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"whitey" poems
every person on this earth has got a certain fear spiders incite panic, public speaking invokes tears mine isn't too uncommon, but only some women can relate it's a special kind of fear to a special kind of hate it wasn't whispered in my ear it's just something that i know it's been ingrained since my beginning, a part of how society flows you see, i'm afraid of a guy. or rather, his rejection afraid i'm not enough because i'm darker in complexion did you know his hands are white? that's why around him, my skin burns instead of reciting numbers and letters, what if it's racism that he learned? i was taught to admire passions, looks, and intellectual minds if only to darker women, love could prove to be more kind im 18 in year '18 but it feels like '63 hiding feelings from a whitey cause ****** is defined as me
0
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 11:10 PM UTC
skin (2)
*No, no, no, Dirtbreath. I say we call the big one an elephant, and the small one a mouse*.                                              Eve I'm sure red's a better color for me.                                               M. Monroe She has a face that could sink a thousand ships.                                               Ulysses *Now that Hawking's dead, I'm the smartest guy on Earth.*                                              D. Trump You're too Jung to understand the Superego.                                               S. Freud No. You keep it. I have enough.                                               B. Graham Are you sure that's the Delaware?                                               G. Washington E=Mc Donalds.                                               A. Einstein Go pound salt.                                               Gandhi What day is it?                                                Roosevelt That's one small.... oops!                                                N. Armstrong I don't remember any of my dreams.                                                M.L. King, Jr. Hey, John, I can see your house from up here.                                                 Jesus Beaches, fields, streets, hills. Did I leave anything out?                                                 W. Churchill Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course I wrote 'em all.                                                  R. Starr It's just too big to wrap your brain around.                                                  S. Hawking Don't lose your head. This won't change a thing.                                                   Robespierre Before I was fined, I walked the line.                                                    J. Cash Could you lengthen the title and shorten the book?                                                   Tolstoy's editor What if we put the workers on conveyor belts?                                                    H. Ford I have a splitting headache... hmmm, interesting.                                                    Oppenheimer I've never liked orange juice.                                                     N. Brown Really? You want to blame me?                                                     ****** He stings like a butterfly.                                                      S. Liston #timesup #metoo                                                      A. Boleyn Mr. Watson. Come here. Spare me a dime?                                                       Bell Roebuck said he'd be back in ten minutes.                                                       R.W. Sears To be or to do be do be do.                                                       Shakespeare/Sinatra *When you call me Whitey, I get cotton pickin ****** off.*                                                       E. Whitney We're the team to beat!                                                       Toronto Maple Leafs Don't call me a Mother!                                                       Mother Theresa Is that a Cuban?                                                       M. Lewinsky
0
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 6:50 AM UTC
Did They Really Say That
*No, no, no, Dirtbreath. I say we call the big one an elephant, and the small one a mouse*.                                              Eve I'm sure red's a better color for me.                                               M. Monroe She has a face that could sink a thousand ships.                                               Ulysses *Now that Hawking's dead, I'm the smartest guy on Earth.*                                              D. Trump You're too Jung to understand the Superego.                                               S. Freud No. You keep it. I have enough.                                               B. Graham Are you sure that's the Delaware?                                               G. Washington E=Mc Donalds.                                               A. Einstein Go pound salt.                                               Gandhi What day is it?                                                Roosevelt That's one small.... oops!                                                N. Armstrong I don't remember any of my dreams.                                                M.L. King, Jr. Hey, John, I can see your house from up here.                                                 Jesus Beaches, fields, streets, hills. Did I leave anything out?                                                 W. Churchill Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course I wrote 'em all.                                                  R. Starr It's just too big to wrap your brain around.                                                  S. Hawking Don't lose your head. This won't change a thing.                                                   Robespierre Before I was fined, I walked the line.                                                    J. Cash Could you lengthen the title and shorten the book?                                                   Tolstoy's editor What if we put the workers on conveyor belts?                                                    H. Ford I have a splitting headache... hmmm, interesting.                                                    Oppenheimer I've never liked orange juice.                                                     N. Brown Really? You want to blame me?                                                     ****** He stings like a butterfly.                                                      S. Liston #timesup #metoo                                                      A. Boleyn Mr. Watson. Come here. Spare me a dime?                                                       Bell Roebuck said he'd be back in ten minutes.                                                       R.W. Sears To be or to do be do be do.                                                       Shakespeare/Sinatra *When you call me Whitey, I get cotton pickin ****** off.*                                                       E. Whitney We're the team to beat!                                                       Toronto Maple Leafs Don't call me a Mother!                                                       Mother Theresa Is that a Cuban?                                                       M. Lewinsky
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66
I stand alone in the dark Fulton Street subway station, Breathing in the urine-scented air, Breathing out clouds of steam, A subway train rushes along, Not stopping, Biting at my eardrums, With the painful percussion, Of thousands of people, Silently screaming, I don’t want to see,      I don’t want to see,           I don’t want to see, The air fanned by each subway car, Rushes against me, Pushes the ozone and the smell of burnt brake linings, Into my nostrils, Along with the air, ****** through the iron gratings, Along miles of Brooklyn sidewalks, Carrying the odor of a prostitute’s festering sores, And the cries of a hungry, fatherless child in ***** diapers, And the hoarse moaning of a city councilman mentoring a young intern, And the cheap perfume of a fourteen year-old runaway, Turning $20 tricks in an alley, Smelling of stale Chinese food and wet dogs, And . . . I don’t want to see,      I don’t want to see,           I don’t want to see, . . . the smell of spoiled cabbage soup, And the rancid remains of a hotdog buried in sauerkraut, And putrid lilies lying in a gutter, All assaulting me, forcing me backwards, Until my back presses against, The grimy once-white tiles, That coldly burn their graffiti on my spine: God is dead, Bake a **** Whitey ***** **** the ******* I don’t want to see,      I don’t want to see,           I don’t want to see, The train finally passes, Its red eyes receding into the dank, Dark tunnel beyond the platform, The screeches and screams slowly die out, Their echoes ******* behind them, The smell, Of my, Warm *****
0
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 10:54 PM UTC
The Subway
I stand alone in the dark Fulton Street subway station, Breathing in the urine-scented air, Breathing out clouds of steam, A subway train rushes along, Not stopping, Biting at my eardrums, With the painful percussion, Of thousands of people, Silently screaming, I don’t want to see,      I don’t want to see,           I don’t want to see, The air fanned by each subway car, Rushes against me, Pushes the ozone and the smell of burnt brake linings, Into my nostrils, Along with the air, ****** through the iron gratings, Along miles of Brooklyn sidewalks, Carrying the odor of a prostitute’s festering sores, And the cries of a hungry, fatherless child in ***** diapers, And the hoarse moaning of a city councilman mentoring a young intern, And the cheap perfume of a fourteen year-old runaway, Turning $20 tricks in an alley, Smelling of stale Chinese food and wet dogs, And . . . I don’t want to see,      I don’t want to see,           I don’t want to see, . . . the smell of spoiled cabbage soup, And the rancid remains of a hotdog buried in sauerkraut, And putrid lilies lying in a gutter, All assaulting me, forcing me backwards, Until my back presses against, The grimy once-white tiles, That coldly burn their graffiti on my spine: God is dead, Bake a **** Whitey ***** **** the ******* I don’t want to see,      I don’t want to see,           I don’t want to see, The train finally passes, Its red eyes receding into the dank, Dark tunnel beyond the platform, The screeches and screams slowly die out, Their echoes ******* behind them, The smell, Of my, Warm *****
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52
God help us, Imamu—stop playing the fool as you babble unhinged in your kente hat. Bebopping Mao is so very uncool; what up wit dat ? Flirtations with Castro (Fidel to the faithful) and free Cuba Libres imbibed with the Beats inflamed discontent when your verses turned wrathful in the streets. Predictable tirades where Whitey’s the foe, attacking your hosts like an Afro/eccentric gets old. It’s a stagnant unmusical show: dull dialectic. Who knows why the liberals that bankroll you love it? Who cares what your most recent pseudonym is? You old and you mad cause’ you can’t rise above it, mired in the shizz. Your lines are pure mannitol: dumbed-down ******* (The blow on the head by that riot-cop lingers!) The syntax is whack in your ghetto refrain. Snap fingers . . . Still you wait for your war—or the Black Star-Liner . . . Your rage was your royalty, paid in white money. Your verse sought to give the right wing a dark shiner— it’s not funny. Insulting, belittling others more noble; your legacy leaves nothing hopeful or witty Just putrid black waters, the flow uncontrollable under the city. Inside of your Kabaa are yet many idols. Your New Ark of verse did not save from the flood. You mau-mau and bludgeon with words all your rivals but draw no blood. Lighten up, wise Imamu. Your age is soon closing. You wrote for the stage and said some of it well. But your verse has gone rotten and yields, decomposing, a nasty smell.
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Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 8:50 PM UTC
Lines for LeRoi Jones (the Imamu)
I'm wearing dead man's underwear I ask what's wrong with that Something you see they no longer need Where they now are at From Jockey's whitey tighties To boxers by the score Don't much matter to me What this dead man wore With the right amount of detergent The proper amount of bleach Like I said four lines back Don't matter much to me Now please don't rush to judgement Or my life preconceive We all have our different ways Of carrying on their memories Me...I just do it in dead man's briefs
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Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 3:38 PM UTC
Dead Man's Underwear
Yesterdays pain is following you sits on your shoulder 'n don't set you free. Took the wrong footin n stepped down on those, lookin thru eyes that di'n't want to see. We is diff'rent in colour but skin an' blood just the same. I am filled up wit' anger, you is covered in shame. Scared to look back at hist'ry past unable to turn from what you wanted to last. Tortured and toubled, when it came to the clinch you bought us along an' introduced Mistuh Lynch. To you Mistuh Whitey we ar' lower than low, Mistuh Blacky does the t'ings that you don't want to know. I belongs to the man, just like-the dogs. There for pickin' the crop an' choppin' the logs. Yesterdays pain's not goin' nowhere It's stickin to you all o' the way. Fo' the evil yo' done 'tis stayin' right there. Never t' move, never t' sway. Yeah yest'days pain is followin you it sits on yo' shoulder 'n it won't set you free. Cos you took the wrong footin' an' stepped down on those, while starin' thru blind eyes that don't want t' see.
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Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 3:52 PM UTC
Yesterday's Pain's "not goin' nowhere"
David slings a rock Cop holsters a glock, Lizzie Borden packs an axe Mac he packs the knife, Billy battles with a club, Tommy’s gun is a sub Kelly’s got 1 too, Bazooka Joe Is Gum, Peter Gun not, Colt 45 is not malt Nor a horse, hand grenades, canons w/big ***** Doc Holiday had TB Rock Hudson *** James Dean crash his car,Hank Williams in his bar Natalie Wood don’t float, Cain killed brother, Juliette poison her lover, Whitey Bulger, he  killed and got paid,  deadman walking  gets to eat Rodney King he got beat, got beat Mama Cass Elliott choked on ham 58,000 gone in Nam, 4 dead in Ohio, Kamikazes fall 1941, again 2001 Iraqi leader w/ a rope, John Belushi too much dope, C. Manson is alive Michael Jackson isn’t,  Saturday night special is very ordinary Fast and furious is the crime, **** Clark just his time Pirate victims walk the plank, THINK, Next I’ll come rolling up in a tank Hear the whistle of my missile ***** Harry had the biggest The  Derringer  is  small Smokey Bear forest fire Greek funeral is a pyre Too many  +’s or  -’s Is electrical surges Woman and child sing the dirges Walking dead Are  zombies Fat man and Little Boy Are atom Bombies as for me in a blaze of glory BOOM
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May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC
BAZOOKA JOE IS GUM
Intro:         C      G7        C       G7         E7           D7          G7    C                      G7 Shine away your bluesies,    C                                                         G7 Why don't you shine, start with your shoesies;    E7                           Am7                       C7 Shine each place up, make it look like new,    D7                                           G7 Shine your face up, I want to see you wear a smile or two.       C                             G7 Cause my skin's light creamy,        C                                    G7 Just because my eyes are greeny;      E7                 Am7                          C7 Just because I lack some shade of brown,     D7                                                  F7 Don't stop me from funking down when I funk uptown... Funk! C                       G7 Cause I dig rap music, E7                               Am7                C7 With jazz and blues I boogie all the time;   F                                 Cdim Just because I jive to Reggae,   C                          A7        D7            G7 That's the reason, Baby, why they call me... C                                 G7 *****  watches ice hockey,   C                            G7 ****** he likes to copy.   E7                          Am7                          C7 I'm Caucasian, the abbreviation won't do, D7                              G7 Drop the name tags, see me the way you want me seeing you.    C                               G7 Why don't you shine, your these and thoseies,    E7                                            Am7       C7 You'll find everything's gonna turn out fine;   F                            Cdim.    C Folks will shine up to ya, everybody's                                        A7 gonna howdy-doody do ya;   D7                     G7                C You'll make the whole world shine.       C                                            G7 So, clap your hands, shout Hallelujah,      E7                             Am7                   C7 You'll find everyone's much the same inside;     F                      Cdim You know we all share blame, C                                                                    A7 Don't “Howdy-doody Whitey” cause that ain't my name, D7                           G7                 C And we'll turn the world colour blind.
0
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 4:49 PM UTC
Shine On
Intro:         C      G7        C       G7         E7           D7          G7    C                      G7 Shine away your bluesies,    C                                                         G7 Why don't you shine, start with your shoesies;    E7                           Am7                       C7 Shine each place up, make it look like new,    D7                                           G7 Shine your face up, I want to see you wear a smile or two.       C                             G7 Cause my skin's light creamy,        C                                    G7 Just because my eyes are greeny;      E7                 Am7                          C7 Just because I lack some shade of brown,     D7                                                  F7 Don't stop me from funking down when I funk uptown... Funk! C                       G7 Cause I dig rap music, E7                               Am7                C7 With jazz and blues I boogie all the time;   F                                 Cdim Just because I jive to Reggae,   C                          A7        D7            G7 That's the reason, Baby, why they call me... C                                 G7 *****  watches ice hockey,   C                            G7 ****** he likes to copy.   E7                          Am7                          C7 I'm Caucasian, the abbreviation won't do, D7                              G7 Drop the name tags, see me the way you want me seeing you.    C                               G7 Why don't you shine, your these and thoseies,    E7                                            Am7       C7 You'll find everything's gonna turn out fine;   F                            Cdim.    C Folks will shine up to ya, everybody's                                        A7 gonna howdy-doody do ya;   D7                     G7                C You'll make the whole world shine.       C                                            G7 So, clap your hands, shout Hallelujah,      E7                             Am7                   C7 You'll find everyone's much the same inside;     F                      Cdim You know we all share blame, C                                                                    A7 Don't “Howdy-doody Whitey” cause that ain't my name, D7                           G7                 C And we'll turn the world colour blind.
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53
*looks like someone's dancing in their underwear... touché - looks like someone's buying pints of milk in their pyjamas.* night privy, nocturnal India i get to do the dance over your grave while your relatives grieve a pointless grief: just in the same way they grieved a rotten chestnut, or egg.... maybe this sprout of anti-imagination might be a floating limb of ambition to being simply reattached -  *the black keys'                         lonely boy* - spastic maestro number uno - chillies and the Chilcot KKK inquiry - got buff results with the whitey crew - took out the trash, fed the gerbils, saved a Latex ****** from the hood... well... the Kentucky hooded brigade, fully tent equipped parishioners -                  and whenever you dress up as sheep you better barbecue - c k q - what a long shopping list -    **i've got a love that keeps me waiting!   ooh oh oh oh!             i've got a love that keeps me waiting;                    i'm a lonely boy"* -                            to cue or to queue -          a forever question unanswered - of simply quit... they call it the lack of solar tattoo pigmentation -          i treat the argument for god like i'd treat winning the jackpot in lottery,     it just has the prefix existential- prior to what's        being gambled: someone suggested respectability;                      i guess that's fair enough - otherwise i call it a fail with potatoes acting as bricks in Northern Ireland... and a blatant lack of back-up colonialism....          that ****** better sprech Anglo or he's toast.... then came the Voodoo Vindaloo - screaming: churn out the chillies into chokes! aah! oh oh or excessive umlaut agitation - poor tool tummy - when have you experienced the ****** in surgical syllables taken to the butchers for coarse timing that never coerced? i danced that dance, angry though, when they played Pendulum's Tarantula in a Basildon's night-club - you heard a roar when spotted an "epileptic" (both dittoing as said, and ambiguity) weaving a web of personal space - truly and originally, not your cup of tea - i'd ensure you as               respectably assured - mind the Sundays and the roast beef and the home office and Yorkshire fundamentalism; Newcastle? Newcastle is too hedonistic.
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Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 8:58 PM UTC
disco discuss cuss
*looks like someone's dancing in their underwear... touché - looks like someone's buying pints of milk in their pyjamas.* night privy, nocturnal India i get to do the dance over your grave while your relatives grieve a pointless grief: just in the same way they grieved a rotten chestnut, or egg.... maybe this sprout of anti-imagination might be a floating limb of ambition to being simply reattached -  *the black keys'                         lonely boy* - spastic maestro number uno - chillies and the Chilcot KKK inquiry - got buff results with the whitey crew - took out the trash, fed the gerbils, saved a Latex ****** from the hood... well... the Kentucky hooded brigade, fully tent equipped parishioners -                  and whenever you dress up as sheep you better barbecue - c k q - what a long shopping list -    **i've got a love that keeps me waiting!   ooh oh oh oh!             i've got a love that keeps me waiting;                    i'm a lonely boy"* -                            to cue or to queue -          a forever question unanswered - of simply quit... they call it the lack of solar tattoo pigmentation -          i treat the argument for god like i'd treat winning the jackpot in lottery,     it just has the prefix existential- prior to what's        being gambled: someone suggested respectability;                      i guess that's fair enough - otherwise i call it a fail with potatoes acting as bricks in Northern Ireland... and a blatant lack of back-up colonialism....          that ****** better sprech Anglo or he's toast.... then came the Voodoo Vindaloo - screaming: churn out the chillies into chokes! aah! oh oh or excessive umlaut agitation - poor tool tummy - when have you experienced the ****** in surgical syllables taken to the butchers for coarse timing that never coerced? i danced that dance, angry though, when they played Pendulum's Tarantula in a Basildon's night-club - you heard a roar when spotted an "epileptic" (both dittoing as said, and ambiguity) weaving a web of personal space - truly and originally, not your cup of tea - i'd ensure you as               respectably assured - mind the Sundays and the roast beef and the home office and Yorkshire fundamentalism; Newcastle? Newcastle is too hedonistic.
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56
Hold these truths that men aren't created equal, there was never a holocaust and slaves had choice. Half wit typical negroid flips out like her race does. All I said four eyed dumb fatty was you been on every day since you made your main account back in O9' Get over your ******* self and stop stirring up **** like your kind do since your race been freed. Have your people call my people ok cyber queen? You type **** real good under all your many handles. ; ) As your twin four eyed and ugly spike lee would say, byotch, do the right thing and delete what you stole! I don't smoke like DM and he is unimportant and so are you. You are movie star? You will be one when my dogs **** becomes one. His pile of **** looks better than your ugly *** Good luck finding that rich whitey you seeking. You be working minimum wage for a long time honey! : )
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Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 4:47 AM UTC
wide spectrum of racist and anti-Semitic ideas
The hatter with horns Made his dear Alice a promise "Wonderland my dear We'll take you there You'll never have another fear" He pulled his Alice close "Come on dear just run To the rabbit hole you know? No papers And no signatures Just grab my hand and I'll guide the way" "I doubt a little trip Down a rabbit hole will cure me Of all the pain she left me.." I disagree with my simple friend Tick tock, tick. tock. Tick..tock.., tick...tock... The clocks around so Then suddenly stop As the hatter bows his head And all the lights slowly dim "Its so simple Alice my dear Take this hand I hold out toward you Grip it tight and never let go We'll run till we see Whitey Climb in his cab and he'll drive us the rest of the way With a few conditions of course 'No Food Or Drink No Dying No Puking No Nothing Else' Once we get to the Rabbit hole Hold to me tight We'll fall quite a ways But just remember In Wonderland everything is nonsense I will protect you there My dear Alice All the pain will go away Now quick make a decision Pain or carefree" "But won't she hate me? If I'm gone they'll miss right? What if they forget me?" The clocks start ticking again Tick....tock...., tick...tock... Tick..tock.., tick.tock. "Time is ticking Alice Our 15 seconds are up Its now or never" The hatter bows with his hand stretched out "Yes!" I whisper Reaching for his hand With a quick spin he whispers into my ear "Run dear...ready? 3...2...1"
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Apr 19, 2012
Apr 19, 2012 at 5:14 PM UTC
The Hatter With Horns
porque la lluvia me llamó a correr el día que no quería volver sin hacer lo que pensaba despierta en el insomnio de las nubes grises que se asomaban entre paseos de miedo, sal y sol. con cuanto viaje podía decir que sí y que no, que cuando supiera la verdad y el ensueño calmara por ahí te veía bailando en tu vestidito blanco tan campante, tan extraña, tan mía. ------------------------------------------------- because the rain called me to run the day i didn't wanted to return without making what i meant awake in the insomnia of the grey clouds looming between rides of fear, salt and sun. with each trip i could say yes and no, so when i knew the truth and the reverie would calm down maybe i would saw you dancing in your whitey dress so confident, so strange, so mine.
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Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 12:32 PM UTC
porque la lluvia me llamó a correr
When I say, Eeny, Meanie, Miney, Moe, You know what follows, Today's children don't know. Should we be shamed, Though blameless, Called racist and supremacist. I learned those words long after the rhyme, Losing innocence with time. Can I still call you Whitey If my skin is... Well, different from Whitey's. I'd be stupid To catch a tiger By the toe; PETA would skin me.
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Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 9:30 AM UTC
Race Has No Second Place
My teeth are smiling back at me From a glass beside the bed I wonder "Do they look that bad" "When they're positioned in my head?" They looked all kind of cloudy ***** brown, and green I think I need to change the way I make my teeth get clean Right now I use polident To make my choppers shine But, if this is the way that they turn out I'm embarrassed that they're mine I took them out and washed them off I stuck them in a glass of bleach I thought, "This will make them whitey white" The colours will all leech Out of my clean choppers And will brighten up my smile Then you'll see me from afar Well, at least a half a mile I left them for two hours and they came out brown and green I thought, they look no better now They look totally obscene I even took to painting them A glorious shade of white I left them on my workbench To dry and harden overnight They still look brown and greeny Like they were buried in the yard I swear, I've never had a thing That's made me work so hard I cannot put them in my mouth with out cleaning off the crud It's looks like I am smiling With a mouth that's full of mud I took a pad of wire wool And scrubbed them like you do They didn't get much brighter But, now at least...they're blue I went down to the chemists To get something for my teeth I needed something powerful To relieve me of my grief The chemist said "please shut your mouth" "You're scaring all who passes" "Your teeth are oh so snowy white" "The dirt is on your glasses!!"
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Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 11:05 AM UTC
My teeth
My teeth are smiling back at me From a glass beside the bed I wonder "Do they look that bad" "When they're positioned in my head?" They looked all kind of cloudy ***** brown, and green I think I need to change the way I make my teeth get clean Right now I use polident To make my choppers shine But, if this is the way that they turn out I'm embarrassed that they're mine I took them out and washed them off I stuck them in a glass of bleach I thought, "This will make them whitey white" The colours will all leech Out of my clean choppers And will brighten up my smile Then you'll see me from afar Well, at least a half a mile I left them for two hours and they came out brown and green I thought, they look no better now They look totally obscene I even took to painting them A glorious shade of white I left them on my workbench To dry and harden overnight They still look brown and greeny Like they were buried in the yard I swear, I've never had a thing That's made me work so hard I cannot put them in my mouth with out cleaning off the crud It's looks like I am smiling With a mouth that's full of mud I took a pad of wire wool And scrubbed them like you do They didn't get much brighter But, now at least...they're blue I went down to the chemists To get something for my teeth I needed something powerful To relieve me of my grief The chemist said "please shut your mouth" "You're scaring all who passes" "Your teeth are oh so snowy white" "The dirt is on your glasses!!"
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48
yo, dawg I remember this one time we was straight chillin I fell out and was sleepin hard, dawg my homeboys was actin the fool smoking that tea wildin out like they was straight mad party was of the hiz-ook then this little blond ***** rolled in takin bout whitey o’ some **** I was tore up, dawg sleepin in a muthafukkin teapot this ** flappin her gums bout this and that like we give two ***** homeboy, we was jess lookin to rip it up out of the blue this trick says ‘cat’ dawg, I jumped up running across the table moving furniture up in this here muthafukka my homeboys lit out after me hollerin like big dawgs one a’ those fools we like to call the Hatter went to rubbin a bit o’ jam on my nose a little on the gums you how we do anaway that **** did the trick and I fell out hard like a muthafukka passed. the **** out. hit the bricks and skid my chin you feel me? bout that time this little trip rolls in talking about being late n’ **** that Hatter straight destroyed his rolex send homeboy to cryin like ***** dawg, that **** was the craziest party we still talk about the madass **** …..never knew what happened to the blond chick was a trip ---
0
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 11:44 AM UTC
the doormouse tells his tale
A lame idea's not a knock At ones who can't stand and walk. My eight handicap's not a slur To any falling short of par. I repeat, Are you deaf or something, Doesn't insult the hard of hearing; It only means you're not listening. If one's blind as a bat, It's not a slight, it's not a fact, It's just a phrase we humans use; I've heard some used against the Jews, And others we've unlearned to use. We of habit and long of tooth Aren't as bad as you may think When overhearing oldies speak: I'm just jittery when I'm spooked. Our excessive sensitivity's daunting. Nothing said's meant to be hurting. How does all this sit with Whitey? Yes, Whitey's what I said. Should I mind that name? Isn't it the same? It's used to ridicule, Exposing Whiteys as the fools, By some who think they're far too cool:      *Whitey said so...      Whitey did so...      Whitey don't know...* This Whitey do know; He don't like this **** Not one little bit, Brother; And it makes me cottin-pickin ****** With the hypocrisy, Sister.
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Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 8:55 AM UTC
Cottin-pickin ******
I'm going down to the local bar to see one of the toilets. I'm goin' to try and be a star.. see if the shoe fits. I'm goin' to find a beat whether it's crap or rap. I'm goin' to put my hands in my armpits and hope to hell I don't got the clap, and shout it out 'cause it'll be about something, even if it's the ***** Every time I hear the phrase 'Hip Hop' I think of Easter being on its way. I'm going to call me Vanilla not so nice, the whitey who rolls them dice, don't get caught in no trap like all those other mice. Hell, now I'm flippin' house's, what a way to land on your feet.. and I still hear my songs on the radio.. ...not often mind you. Lot's of people make mistakes while others get some breaks, Now I may have said some things to get yourtail feathers up.. but don't you worry about me, I can take the blow-by-blow. It could be a lot worse don't you know. I could be some numb nuts like David Allan Coe. I could leave this one to rest because it's most clearly not one of my best, but it woke me up one morning and I had to right it down.. © 2012
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Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 3:53 PM UTC
inadream
How much does the truth cost? I asked her a question, for free the sun comes up she said I asked a black man, he said **** YOU whitey I then cried I ask a police man then got sent to jail I asked my sisters they lied and stoled my money and blocked my emails I dunno why? I asked the birds, they **** on me then flew away I asked my mom she died yesterday I asked my step dad drunk on *** he told me I was no good called me a hood at age 9, he said I was a good for nothing *** I asked my ex wife oh what woes, she divorced me ran away her new husband wears my old clothes I asked the priest by the church who kicked my broken leg I asked my government for assistance but I was denied I asked for a job I applied The boss cheated my pay I'm homeless today All I ask is why? D. Clare
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Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 11:21 AM UTC
Why?
black harlem hid me when i was afraid to be free buried in the lovely ladies till my eyes were opened when all i wanted was death or poverty or to see a child completely black harlem had only reality for me taught me it was okay to be with "whitey" black harlem taugh me just to see each and every person as longing to be free taught me it was okay to be a "honkie" cause everybody just wants to be free cause everybody just wants to be free
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Aug 4, 2010
Aug 4, 2010 at 2:16 PM UTC
black harlem
What a ******* ******* Thinking he's so high and mighty Taking the day off just to sit on his *** Stupid priveledged whitey Refuses to see the favorable position he's in Just likes to believe he is lower To get pity from others and kin Maybe he's just a **** blower **** what a ******* Stupid as **** get outta my sight You're about to get hit And you know I'm right Go to hell man You don't deserve the **** you have You're so pale, not tan Not even smooth, no, not suave I shouldn't have to stare at this dope He better not get any nearer I'm thinking of this while putting on soap and staring into a mirror...
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Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 12:57 PM UTC
This One *******
i can still look into the velvet depths of the night, whether in forest or perched on a windowsill grazing my eyes into the night, and still see nothing except myself; or you should see me walking down for a refill of ice-cubes listening to ***** & the maytals'* 54-46 that's my number - i know whitey boy albino given an injection of rhythm, well at least you were given a creative outlet under the stiff-upper lips of the redcoats, the jews weren't even told to build the pyramids under ****** you gave us the blues, jazz, and pirate reggae, what could the ******* jews offer us to compensate the atrocities? **** all apart from memorable guilt and autobiographies! oh yeah, and german industrial music, what fun! ha ha... robo- -boy with alias Kraftwerk. in my long gone list of artists i forgot to mention Alpha Blondy & Barrington Levy - high fidelity poetry by someone not called nick hornby.
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May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 7:21 PM UTC
54-46
There once was a family of clouds, Blue were their noses and blue were their shrouds. Amongst them lived 3 outcasts, though As though through the blue, someone had brazenly run a plough! Blotchy, whitey and marbly let’s call them, Of the big blue sky, they were the beautifully botched hem. The smurfy blues didn’t think so, alas! And neither did the the puppets on the ground, peeping through the looking glass. Rain was their saviour, For amidst those tears, no one would notice their stark behaviour. The smurfy blues covered them up, Lest someone see their erroneous turf. Then shone the sun one fine day, And like rising phoenixes, the castaways came out to play. For a thing such as beauty, ever so fickle They were a miraculous honey-hued trickle. The puppets on the ground too swapped their loyalties, And soon the alleged drops of milk were favoured royalties. The sky too embraced the cotton-ous hue amidst the smurfy blue, And just like that, their fairytale slowly came true.
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Feb 8, 2025
Feb 8, 2025 at 4:05 AM UTC
A FAIRYTALE IN THE SKY
Our yesterdays are foreign shores, With unusual customs. Among us are worm-holers, Using foreign words Like *Whitey, ****** ***** Indian.* Archaic phrases, *A woman's place... A child should... Are you a man...* Our boundaries have shifted. Isolationism, provincialism, racism, All derogatory isms Are placed in a time capsule, Not to be opened by this civilization, This new country for ex-pats.
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Jan 8, 2018
Jan 8, 2018 at 11:31 AM UTC
Foreign Shores