Poem | |
The wall that separates
Disguised in honorable robes
Preached to children
Am I to be tolerated?
Just because I am different
White, black, brown or yellow
Straight or gay
Perhaps I am Muslim
I am painted with many brushes
A part of humanity's inconsistancies
When you tolerate
You hold yourself in high esteem
You grace me with your temporary favor
You disguise me with your perceptions
You make me a little less distasteful
For a moment
Perhaps a day
You feel proud for not looking away
I do not seek tolerance
Like you I wish to be valued
To be seen in loving ways
Maybe not today
Labels Will disappear with all our sorrow
For me I am you
I am the many and the few
Waiting for my turn
Will this be my day
To be heard and have a say
For PD's Contest
I don't know if it's my best but it is my most recent.
I have had a strong response to it and I think it is
an important message. Your popularity would have
more people read it and that is a very good thing.
Poem | |
Often wondering is it a steak upon Our Plates that is important...
Perhaps a Hot-dog instead and more Money for a healing deportment.
To feed a Child that is suffering or very ill and extremely sick.
We ask often comfortably what often makes the wealthy tick...
As We read on The Internet that there are Children out there just wanting Bread.
The Children eating grass in an Article was just as this is read...
My Heart torn open,wrenched,and burning with anguish inside.
My Own Home hem less,poor,and uncomfortably We reside...
Wishing We could just reach threw a T.V. Set to give a hand...
Just to pass Our Dinner to a child in a taunted hemmed Land.
My passion so large,words so strong,and My Pocket very small.
Never standing in the right position in Life to answer as Children call.
There are Children in Our World that are just eating grass.
Under seemly so by My feelings of disrepair as I pass My Own gas...
This stench of Many Self willed that preform as Our stanza has not grasped.
To reach for You now is more then an unbearable weep comprehend.
A World filling up with Starvation and Our Children in it left to descend.
To reach You now is an unwearable decision not yet made.
The Children Eating Grass just wore Me thin and They paid.
Sometime wishing I could just rob and empty an entire vault.
That Decision would cost Me greatly so I resort to prayer that will never fault.
To Be trusted with just This Message where I sit and grieve.
When Encounters of Love yet to occur and never to beckon Evil that is deceived.
By Charlene L.Wilcox 09-29-2014
Poem | |
America the Free ~ America the Brave ~
Freedom with price Capitalism attacked
the many taken hearts broken still
one World try to rebuild
sadness and tears fall hard with fears
guilt by association many accused still
souls evaporated shattered dreams
tears fall on innocence left with anger
The proud fearless knew the inevitable
policeman fireman many lives lost
grieving does not stop 12 years later
New York city once proud & shameless
refusing to let fears in protecting ours
left in shock still question's unanswered
nothing learned nothing gained
ready to attack many left behind
anger greets denial anger meets rage
unacceptable still refusing new love
wanting days to rewind let us go back in time
acceptance allowing the victims leave in peace
the brave taken young leaving us sadly old
haunting dreams lost spirits dwell
no answers to hate never forgetting that day
Evil entered suddenly unforgiving fate
entering our City we stand with the fallen
How to fix how do we Change
This can be read many different ways ~ This is a poem I am so proud to write ~
Poem | |
The traveler reeked of weariness,
His companion was Fatigue
Wear upon his clothes suggest
He'd come a million league.
Gaunt were eyes deep set and brown
Above his cheekbones high
His being was pure somnolence
And I heard his silent cry.
Hard roads had been his travel
The pains chiseled on his face
In lines of furrows on his brow
Around I saw no motion there, then ...
His head began to rise
Finally he looked at me ...
Suffering in his eyes.
So quietly I attended
And with a heavy heart
I wanted so to speak to him ...
But knew not how to start
Within his labored breathing
He then began to speak
His words, when finally spoken
Were truthful and unique
His lips worked to form the words -
Then said; "My name is: Common Man,
I'm a father; I've worked hard;
' always done the best I can.
"The road's become uphill and steep with
Burdens I can't propel
I've tried to move on forward -
But, I stumbled here - and fell.
"There are others on me
Who so do depend
I must keep moving forward,
This mustn't be my end.
"Now I must reach out to you
'Cause before I've never failed
I'm turning now to you
'Fore on hardships I'm impaled".
A calloused hand then extended
Toward my outstretched hand
And I want to heed the call
For this Common Man.
But, Greed and Avarice have won
And assistance can't be lent -
Wall Street, you see, owns me now:
I'm Your Government.
Poem | |
I don't wear a cape around
My neck, breaking the speed of sound
Or capture bad guys in a web
My powers have never fled
From my heart that's where they stay
Secretly until the day
I see injustice come along
Others are treated so wrong
My super powers become stronger
When I can't take it any longer
Hearing stories of bullying
My special skills kick right in
Set loose, no holding them back
My love alert goes on attack
Not stopping for anything
It won't ease up until I bring
All this hatred to a low
I give one huge final blow
Across the land until there is
No more hate or prejudice
Until then, I'm on alert
Making sure there is no hurt
I will be here till the end
All my powers I will send
Into the hearts of those so weak
Mild mannered, shy and meek
That get pushed around each day
I'll make sure it goes away
This promise will be kept for sure
Any kind of hatred I abhor
Poem | |
Let me hug you, human, and be one being,
Let the stars shine and go for sightseeing,
Let us share smiles under the moon,
Let our children play together at noon,
Let us be storytellers of justice and truth,
Let our people join our energetic youth,
Let us stroll in mountains and the huge lands,
Let us harvest and mix our colourful hands,
Let our souls heal the wounds of the past,
Let our hearts share lovely dreams so vast,
Let me make a step forward and close the gap,
Let me start a new page and recreate the map,
Let our lands be neighbours of one community,
Let me raise my head, at last, for the unity,
Let the rain fill my eyes so I water my mind,
Let me make a statement that we were blind,
Let these words make an epic song so original,
Let me become you, oh beautiful aboriginal,
Let the indigenous of you paint my words,
Let us swim like fishes and fly like birds,
Let me give you what is yours and all of what is mine,
Let us plan our future and for our past build a shrine.
Monday, 26th of November 2012
Poem | |
I was waiting by my mailbox
To hear news from the Soup
I know they like to keep me
Somewhere, in the loop
I couldn’t wait to see, ME !
Somewhere at the top
Of The Hundred best read poems
That reader's thought were Hot
While I nestled in my chair
Took my subtle writers pose
With my thumb under my chin
And my finger, side my nose
I started to peruse
The list presented clear
While looking for My Name
I found it wasn’t there
Perhaps an over site
Could sure explain, a lot
They failed to read, the comments
And all the praise, I got
But then, it came to me
Those guys are really smart
My poems are so good
There’re simply off the charts
Poem | |
As quiet blackness deepened
I lay awake my heart in check,
The cool night wind blew
And welcome silence grew…
Unanticipated music exploded
Roused me from bed rest,
I tiptoed to its source:
Dark sounds from downstairs,
Nearer, higher, and louder
Till it reached the hallway.
He grasped my hand,
Whirled it to turn me twice,
Held me close, went on trotting steps
Slow, quick, quick; slow, quick, quick;
Slow, slow, quick, quick...
He never gets tired, he liked the dance.
He led; I followed - his greatest joy;
In perfect timing to his bidding,
I swayed wherever he flung me,
His steps were full of variation –
He liked it that way;
While I only had one reaction –
Receive his urgings.
Perfect dance he'd always say because
It is with such ease when partner is open
That controlled movement is played.
Ungraceful dance I never liked,
But all this time it kept me alive:
His music and diverse steps I sought
And to it I humbly swayed.
Tonight I let him led again,
Just like the other days and nights.
The darkness of the night was strained,
It was only the curtains that were swaying,
To the night breeze with grace,
Stark of light peeped out from the room,
My hands and feet went frozen like ice,
I heard a different tune within, sad, weary,
But slowly roused with excitement
And anger underneath... Heated me up
Ablaze, my eyes red-stained -
He held me closer to him, and I -
Pulled myself too tight to him
He was pleased I saw it in his sated eyes
As I meekly submitted… for the last time.
We did slow, quick, quick steps for a two
Or more and then he let me go; I trotted
Far away from him then back to him
Without his behest, and out of rhythm
His steps were outside our dance floor…
Down the stairs...In open position he lay there,
In his face I saw his dance - the macabre
dance - I never liked at all. His eyes dazed –
He had his final dance with me after all.
The night was cold, yet I felt warm, and the music gone,
The curtains stopped swaying at the night winds’ prodding.
Poem | |
How many souls
live on the edge,
Between the gutter
and the ledge?
A hopeless fear
crawls in their gut.
Each day, another,
The moments pass
Sad, bitter winds,
are all that blow.
A man lay huddled,
near the bin.
will take him in.
Frozen tears, on
Frostbitten ears, and
shoes that leak.
His mind forgets
the games of tag,
Old Crockett's hill,
where down they'd slide.
A summer rain,
the puddles deep,
out catchin' toads,
to tame and keep.
His life began
with dimpled cheeks.
Red tousled hair,
and hide 'n seek.
A tough old Dad
who tricked and teased.
A pretty Mom
who smiled with ease.
They had a farm
with fields of hay.
A few old hogs,
and bills to pay.
One summer day,
the sky turned black.
A howling wind,
brought down their shack.
Dad sold the hogs,
and cut the hay.
The farm was lost,
we drove away.
The next two years,
were grim and lean.
Dad broke his back,
to feed us beans.
When winter came,
our food ran out.
We found old Dad
hung by a rope.
Without poor Dad,
no food, or fire;
Mom took my hand,
the day was dire.
The Sister's face
looked mean and sour.
I thought of Mom
most every hour.
They scrubbed my back
until it bled,
cut off my hair;
then I got fed.
'Twas many years
before I left.
My Mom had died
a tragic death.
Now all alone,
I lived and slept.
I begged for food,
and sometimes wept.
A life of days,
and endless woe.
Now time is dead,
and death too slow.
As you walk by
those 'homeless freaks',
with dimpled cheeks.
Poem | |
There is a place you can go that is full of only love and Warmth .
you will be surrounded by a light that shines from the Heavens ,
Sprinkles of Silver and Gold.
This place is filled with brilliant colors of Purple , vibrant Gold, all colors.
not one Color is less significant then another ,
for every color is equal here .
This place is surrounded by the beauty of different Flowers.
All flowers have significance here . No one Flower is better then another .
All Flowers are equal here .
It is important you know , you can cry here , and should cry as often as needed .
For the tears will cleanse your Soul and give the Flowers water to grow.
No one Tear is insignificant here , every tear has value and not one is better then another .
money holds no value , Where you live , what you own, has no significance here .
You will be surrounded by a beautiful light that shines from the Heavens .
A shining warm light will encircle you and allow nothing to hurt you .
Hate will be shed at the door light a old jacket of no use.
There is a place of beauty and Worth.
This place will not be found on Earth .
It is a place where no one person is better then another .
Poem | |
* Weird Science *
With pens he walks
Pocket Protectors to protect his chest
Taped up glasses on his face
Pull his pants down, call him a GEEK a NERD
Science -relativity theory and it's light speed from space
Experiment this- discover that, is how scientist rant
Brainy cats have so many open portals in their minds
You talk down to us as if we carry the brains of a bird
Do you really think we are all blind,
for not caring over the objectives principles of the Heisenberg?
You passed each and ever single science fairs in class
Feeding your ego collecting dots
After school you earned the right when a bully kicked your a$$!
A DORK calling your self the Math Magician King
Burning and crashing our minds explaining the physics of dying fast
Using your Quantum Leap that our universe comes with a destiny string
No desire to be wired who needs your further scientific understanding
Life comes with a pattern in which we once lived electricity free
Ironically your scientific process of defining itself continues to expand
Supported by the measurements and masses only you NERDS understand
The power points of our so called energy,
is pointless to me like our so called gravity.
The tale you spin is not of love but a twisted one of insanity
God is the only scientific knowledge I want to perceive!
All you so called scientist, riding the lightning like Benjamin F.
Take the bolt and tie it like a noose around your neck
Following your own perception while you feed off the sheep
Here you come to emerge to discipline us with your mind of a genius
You come and you bash us with NERD brain waves to explain!
That this world revolves around the elements and laws of scientific claims
Research this- research that- who gives a cr@p we still die at the end
While life continues, to grow and manipulate our fate, about the universe
Unsolved facts about Einstein, who left his velocity of change for us to comprehend.
Instead of trying to rule the world, explain the facts why things keep getting worse?
Over exaggerating the excitement of an Ancient Mayan 2012 discovery curse.
Bottom line you scientific quacks,
the real Celestial body is found on the bottom of my crack.
By; P.D. ( LOL, I love Science )
Poem | |
They hate you because your you
They make up lies and call it true
They're fake behind your back
Hoping someday that you'll crack.
They hate you because your real.
no matter what they say you always heal
They're surprised to see you rise,
That you're not affected by all these lies
They hate you because you smile at them
It shows them that your a real gem
You are always true and do your best :)
Sometimes these haters just cant test
They hate you for no reason
Despite it all, you smile
whatever the reason
At the end of the day
All i'm gonna say
All i plan to be
-Sanderline Fleury :)
Poem | |
My spirit and soul are trapped in this vessel of flesh. They scream to escape and to be liberated and soar on the breezes of life. To frolic freely among the trees, among the clouds and to run without weight and care.
My spirit and soul are trapped and they want to get out. Out from under all the stress and demand in life out from all the evil and hate of the world.
My spirit and soul are trapped in demand to perform, to keep a smile when I am down, to keep a stiff upper lip.
My spirit and soul are trapped to work for things and objects, to keep up with Jones and Kardashians.
My spirit and soul are trapped into believing that all men are made equal when the reality of this world says different, that only green currency is the great equalizer.
My spirit and soul are trapped into believing that single is not wholeness that it is necessary to be joined with another body to be view without stigma.
My spirit and soul are trapped in a body not acceptable because it's fat, it's woman and it's black and aging.
My spirit and soul are trapped and they are screaming to be free... screaming to reveal all the possibilities of how good life could be if I just didn't give a damn about who thinks what about me.
Poem | |
This poem wants to make a change . . .
To be a strong yet silent raised fist in Mexico, 1968.
To stand at a window w/a shotgun writing the words
“By any means necessary”
To sit in at a lunch counter in Birmingham, Alabama
Until it is read
To start a breakfast program in Compton, California
In order to feed hungry minds
To stand up for its rights in Akron, Ohio and shout,
“Aint I a poem?”
To integrate an all white book store under protection of the National Guard
And when George Wallace says to it,
“You will not enter unless it’s over my cold, dead, body. . .”
This poem will gladly take him up on his offer
But now this poem feels that perhaps it is too militant,
Maybe it and Spike should just “Do the Right Thing” . . .
Take the hand of other poems deep in the South Georgia woods and lead them to freedom
Under cover of night-light
Take its brothers and sisters out of the man’s world and
Into Aaron’s “Boondocks”
Play its own music, live in Jamaica and
Grow Nappy Locs
Start a union with A. Phillip down at the docks
Be read by Martin while being pelted with rocks
Find out what would happen
“If Beale Street Could Talk”. . .
This poem will get accused of “Ego Trippin” but
will not take it personally, declaring,
“And Still I Rise”
It will invite other poems to a free concert headlined by
Marvin, Stevie, Chuck D, and Black Thought
It will do what it should, not what others think it ought
This poem will be munificent . . .
Will give because so much has been given to it
Will do because so much has been done for it
Will be able to sit down because so many others have
But this poem can not sit still for long
Because this poem has been disenfranchised . . .
This poem was told there is no longer a need
For affirmative action
only to have it replaced with definitive inaction
This poem cast a vote in Florida,
only to be told that it did not count
This poem observed its commander in thief, fly over rising waters in the Lower Ninth Ward
just to keep his feet from getting wet
This poem watched its country expand our “melting pot” to include all types of ingredients,
Then scrape the black off the bottom of the pan . . .
and send it back to Haiti on a raft
This poem has been pulled over for being DWI
(drafted with intelligence)
This poem was profiled at Hartsfield Airport,
And made to take off it’s . . . blues.
This poem never planted any genus of Bush,
It’s not concerned with whom you marry,
Nor does it desire to trade the blood of young soldiers for oil, but look what it got
This poem wants 2 b a revolutionary . . .
Poem | |
I hear the whispers of past souls
That guide me through life’s
Wondrous garden of flowers.
Each flower has a unique
And beautiful bloom.
I see how the fragile and
Delicate injure easily and
Wither and die without protection.
I am amazed at the strength
And endurance of the sturdy.
But most of all. . .
I marvel at the lowly weeds,
Though they be uprooted
And cast out of the garden,
How they find a way to leave their
Seeds behind to grow and flourish---
This poem is a metaphoric view of the weak, the strong and the unwanted people in life.
Dans le jardin de la vie
J'entends les chuchotements
des âmes passées
qui me guident par la vie
Jardin merveilleux des fleurs.
Chaque fleur a un unique
Et belle fleur.
Je vois comment le fragile et
Sensible blessez facilement et
Wither et meurent sans protection.
Je suis stupéfié à la force
Et résistance du vigoureux.
Je m'émerveille aux herbes modestes,
Bien qu'elles soient déracinées
Et fonte hors du jardin,
Comment ils trouvent une
manière de laisser leurs graines derrière
pour se développer et s'épanouir---
Poem | |
Sweeny Smith, and Dizzy May.
Lauren County grand motel
It’s a weird old place to be
I used to go there quite a lot
It really pleasured me
To know that nothing’s what it seems
It’s a scary kind of place
Where one meets the dregs of life
And none there have much grace.
There’s Sweeny smith, he’s big and strong
And he’s a scary guy
He really doesn’t like the world
And no one knows quite why
They Say his father dropped him when
He was a tiny lad
And now the man is not himself
Most people think he’s mad.
Now Sweeny, he is quite a man
But he hasn’t learned a lot
But most they can put up with him
Though one thing he is not
He’s not the cleanest of the men
Who live at that Motel
And though folk try to like the man
They hate old Sweeny’s smell.
One day the others got old Sweeny
And put him in a tub
They got a great big scrubbing brush
And gave him such a scrub
Now Sweeny did not like this much
And he caused such a stir
With people flying round the room
Such a frenzy did occur.
Then Dizzy May came on the scene
And Sweeny loved her so
He wanted her to stay with him
He would not let her go
Old Dizzy, She quite liked the man
But she didn’t like his smell
So she came up with a little plan
And she did Sweeny tell
‘Now look here Sweeny, here’s the deal
If you really love me so
Then you must take a bath each day
Or out the door you’ll go‘.
Now Sweeny didn’t like that much
But he loved old Dizzy may
And so he told her lovingly
‘I’ll take a bath each day‘.
And now the people look at Sweeny
With a different kind of air
Cause when he’s with his Dizzy May
You can smell them everywhere
But it is such a lovely smell
Of the sweetest kind of flowers
And now When Sweeny walks on past
There’s none that from him cower.
18 June 2013 @ 1635hrs.
Poem | |
Told my friend I was writing poems today
He responded and said I must be Gay
I am not shy and I will speak my mind
I work real hard and I bust my behind
What right does he have to speak such harsh words
We are all equal and he is absurd
I told him to take look in the mirror
What does he sees but guess what would appear
He says he don't care, he is a man's man
and that I should throw those poems in the can
So lets look at his life and we shall see
He thinks he is all that but not to me
He does not have a job, a wife, or car
He used to live close but now he is far
He doesn't like theater, opera or poems
Who is this friend that I thought I had known
If he can't accept me, who I might be
He might as well stay far away from me
for Anything goes contest
Poem | |
After reading all the shite about colony this morning this just came. Might not be appreciated by some, but you’ve got to admit there is truth in it…peter
Why do we?
Why do we give our power away?
Put folk on pedestals
I see it happen all the time
It drives me up the wall
Presley, Clooney, Pitt, and Jolie
And all the rest of them
They’re just people nothing more
Yet folk treat them like gems
Why do we worship sports hero’s
And guys who reach the top
Hatred, fear and all such things
These folk they still do cop
They’re just like us they eat and sleep
And all those other things
They cannot fly like angels do
And still bad luck life brings
Why do we have Gods in the sky
Each group a different one
Why can’t we worship all of life
From the flowers to the sun
And know that we’re all just the same
Quivering heaps of fear
If each of us could find ourselves
This message would be clear
28 September 2014
Poem | |
IN YOU WE RELY
IN YOU WE APPLY
WHY ARE YOU UNDER DURESS
WHILE YOUR DISTRIBUTION
IN YOU I EARN
IN YOU I LEARN
BUT YOU ARE UNDER DURESS
AND I AM UNDER DURESS
WHY DO YOU HATCH
THE HYPOCRITICAL EGGS UNDER WATCH
THERE, IT IS ONE- MAN OPERA
LOYALISTS ARE THE ZEBRA
STOOGE S ARE THE ALPHA
AS THE DAYS WALK
THEY TALK AND TALK
IN THE LION BUILDING
COUNSELING OFFICE IS METAMORPHOSIS
AS POPULAR DISCIPLINE
EVEN GREEDY HYENA
FORBIDS THE MEAT
OF THE YOUNGER ONES
IN THE LION BUILDING
THE MEATS OF THE YOUNGEST
IS THE DELICIOUS CAKES
IN THE SAID BUILDING
YOU HIRE AND FIRE
THE INNOCENTLY HIRE
IN THE MOST POPULAR DEPARTMENT
IN THE LION BUILDING
THE KEEP TRAFFIC FLOW
Poem | |
Whilst sitting and lying by a babbling brook
for once through the water I took a deeper look
then I saw into Bubbletown, bubbles popping with glee
for that is what they are meant to be
Down there, theres no time for heirs and graces
and no disrespect to creeds and races
no single bubble is better no matter how big or small
for history,religion and status there is no need at all
A bubbles life is simple you see to try not to pop for as long as can be
yet when it pops it sets others free
Then with a whip and a splash stuck to a sticklebacks fin
a bubble escapes from deep within
no record will be remembered of this noble fleet
and the bubble will join another bubbletown meet
no questions asked just join in the throng
for all bubble's are equal no matter how big and strong
and remember this as long as they thrive
the round little folk keep the whole stream alive
So take from this no matter how small and meek
the powers inside us to be strong and unique
just be like a bubble and raise to attest
then my son or daughter you can be like the rest
no better no worse and you can fly
your sky is your limit if you put no one down, and greet others from outside of town
with a smile and a welcome instead of a frown !!!
Poem | |
Computer genarated is my middle name
Doesn't really matter, when you got fortune and fame
I had standards once, it left while the money came
The names have been changed, but it's all the same
La la la on every station
Thoughtless singers through out the nation
Only hear real words on special occasion
All that really matters is the radio vibration
Bars of ivory are now plastic
Our true potential has been wasted
Learn to lip sync, dance dirty, and lose it
C'mon don't ya know anything 'bout music?
Yeah I know the new stuff was sh*t
It was also a top 40 hit
No need for a conscience or wit
All you need is chocolate skin and an auto-tune kit
Got a little bit heavy with that line
But who cares man, it rhymed!
When you're this big nothing's a crime
Smoking wads of cash, all I got is time
Brings a whole new meaning to money to burn
Pretend I'm your teacher for a sec, take a seat and learn
Where I come from borrowed is earned
We sleep to the poetry of the streets
Where they talk about girls like they're tasty meat
Bangin' on your doors, we're the farthest from discreet
Ring the bell in the night, with masks on, trick or treat
But look, now we famous, kissing babies, they think we sweet
Cry us a river cause our lives are SO hard
Barely even know where to start
Our lyrics come from inside the heart
They're wanting out cause it's cold and dark
Takes real skill to do what I do
Convincing all these lies to be true
They gave me the check so I followed through
I'm too deep in it to just undo
A moment in the studio is called work
Got a sore throat, my vocals hurt
Our next track is gonna sound so absurd
But I bet it'll make it big cause it's rap
The result of five minutes effort
NOTE: I don't normally swear when I write (or even in real life). However I felt it necessary to help get my message across. Also I wanted to challenge myself doing a rap/freestyle.
Poem | |
new nation to craft
founding fathers sought to draft
a declaration of independence
document that made sense
Thomas Jefferson sought to free slaves
but was warned not to make waves
five of thirteen colonies
he had to appease
breaking from British rule
ignited a duel
with each colonial delegate
expressing their regret
they could not sign
they would not find
all men of equal value
heated debate ensued
withdrawn from the declaration
with misgivings and trepidation
eighty-six more years would pass
until the slaves were freed at last
Lincoln paid a high price
when he acted against advice
signing an emancipation proclamation
brought civil war to a nation
twenty percent of our population
lay dead, a chilling affirmation
we failed to see what was right
every color worth as much as white
though the war is formally over now
discrimination we still allow
Talmadge Branch was just one case *
where service was denied by race
Ku Klux Klan remains active too
wounds once healed open anew
and the battle for human rights
fear and hatred still ignites
* In 2008, Florida Attorney General Bob Butterworth
had to take action against a bar in Perry, FL, when they
refused to serve African-American Talmadge Branch
unless he took a seat in a “back room.”
Poem | |
Here I lay holding out my hands
My scars are visible
But you know what I cant't stand?
Your selfish acts kill my soul
Drown me in your wants and lack of self-control
For I lay here lifeless and still
The way I've wanted it
Just peacful and not ill
For somehow I know no one will miss me
But my soul is stron gnow
I shall haunt thee
You've only caused me torment and pain
BUt soon you shall know how it feels
While you hear my laughter
For here i shall stay
For now death can't even do me away
I lay here once more
Holding out my hanfdfs
While you walk past with a smile and a grin
But that's alright
I'm able to tolerate the pain
BUt soon you shall have yours coming
And i will never again be afraid
Poem | |
It’s not fair
But then it never is
All the teachers
All the learning that they got
It couldn't prepare them
It couldn't stop it
Or halt it
Or even control it?
The whirlwind that is I
All the promises and
All the lies
It was all too much
It was never enough
The whispers behind my back
The taunts, and jeers;
Even the teachers
Who are supposed to protect
and keep order;
Just walk away
Just ignore her
She’ll go away
Yes Mrs. Mother
Well stop it
She has coodies
No one likes you
No one wants’ to play with a lesbian like you
It would be so much better if she were gone
I wish she would just leave forever
I never showed my face
But you still;
What did I ever do to you?
What could I have done to you?
I was only ten
Just barely out of childhood really
But I can't really blame you...can i?
No I can't
My only option left
Did it make you happy?
Did you smile?
Was all that work
All that cruelty
All that heartache;
Was it worth it?
Did it finally make you feel better?
Like you were better,
Who was your next victim?
Not like it matters
They didn't help them either
You can't see
You refuse to see
Just like the teachers
They all failed
Not only me
I hope you all are proud.
Poem | |
One of Life’s indisputable facts:
Government reserves the right to tax;
And tho’ they waste far more than they should,
It’s supposedly done “for the common good.”
Economists use the word “propensity,”
Just a fancy word for “odds”, you see:
The odds you’ll save, the odds you’ll spend,
And how many Tax Dollars those odds will rend.
The basis for U.S. government budgets is “Total Tax Dollars Collected”;
And any overtures to reduce those collections are summarily rejected;
And should a source of taxes have declined or dissipated,
Other taxes are increased and/or new taxes are created.
Many, if not most, of these taxes are “regressive”.
That means their actual impact on income is “progressive”...
But “progressive” in a very negative way.
Relatively speaking, the Less you make, the More you pay.
Whether you make it or sell it, need it or want it, Congress will tax it;
And, once a tax is on the books, Congress has zero “propensity” to relax it.
Congresses, Federal and State, love to tax Luxury and Sin;
Smoking Sinners have had their taxes raised again and again and again.
Cigarette taxes are frequently raised, the “claim” is to drive users to quit;
But Truth is measured in Billions in taxes, so we know supporters are “full of it.”
Meantime, Non-smokers reap many benefits, while Smokers foot the bill;
And if that should change, Non-smokers would taste a financially “bitter pill.”
Taxed and taxed and taxed some more, but not yet into submission,
Smokers could shift their tax burden to Non-smokers…without their permission.
Yes, what if one Fateful day, those Smoking Sinners, Each and Every one,
Just put them down and said, “I quit.”; said en masse, “We’re done!”
Congresses would be clamoring to derive Billions in Taxes elsewhere,
At first, Non-smokers may not realize the impact they’re about to bear.
When an industry dies, businesses and people’s jobs are lost…it’s true;
But all those Tax Dollars must come from somewhere...the likes of me and you.
So righteous, whining Non-smokers maintained their hue and cry.
Ever pushing Congresses to tax those Smoking Sinners… tax them ‘til they die;
But after quitting, Ex-Smokers would pay less, while Non-Smokers would pay more.
Guess Non-smokers didn’t think far enough ahead, didn’t really know the score.
All those dreary anti-smoking ads, many of which falsified the cause,
Would disappear. And what about all the useless anti-smoking laws?
Instead of Non-smokers not liking Smokers, Ex-Smokers would serve instead.
"The bastards are costing me money. I wish they had smoked 'til they were dead."
So, Ex-smokers would be getting healthier and spending far less;
And may be cause for some Non-smokers’ financial distress.
While they ruefully pay more, Ex-smokers' pocket books will attest
By reminding Non-smokers daily......the Last Laugh is Best.