"upbringing" poems
The upbringing of a person could lead to a frivolous publican.
A brother and sister are both witnessing the featherbrained fool.
This world we live in is a bit bamboozle
Escaping to a state of ecstasy with your purple kaleidoscope why don't we shape the future and use cinnamon soap.
With your undercoats it's an antidote for a hurtful situation
It's like we are burning in ice.
Your a magician but you can't stop stupid.
Adolescents knowing the need to finish yet they are taking over to much to cope.
So now they are discovering, considering, cinnamon soap.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 8:47 AM UTC
Thank you Dad for everything you have done,
your hard work and sacrifice for everyone.
Thanks for everything you continue to do,
but most of all thank you just for being you.
Thank you Dad for taking time to care,
we really appreciate you always being there
at those times when we feel we really need you;
you never leave us wanting, always come through.
Thank you Dad for being constantly strong,
for being such a rock when things go wrong,
for making time for us, for always listening,
to the myriad of problems we constantly bring.
Thank you Dad for calming our fears,
for soothing words, for wiping our tears.
Thank you for never letting us give up hope;
for convincing us repeatedly we can cope.
Thank you for your guidance as we move along,
for teaching each one of us right from wrong,
for encouraging us always to do the right thing,
for the moral compass that guides our everyday living.
Thanks for your calmness, your infinite patience,
your common sense when faced with youthful exuberance!
Thank you for providing us with everything we need
for believing in us, giving us the tools to succeed.
Thank you Dad for never giving up on me,
for encouraging me to be all that I could be,
for your forgiveness those times I was absolute brat,
for your direction when I had no clue what I was at.
Thank you from my heart for being such a great Dad,
Thank you for the wonderful upbringing I had,
Thank you mostly for teaching me what it means to be a Dad,
If I am only half as good as you then my kids won’t do so bad.
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 4:55 AM UTC
reggae jesus turns water to spliff
reggae jesus push sheep off cliff
reggae jesus kind of *******
Why he push sheep of cliff, why he never clear bowl
reggae jesus have bomba klanga
reggae jesus picks girl and bangsha
reggae jesus slapadabass
reggae jesus slaps yo face
reggae jesus has done enough
reggae jesus is corrupt
reggae jesus put on trial
people think he shouldn't stay a while
reggae jesus put to death
last request to light a spliff
as he takes his last breath
he smells like kush people take a sniff
later People find a field of kush
reggae jesus made a new bush
reggae jesus misunderstood
twas his upbringing in da hood
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 3:46 PM UTC
I’ll never be a king, so you’ll never be my queen,
We’ll never be two cogs in the same big machine,
We’ll never be a cliché, but I tell you something, doll,
I can be a gangster, and you can be my moll.
Walking through the means streets, my hand in yours,
And a Tommy gun in the other, between my sweaty claws,
As my seniors die, I’ll climb to the top of the pole,
I can be a gangster, and you can be my moll.
There’s a certain premonition floating in the air,
That I’m a hardened criminal, far beyond repair,
But I’m just doing what my upbringing makes me know,
Because I can be a gangster, and you can be my moll.
And you can have me forever or ‘till I’m locked up in jail,
And we run out of money, and the mansion goes up for sale,
But even if we’re broke and poor, my love will never lull,
I’ll always be a gangster, and you’ll always be my moll.
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 12:20 AM UTC
I am nothing without this thing called spell check
I have nothing on many of yours education
and many of yours upbringing
and I envy most of your elegance
but I will continue to speak from my heart
hoping you hear me, and hoping you do the same
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 3:39 AM UTC
I don’t know what to order so I order the cheapest thing on the menu
I don’t know if you have lotion, but if you do could I use some
you pulled something out of your pocket, that attracts the consumer I’m sure
it looked lip balm, it looked like blush, but it was lotion
you walked me to your place
made me a whisky and soda
you had mint, you put it in
before then I had read about that only in novels
I didn’t go home soon
I was thinking of polyamory, the next morning at noon
the next morning at noon
curly hair, brown skin, brown skin, curly hair
nose ring, curly hair, brown skin, nose ring, and curly hair
guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt in the morning
I’m mourning over my Catholic upbringing
and do I always have to tell the truth when I write something
I don’t wanna drink and drive like I don’t wanna drink and make love
make love with a woman
I don’t wanna drink and just fritter and **** away
**** off guilty conscience
you’re wrong socialized conscience
let me dip my feet, let me submerge
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 8:21 PM UTC
I grew up in South Auckland, Takanini
the only Pakeha in the caravan park,
I learnt how to be tall, smart and skinny
how to raise the end of my sentences in an arc.
At school, we were told words held power;
but for teachers words were flowers,
and my friend Cruz had two brothers
Harley and Davidson - they belonged to Black Power,
their fists tattooed with something like “Smother”.
But there was never violence on our street, gang was family;
I usually never felt more at home around Bourbon,
loud Reggae, bags of **** and men so manly
they’d cry over love, and I wouldn’t get a word in.
Though my Father votes National and thinks Michael Laws is right
so moves us to Dunedin where it’s ninety percent white.
I stopped reading Lenin and picked up Rousseau
became a vegetarian, thought it was so cool you know,
even wrote a blog that discussed rise from below.
But I’ll never know below again
until I’m drunk in an old shed at 3am on a school night
singing along to Bob Marley in Maori,
sunk deep into the mattress propped against the Harley,
the one you and I would cruise on until dawn together
as police took to the streets in riot gear -
we’d get lost in the country and learn to smother
our thoughts in starlight then stagger over,
listen in to the darkness,
and just slowly breathe
the crisp, cool air of the kiwi tundra.
They say New Zealand has two flags,
but in the country, when you’re blazed
on the benefit, ****** on the disdain
for positive discrimination, you can pick out
all the small bright koru unfurling in the stars.
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 4:52 AM UTC
Meditations and French Fries
I sit watching you nibble on some Mickey D's fries,
And taking sips of your milkshake,
Your two hands grasping the cup as if to make sure
Nobody could take it while kicking your feet,
That barely touch the floor, and humming.
This makes me love you more than I already do.
Your eyes move up and stare at me and I look at you,
Searchingly, but you cross them,
Making those crazy eyes that make me smile
And then you let your lips curl into a smile matching mine
And show the small fragments of your teeth and you are beautiful.
You are so content with sitting here, with oily salty potato slivers,
With impersonations of milkshakes, and more importantly with me.
I love you, and your tiny teeth, your short legs, your belly.
Everyone says you resemble me, all your ticks, your mood swings
Your ****** expressions, your desire to learn, your sweet tooth.
You are a copy of me, a miniature me, but you are not really me.
You are my brother, my blood but not my copy.
I see the differences between us, the different upbringing, you know what
A childhood means, you know fatherly love, and for this I am thankful,.
I wish you more than me, more knowledge, love, confidence than me.
I wish Mickey D's is better too, and that the economy doesn't go bust
And that you could afford some fries and a milkshake for less than 10 bucks.
Oct 9, 2011
Oct 9, 2011 at 1:34 PM UTC
I am a little bird born into this world
Naked.
Chirping lullabies to redwood treetops
and singing hymns to an almighty; getting back nothing.
I gathered up twigs and loose branches to build up
my nest––cropped out upbringing
for house fitting.
Waking up to noises––
of violent winds.
Pressing feathers to cover my ears,
and trusting my feet to hold me down.
Barricaded myself in worn bark,
from the impossibility of the threatening ecosystem.
Praying myself in place, hiding when morning shines and dressing in colours of damp green.
I’m something but I tell myself otherwise:
It’s too frightening to fly so I might as well cut off my wings.
No, that would be insensitive––don’t mind that, I’ll pluck them each time the feathers grow.
See I’m holding onto the something that makes me more than nothing.
Clipped wings seem more ideal than no wings.
For some reason I’m scared to let it all go;
silently hoping one day I’ll keep them, like them, love them and even spread them.
Noticed gathering leaves and flowers one day can add colour to a colourless lifestyle,
yet the wind wipes it clean the next––still pale brown and feels less like home than yesterday.
I may be afraid of everything,
but I know I’m more afraid of dying here alone;
whispering Mozartian melodies to dead butterflies.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 8:42 AM UTC
Someone asked me,
Who is a teacher?
A pathway to degree?
Or holds a position deeper!
‘Union of multiple roles’, I said,
Is a teacher’s true identity;
One who enlightens the road ahead,
Assisting selflessly which is a rarity.
Playing a huge role in our upbringing,
And giving us a constant support;
Teachers were there motivating,
In the times we felt lost.
They teach us the art of life;
Losing sleep for other’s child,
New and innovative ways they devise;
It is incomparable what they provide.
The ones who are always well-wishing
Steering to right path and escorting;
They instill a passion for learning,
Student’s success is their earning.
Sep 5, 2020
Sep 5, 2020 at 1:23 PM UTC
Here it goes again,
Here it comes again,
The articles about
Psychopaths
And the accusatory tone
Twisting behaviors
Twisting actions
To sound toxic
To sound dangerous
To stamp a big red label on my skin,
Screaming
"AVOID THIS ONE AT ALL COSTS"
While I sit and weep.
But these articles
Blog posts
People fleeing from me
Left and right
Are lies, right?
Tell me, please,
Tell me,
Someone?
My anxiety and need to be reassured
Roots from my PTSD,
And my neediness and wants for attention
Is normal for my upbringing,
Right?
And writing poem after poem
About how much I care for you,
And making playlists
With songs in it
That make me think of you,
Is just a sign that I care,
Right?
I don't want to be
A psychopath.
I don't want to be
A toxic person,
I don't understand
How telling someone you love them,
Is bad?
But these articles say that showering someone
In constant attention and praise
Means you're a psychopath.
And these blog posts
Are telling me that poems and gifts and music,
All means you're selfish and unfeeling.
But I don't want to be,
I care so much, I love you so much.
I'm afraid
Of who I am.
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 8:34 PM UTC
but you are smooth in full regalia
reptilian in your lounge suit
your westchester upbringing
shows in your brooks brothers snake skin boots
so she knows your from old school money
and plants a perfumed eye on your rear end
it sticks there like sweaty glue
every inch of her polished skin
fermented at great expense
and you thought suntans were hard to pay off
try having the ***** pickled in whiskey
but the divorce would leave you
a destitute sideshow on rodeo drive
with nothing but your mansion and your jag
standing between you and the unwashed masses
so you make her slap on another layer of makeup
you drop another crotch rocket happy hardness pill
and slip a few more bucks over the border to Switzerland
and drop a quick prayer to the twin god of Morgan and Stanley
that the market holds for one more day
lounge lizard
pushing seventy
with a twenty two year old ******
on one arm
and the keys to the rolls clutched in your liver spotted hand
your ready for anything
you may be king of the florida keys
but
gotta respect the cash flow
if what your pointless poison
bites off your **** more than goes into your mouth
then ya gotta wonder kiddo
if moving back to the homestead
in Spuyten Duyvil
might be better than lettin lifestyle carjack your life
that twenty two year old ***** you got poured all over your lap
has more spider in her than girlish charm
shes a train wreck waiting to happen
ill get ya to the border safe and sound
don't 'cha worry bout that
have you headed north
fore they even know your gone
may be the king of the florida keys
but it high time we get ya
back to brooklyn fore they bury you down here
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 5:47 PM UTC
force fed lies from birth
subliminal messages infest my upbringing
blindfolded by greed
I don't see you starve
or smell the pollution
I can't hear the bullets flying
because my ears are stuffed with lies
they say the government has my interests at heart
that the school systems are built to support me
and we're more equal than ever
so why is the wage gap wider than my young eyes
and how is it that a country that screams freedom
won't put down their weapons
when their children are bleeding
why do I know how to dissect a frog
ignorant of the fact innocent civilians are slaughtered
intestines on display
like the green amphibian under my knife
because I can kiss a girl
in a drunken game of spin the bottle
but such an act would get me killed in 11 countries
and is still illegal in 72
why do I know the sum of internal angles in a triangle
yet I don't know how
to read the signs of suicidal friends
when statistically 1 out of 5 people I roam the halls with
struggle with a mental illness
even though more than half of those suffering
have no access to treatment
we are collectively clueless
I am no stranger to privilege
my gratitude is not withheld
but why am I more worthy
than the child forced out of his country
for his religious identity,
for being himself?
why when accessing the privilege of education
they don't teach me how to help other humans
when did sums become more important
than knowledge of current wars
did you know there's more than 10 of them?
because I've only heard of one
I believe that you choose to do nothing
but if i am never aware that I have a choice
nothing can change
and even though everyone has a voice
people with the solutions only choose to hear those with a status
how is it that such screams of desperation
sound so quiet to them
why are those in power of whole countries
so blind to our demands
why do they make things impossibly easier
for those whom already have wealth and advantage
when those stripped of human rights
always seem to escape their greedy sight
but some of us have something they fear
something that never crossed their closed minds
we have the power to create our own opportunities
we can force those whom are voluntarily deaf to hear
so hear me in my passage only seen by very few
this platform may be small but my words shout at you
an action no matter how small
a voice no matter how soft
provokes change if not in yourself
then in even the most unfamiliar faces
but the difference between thinking and action making
is you
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 10:56 AM UTC
The first enchilada was created in the summer of 1968
In a small house near Seal Beach
In Southern California.
The house was owned by a friend of my dad's
Or my mom's
And we had gone over for dinner
I was eight
I would like to say that it was a cool beach pad
With wood paneling, all the rage back then
And an Eames recliner in the corner of the living room
I only remember the paneling
but since I am writing this
The Eames piece stays
We had gone for dinner
And the owner of the house had made enchiladas
Beef ones as I recall with sauce from a series of Old El Paso cans
I can still smell and taste them
They were the first world food I had ever had
Besides canned Chinese food from the supermarket which doesn't count
And because I loved them with their ground beef and sauce
Their hot oil softened corn tortillas, sour cream, cheese and green onion
And little tiny bits of black olive
They became the prison guards
Throwing open the gates of my suburban Connecticut upbringing
Letting me leave the confines and walk freely in the sunshine for the first time
They were followed by many other firsts
Sushi, Crepes, haggis, tiki masala and sea urchin to name a few
All of which owe their very existence in my life
To that first enchilada.
Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 7:29 AM UTC
The setting was stately
Overweight, stationary, smoking
she was totally content
unaware of the vibrations
which to me, were uncomfortable
television droned
I wished it were turned off, unplugged
But she did not know
She was dead to vibrations
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 5:47 PM UTC
mum's well intended tough upbringing ended in a two sided razor sharp sword
i am independent, intelligent, and successful
that same achievements cause me no shortage of frenemies
and a severe debilitating starvation for true friendship and love
men wont touch me with a 10 foot poll
both sexes make me out to be weird beyond the point of recognising there reflexion in me
imprisoned in a life i wanted, successful
with a incurable case of loneliness, i'm drowning out with food and bad poetry
this is my roaring twenties, hooray
cant wait for the next 80 years
going senile will be a blessing
no longer haunted by pain and unreached potential
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 1:10 PM UTC
Sitting alone in my bed,
Anxiously yearning the touch of something different.
Contemplating about differences,
Visualizing the new experiences,
Mesmerizing about different beauties,
Fantasizing the new opportunities,
About women of different cultures,
Ethnicity and upbringing.
Pay no mind to the language barrier,
As our body speak that universal language,
We can have intellectual conversations,
We can have passionate interactions.
Lets's ponder with deep imagination,
As we diversify this love, ignore it's discrepancies,
So girls of all colors come closer and get drawn like crayola,
As we paint this picture to see what we can make of this blend of colors.
Envision this:
Background music effectively babysitting my thoughts as I listen,
Laying under the moon,
With that special person.
Inwardly rehearsing,
Every move to make,
Opportunities to take,
Intaking the passion from the air she breathes out,
Creating chemistry not even Einstein could figure out.
This love should be an equal opportunity,
You plus me that's all that should matter.
So would you explore your heart?
Release the stereotypes that keep you in the dark?
As darkness falls,
Our temperatures rise.
A reflection of moonlight shimmers in those eyes.
They tell me your secrets;
I tell you no lies.
What lies beneath your skin will be ugliness' demise.
Ironic, in the dark you see me for who I truly am.
And I tell you who you truly are.
So far. So good.
So deep, it goes beneath your beauty,
It goes beyond whatever society will tell you not to do with me.
Tonight your biases shall not rule thee,
For I am king of this pride.
Swallow your pride and swallow my pride.
Release the wait of inhibition and take this ride.
Our inner flames fueled by passion shall light our way.
They say, we are blind but it is only in darkness that we truly see.
Give up shallow emotions, let your heart be free.
Immerse yourself in this reality:
My love is river, all else is only skin deep.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 7:11 AM UTC
When the man at the hardware store asks,
what shade of blue are you looking for sugar,
to paint the walls of our hypothetical son's room,
I would have said heartbreak,
the same shade of heartbreaking blue as his daddy's eyes.
Ironic, because I would have rooted for a gender neutral colour,
an agnostic upbringing and a liberal education,
but somewhere down this erratic, dysfunctional relationship,
I stopped caring, or perhaps, cared only of you.
Since you left there's nothing to care about,
there's no you, there's no us, there's no motivation,
my priorities, values and aspirations are still maintaining a distance,
I'm feeling a heartbreaking shade of blue.
Like that one time I got high on dried out ****
I was completely aware of every stage of this breakup,
the shock, the disbelief, the sadness, the pain, the regret,
until it stopped.
The world has come to a standstill,
leaving me tripping between spring and snowflakes on the windowsill,
I'm not coming down from the high, or low,
I should have got you out of my system 4 years ago.
It's not a linear process, said my friend,
and I know what he means,
because for everyday I get through without thinking of you,
I spend weeks curled up in pain in bed or on the floor,
feeling a heartbreaking shade of blue.
Kept awake at night, weary, paranoid and deluded,
suffocated, drowned in despair, sometimes even in air,
in the shallow words, empty promises and plans made,
thrown into solitary confinement among hundreds of other people,
breaking me, when I'm already broken.
All while you stripped me of my dignity, intuition and optimism,
disregarded my needs, exploited my insecurities and wasted my heart,
I thought I knew you,
come to think of it, I don't think your eyes are blue.
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 8:44 AM UTC
- A person must judge another by their character. Ignorance and bias media make issues out of race. If you are a person that does not understand any movement, then most likely you have never stood up for anything in your life. It is sad that divisions are at play between people when we are all the same. We are humans. Your *** race, or theology does not matter. What does matter is the fact that people come from different backgrounds. That is the only difference between people. You do not choose your parents. You do not choose your upbringing. A child that is handed everything will not understand the life a child has that only knows struggle. If you do not understand socioeconomic disparity and the reasons why they are in place, you will not understand injustice on a institutional level. When you see other races talking about ideologies such as "white privilege" it is completely justified because there are situations that a white man may not face ever in his lifetime, but a minority is aware of and taught at an early age because they will certainly come across it. The beauty of this country is being able to have an opinion without the fear of consequence, but understand that basic "Rights" are a fallacy. A right can be taken away. That in and of itself is a privilege. There is too much complacency within this generation and ones before it. You must have convictions. You must have beliefs that are not only based around religious faith, but the act of altruism. Does a person need to label something to reach a level a comfortability? No, not at all. That is a common misinterpretation of ignorance, when it is plainly a way to state that knowing what something is does not have to be explained. I'm not sure if some think education stops when schooling is finished, but it's not. And as much as people want to talk about this country and others falling to the wayside, it is because of inaction and not being able to unify and have empathy for others. Your life is your own, but to secure a future and continue progression we must all stand together and not be presumptuous, but rather be protective of community and critical thinking. There are too many losers in the system, and they aren't minorities, they're people not properly educated. You can't erase history as easy as you can erase atrocities that aren't just. Don't put your trust in your government, but your neighbors. But that doesn't mean that you should also exclude social programs that are needed as much as oxygen. This is the life you are given, and it is you decision to stand up or sit down. And if you do stand up, do it for the right reason: valuing life. If this message does not resonate with you, we have nothing in common, and that's fine, but don't talk about current events or social problems that are beyond your comprehension.
- Charlie
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 6:42 PM UTC
I'm a big girl with a big name
I love whole-heartedly
I think with my brain
And when people ask
Am I'm suppose to feel shame?
When they don't ask the background
when they over hear my name
Misspelled or misheard
To them it all sounds the same
there's no history
Just black culture, no change
I don't roll my eyes just for attitude
I do so because your opinion is annoying and possibly insane
Not to mention rude
I don't roll my neck to be ghetto
It is an expression of my frustration at the ignorance that you are demonstrating.
And I don't speak slang because it's the only words I know
But it's a reminder of how my ancestors were forced to live with as little education as that yet still have so much more to show
And when I dance it's not to show off my body nor break my back
But to tell a story with my hips so that you'll never forget that
I AM DIFFERENT AND I AM PROUD
And my skin color shouldn't have anything to do with that now
It's 2014
Not the 1800s anymore
Never again your down low *****
But people keep assuming before I even open my mouth
That i have no future
No good upbringing
Since when were "ghetto" names defining
Well, since when were they not
But I will walk with pride across that stage
Only time you'll see my face on the news is for something great
Because
I'm a big girl with a big name
I love whole-heartedly
I think with my big brain
I feel no shame
I just smile because I know one day
People will know my name
It's not the 1800s anymore
It's the year 2014
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
Hey there (if you're there at all),
I sincerely hope all is well.
Guess you're really swamped with work,
honestly no need to explain, I could just tell.
See the thing is... the thing is, there is actually a thing.
Something has come up.
It's quite hard to explain cause I don't yet know what we are,
so if we are kind of a 'thing', then I want to breakup.
You don't write to me any more
and I really miss those emails
witty comments, sarcasm and ******** banter
strung together with immaculate grammar and ample clichés.
You seem to have forgotten that I didn't fall for you back then
and very little had changed since.
So three years later when you contacted me out of the blue
I was hardly convinced.
As a preplanned holiday got in our way
placing you 5 hours behind and 5000 miles apart
it was that daily email exchange over a month
which gave whatever it is we have now, its start
not calls, not facebook nor skype,
just words, simple phrases and our ability to type.
Essence of your raw personality seeped through
enticing me to a very pure, untampered version of you.
Since I returned, since we met, things haven't been the same.
Are you trying to gain the upper hand of this game?
Because, I wasn't even aware we were playing,
so technically neither can win, such a shame.
I appreciate your intellect, ambition, success
and middle class upbringing,
those random gestures of affection
and passionate **********
I understand your commitments
and the hierarchy of your priority que
But just because I get it
doesn't mean I'll agree to put up with them too.
It's true, my future is rather blurry
but that's a different thing.
I might be chronically needy
but I'm not asking you for a ring.
I do however fancy flowers
and would really like to go dancing
a daily doze of 'you're thinking of me'
topped with very large amounts of cuddling.
If all I wanted was to get laid,
there was plenty of opportunity to be swayed.
Time to end this hand has come a little too late
with a Royal Flush in Spades.
I will miss those endearing emails,
and the 12th floor of your office with its magnificent view.
I will miss the idea of having a man in my life,
but I won't so much miss you.
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
1. The Race Card: Whether it be in suggesting that anyone who doesn’t vote for him because he is black is probably a republican, or in blaming Bush administration racism on a slow response to Hurricane Katrina, Obama is quite comfortable playing the race card.
2. Anti-Indian: After the Obama campaign released a paper disparaging other candidates for their ties to the Indian-American community, the chairman of the bipartisan US India Political Action Committee, Sanjay Puri, stated that the Obama Campaign was “engaging in the worst kind of anti-Indian American stereotyping.” Of course, Obama denied any hand in the racist document put out by his campaign.
3. Corrupt Buddies: Tony Rezko, a long time friend and fund-raiser for Obama, was indicted last fall on federal charges that accuse him of demanding kickbacks from companies seeking state business. When asked about his friend, Obama said, “I’ve never done any favors for him.” This turned out to be a lie, as evidence turned up proving that Obama had written letters to city and state officials praising Rezko’s business practices.
4. Wal-Mart Ties: While bashing of Wal-Mart’s labor practices in public, Obama has been profiting from their business through the money his wife made as a member of the board of directors for a company that produces food for the mega-corporation.
5. Religious Ties: Is Obama a Muslim? Is he a Christian? Nobody is 100% sure, but it is true that Obama was raised in a Muslim family and at one time attended an Islamic school. He currently claims to be a convert to Christianity, but some are concerned about his Muslim upbringing.
6. Anti-Second Amendment: Obama is one of the most anti-Second Amendment legislators in the country. He supports a ban the sale or transfer of all forms of semi-automatic weapons.
7. Gas-guzzler: Obama might attack American automakers for not making enough environmental friendly automobiles, but when he goes home he drives a gas-guzzling V-8 hemi-powered Chrysler 300.
8. Obama Ringtones: The most annoying campaign tool ever.
9. Obama Girl: I take back what I said about the ringtones. This girl is far more annoying.
10. His Unelectable Name: Barack Hussein Obama, ’nuff said.
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 10:05 PM UTC
Tonight, my snowed in heart has frozen.
It's numb, lost and broken.
With minutes left, yet no one to call,
this bachelorette lifestyle has taken its toll.
Search for greener pastures loses its charms,
on nights like this when the bed is cold.
Staring at a picture of a stranger,
I can simply sense the danger,
of rushing into a compromise,
by settling for my parents' choice,
of whom I should spend the rest of my life,
and all I can do is.... sigh.
Alcohol, an ideal solution,
but my room is painstakingly dry.
Several lighters lying around, but not a single cigarettes,
I could just cry.
Reminiscing a walk in town,
where commercialism attempts to sell love,
tying the end of Christmas to the start of Valentines,
and why I cannot afford any of the above.
Having gone astray,
losing my right to pray,
noticing how when they stay,
I end up walking away,
makes me suspect a divine intervention,
threatening a life of damnation,
with no means of escape,
because it's too late.
I'm in critical need of a saviour,
a hero, a warrior,
to feed my patriarchal upbringing,
to be that **** Prince Charming.
Enough good looks,
to keep me hooked,
and anaesthetize my heart,
for the inevitable ripping apart.
Wit enough to hypnotize my brain,
so the pain won't stop me from loving again,
and yes, that is what I want to do,
until this life is through.
My snowed in heart could do with some warmth,
someone, light a fire, soon...
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 8:45 PM UTC
**Childhood
The best days in life ..
Learning is an integral part .
Making memories with loved ones around with comfort and love .
Childhood Days ....
Most cherished and longed for in
Adult life :)
*Love never evades a child .
Innocence is what
It's born with .
The soul is pure and it's filled with
What it recieves .*
Each child is entitled to love warmth and good upbringing!!**
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 10:12 PM UTC
I barely went to school
And was baptized underneath a rain gutter
But I promise
Despite my upbringing
I will die a poet
Birds never studied music
Nature never rough drafted its deformations
Including me
I was born perfectly broken
With heart in throat
And head in clouds
And head in ****
And head
Head everywhere else but center
Hands anywhere but to myself
I dare you to stop pumping fuel
Into my mouth’s motor
Dare you to make fun of me
For my special education
For my short bus
******
My education was special
I learned to walk on two feet
When I should have had four
And I learned
How to stop myself from crying
When I found out not everyone is going to love me
I’ve learned the language
Of your laughter
And can translate your sighs
To mean anything
Right now they are the exhalation of ghosts
You no longer wish to hold on to
Let them go
Let go of your ghosts
And don’t settle for anything less
Than the silence of your soul
As it leaves you
Take this poem with you when you do
It is a love note
Sending Saint Peter home
All are welcome here
Especially you
I mean
Nobody’s perfect
Especially poets
I’m not perfect
Which is perfect
Because that means
I can die
A poet
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 5:00 AM UTC