
Tavern on the End.
The bus goes by, and
"Baseball's the worst sport."
Alliteration, allusion,
Colors, characters,
And metaphors.
Sobriety sending me
Searching for smoke.
Rehash, re-up, and "read the ****** thing." My world-view,
Out-maneuvering your
Upbringing.
(The memories I have are white and yellow.
Fogged, not angry, if even confused.
You'd call me, after finishing your nightly readings, to cry about the characters you'd loved, and castigate my inability to care.
Remember when you used "undermined" to describe the adaptation?
You meant that it was "assuming too much.")
"Brenda and Eddie," over here,
"Couldn't go back to the greasers" so they
Wound up at your family's tavern.
"You look like the fat kid,
On whom the popular girl was
Forced to settle."
Dear Man,
Woman's found you out. Or
Are we, justly, doomed to be
More juvenile?
Worn sole, soul-open, "so long,
Kid, I don't know you, but,
I can't help myself from
Destroying you."
(My upbringing: out-maneuvering
Your world-view.)
"You've always been the caretaker, Flagstaff."
The bait's in your brain.
You've simply been
Overlooking the barkeep.
(Dear Diary, could I just die already?
The Price is Life, and purgatory's a game show.
Anger, the color of your mother.
Skin, the shade of yard-work.
Staring at road maps of Virginia, stoic.
Trying to divine the diners we'd die in.)
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC
New day, with dawn of rising sun
off the docks, cruising towards horizon
light and breezy all, felt like blessed by Poseidon
Skinny dipping for happiness, hope I find some.
Many I got bon voyage, many I curses,
many were on board, many kraken lurks.
Head straight, high sail,
ignored all, focused on right trail.
Pleasant journey until now, premonitions around,
dark clouds, high tide, ensuing panic in crowd,
blinded became Travis, undermined the upcoming crisis
Darkness engulfed, realized too late, next moment...
**** hit the fan down came the rain,
followed by storm and a huge hurricane.
Bulldozed through, but that's just iceberg's tip,
it's gonna be titanic soon, already feel like losing grip.
Beyond horizon, can't see,
calm sea or whirlpool will there be.
All I know, strength of these sails,
sailors and that mysterious gentle gale.
May 25, 2022
May 25, 2022 at 9:52 AM UTC
We looked around not thinking straight,
I undermined myself in front of her,
Inside her mind she did the same,
We knew we wanted the other,
But we didn't know the other wanted the same,
Strangers alike we sat there,
Of waiting opportunities we were unaware.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 8:21 PM UTC
There fared a time ‘we’ were the vital thing,
yet now the case is fair it’s ye and her.
My role perhaps was harrower of Winter
while she’s the water, seed and sun of Spring.
God forms right plans and sorts His unique tools
as junctures of our lives wed intertwined,
but when they’re o’er we are not undermined
nor forced to feel we’re slyly played as fools.
For Providence has granted precious gifts
which by His grace we learn and grow and flow’r,
and these need ne’er be lost in parting hour
nor poisoned by the bitterness of rifts.
So rise our wings with richer, brighter hue
to soar upon Christ’s love which tarries true.
Feb 24, 2021
Feb 24, 2021 at 5:01 AM UTC
In theory, we're demoralized,
In practice, neutralized,
But with force we analyze
What happens around us.
Sanctimonious ********
Pulling our plastered limbs
To an ever lasting fight,
Against forces of evil? Where are we?!
Black veils on their faces
Dark tears in the traces
Marked by the graves that are left behind.
Apathetic pathetic pythons biting the bits and piecing the peace that pits you against your brother.
Pompous posers pushing pampered ideas into our polluted brains.
Anti-idealistic contenders competing for riches and a nice comfy throne.
Plausible pseudo-righteous imposers asking for an applause for all the ill-witted words they shed.
Rectify the wrong wriggled reason riddling wibble fed to feeble citizens.
We sit here waiting for divine intervention,
Well divinity's gone! Not to mention the tension,
All these factors and factions, the fact is we're dying, and they're not helping.
Something drives them, something we don't understand, but who has the guts to ask them what it is?
Our blood has become the dividend divided among the not-so-united lands that fall under a geographical, categorized country of hell.
In this hell we live in, we've become minions of liberal less-than-mediocre minds ironically not minding their own business, feeding off of ours.
Intertwined, undermined, understand the outer line, see the truth, feel the crime, freedom's yours. Freedom's mine.
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 7:08 AM UTC
I love the smell of my flesh in the morning
So soothing, like the ghost of the woman you're mourning
Conforming to a bitterness, you swore to me
That you wouldn't do what you did, but what's more to me
Is that your stain rests upon every thing that I enjoy
My heart is a consultant, don't insult it by calling it unemployed.
I put too much time into your eyes on my mind, in my rhyme
Undermined, badly timed, so let's get to other subject lines
Starlight baking cloudy, shaking
Hourglass breaking, howling naked
On a street corner, "Happy Birthday!" (belated)
Just say it. If it's in a reactor, it's decaying
A single rooftop smothered by snowflakes, earthquakes
Heartbreaks, salt shakers, risk-takers, green bakers
Understudy, crush me honey, lose my number, don't go under
Keep me waiting and debating, my hand shaking, the phone breaking
My face is a reflection of the sunlight's rays
Keeping a constant rumbling from underground at bay
And everyone complains that they're smothered in their own way
But when I rationalize the rainbows, their records won't play
I simply need the orchards to escape this lonely torture
A place to sit and paint in front of a tree and make a fortune
Soothing ears to rest and putting minds at ease
My music, a viral infection, a depressive disease
Constantly starving myself of the rain
I bring the trees to their roots and stimulate the brain
With a conflagration of color, instantly insane
Yet civilized, melody harmonized, urbane
The strings will vibrate and body rejuvenate
Conceptual mind-rape a rising heart-rate
The starlight glowing outwards, the falling of the towers
To signify to flip to side B in a mere matter of hours
Feb 17, 2011
Feb 17, 2011 at 7:14 PM UTC
Some friends are friends who pleasures themselves seeing you inferior to them;Some friends are friends measures their success by comparing your life to theirs;Some friends are friends who is worst than your foes you will never know what lies behind their grins;Some friends are friends of strangers who blindly judged who you are from what you do;Some friends are friends like drugs that gets you high and drags you down real low;Some friends are friends who won't let you suffer alone and like brothers or sisters they'll stay to see things through;Some friends are friends that are hard to find unlike those who are self proclaimed and undermined;Some friends are friends like cancer they grow but you will never die having them;Some friends are friends who ***** that you **** too having them around so tell me more what are friends to you?
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 6:38 AM UTC
In which ditch should I waste this flesh
For you to feel superior?
On which street to make a fool of myself?
Why not Satisfy all your 'highness's evil wishes
And be the lousiest there is?
Saint garbage, saint crap, saint ****
Saint all the ****** and ****** people making of you
The greatest and most loved.
Garbage, garbage,
Trashing lives,
All recycled, changed, undermined
A demon' s wishes...
To keep all this garbage
In real life.
Garbage, saint garbage
Producer of honey in your lives.
Apr 14, 2021
Apr 14, 2021 at 12:54 AM UTC
young love is too often undermined and discredited
labeled as “silly” or seen as a waste of time
we pay it no heed; calling it a temporary foolishness
they say we cannot fall in love when we are 16
for we have not yet seen the world or faced its worries
and our heart knows nothing of love or of loss
we are too young, they say over and over again,
we are too young to understand what love is and what love brings
we are too young to know what love stands for
or fathom the pain of lost love and a broken heart
we are too young
no
for centuries now, youthful hearts have been termed incapable of truly comprehending the essence of love
more so, they have been termed inept to ever facing true heartbreak
when the tears of mascara flow down their pink, girlish cheeks
they say
you are too young and this is not real
you do not know what love is and you will grow to understand
one day when you face real heartbreak you will think of all this as silly
you will not remember and you will laugh
cry not; for you have not truly loved nor lost
but
how many of us forget the first sleepless night we stayed up waiting for the call that wasn’t coming
how many of us forget the first time we saw them in someone else’s arms
how many of us forget the first time our heart shattered because of the utterance of a single word
“goodbye”
how many of us forget the silence which was all too loud
the tears
or the cold nights
the feeling of having your world crash and burn before your very own eyes
the vulnerability, the helplessness, knowing your heart is in another’s hands
and you can do nothing about it
tell me; how many of us forget?
cradled in your mother’s arms crying the night away
tearing at your skin, wishing his touch had not stained you
your father pacing up and down the hallway
what has happened to my little girl?
on the phone for hours
crying, yelling, whispering; losing your mind
piece by piece everything falling apart
why does it hurt so much
why does it not end?
have you forgotten? have you forgotten your first heartbreak?
no
young love may be amateur
but it is not false
so vulnerable and so ready to jump into a new life
so willing to give up everything and try to make it work
rushing into it so fast and falling into his arms
ready to give her your heart, your soul, your life
our hearts still untouched by barb wires and guard towers
our first kisses are the most memorable
we can still hear the first song we danced to in our heads
memories of us pop in to say hello every now and then
your first is always your most significant
your first is the one that never leaves you alone
you can forgive, you can accept, you can move on
you cannot disremember
young love-
the very purest
young heartbreak-
the very worst
genuine
vulnerable
& true
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 2:51 AM UTC
A paradox does lie below
Since many wise men claimed to know:
All spoken truth is doomed to fail
Cause every word works like a veil
Just hiding what is meant by it
As soon as we try to decrypt
Cause every meaning’s far beyond our wit
And as a consequence of that
They don’t know what they really said
Cause every thought they claimed they had
Can make its thinker really mad
Who tries to analyze its sense instead
Of going on or just ahead
Cause every logic is a truth born dead
All logic is a severed head
So paradoxes are no threat
Since they can help because they show
That we can’t say what we do know
Although we do it all the time
As long as we don’t fix loose signs
Cause we destroy the truth that we define
And truth would be a living thing
If words could leave their twisted string
That dooms all thoughts to keep on wondering
*So wait a minute
There is a trap in every thought
With a chance in it
To find another better word*
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 11:27 AM UTC
I suppose he thought I needed to be tamed,
or required reprimandation & obedience training,
because he could simply never
let me BE...
myself without an open invitation for some harsh admonishment
or crippling criticism.
I must have painted a target that begged for his attention
on the core of my soul
because he loved the thrill in taking aim & shooting to ****
He still colors my characterizations of the men I meet,
who ask me for insight into my mind,
& he leads me to question the intention behind
any stranger's simple gesture.
He told me he loved me, but he held me much too tight
like a petulant child who refuses to share
or suffocates a butterfly clutched in between his hands
- because its beauty inspired a selfish need
to seclude it away for one's self.
He told me he needed me, that without me he would be left
to falter blindly through a nebulous black night,
yet he stood so close to my flame that it was inundated,
& he smothered his source of warmth & illumination.
A fire needs to breathe if it is to rage & be magnificent
- he knew that & he feared it tremendously.
He taught me to fear myself & undermined my capability
to silence those who shook my confidence.
In doing so he left me teetering on a decrepit foundation
& he so delighted in kicking bricks out from beneath me.
He pushed me down & taught me to be terrified of falling
dreading the arousal of self empowerment & ambition
to welcome an opportunity to pick myself back up again.
He tried to tether me to land,
like a flightless bird
- inert & with no purpose.
He thought he had me hooked like an inhumane bully
who allows a fish to fight his line
until it believes it has once again attained liberation,
then roughly reels it in, relishing in sick indulgence.
He thought he had me tethered,
but I am not worn-out & weathered
like an old leather ball
& I am not to be beaten round in endless circles,
the obsolete plaything battered by systematic violence
made into child's play.
I said no & walked away.
I broke my tether that day.
& I never looked back.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 1:00 AM UTC
If you don’t bow to their power,
If you dare not to cower,
They have the right,
They have the might,
To take you by your head,
Crush until you're dead,
Then blame it on your meds.
You're nothing but a victim,
Lost inside a system,
Built by ruling class,
They tell us not to be so crass?!
Got a letter from the feds,
Heard everything I said,
About tryna **** the state,
Refuse to capitulate,
Cops are at my door,
My feet hit the floor,
At more than just a jog,
They killed my ******* dog?!
You're nothing but a victim,
Lost inside a system,
Built by ruling class,
They tell us not to be so crass?!
Righteous only in the mind,
A duty so precisely designed,
To brutalize neighborhoods that’re undermined,
A position historically intertwined,
With those who hoisted it on their pride,
It’s been revised to assure class conscious demise.
Sep 21, 2024
Sep 21, 2024 at 4:49 PM UTC