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O P S
R - M A D - N
from its fetters
no power without the people
does power arise from any other source
than through the intent to control confine confiscate con conk conjure
computerize contort compel complicate concoct compress concuss conflict
confute condemn corrupt collar convict collectivize confound
concenter communalize collogue collude collonize commandeer
compartmentalize castrate calumniate crucify combinate cutdown curtail
curryfavour curb cully cuff cuckold crush crunch cross-question curveball
conform confuse criticize croak criminate crash cramp cram crackdown
countermine counterfeit counterattack corrode convert contrive
contaminate constrain consecrate
power is a venomous snake
that sheds its skin
but not its venom
free power from its sting
free power from belief
from don’t-not-look-at-me aloofness
from megalomanic mindlessness
from i’m-right-Jack exclusiveness
from self-opining holiness
from airy-fairy grandiloquence
from haughty vengefulness
from scary authoritarianism
from the love of command
from sexually dominating abusiveness
from un-empathic tightfistedness
from back-scratching dastardliness
from building castles in the air-ness
from masonic clubbiness
from musty brotherhood-ness
from stealing and selling-ness
from never-enough greediness
from carion-loving usury
from thoughtless puttingdown-ness
from self-aggrandizing acquisitiveness
from the love of pomposity
from the seclusive-ness of honours
from fawning and flattery
from foggy non-visibility
from armoured parades
© T. Wignesan, Fresnes-Paris, May 14-17, 1997. From the collection : « Poems Omega Plus : a less than obvious sequence », Paris, 2005.
Molested the first fifteen years of my life. My mother remained silent the whole time. As the molesting continued all those years. Forced to live a pretend life all my childhood. Beaten and punished every other day. For no reason other than being a child. After all this I figured I was a unwanted child. My mother couldn't love me abusing me. She brought me fancy expensive clothes every year. To cover up all her verbal, mental, and physical abuse. She tried to hide me from people, family and friends. So that they wouldn't see the embarrassing scars and bruises. Sometimes so bad I couldn't even go to school the next day. Or I would get into fights or act rude to get a suspension notice. That would have allowed my body to heal. One time I even tried to get ex-spelled. However, it didn't work. I only came home to more beatings. Her boyfriend watched and help hold me down on the floor as she would beat, and beat, and beat. Maybe this gave him a idea that it was ok to abuse me. Being that my mother was already doing it. Yeah! From the outside looking in my childhood was perfect. Every child wanted my seat. Name-brand clothes, shoes, computers, and almost every toy in the Jc Penny catalog. From the inside looking out I was screaming to get out. Scared, alone, abused, and still a child. So there was nothing I could do. I had no brothers or sisters at the time. All my family wouldn't believe me.No! Not him they would say, and did say at age fifteen I started getting older, and more developed. I had to put a stop to this. So after talking to some school friends. I decided to talk to my mother about what was going on. So later on that night I called my mother in to talk to her. I had told her what had been going on. while she was a work, and out late shopping. She in return asked me to draw a picture of his *****. As if she didn't believe me on the spot. What! I thought to myself. How could she ask me a thing like that? After one hour she finally called the police. I was brung in also for video questioning. I told them what had been going on in the house while my mother was away. The police in return asked me "what took so long for me to tell" I replied" I was scared, alone, and threatened. I had no one in the house to protect me. From my mothers abusive ways. I thought people would tease me." The next question was to my mother. The police asked "How could you live in the same house, and not know that your child was being raped?" My mother sat quietly and had no answer. So she got charged with neglect. My mother's boyfriend got charged with child molestation, and a few other things. I can't remember them all. After all that I was still scared, but finally free. Free to be a kid again.
Awh, hell the relationship between my mother and I went down the drain. After trial she hated me even more. Every day she was threatening to kick me out of the house. I was only sixteen so she couldn't just kick me out. Yet! She even got so angry at times. She went as far as not letting me communicate with my newborn brother. She even told people to keep him away from me. That hurt me so bad everyday. I prayed to God everyday to soften my mother's heart, but it never happened. When I turned eighteen she finally kicked me out the house for real. With no place to go, no money , and no food to eat. I ended up living with family and friends until she let me back in. I don't know why, but I thought things had changed. About a week after moving she called the police and told them that I was prostituting. Which was a lie. Thank God I didn't spend time in jail. Due to her lies and deceit. I never thought I would have to leave my own mother alone. However, after that incident that was my final decision. Sporadically I call her to hear her voice, and check on my brother. Unfortunately she never answers the phone. Her guilt for abusing me won't let her answer the phone.
I moved to Albany, NY for a fresh start. A new beginning! There I met more friends, moved into a brand new apartment, and fell in love. I wasn't expecting to fall in love, but I did. With a adorable, hot, and sexy Italian guy. For the first time my life was great, and I was happy. I even tried some plus size modeling, nursing, and I started self-publishing my writings. I was accomplishing things that my mother never encouraged me to do.
After about four years I started feeling homesick . So I came back to Virginia. Wow! What destruction was happening. My whole family fell apart. Nothing or nobody were the same. They all became police property. That was a sign to continue to stay away from them. Continue my happy life. Continue self-publishing my stories. Praying to God everyday. that I remain successful. This is a true story. Unfortunately it happened to me. From a mother who brung me in this world. Only to use and abuse me my whole entire childhood. Then pretend that nothings even going on.
1) Since you have such a crazy drive to post every thought which goes through your mind, you consider posting your grocery lists.
2) You come up with another lame senryu just to post something new(and create a cheap entry for yet another contest).
3) Even though you post everything which comes to mind, post 3+ poems per day, every day, you believe all of your posts to be exemplary pieces.
4) (in relation to #3) You believe all of the "This is a masterpiece!" comments left on your poems, to be completely sincere.
5) You have the tendency to ignore that you are nearing 60 years of age. You put up avatars of yourself, circa 1971, and flirt with nearly every Souper below the supposed age of 30.
6) Instead of having a romantic evening with your significant other, you end up surfing the Soup blogs and drooling over member avatars.
7) After being single for 15 years, a completely compatible person asks you on a date. You decline the offer, end up surfing the Soup blogs and drooling over member avatars.
8) The admin makes an announcement concerning site maintenance, how the site might be down for 24 hrs -- upon reading the announcement, your stomach drops-out, you are filled with a phantasmagoric sense of doom which escalates into a bout of nihilism so strong, you consider methadone treatment to prepare yourself for the upcoming site-shutdown.
9) You begin methadone treatment in preparation for the two hours you will be away from the Soup(and awake)attending your best friend's funeral.
10) Your sleep-time has drastically altered to less than 4 hours of sleep per night. This is for various reasons, one of these being that every week you feel the need to leave a minimum of 1000 comments on poems, so whenever you post something new, the 'return' comments on said post, help push it up the 'Top 100 Recent Poems' list. You consider this to be an accomplishment akin to winning the Nobel Prize in Literature. You are awesome.
11) Instead of watching your favourite soap opera on the booby, you follow the soaps happening between Soupers in the blogs.
12) Every time you get a splinter, you have a strong urge to put up a blog about it to gain support and sympathy during your ordeal.
13) You put up blogs telling members that you are going to be 'gone' for 2 days, and apologize for not "being there for everyone" while away from the site.
14) After not seeing daylight for months on end, you put up a blog about seeing the most amazing thing .... you finally went outside and saw this blazing orb in the .... in the .... in the whatchamacallit, sky?
15) You forget to say "Merry Christmas!" to your family at home, but 'say' it in the Christmas blog that you put up on the Soup.
16) You forget your significant other's Birthday, but remember the Birthday of your favourite 'platonic' Souper.
17) Whenever you see or hear the word "Soup", your palms become itchy and you can barely contain yourself from using a computer/phone to login to poetrysoup.com.
18) You believe that if a poem rhymes, it is automatically a decently written poem.
19) In desperation, your family members and friends create accounts on the Soup, believing this to be the only way left to interact with you. In return, you have your account deleted and open a new one under an assumed pen-name.
20) You make the rounds each new day leaving "Good Morning!" comments on your friend's poems.
21) You go on vacation to an exotic beach location. The weather is gorgeous. The water is wonderfully warm. The sand is splendid. You don't swim in the wonderfully warm water. You don't take in the sights of the beach. You barely even notice the beach. Instead, you log onto the Soup via your laptop/phone.
22) Your children are hungry. You barely even know who your children are anymore. You don't care. *click* *clickety-click*
23) Your significant other finally offers to "do THAT thing"(yes, THAT one!)you've always fantasized him/her doing with you, but until now, he/she has always refused to fulfill for you. Now .... you don't care. *click* *clickety-click*
To know your history is to know your literature a lesson to learn, which will
Stand the test of time and what one founds of their in heritage no matter how enduring and grim it may seem it something you should embrace-
I came from a small city with big roots and routinely I was ask “where are you from”, especially from girls, if it wasn’t that it he thinks he cutie? And I’m asking why I would say something like that. Or He thinks him smart, God!!! I’m just answer the teacher question? But when I got older, older woman told me they probably think that ascent was sexy and I’m thinking where in high school what do they know about sexy? Man is her computer seat warm? America woman I just don’t understand them? I wonder what they do if they heard me speak a few difference language at same time? Thank god I’m quite because it not like they can read my mind. But it got me thinking from and questioning
What I found was the name Borgo had many difference Ethnicity & meaning with it as well as nationalities and that Borgo is Small Island between France and Italy. And if history may not mention it was a Borgia who captured Napoleon? How do I know where did it take place?
No wonder I like Caribbean woman and it is this one that get my heart beat beating up to 400 beats per seconds if that is possible I can’t say it is a forbidden love but what I will say is breaking the ice and melt when think out loud? And yes she knows my name but why ask not why but why are some lyrics so deep my dear? Remember some old friends asking don’t you make beats? As I have some bread and tea.
And that Bourbon is a drink, a Pecan Pie and a Street I’m thinking man if I have girlfriend
What date it would be-
Then I dig deeper and found the prime sources that seem to let to these events the Borgia or borja married into royalty which happen to be Louisa Borgia who married Philp De Bourbon or Philip V of Spain. He was rejected as King Louis legitimate son because born out of wedlock but later accepted but Philp never forgave and where he could have been both king of France and Spain he was just the king of Spain. Question I ask do any one know today the real reason why France has no nationality? Hurtfully to write or hear but i heritage mean full name as should other take to one, I have heard rumors that true bloodlines of nations of Kings that don’t rightfully take the throne it is a reason for that but not my place to say the way history is written is just to say to remember men wrote history but literature holds another tell? Who can tell the differences, but one question for god I always ask
Why so much war my lord, I truly feel like a man without a country and
Just walking away-
I myself never came from money I start literally from nothing but as I got older I was given legitimate connection legitimate ideas and principals and the understanding of wealth but so trying of spending night and days with no day off of a seven day week wonder if I can make those principals work for me as sick as I am there are reason undefined why I do this things and money is not the endorsement my life is more complication then eye may receive to capture but if you listen you learn more than just hand written if you get the drift-
I was never told of my in heritage put as one will it something like a scare or tattoo I had to found to adjust to my nick name is “Jason” but my full name is Louis Antonio Borgo III as I’m about to fall to sleep and lost all aim of conscience I see a email with my full name spell out in Ancestry.com question how did they know I was search for them and if I ever be accepted from this other half as I am a man literally without a country and in love with French woman more than American the phone rings and a woman from Canada called speaking French I drop the phone and finally I fall to sleep and As I sleep dreaming could anyone imagine wanting to go home but where? Remembering the ringing noise of girls ask
” where are you from”...
CEO of the Schizophrenia Society of Canada:
If you ever got out of the Selkirk Mental Health Centre,
what would you do?
Li: I hope to leave one day, but I have to make sure it wouldn’t
happen again. That there would be no voices.
I would change my name to be anonymous
There is a darkness that we can not see for it lies behind the eyes,
as stark as bone under a harvest moon, masquerading an appetite.
We sit side by side with darkness, oblivious to its plans, its hunger,
and on a July night in o eight, a monster took a long bus ride
across the Trans-Canada Highway. It walked up a tight aisle, then
it sat beside Tim McLean, a young man on his way home, a carnie
with many friends. His mother was waiting for him, eager to see
his eyes, that bright smile. Vince Weiguang Li had bought a ticket
for Thunder Bay. He was once a computer software engineer in
Beijing, well rewarded, but immigration punished. As an Edmonton
resident the educated man delivered newspapers, served french-fries.
There is an article in the paper he delivered, a story about the legend
of the Wendigo ... and I wonder if the journalist is haunted, I wonder
if that writer wakes at night in terror, thinking of Li turning pages,
reading of evil, its want of flesh, the taste of blood. Li sat beside Tim,
not one word was spoken, the witnesses reported. Li is big, strong, and
young Tim was listening to his ipod, texting that he’d soon be home.
He did not see the butcher knife that Vince concealed. The rampage
was unexpected. Li stabbed the youth over and over; the Greyhound bus
stopped, people ran for the door as arterial spray splattered the old vinyl.
Li came undone and beheaded his victim; the legend was reborn for
he consumed Tim’s eyes, swallowed the good soul he saw there, and then
he opened that bloody chest, gnawed a heart full of exuberance. He hacked
off a nose and fingers, placed them into bags to savor later, he became the
Wendigo ,no, no, he’ll forevermore be Nian. Eventually, the police tazered
him. Not Criminally responsible, was the final verdict, due to mental illness,
hospitalization, not prison, and a mother’s tears savage an unjust stillness.
Li was granted supervised day passes and walks the streets of Selkirk.
Four years, only four years, for devouring a life without provocation,
and a family struggles to pass Tim’s Law in a system that has gone mad...
There is a darkness that we can not see for it lies behind the eyes,
as stark as bone under a harvest moon, masquerading an appetite.
*Wendigo is an aboriginal evil spirit that is said to possess humans and turn them into cannibals... there have been communities in northern Alberta which have reported that people believed they were "turning wendigo."
* The Nian is a Chinese mythological demon that hunts people and a part of the Chinese New Year tradition.
*Tim's Law would ensure that people with mental illness who kill are kept institutionalized for life, without exception.
**The quote on top was taken from an interview with Li this year.
This is a true story. The Greyhound murder/cannabilism took place in July 2008.
May 2012 he was granted daypasses. The clock is ticking... it is only a matter of time before he is fully released... unless Tim's Law is passed.
May reason prevail.
FOR ARTICLES ABOUT THIS STORY
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Narrator: I take you now inside the mind of a ten year old miniature Eskimo dog who
lives happily inside a Rambler house with a fenced back yard that serves as his special
area to periodically run freely when his “favorite person”(Love) puts him out, always
shouting “go pee!” to him. Strangely, Ollyver does not really seem to understand that
command. Perhaps to him it means “go play” since often he is later caught inside the
house in compromising positions, causing his owner to rush him again to the door to
the back yard!
Furthermore, new computer technology has enabled Ollyver’s owner (his “Love”)
to come up with a crude translation for Ollyver’s stream of thoughts. She knows his behavior the best, but still she must guess at a few things inside his brain due to his limited range of vocabulary and his typical doggy unconcern with that ! So now she has just let Ollyver out the back porch to go pee. . .
Ollyver: I go out! I go out! Run run run . . . Run here. . . Run there. . . Strange man
by fence. . . I can’t get to strange man. What you doing by my yard? Leave here leave here leave here. . . yip yip yip yip yip yip yip. . . . .
Owner’s voice from the porch: Go pee, Ollyver!!!
Ollyver: always “go pee” she say. . . Look look at me. . . I go pee . . . run here . . .
run there. . . (Ollyver continues running back and forth yelping at the stranger who
has since gotten past the fence as he walks along the canal road) I go pee I go pee. . .
Narrator: Ollyver runs back to the house, never having actually gone pee. He runs to
sit by his owner, whom he perceives as his favorite human. She is eating a bowl of ice
cream on the bed.
Ollyver: I go in. . . see yum-yum milk. . . I want I want I want
Narrator: Ollyver goes toward the bowl and gets pushed away, so he stares with big
anxious eyes going back and forth to Love and the bowl of yum-yum.
Ollyver: I want I want I want. . . Give me give me give me. . . Ohhhhh. . . Yum-yum
getting smaller and smaller. . . Ohhhhhhhhh
Narrator: Ollyver’s Love pats his head and lets him lick what remains at the bottom of the bowl. After he finishes, he snuggles by Love and beings to lick her hand and arm.
Ollyver: kiss kiss kiss kiss. . . Love Love Love
Narrator: Suddenly the door bell rings, and he dashes off the bed to the front door
with his Love following behind him, yelling: “No Ollyver!” He peers through the window and sees a stranger.
Ollyver: yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip go away strange lady go away strange lady
go away strange lady yip yip yip yip yip yip yip. . ..
Narrator: The door bell rings again and Ollyver runs to his favorite corner of the family
room, where he begins to do the very thing his owner had wanted him to do previously
when she let him out into the back yard. Her voice yells shrilly “No, Ollyver” and she
shoves him to the back door saying: “OUT here, Ollyver. Go pee out HERE.” Ollyver
then runs across the yard going back and forth, back and forth.
Ollyver: see see see, Love. . . I go pee I go pee
**For the contest of Just That Archaic Poet:This is my personification of Ollyver, the pet that gave me the greatest unconditional love of any pet I ever owned. Because we could never train him (I even hired a trainer to help us) and because of other complications, I had to give him up when he was around ten years old. I missed him so much. and even my cat, Razzmatazz cannot replace him for pure affection. I gave him to a place that promised a no-kill policy and to this day, I am hoping he had a great life until the end!
Here comes the hurricane
The storm is worst then a earthquake
Ima gas planet like Jupiter & saturn
Sufficication no life just toxic gas
Blow u to pieces
It's so interesting
Reachin for me is like reachin the stars in the solor system
U'll never get to me son
Think twice before u wanna try me
The size of Tyson
Gorilla in the mountin
I dominate this with out fear
I'm better then most u hear
Hate the truth
I don't give a ****
I'm not the type to smile about *****
I'm smart I osverb the poetry,biology,philosophy,history & literature
I mind **** so many people
It's like a video game I'm playing with my brain
I go off like I'm on speed
I'm so crazy in the brain
I can't stay normal
I puff good green
To keep my head good
Most of ya wack
Ya fake take the make up off
I'll spray u with the hose proudly
Ima problem child
No one can touch me
U couldn't be me if u took Notes & did research
Ya talk too much like ya was the broadcasters on the news
I'm far from the sun
But I have a heated temper
The flame I leave on the mic it can't be out out
Call the fire department
It ain't gonna do any good
The savage poet on the loose
Taking mc's out
Eating em out like oral sex
As long it don't stink ima eat u out the frame
Ya like on the breakfast menu
Put u in the cementary
U forgot I'm the grave digger
I dig graves for fun
Most of ya dig ya own graves
Talking about money cars & hoes
Its having a Knat in ya ear while u sleep
Ya niggas stupid most of ya belong in special ed
The graves I dug
I show no remorse
I'll continue I'm iller then a bad cold
Cough it up u like swallowed hair
Inhale the good *****
Never the doo doo type
U style is lame u sad go to the circus
Marry the beard lady
U envy me like the rest
I can scoop a lesbian turn that ***** inside out
Niggas hate on me I know they don't like me
Ya niggas are ugly it's like u got scraped with a fork
Watch the king at his best
I can take many sittin on the throne that's how ill I am
Take em out no competition
Booyaka it's gettin real
It's scary the nightmare on elm street
Coming for u in ur dreams
**** Freddy Krueger
I'm the true grim reaper when it come to takin souls
Take u out Ur misery
U a kid in a growns mans world
Ur breath smells like ass & fish
Take the mic from ya ur skills is dry
Buy a toothbrush mouthwash and a pack of gum
I'll put u in the graveyard
Dig ur grave
Dress u up with ur hands crossed with ur eyes open
Ain't it terrifying
Sign my name on ur casket
Put u in the dirt put u 6ft under
Ur gone ur forgotten
Goodnight sleep in piss *****
Wack niggas wanna be down with the j
But my circle is small
Sometimes I don't roll with em
Ya Niggas closet fags
Stay on my dick keeping my name in ya mouth why
What ya in love
**** off i ain't into that
Going off like I was in Vietnam fighting Vietcong
Beating my chest like King Kong before he fought the t-Rex
I'll kill ya lawyers
U soft u wouldn't hurt a fly
U talk a good game
U a motor mouth
****ing with me
Ima cobra ima spit venom right at u
Watch u shake screamin louder then a chick
Goons always got em on dial
Latin kings don't get it ****ed up
I'm nasty as a mold growing in a corner in a bathroom(eww)
Worse then a bushy pussy with a fowl smell(gasp)
What's gets worst then that
I can think of many
My mind is like a computer
The power is on
I'm full of energy
I said enough I feel I'm done
Adios I'm ghost I killed it enough
Don’t know when it started….freshman year?
I look in the mirror
UGLY UGLY UGLY UGLY UGLY UGLY UGLY
Remembering the food….calories….sugar….fat
Passing my lips….
Leading down my throat
Into my stomach….onto my hips….my face…my stomach…my arms…my legs
Next day, no food….hardly any water….
Stomach is growling….I don’t care.
Killing myself….I don’t care. All I want is to be…
Two weeks later….friends are suspicious. I had a big lunch/breakfast/dinner. I’m not hungry.
My stomach protests…I don’t care.
I’m caught…I give up. I’m weak.
Food passes my lips…
Leading down my throat
Into my stomach…I protest. Too weak to care. I eat.
Sophmore year. I look in the mirror.
An extra set of boobs on my sides
Bulging under my clothes….tags getting larger along with my waistline.
I am fat. I am ugly. Like twins they go together…fat and ugly. Ugly and fat.
I refuse to eat…I pretend I am full. Move food around, no one will notice?
Stomach growls but I fight back…killing my body but I don’t care…I want to be skinny.
I want to be pretty.
If I am skinny, I am pretty. Like twins they go together…pretty and skinny, skinny and pretty.
I am neither. I am not pretty. I am not skinny.
I am FAT. I am UGLY.
I step on the scale. I have lost five pounds. Success.
I reward myself by not eating for another week. Three pounds are back…I hate myself.
I look in the mirror. I am still fat. I am still ugly.
My friends see the dark circles. They know I’m not eating. Some say something…I ignore them.
I’m scared. I’m lost…but I don’t care. I am still UGLY. Fat and UGLY.
I’m running…trying to lose weight faster…I want to be skinny.
Dark edges around my eyes. I don’t care.
Head is spinning. I don’t care.
Breathing is labored. I don’t care.
I WANT TO BE SKINNY.
My friend finally confronts me. If I don’t stop…she will tell someone. I care. I do.
Food passes my lips. I hate myself.
Weight is still dropping…I find myself eating again.
Yet…always lingers. I look in the mirror…I see…
Junior year. Eating again. Sometimes skipping meals...trying not to go back.
Constantly an option in my ear when I step on the scale…
Look in the mirror….
And don’t like what I see.
I fight it. I want to be strong.
I force myself to eat…it comes back.
I begin to skip meals…watch the scale drop.
Along with my self esteem….again….
Friends are fighting with me, I miss them…I am constantly on the verge of tears…
The only thing I can control anymore is the food…I can stop it from passing my lips.
I may not be sleeping but at least I’m not gaining weight.
I look in the mirror. I want to see me. Instead all I see is what I need to lose…what I’ve always seen.
What she used to say to me….
A few more pounds…maybe then I won’t be…fat.
I open my mouth…it all pours out. I open my computer…the words arrange themselves.
Tears at the truth. I am sick….but I am not
I am not
I refuse to hate myself. I refuse to hurt myself.
I WANT TO BE PRETTY.
But that is not the way to be.
No more. No more pain…no more starving. I will be strong. I am not weak.
I look in the mirror. I stare past my reflection and I fight the demons…
I am not fat. I am not ugly.
I will change. For my friends who love me.
For my family.
Crawl out of your peeping hole
and face me like a man
You have been hiding for years
and paying people to do your sordid scam
For years you have taunted me
without showing any mercy
invading my privacy
monitoring my computer
tracing my movements
and intimidating me with coward gangster
You have sabotaged my employment
Shows up at my job interviews
instructed my employer to banish me
just to see the other side of me
Touch not God’s anointed
Or your sorrows shall be multiplied
You have punished everyone who contacted me
and fabricates false stories and treacherous lies
You have broadcasted it on the news
And have caused many people to become confused
It’s time to stop your filthy scam
and close that chapter before you are dammed
If you do not stop hurting me
there will be another worldwide disgrace
staring in your beguiling face
You have punished the innocent ones
who have decided not to do wrong
I have kept out of your way
but you crawl back the other way
I am ready for a real fight
I will beat you without guns or knives
I have cried seven days on my ancestor’s grave
And seven powerful sprits will come after you
in seven different ways
they will strip you of your abusive power
daub you in your own mud
and drench you with flood
I have also prayed a strong prayer
hoping for your forgiveness
but he promised that you will bear
your own shame disgrace and drunken laughter
I have wept day and night stayed up late
yet you kept following me looking for a fight
creating false stories for your meaningless glory
Take a look at your shaking hands
you are no match for my iron man
If you are so strong and heinous
Why don’t you come out of your peeping hole
confront me and fight me like a real man
Come with your bullet less guns
your entourage and wimpy bodyguards
Real warriors go to war
they do not stage events or create false alarm
If you are so big and mighty
why are so many people in your house dying of poverty
Look around you and you will see
you spend all the money running after me
And your people are hungry homeless and dirty
your house is about to tumble
Your buildings are old and shabby
And I can barely drive on your cracked road
Look I just damage my windshield
from a pebble on your broken roads
Your children cannot read or write
Your classrooms are old and crummy
Yet every day you are running after my innocent soul
the people you have running after me
are actually working for me?
They are slaves in my land
while the bad boys are reaping gold in your land
You set up fake mad men at the junction
and little children to guard the centers
You send fake alcoholic teachers in classrooms
to suppress innocent students brain
Yet with all of that you still cannot get to the top
I have travelled thousands of miles to be at peace
but you track me down and
sold me to heartless murderers
Look my ferocious bull is about to get you
he is my bodyguard and fearless warrior
if you don't leave me alone
He will rip your sordid gut apart
before the fiery battle starts
©2013 Christine Phillips