"whipping" poems
Leg off the table
you red face recruit!
put on the offensive
and break down
the bolted door!
you are the soul saver
the peddle maker
the calibrator
with colored handbills
and front line
rhetoric
join the masquerade
in ivy league style!
politicking with
cunning guile
invisalign smile
blackened vile
bleeding the funnel
with gold plate omega
and crocodile shoes
get on stage
and dance you fool!
you are the headline maker
the pantomime juggler
the compromised closer
pull out that 5 page review
(bullet points only please)
and polish those weathered lines!
did you give it your all?
the door tags
and pleasantries
the tidings
and clippings
the irrevocable claims
and postured blames
all those impressionable basics
put to the test?
you know the call
(straight from
those cold academics)
the pie chart gurus
and contract killers
(complete with bone in finger)
whipping their
frenzied crew
in an all night
charade
old yellar
and the gatekeeper
sure seem amused
(sharpening their inquest
behind closed doors)
firing up the shiit storm
with those hostile priicks
and a slew
of insatiable
cures
there’s laughter from the back room
the dripping nose
and wavering hand
the cut white lines
and checkpoint tales
the pipeline romance
and lacking form
(of a basic essential
character!)
soundboard
and narratives
for logging time
slouching on the
steel case
over moot points
ready to play
the 3 weight
butter card
(if need be)
might I remind you
it’s only an inquiry
(with a slight hint of concern!)
surely no
malfeasance
or deception intended
so step back from
the melt down
and cut to the chase!
headlines to breadlines
penthouse to outhouse
those immoral pursuits
have taken their toll
(haven’t they?)
madman or rogue
(you take your pick)
for the scores
and tabulations
are final
shame on you
for the foul play
the bold hypocrisy
and order desk games
the back stabbing blames
and spurious names
just sign on the dotted line ~
this banter
is killing me
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 1:12 PM UTC
flex and perspire my darling
would you mind a small suffering for craven kisses
to have your dark fig **** and drenching *****
stroked with a tickling finger lingering
and strong hands around your sweetly curved throat
that shunt the breath
to yield willingly for sharp-toothed nibbles with surprise tongue whipping?
will you present your soft belly and cupping *******
for dark cruelties that excite beyond tabulation
will you present yourself with smiles
and goddess leg show
sobbing for feral pink spires gleaming
while quivering thighs
turn hot red from the slap of the leather strap splitting stings?
will tears of love
mix in wild berry utterance
and flashing spitfire’s tongue?
are you made for this?
your every whimper an invitation
like an open pink gate
do you need the saint of dark desires to rescue you
from banal dim-witted all american in and out?
do you need to drown in oceanic wave tsunamis
of hot butter **** glitter, blood flooding gasms
and tender aftercare?
my wish
that you shimmer like silver
possessed
by the saint of sadism
popes of eros
who fill you with the milk of the moon
all stars that melt you into the depths of paradise
and that this dark ecstasy
is the only suffering you will ever know.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 6:27 AM UTC
The wind makes a funny
pattern along your skin,
swirling up to wrap
around your neck like a scarf.
Whipping around to tug at your ears.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 7:35 PM UTC
'Why is it so painful to grow?'
A seed.
Just a seed buried under the ground.
Under the pressure of the soil,
It fights to grow.
The seed cracks,
such a sturdy little seed,
opens with a painful snap.
A sprout coils out.
Out of the cracked little seed.
A sprout now crushed under,
Under the pressure of the unforgiving ground.
Yet still... It grows.
A little sprout,
Now reaches up.
Up and away from the little seed,
and up to the light of the sun.
Pushing and groaning it bursts out.
Out from the unforgiving ground.
Yet now new dangers are to be found.
Will it be trampled
Or eaten alive?
The possibilities are endless,
The ways it could die.
And still.. it grows.
The sprout toils endlessly,
always stretching and growing
Reaching for the crimson sun.
The rain falls down
beating upon the sprout.
Pelting it's skin and whipping it about.
It skin hardens painfully,
and sprout becomes stem.
And still It grows.
The stem keeps reaching,
Stretching to the sky.
The stem then splits
It rips in two a bud appears
A little bud,
With so much to do.
Then the bud breaks
A crack appears
a petal unfurls from within.
Then it's a bloom.
Such a sweet little thing.
Until the crack stretches
So the bloom can grow
In to the beautiful rose
We've all come to know.
And still.. it grows.
Thorns burst free
Breaking out of the stem
And petals billow and grow in the breeze.
Then you see me,
And my beauty delights you,
So you wish to see me every day.
And your scissors encircle me
To give you your way.
They cut me in half.
They slice me in two.
being a rose,
There was naught I could do.
You carry me with you,
Your hands coated in my blood,
I'm dying slowly,
All for your love.
And now... I can't grow.
So as I bleed and wither in pain,
You place me in a vase
Or press me in a book,
All to save the bloom for another day.
And as I gasp for air,
Among your dry pages,
You leech me of all life,
Perfectly preserved
just so I could last the ages.
Or else I am drowning
In glass and water
My beauty wasted
hour by hour
Day by day
All to satisfy your whimsical ways.
And now all I wish to know,
'Why is it so painful to grow?'
Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 10:41 PM UTC
I am a tempest,
the most violent of
winds whipping around
without concern for any
who surround me.
I am a volcano,
the lava of my emotions
exploding up and over
to seep throughout
every nook and crevice.
I am a typhoon,
my gale force winds
showing mercy to
neither sea nor land as
I rip-roar over it all.
And you…
you are the halcyon tranquility
I've been searching for
all along, the serenity needed
to calm my frenzied turbulence
with but a stroke of your lips,
leaving me breathless and
my winds settled at long last.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
I walk through campus wearing
black leggings and those faded, leather
boots. I’m even wearing an
infinity scarf I bought full price at
Anthropologie and a pair of tiger-striped
cat eye sunglasses. **** I look good.
On top of it, I’m smoking a Parliament
menthol, my red-lined lips whipping
smoke into the dead air, creating
a grey cloud that some would call cancerous and
others, ****
But no one notices me, and, candidly, I
am okay with that because I notice me, and
I am a big red dance button that demands to
be pushed. So, I push myself and
groove down the brown brick road all the way
to classroom 114 in the science building.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 3:42 PM UTC
The bedroom walls don the shadows of the falling snowflakes
Through the window boughs swing heavy with crystals
Shimmering in the muted light of the crescented moon
Tracks of invisible animals impressed into that white
A wind whistling through empty corridors of an abandoned house
With a chandelier twisting in the ecstatic breeze
Flurries whipping frantically through that chilled air
Winter
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC
This poem casts a line from insomnia to morning
On the wind of a prayer that whatever bites, holds on.
See I have counted eleven score and ten,
with rainbow like curves of my neck -
contemptuous beasts leaping in formation
each bleating out a preach of vague platitudes;
A narrative for the night sky.
My hands clamour at keys for escape
until I tumble headfirst into a web so vast
it has ensnared the whole world wide -
millennials are living in-ter-net over in-the-world;
a new ultraviolence against humanity.
I beat my words into the screen until it breaks;
shattering scarlet emoticons like confetti
pouring over language as if it were a compliment.
My mind massages shapeless polypous thoughts
like tight constricted muscles aching for release.
3am casts these philosophies into horses,
whipping them into shape and speed
before the eyes of this statuesque ******
This anxious wakefulness begs my manic self to dance;
suggestively ********* tickets to ride like cleavage.
Sleep is fast becoming a neglected former engagement;
as my mind trips over fallen heroes
wades through my favourite mistakes
in a wonderland unfolding faster than I can fall
while the world beyond my window remains dark.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC
Peer pressure, peer pressure
My name is peer pressure,
My father is doubt,
My mother is duress,
My sister is bad choices,
My brother is nervous energy
I was born in a cyclone of negativity
Whipping through an ocean of people
They're the tribe of the unrest
I know im extremely unwanted
But im here anyways at all times
Peer pressure, peer pressure
Is my name
No one is immune from me
Neither the young, the teen nor the old
I'm evil
I wreak havoc and strife
To the human race
I ruin people's lives
First,
I offer illusions of enjoyment
And pleasure to them
Till when
I take their greatest
Treasure
Till when
I see them departing
From all that is correct
Till when
No more goodness nor kindness
Is detected from them
Till when
Their morals and goodness
Have gone into decay
Till when
I see their senses sedated
And all their energy depleted
Till when
I see them
F
A
L
T
E
R
I
N
G
Till when
I see tears of regrets
Turn into cries of despair
Till when
I see there is nobody
They can turn unto
Peer pressure, peer pressure
Is my name
Those who grant me to their lives,
I make sure i become
A silhouette of lies to their lives
Till when
They're always
M-i-n-e
Frozen in time
Hopeless forever
Till when
I see them
Completely gone astray
Furthermore,
Pile on the agony
For that is pleasing
To my father Satan
B
E
N
E
A
T
H
Peer pressure, peer pressure
Is my name
"Alas!" Beware when making me your friend
Because i might end up
D
R
A
G
G
I
N
G
You to self destruction.
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 6:13 AM UTC
I know you're hurtin'
So am I
I think it's time
To say goodbye
We must admit
Our love's a lie
I can not love you
If you won't try
I will not share you
With someone else
You can not know
The pain I felt
Like a whipping
From a leather belt
When you kissed him
My heart did melt
It's time that we both went our own ways
There's no trust left in our lives
The love we had is gone for good
I can see that in your eyes
There is no way to start again
What we had once now is gone
It's time we went our own ways
And admit that we are done
A cheater cheats
This I learned
This time it is my cheek
That's turned
Another relationship
is burned
A cheater cheats
It's now my turn
I could see
deep in your eyes
A love you could not
help disguise
For someone else
And not for I
Let's end this game
And say goodbye
It's time that we both went our own ways
There's no trust left in our lives
The love we had is gone for good
I can see that in your eyes
There is no way to start again
What we had once now is gone
It's time we went our own ways
And admit that we are done
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 7:16 AM UTC
But can you love me in the deep? In the dark? In the thick of it?
Can you love me when I drink from the wrong bottle and slip through the crack in the floorboard?
Can you love me when I’m bigger than you, when my presence blazes like the sun does, when it hurts to look directly at me?
Can you love me then too?
Can you love me under the starry sky, shaved and smooth, my skin like liquid moonlight?
Can you love me when I am howling and furry, standing on my haunches, my lower lip stained with the blood of my last ****
When I call down the lightning, when the sidewalks are singed by the soles of my feet, can you still love me then?
What happens when I freeze the land, and cause the dirt to harden over all the pomegranate seeds we’ve planted?
Will you trust that Spring will return?
Will you still believe me when I tell you I will become a raging river, and spill myself upon your dreams and call them to the surface of your life?
Can you trust me, even though you cannot tame me?
Can you love me, even though I am all that you fear and admire?
Will you fear my shifting shape?
Does it frighten you, when my eyes flash like your camera does?
Do you fear they will capture your soul?
Are you afraid to step into me?
The meat-eating plants and flowers armed with poisonous darts are not in my jungle to stop you from coming. Not you.
So do not worry. They belong to me, and I have invited you here.
Stay to the path revealed in the moonlight and arrive safely to the hut of Baba Yaga: the wild old wise one… she will not lead you astray if you are pure of heart.
You cannot be with the wild one if you fear the rumbling of the ground, the roar of a cascading river, the startling clap of thunder in the sky.
If you want to be safe, go back to your tiny room — the night sky is not for you.
If you want to be torn apart, come in. Be broken open and devoured. Be set ablaze in my fire.
I will not leave you as you have come: well dressed, in finely-threaded sweaters that keep out the cold.
I will leave you naked and biting. Leave you clawing at the sheets. Leave you surrounded by owls and hawks and flowers that only bloom when no one is watching.
So, come to me, and be healed in the unbearable lightness and darkness of all that you are.
There is nothing in you that can scare me. Nothing in you I will not use to make you great.
A wild woman is not a girlfriend. She is a relationship with nature. She is the source of all your primal desires, and she is the wild whipping wind that uproots the poisonous corn stalks on your neatly tilled farm.
She will plant pear trees in the wake of your disaster.
She will see to it that you shall rise again.
She is the lover who restores you to your own wild nature.
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 9:36 AM UTC
This place was once God’s pious station.
Humanity is the song we sing to him.
The leaves praise him with peaceful African breeze, the breeze of our God.
The children of our mother earth were not left out of the feeling that planted oneness in the minds of the ******* Stone, that was what their minds were known for.
Life was then a simple sphere but now complicated and shapeless.
Life was then soft like unwithered breast but now a
granite. Then hearts was glaring but now, Africa and their black hearts.
See them,
They are crucifying humanity in the house of our God.
They are crucifying humanity in the court of law.
They are crucifying humanity on the matrimonial beds.
They are crucifying humanity on the aisle of power.
They are crucifying humanity for legal tenders.
They are crucifying humanity to be a god.
They are crucifying humanity in the struggle of religion.
They are crucifying humanity to calm the raging stomach.
They are crucifying humanity for thrones.
They are crucifying humanity in front of humanity.
They are crucifying humanity everywhere.
Now humanity is on the verge of death.
See them as they are whipping him.
See his skin as it swell to burst.
They are punching him, they want to punch him to
death.
Can you see those barbarian as they merry with the melody of crucifixion. Humanity is their scape goat.
Humanity is dead in theirs
but it is still alive in your heart,
It is still alive in your words.
Humanity must be alive in our home.
Let humanity live in Africa as free citizen.
If you are guilty of his death what do you gain?
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 4:37 PM UTC
All dimples and curls and pigeon toes when sitting,
purple; and gold dangles
light-skinned girl, dark-skinned girl
depending on the translation
hips swivel to the left, ******* that follow
in commanding black bras
and matching lacy *******
Rolling backwards into handstands for most *************
else on the loveseat
whipping love back and forth between the swell
beneath the shorts
and beneath the outer layers,
the lip gloss smiles and masquerades
beneath the veins and bone and guts:
there's a naked, quivering heater
switched on all year long
its dainty wiring peeking out,
the head of the cord puckered.
Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 1:28 AM UTC
You bring me good news from the clinic,
Whipping off your silk scarf, exhibiting the tight white
Mummy-cloths, smiling: I'm all right.
When I was nine, a lime-green anesthetist
Fed me banana-gas through a frog mask. The nauseous vault
Boomed with bad dreams and the Jovian voices of surgeons.
Then mother swam up, holding a tin basin.
O I was sick.
They've changed all that. Traveling
**** as Cleopatra in my well-boiled hospital shift,
Fizzy with sedatives and unusually humorous,
I roll to an anteroom where a kind man
Fists my fingers for me. He makes me feel something precious
Is leaking from the finger-vents. At the count of two,
Darkness wipes me out like chalk on a blackboard. . .
I don't know a thing.
For five days I lie in secret,
Tapped like a cask, the years draining into my pillow.
Even my best friend thinks I'm in the country.
Skin doesn't have roots, it peels away easy as paper.
When I grin, the stitches tauten. I grow backward. I'm twenty,
Broody and in long skirts on my first husband's sofa, my fingers
Buried in the lambswool of the dead poodle;
I hadn't a cat yet.
Now she's done for, the dewlapped lady
I watched settle, line by line, in my mirror—
Old sock-face, sagged on a darning egg.
They've trapped her in some laboratory jar.
Let her die there, or wither incessantly for the next fifty years,
Nodding and rocking and ********* her thin hair.
Mother to myself, I wake swaddled in gauze,
Pink and smooth as a baby.
5.3k
The wind roared
Whipping through the newly leaved trees
The rain drops plummeted down from the clouds
Soaking everything in their path
Including a little girl
Who loved to dance in the rain
Lightning struck a tree not too far from her
Thunder shaking the earth
She laughed as the static and sounds waves coursed through her veins
The storms reminded her of her parents
Violent and loud during their fights
And then clean and peaceful after they made up
They also reminded her of herself
Raw power barely contained inside her little form
The ability to amaze and intimidate all at once
The storm was a glorious force of nature
And she was blessed enough to be one too
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
Before everything
i. I never knew four letters could melt
menthol candy-like, hydrochloric acid on my tongue
and keep burning it in different degrees
I had to swallow back.
ii. That there would come a time
I'd have to baptize the pain in my chest like seasons
robbing me lungfuls
on January, September and December nights.
iii. That my blood was really ink I needed to stop using
before my skin turned paper-like.
iv. That my heart had an epicenter pumping a magnitude of earthquakes
that made me tremble helplessly in its intensity;
and that they were man-made calamities
followed by harsh, heavy, whipping tsunamis
to flood my grave of bleeding, jagged fault lines.
v. That aftereffects lasted longer than treatment itself,
and that I didn't need any professional diagnosis to know
I was terminal
from the same drug that made butterfly-strokes in my veins,
whose arms withheld the only elixir to this malady.
vi. I named my sickness, my pain, my agony like orphaned children, after you--
a rare disease
the doctors didn't even know about yet.
vii. I did and I doubted
but a part of me beat signals
that echoed off the cave walls of my skull
that I knew.
viii. Before everything,
I have been warned
but I chose to listen to the soothing, wrong, hopeful voices
"He means no harm,".
ix. You began spreading like an epidemic-- a tumor to a colony of cells all over me-- until I became you;
a reflection of familiar suffering and mortality, slowly withering away.
In the end, I didn't even have you to blame
for letting me overdose from intakes
of my own **** bitter medicine and unforgivable mistakes.
x. I guess, this was how you wanted the price to be paid.
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 6:24 AM UTC
Tradition! The Pope's Grand Inquisitor
And Champion of Tories and White-Hats alike
Long have we burned by Gomorrah's Sponsor
With ***** salt our Nails to crucify
That you by nature have never been wrong
Since from my origin I took Respect
But that Pink Exercise training that strong
Was too much for your Pride to interpret
So you sent your Armies to **** our Cause,
Those Innocent Seeds we died to preserve
Quoting the Organ's Functions as our fault
Then getting the Whipping we all deserve.
My Message, kind Sir, is that Object
Which you must Observe; Which you must Reflect.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 11:30 PM UTC
**********
My ********** was thought through,
dominate me, dominate you.
Can't stop, what you can't see,
open mouth and drink my ***
Beat you to a ****** pulp,
as I drink it, my throat goes gulp.
I'll stomp a mud hole, til it's dry,
it's fun to do when you're high.
This world, I will destroy,
no longer am I a whipping boy.
I **** your father and your mother,
even your sister and your brother.
**** your uncle and your aunt,
killed every tree, killed every plant.
Killed your niece and your nephew,
just part of the ********** schedule.
Killed your cousins and next of kin,
call me evil, but I love sin.
No more sun rising in the east,
666, I'm the number of the beast.
No more sun setting in the west,
just doing the devil's request.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC
I am a woman standing alone
Against the walls that keep me in
So high that I am unable to climb
Unable to reach the sky
Or feel the sun dust my lips
I am a woman breaking free
From the chains that bind me
The whips that break me
And hold me down until I
Am one with the ***** wet ground
I am a woman running fast
From your lightening strikes
And your throwing knives
I will no longer be your target practice
Your whipping girl
Or your excuse to roll your eyes
I am a woman laughing loudly
At your sick, sad life
At your pathetic existence
Because you must now reap what you sew
You must live with your broken body
And your tired mistakes
I am a woman dancing wildly
With happiness
And power
With purpose
And with strength
That you cannot hold or have
Because it’s all mine baby
And I finally got it back from you
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 11:24 PM UTC
Strange reflections, indistinct flickers whipping past, caught out of the corner of my eye.
An eldritch feeling takes over, as if to say this is what it to feel like to watch time pass by.
I lay witness to a whirlwind of intricate memories being swept away, jostled getting lost between the spaces.
The remnants of a hurricane filled with moments doomed to oblivion, intertwined inside an eternity of forgotten faces.
Anxiously I sit inside a cage of my own mold as I contemplate if this place is a sanctuary at all.
Finally realizing that those reflections were small glimmers of the pieces I let go during my own painfully beautiful fall.
Weep not for this wayward stranger, the trial and tribulations are something that we all must soldiers through.
Diligently stripping layers away, remaining hopefully that the journey will lead to something magnificently brand new.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 3:50 AM UTC
My vagabond heart skipped with every step taken,
As if the wind whipping around the trees whispered, “Go find your ‘Great Perhaps.’”
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 10:49 AM UTC
I read a stack of psychology books
When my mind went off the tracks
Now I’m but a therapist
With a knapsack on my back
I’ve gone my way a wandering
Through the depths of misery
I come from Babylonia
With a Bible Belt
Whipping me
Borne of milk and honey
The hungry heart is doomed
Ate my cake and ice cream
Everything I could consume
Now I’m old and thirsty
Setting at this ***** bar
Looking for a meaning
Of life as yet so far
....
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 11:45 AM UTC
Set me free from the shells
Of the whipping cold breeze
Imprison me within your arms
As our hearts beat as one
Let your fingertips traverse my back
As the moonlight seeps through both our skin
Trace every vein on my body
As if each leads back to your own
I want to feel the waves of your mouth
And let them wash away my pain
We have the moon as our witness
As we leave each other breathless
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 8:18 AM UTC
Morning has broken
but she has not
it had been a long night
sinister fraught
the stars were cut
in lacerations of lace
stains of tears
mark trails
on her face
mascara in circles
mocking panda eyes
multiple moments
of almost self-demise
wrists bound to
sadness, heart
trussed to trust
pain from crumbling
illusions, plus
that constant,
searing lust
Now, on the floor,
lying face down
in what seemed
like blood,
she starts to
move around,
as realization pours over
in a thick, viscous flood:
She can move her arms;
for they were not
really bound
That gag in her mouth?
it has dissolved into sound
The sound of her voice
as she gets up
from the floor
opens the window
bringing light
to the fore
guttural noises
escape deep
from her throat
and before she
knows it, the
room starts to float
furniture circling
as the energy takes
and she lets in the air
fresh as new fate
her cuts balmed over
winds whipping up her hair
marks from taut ropes
smoothing over to bare
and the light bursts in
in a blast, in a whoosh
like bursts of starlight
cutting in with a push
they seep into shadows
pulsing over the dark
the howling rescinds
in an explosion of sparks
blocks of pain that held
her chained
are knocked over
and the lightstorm
keeps coming
her inner percussion
just doesn't stop drumming
And as she flies through that window
and unhinges the door
from its frame
freedom
is now hers
forever to claim
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 4:53 AM UTC
Standing in this place,
Where you tells us nothing that is going on.
We fear the worst,
Only because you wont tell us better.
You take us away from our land,
To a place I never knew.
You tell us nothing that is going on,
And you treat us as though we are not human.
You tell us we are moving,
and whip us until we move.
"form a line" you tell us.
We fear your guns, so we do.
You take us to the water.
The same water that brings us joy,
Now will bring us nothing but fear,
and hatred.
You whip the ones who don't go,
And Yell at the ones who do.
You hurt our kind,
Like you have nothing but sin.
Slowly the line starts to move,
And I hear nothing but the clang of mettle,
And the cries of my kind.
We fear what will happen next.
I get to the place,
where the white man stays.
I try not to look him in the eyes,
Because all I will see is sin.
You put your cold grasp,
From something I do not know,
Around my wrists and ankle,
But worst, around my neck.
My man fears you aliens,
so we do what your guns say.
We are not to be feared,
Yet you show us nothing but sin.
All of my men,
are joined by your cold hard chains.
The ones who don't move ,
get pulled by the rest.
The whippings become more,
And my people find it hard to stand.
You tell us you need us,
But show us nothing but sin.
We get on the big beast ,
The one only white man knows.
You shove us down the stairs,
And crowed us in.
We are close.
Too close.
Man and woman and child,
Brought together by sin.
the night finally comes,
And I feel peace again.
But only until the morning sun shines,
And brings death with it.
17 of my fellow men,
Brought out my you aliens.
Its only the second day,
What will the next bring?
The hunger in our belies gets stronger,
as you feast upon your joy.
The days food is not much
But rice and ***** water.
As we start to lose count of the day,
We lose count of so many other things
Death, **** fear, mice, whipping,
And sin.
My man can not talk about there fears,
For the white man will listen.
The only thing we can do,
Is make our own language.
Some hope for death,
For by death our souls can fly free.
By death we can return home,
But our families don't even have our bones to remember us by.
Our women and children are used as objects,
Objects of the white mans will.
To show no respect to,
And release your sin upon.
We are brought to stable land,
Of which we have never seen.
You brake us into groups,
and show us no respect.
Only half of my men make it there,
And most of them are not well.
We are shoved around,
And most of do not stay on out feet for long.
The ones you deem 'Usable'
go on to the homes of the white man.
We are forced to work,
for the man of the sin.
We get nothing from this,
and very little food.
We bring you your growth,
While ours is held back.
We are the worker,
we are the barer of life.
You are the owner.
YOU are the sin.
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 2:11 PM UTC