"upbringings" poems
I just want to take a moment to address a very real problem.
Racism.
I find that the most racist people are usually southern Christians.
And this I don't understand at all..
Christians read the Bible and live by what it says.
At least, they claim to.
The Bible teaches love of all men.
Everyone is made in the image of God, the Creator, the Almighty.
Since all men are made in the image of God,
Are all men not equal?
Every man is equal to every other man.
No person is superior or inferior.
Thus, racism goes against what the Bible is supposed to teach.
So a Christian's racism is against their religion and should be frowned upon.
Also, Southerners are typically the most religious.
Why then is racism such an issue in the south?
It makes no sense for Christians to be racist.
Those who are racist Christians are ignorant and obviously not true Christians.
And to anyone who chooses to use their childhood upbringings as an excuse:
That makes you even more ignorant.
You should be able to think for yourself and realize that your prejudice is idiotic.
And because you claim to have been raised into racism, you are simply blaming your parents for your idiocy and they are just as ignorant as you are.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
From where I stand, there is a kaleidoscopic view of the world.
My cousin always had something negative to say about my upbringings, my excessive scruples.
Life is an hourglass.
The scent of your tongue is a foul one and I cry because it reminds me of my brother.
The blood runs down my fingers, scared I run to the nearest lake.
Has anyone identified Victoria's secret?
The reindeer reign over me, because of this I know Santa is near.
The wind tells me stories of my father who lived in China until age 8 and I ponder if my love for sushi is hereditary.
The kitten meows until I give her milk. Little *****
My red moccasins are the reason I could not attend the wedding but I have no regrets.
Yet again, you enter my thoughts, and I throw you out like yesterdays trash.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 10:09 AM UTC
My Teacher is silent and strict.
My Teacher feeds me in upbringings.
My Teacher caresses like wind,
My Teacher is full of his Feelings.
My Teacher's a nascence, an end.
My doubt is My Teacher and sure.
My Teacher is art to refrain,
My Teacher is art to be pure.
The Doctrine is simple and hard,
The Doctrine is stable and driven.
The Doctrine that evil allowed
To make all my blessings be given.
-----------------
Учитель мой и строг и молчалив,
Учитель мой взращает и питает,
Учитель мой ласкает как прилив,
Как ветер нежно обнимает,
Учитель мой- рождение и смерть,
Учитель мой-сомнение и ласка,
Учитель мой- умение терпеть,
Учитель мой-безумие и сказка.
Учение и сложно и легко,
Учение и твёрдо и безбрежно,
Учение-дозволенное Зло,
Учение- что Благо неизбежно.
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 5:25 PM UTC
Either I'll see you in ten minutes,
God
or I’ll be lying in bed
self-induced coma
oatmeal upbringings from my esophagus
tremor stricken
shrunken sobs
grasp onto life
or onto toilet paper
in my bath of uppers
ill insist on decency
wear white
forced affection
carry me on chairs
and take my candy
and my daughter will exasperate
at the end of the lane
MOM
and will see the triple entante of assistance
and will choke
and stroke my forehead
and ill meet prostitutes
and color
and expel black liquids
from all crevices of my body
make this easy on me
God
or I’ll see you in ten minutes
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 7:46 AM UTC
Why am I not good enough for you?
You don't know my life story.
My upbringings.
My parents.
You don't know the Mother that raised me.
The mother who taught me how to be a decent human being.
The same Mother who's making 81 cents to your dollar.
Why?
Because of what's between her legs.
Why am I not good enough for you?
Maybe its the way I dress.
I'm modest.
I was taught the difference between lingerie and clothing.
I know what is appropriate.
I'm comfortable with myself.
Why do you have to degrade me?
For something as stupid as the genitalia between my thighs.
You discriminate and degrade people.
You don't see us saying, 'We're so sorry, but we regret to inform you, America, simply won't allow a Cheeto to be our PRESIDENT.'
You say that just because of someone's sexuality or gender, they CANNOT join the military.
Well, I don't know about the rest of America, but if someone is willing to fight for our country, that's more honor than anything.
Not like you're volunteering your life to fight for our once, accepting and loving country.
America the free.
Home of the brave.
A dream to most people.
It isn't as great as it seems.
If anything, it shouldn't be a dream to people.
It should be a nightmare.
A nightmare.
Why am I not good enough for you?
Is it because my parents taught me to love whoever I want?
Do you want to judge me for being an open person?
Are you going to degrade me for saying I love both girls and boys equally?
Do you know why?
Because a person...
Is a person.
Maybe my mind isn't as contorted as yours.
Maybe some therapy or medication can help alleviate my sins.
Maybe instead of judging majority of the country, you should judge yourself.
Maybe you should realize, you aren't as good as you think you are.
I'm not a nobel peace prize winner, but I can tell you how to resolve some of our country's problems.
Put a little love in your heart.
Love for all the people.
Love for those who's skin isn't as white as yours.
Love for those who believe love is love.
Love for the people who want to fight for our country.
Love for all those people who aren't good enough.
So I ask of you one more time.
If I am good enough for everyone around me...
Why am I not good enough for you?
#ProtectallLGBT
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 2:49 AM UTC
UNLIKELY FRIENDS
Your scent tends to linger around me
The words from your sentences can be astounding
But normally humorous
Very few of us
Know exactly what the two of us
Connect on
Agree on
Or even see eye to eye
Converse, and sleep on
We randomly crossed one another
With a "Hi and Bye"
Like night fall and sunrise
While
My sarcasm is sinister like clouds in the night sky
The gutters of my mind
Are
Like the gutters of my upbringings
Yet still I'm a petal
The depth of your eyes
Are
Brilliant like the depths of your mind
But stubborn like the oldest metals
Your style is so wild
While mine is conserved
A canvas scratched and scarred
To make a painting so disturbed
Yet it hangs on the wall
Alexis J Meighan
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 8:38 PM UTC
Love.
It's such an easy word to scoff at.
We are born with our parents
nursing us on it.
With promises of never letting
that well run dry.
We live the rest of our lives
dedicated to finding that love in another person.
To discover that true, pure chemistry with someone.
As much as I hate to admit it
I want all of this and more.
I'm only human.
I just can't break out of this cage.
A cage built on a foundation of
ignorance, Jesus, loneliness, and hate.
That must be what a tiger feels like.
Living everyday enclosed by thick glass walls
watching everyone else live the life you want.
To be able to walk outside
with my fingers interlocked with the person I care about most
Without being stared at
Without being told it's unhealthy
Without having bibles thrown at us.
I'd ask my parents to make me free
But they'd just swallow the key
So I'd stay in there forever.
Because letting me breathe the outside air
would be conceding to what their upbringings told them.
It would be admitting that their baby boy is abnormal.
Somehow they didn't get me the memo
that I can't share my love the same way the normal people can.
That I'll never be able to feel the soft skin of my own child
or be able to hang a piece of paper on my wall
announcing my promise to keep my love forever.
You know, it's not like
I ever wanted to be in here.
I didn't choose to be trapped.
I didn't choose to have my life criticized and nitpicked.
I didn't choose to feel like a pariah.
If there was any choice involved
It certainly wouldn't be this.
I spend my life screaming
and pounding the glass
hoping people hear me but
really wanting to hit hard enough
to shatter some of the glass
and let the shards meet my skin
so I can feel something other than
guilt
shame
and embarrassment.
For now, I just stand hear
Wishing, hoping, needing
Someone to see me.
Someone to hear me.
Someone to find a key
And free me.
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 12:57 AM UTC
Like you perhaps I am the heathen who sifts through the
hazes of a blood soul sentence. One that is forged in an emptiness
that cannot fill or find space between remembering or forgetting past entrenchments.
With the shackles and shapings of exemplary upbringings, coupled with history's ancestral machining hands I am defined by, predictable to and quintessentially fixed in most certain consciousness.
My thoughts are parabolas of yearning sent in all directions to past and past participial futures. As each return without geometric certainty they are repeatedly sent again - missives to unknown or perhaps unfriendly oracles: what is known is that all go unanswered.
Perhaps endemic to each lived experience is the perfect folly of presumption that it is possible to rewrite the past. The angel's kindest mercy being to reveal the conundrum for which a state of equilibrium can only be reached by one anointed practice; which is, to accept that transcendence is in and of itself an illusion.
MChallis @ 2015
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 12:36 AM UTC
They told me to write about the family dynamic,
and even though they were careful to say
"The" family dynamic,
I was quite sure they wanted to say
"My" family dynamic.
The way I'm quite sure that when my mother asks if I'm gay,
and if that is the reason I'm sporting a gay pride belly ring,
that she is actually saying,
*"I swear to God if you're a **** that's the last straw."*
Catholic upbringings seem to only account for politely covering up
hidden agendas, not actually purging them in place of acceptance.
My family dynamic is the blank stare I gave my mother that day.
It is the uncertainty I feel on a daily basis. A constant debate on
whether or not I should send her fragile ideals about me spinning
off their axis, admit to being bisexual. In my mind I always look
her in the eyes and say something along the lines of,
*"Don't worry mother, I could never be gay. I enjoy a good hetero ******* too much."*
In reality I smile and shake my head. Leaving her to go on living in a world
where daughters don't have premarital *** or lose babies, or try to **** themselves.
In a world where her good catholic daughter could never be gay.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 2:12 AM UTC
Slaughter with fangs that love to incise,
lust to ring and roar
plastic zips that smother too tighten,
feast on hindered breath takings.
Pull to gorge against their blessed soulless upbringings.
It's not terrifying,
not bloodless lucid heart beating,
steal the latest last of,
butcher and reel till the crazy flees in fear.
paint splatter smiles,
hang harlot blood stained baby childs.
It's long love lost lusting,
just a carousel killing ride,
a manslaughter ****** scene,
mask me a demon,
kiss me a rotting rose.
For fledgling sake hand me the last shotgun blow.
Breathe me a reason not to die.
Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 12:27 AM UTC
Taking your life was the most selfish and selfless thing I have ever done and will ever do. Oliver and I, we shared the mutual consensus that no one in the world had ever loved us as much as we loved each other. Moreover, we understood one another; we shared the commonalty of unstable upbringings, of neglect, and most pertinently, of loneliness.
We’d dually been abused, rejected, and abandoned by those who were supposed to be our caretakers and guardians and parents. Perhaps, that in itself was how we’d grown such an indestructible bond.
And yet.
I saw a glint of a monster inside of you. The previous night. A manifestation of the horrors you’d faced, suddenly channeled through you. From that moment onward, I began to understand the truth. All of the anguish you’d survived may one day define you. One day, the innocence would be gone and in its place, the product of your childhood would be born.
On the last morning of your life, who you were, was living proof of good. Proof that a person could exist so pure, and kind to the very core. The best and most honorable person in my life. The only friend I’d ever known. I wanted to preserve your memory; a perfect relic, never to be tainted by the evil which would one day consume you.
I knew that as you lived, you were the only entity I’d felt genuine compassion for. The only human I’d ever loved. The only person in the whole world who could ever hurt me. That vulnerability ran like
poison through my logic.
And so, I resolved.
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 11:44 PM UTC
Despite the differences of skin color
and our cultural upbringings,
we're more than brothers of Mankind -
Technically, we're kin.
Go to the mountain
preserved by ice and snow
where the revelation of Ararat's secret
is available for everyone to know.
For the ark's existence
proves the global flood story is true
and being our brother's keeper...
Is still a right thing to do.
Descended from Noah
are the many races of Man;
see our palms have the same tint -
By a show of hands.
Author Notes:
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 10:19 AM UTC
My mother, my father, my friend
The one I truly love until the end
First month first day gave the way
To the sweetest mother
A gifted spirit like no other
Five sisters & thee only brother
All her children love her
Very humble, caring, and preparing
Us for a righteous life
Don't result in vengeance
Instead pray for assistance
Leave it in the Lords hands
Understand impossible
For him it's possible
I love her to the fullest
Gave birth to the illest
She came from Mexico
To give birth to a ****
It's not her fault I'm so crazy
Did her best to raise me
Jalisco from my mother
Tijuana from my father
Aztec blood runs in my veins
My indigenous reigns
I love her teachings,
Her speeches, & upbringings
I love her & no ones above her
A blessing I'm confessing
She did her best
It's up to me to finish the rest
Happy birthday Mi AMA
Ramona te amo
Con toda el alma
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 12:34 AM UTC
Our past reeks of week-old salad dressing.
Don't tell me you're not intrigued.
My health has always been secondary to the glares
you send my way.
Your love is my tangy dipping sauce;
too much but never enough.
Super-size me, friend.
I haven't the time to wait for your fickle
transparencies.
Love me now or love me never.
You never shared your goldfish but I understood your
upbringings and nibbled on heartache.
An expiration date halts me not. I am too willing for
your passions and fail to excuse myself.
It takes two to tango but one to dougie.
Explain or I shall leave at once.
I dance alone, and darling,
my fries are getting cold.
The microwave does not
suffice.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 12:48 PM UTC
I just want to say good luck
To my past lives
Who now have future guys without me
I hope they treat you great
And wont procrastinate
When you need them to take out their dang socks out of the dryer.
And maybe stop leaving the window open in your mom's minivan
I rotate myself like a rotisserie chicken
So I can feel the burn of emptiness left in me.
I turn and turn
Until my mood is dire and my humor drier
From this mirage of hope.
That dissipates to the back of what's left of my crowded mind.
I find myself looking at wedding rings in pawn shops.
Knowing that I will eventually find myself back
At this exact counter adding a total to the line of wedding rings.
Like my parents before,
They bring me a bringing of upbringings
On how to fall into dislike.
Slamming doors,
Yelling,
Tears,
And talking mad ****
Are common vocabulary words for my ears
And it make me uncomfortable when it is absent.
Like this isnt right…
So I just want to say good luck.
To my future wives
Who want to live life without me
I’m sure i'll prepare you
For next guy you’ll date
And for every guy you'll hate
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 3:18 AM UTC
Sweet Refraining Mindnumber,
In the instances when neither speak, there is a feeling somewhat narcotic and lackadaisical.
I tend to forget the solidity of words and some often slip between cracks in my teeth.
Try not to ponder these odd things while I comb my fingers through trifle upbringings,
though you might, and I might as well, raise questions in my head of dreams I've had and ones you've witnessed.
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 11:17 PM UTC
Self inflicted
Tricking ourselves into thinking we can leave our upbringings behind
The lie was dreaming big when we were to afraid to chase them
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 1:12 AM UTC
Love is easy
Relationships aren’t
So Kathy said to Jim
They split up after a couple of years of marriage
Money problems
Youth
Tough upbringings
They stayed apart for dozens of years
No contact
A couple of marriages in the interim for each of them
After the last divorce Kathy went online
Examining her life
Trying to figure things out
Looking to find peace
A few emails later they met in a cafe
Both let down their guard
Neither expected to rekindle their romance
But that’s what happened
The magic was back
Their kids were astonished
It all turned out fine
Love heals they learned
It’s all about respect
Eleven years later
Their love still grows
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 8:01 PM UTC
I am here with you
my brothers and sisters
isolated though we are
like islands in a vast sea
The poisons of our upbringings
need not taint the future
there is still time
there is no such thing as time
We were born into a lie
constructed of greed and blood
but the rich living mystery
it is incorruptible
It is waiting
fresh as the snow gathered on the lawn
In this cold Michigan winter
The time has come
to break the cycle of decay
of endless pain and insanity
to control the lust
which tarnishes
the gentle offerings of beauty & love
handed down by Nature
There is no better time to be alive
Than right now
In this moment
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 3:12 PM UTC
Memories heart rendering
puts a closure to all upbringings and my whereabouts
a redemption of thoughts,
*Our togetherness
our time spent together
triggers in emotions and feelings of bliss n' joy,*
Years and years of our friendship
the ongoing occurrences
our past, our present and our future, exultant,
*Prayers and support
ebullient meetings and exquisite pictures
compels only flashbacks,*
In unison
we sing songs of our bond
in euphoria we fight the world, two against all.
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 5:00 PM UTC