Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/waters_weakness_694481' st_title='Water's Weakness'>
There is nothing weaker than water
But none is superior to it in overcoming the hard,
For which there is no substitute.
(Laotse, "Nothing Weaker Than Water", Lin Yutang, trans.)
That weakness of mind and body overcomes strength
And unitarian co-gentleness overcomes universalist rigidity,
No Yang does not know;
No yin can put into practice.
Therefore the Sage Says:
"Who receives unto self the MLK calumny of the world
Is the preserver of an equilibrious state.
Who bears the dissonant sins of the world's living systems
Is the resonantly full-conscious mentor within this NOW world moment."
Straight words seem crookedly dissonant, distorted, unparadigmed.
Evolution's Time seems revolutionary.
(Adapted from "Nothing Weaker Than Water")
Prophecy's weakness is lack of redemptive empowerment.
The strength of prophecy
for redemptive effectiveness
is its weakness
as culturally dissonant.
Too much dissonance is dismissed as insanity
Too little dissonance is not co-prophetic
and therefore not redemptive.
This cutting edge
tipping wu-wei point of rationality
is the weakness of optimally ebbing and flowing water
as ecological synergy
as Positive Yang balancing Negentropic Yin-Yin
Double SpaceTime Binding Teleology.
When Yin-Water absorbs Earth,
then She becomes stagnant entropy,
unable to continue flowing,
A Universalist Yin EcoCenter
evolves as stagnant pond
what were dynamic rivers,
seasonally surfing oceans--
a Holding Space wherein Time stands relativistically
like a vacuum of interior landscaped atmosphere;
more likely to produce a horrific monoculture
of mold and mosquitoes
and revolutionary change.
For this we want Time's river function,
swelling springs of Transmillennial comprehensive consciousness.
Western Business-As-Usual culture
understands love as "kindness."
Eastern permacultural comprehensive consciousness of Time
as panentheistic and teleological "love"
evokes mutual, co-redemptive, namaste--
A Buberian mutually mentored I-Thou bow.
mutual gratitude of synergetic energy,
requires a Bucky Fuller dynamic balance
between freedom to comprehend and embrace
our eco-center in each eternal moment,
as subconscious freedom from awareness of only Ego,
our more limited Left-brain's "small-self" center.
Kindness, and unkindness,
are gratefully, and rudely,
extended, not extended,
to ourselves as empathized "Other."
These are ego-ionic actions
to teach us how to be more mutually generous
in each of our primal relationships
with Love's ecological comprehension
of Time's Yangish and Yinnish rebalancing ways.
What is fair,
within contentious issues,
is found where our mutually held eco-center points,
always wu-wei midway between
the most Yang-power value extreme
and the most Yin laissez-faire "both-and" inclusively unitarian absorbancy.
Nature abhores a perfect vacuum of either Yang or Yin,
Left with Right languaged intelligence.
When we identify with a "downstream" yin position,
our underdog empathy extends to include
reaching toward increasingly marginalized and irrational
"Other" position of empathic identity.
Our eco-centric Right-brain starts from this position,
as a holonic reiteration of "Self's" encultured history,
then flows economic and ecological "generosity"
of loving values
"upstream" toward our mutually mentored,
planted and rooted and trimmed and pulled, and encoded lexicon,
decomposed and empathized,
intuited Yang position,
looking for that tipping point boundary of the unconscious
that is wide enough to capture all synergetically oriented practitioners
racing issues through our surfing moments and lives.
Justice trickles up and out,
as well as down and in,
washing back and forth through fields of unconscious cognitive dissonance,
to emerge toward a consensus of collectively generous,
but not overly generous,
inclusive coredeemer ecojustice.
An enculturation laundry,
but go easy on the yin-bleach.
If I lacked something of the "underdog,"
the "criminal" and "crazy"
within my holonic human nature,
then my nature would be neither holonic nor human.
Yang's "bad boy" universalist megalomania
and sociopathological ego-power
is a challenging competitive dimension
within our ego-centric,
of evolution's meaning;
while Yin's ubiquitous "Other"-love as "Self,"
generosity to the extreme of unitarian self-exiting wishfulness,
is our more primal RNA holonic-cellular intelligence
of generosity's ecological win-win scenario,
devoid of ego's self-distinguishing,
and often dissonant,
and too loud,
and Left-brain dominant,
voice and language.
Kindness and unkindness are transactions between unequals.
Generosity and stinginess of empathy,
and what eco-consciousness invites
as appropriately proportional response,
are transactions between mutual mentors
of gratitude, and lack thereof.
Differences between ego's intended kineness
and eco's well-practiced generosity
include a Taoist position that kindness and unkindness
are not found in nature,
as synergetic mutual gravity,
is the source of natural systems,
of bilateral life and time,
as opposed to the existence of...
nothing; entropic unconsciousness.
Kindness suggests I am extending something to another
that this person has not earned,
does not rightfully and justly deserve
within the normal flow of time's river.
Generosity is a mutually intended practice
of radical equinimity and empathy,
a grateful acceptance of our profound interdependence
of cause and effect,
stimulus and response.
Generosity is about absorbin and hopefully co-redeeming
our mutual assets and liabilities
to resolve an issue
whose outcome can be a mutual win
from a position of profoundly radical
mutual mentorship co-identity.
I show you mine
if you truly swim with me.
Long poem by
Laura Breidenthal | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/light_on_the_devils_chord___day_6_665418' st_title='Light On the Devil's Chord - Day 6'>
Upon this date he spoke no more of the preceding moments,
Tearing and hurling insult upon insult
In several directions, his tongue whipped and scorched me,
And he waited relentlessly to see the spark in my eyes fade…..
He was so livid by my silence, he began thrashing around the walls,
Grabbing a wayside demon and crushing him into the ground…
He destroyed Death’s bass, pulling off each string in monotone menace
Glaring at me, as he yanked each off,
The whine of its timbre flooding the eerie, murky pit……
“Nothing else, but you and I,
No more music, no more beat…
Your heart alone is enough to drive me mad…”
He spat into the crushed instrument,
And Death cowered, scampering away like a wounded rat
Picking up the pieces as he disappeared into the soot
“Just you and I,
I will not hear another cry except from your lips…
No cheer, except from your voice,
No fear, except from your soul…
No support from above….no love to bring us light…”
I circled him my tears glistening,
The light burning him, as he laughed bitterly
And I sang…
“Your attacks drill against your friends,
Your darkness sifts, in pending motion,
You can crush the pulse that you began,
Though you cannot end my faith and devotion.”
He stared, his nostrils flaring,
His claws protruding in and out
Suddenly he smiled, and he was calm again
The wailing of a freshly injured demon faintly sounding…
“Tell me Loving Lady,
Of what you recall of mortality…
What do you miss the most?
The rush of Death’s call,
The touch of slowly falling?
The thrill of free-will…kissing the darts…
The crushing of sadness in your feeble heart…
You have missed mortality I am sure,
You have missed the spirit of mutiny,
The infernal blaze of my brilliant core…
We need not but our voices to replay such times,
I remember your days as much as I do mine…
Remember you used to lust and lie?
Remember when you were afraid to die?
Those darkest nights, remember me grinning?
Remember the infatuation of sinning?
No, it was your art, and you left a trail,
So He might follow close behind might you fail…
He allowed you to suffer, to ache…to retch
You forgot Him, and embraced my ways…
Do you ever miss those wondrous days…
Surely, surely you must appraise…”
I picked up a lone string of Death’s mighty bass,
Feeling the metallic twine cool in my hand
The crushed demon moaned in agony beside me…
“Mortality was a rustic feat into the fray,
Many times blinded in the dark, to emerge into the day
I miss the way danger led to discovery,
In suffering greatly, I miss the relief of recovery
I miss the way it was so bittersweet,
When the wrinkles began to appear…
I miss the sound of that single drop of rain…
Falling into the rest, never missed, always blessed…
Recalling the times I have stumbled,
I miss what now I clearly see…
I recollect darker emotions and I miss how they built me,
How they led me to the ones that guarded me to the end
So I might live in a better place where pardon became my friend…
Death’s voice intrigued me, frightened me, redeemed me,
The falling of those around me led me to my calling,
And swiftly, failing became a past that set me free…
The test of free-will became a weight upon my shoulder,
The challenge became what shaped me as I grew older…
Sadness became easier, and less enjoyable,
When I focused my life to the skies and into open eyes
I remember the lusts, the lies, the sins—they never belonged to me
At the time, I didn’t see this—they were all I wanted to be….
I hunted to wallow in the madness and sadness of darkness…
I believed I did not deserve the wisdom of righteousness
In my mortal skin, I learned to look deep within…
And fight off the urges…the lusts….the timey wages of sin
It became my duty to no longer allow you in…
Though my love for your redemption grew brighter within…”
The Devil clawed the bass string in my hand
And it strung an empty sound that echoed dryly all around…
“Immortality has its torments too…
See how gently I return to you…”
He never could destroy the beat thumping from my chest…
He merely hummed along with it in begrudging dedication
Stubbornly, he sought for my pain
But the hurt had been released far above, where still he dared not look…
I lifted up a crippled demon and kissed his forehead
“I love you as well, demon, do not be afraid…”
The weary eyes stared into my own, than quickly glanced in fear toward our fuming Prince…
“You understand pain, fear, and torment more than any, I am sure
Would you like to sing too?”
The Devil in rage grabbed the demon by the throat before he could answer
“You foolish woman… he is MY pet…
Nothing else, but you and I…
He has no voice, no heart…no mind…
I give him no permission to,
And he accepts his place…
Unlike I …unlike you…”
I touched his clenched hand, and his grip loosened upon the demon
“All voices deserve to be heard,
Through compassion, let his existence ring…”
The Devil scoffed and threw him down with much force, perturbed
The demon dared not move
“WHY HAVE YOU COME HERE TO US…. To mock me…to turn them against me…?”
The hush of his question held more intensity than his shouting
He belongs in the dust,
At my command… he can never be like us…
You love him as much as pity will allow…
We are special, Silly Being, and his fleck of existence is but a toke
To gamble with for my amusement, nothing more…nothing more….
Stop this attempt to become the idol of the underdog
Don’t be such a predictable bore…”
The demon shriveled, but remained…
Like mortality’s fate, his body did shrink and fade…
But I heard his somnolent thoughts….
…I am but the refrain…
Immortality….. has….. its torments….. too…
Long poem by
T Wignesan | Details |
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.
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
Relationships are like farming,
if you don't plant the seed,
you'll have no crop to harvest.
Rumi (M. Mafi, trans.)
Gambling is like farming,
if you don't play the game,
you'll have no winnings.
Economics is like farming,
if you don't play the mutual cooperative game,
you'll have no competitive winnings.
Ecologic is like farming,
if we don't play the Polycultural Community game,
we'll have no long-term sustainable,
much less optimized systemic,
Stay aware and purposeful in your search,
for happiness is truly in the searching.
Stay awake and purposeful in our research,
ecological economies remain synergetic
within our ecotherapeutic searching.
Stay awake and mindful of polypathic meaning
in your Regenerative Permacultural Research Life,
for happiness, confluence, equity, beauty, grace, karma's
Prime Relationship Balanced Teleology
are truly within multisystemic UniversalEco searching.
How do we sleep while part of us feels gone?
Frogs and night birds,
bats and insects cry out for company
filling raucous warm luscious breeze
carrying chicken soup songs of love
not yet won,
love wanted and needed with primal longing
to belong back together
for our first really great time.
How do we sleep
while part of us longs gone?
Night flight resolves revolving chatter,
fractal spinning spiral-echoes
haunting iconic timeless teachings
from potential future Right-brain memory
predicative facts of fantasy,
confluent, confident islands of prophetic sanity
boundary inspiring polycultures,
of self-optimizing intertribal communication.
How do we sleep
in this racket of absent SuperEgo
missing reverse-evil hope of flight tonight?
God as the Doomed and Dooming Ground of All Being,
under Whom we hide from shamed non-redeeming character,
We thought we were economically neutral
on this moving Goddess Train of Earth,
oblivious to Her climatic millennial warnings
to ease up on the fire power,
take a break,
let's cool down,
enjoy some slower peace and more mindfully inclusive justice.
Remaining neutral in our farming cooperative relationships,
admittedly a slower moving race,
and yet it helps to confluently comprehend our spin
with Common balancing thermodynamic balance,
and how fast is too fast, too Yangish,
and how slow is too slow, too Yinnish,
and when we might slow down to rebalance Yang with Yin,
and how much we might slow down
emerges permaculturally predicated
as [+Yang = (-)(-)Yin]
= Universal-Optimal Natural Systemic Revolution
= space/time binary Closed MetaSystem reverse-hierarchical balance,
to sustain our permacultured rich teleological neutrality
on Gaia's regenerative train.
How do we wake
when part of Us is out of whack?
How do we awaken
our search for polycultural economic justice standards
for researching well-being sustenance,
self-optimizing regeneration with Eco Mindfulness Intent?
Planting regenerative seeds,
to grow redemptive pay-it-forward gift economies,
winnowing metasystemic research
to optimize repurposing meaningful purpose,
EarthTribe's ecological self-redemption future day
covering love, peace, happiness, contentment, justice, information confluence roots
with threats, opportunities, strengths, weaknesses systemically balancing compost,
learning faith and hope through suffering dissonance and dismay
as redemption comprehension,
Permaculturalist Economic Tao:
sleep and wake and absorb others, as you would have them be you NOW
to re-emerge our EcoTribe's informating therapeutic,
Natural systems are to spiritual systemic comprehension,
as Physical is to Metaphysical Universe (B. Fuller's definition),
as Yang is to Yin,
as Polynomial Information is to Double-Bound Negative Polynomial Information Balancing Trends.
Polypathic and multisystemic relationships are like therapeutic organic farming,
if you don't plant diverse fractal-holonic DNA/RNA-encrypted seeds,
you'll not have an Optimized PolyCultural crop to harvest.
Ain't nobody here 'ceptin us Chickens
and somehow we all land in this soupy mess together.
Let's keep on lickin' each other's wounds.
Try a little less hen-peckin'.
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
Father solar systemic Time
and Mother Earth's Space
regenerated RNA fractal spacetime,
echoing through our dipolar DNA fueled
Right hemispheric memory
of Information's Harmonic String Theory.
Equitable peace within radically inclusive consciousness,
Earth love with Solar System synergy,
compassion mating right-hemispheric mindfulness,
transpecies and transmillennially expressing
what Grandfather Fuller regeneratively implied.
Transcendent consciousness and communication networks
crowdsourcing ecological values
dreamed with optimal longing tears
by pre-millennial grandelders.
Each bi-generation reincarnating nature's root bicameral system
of positive teleological hope for this taproot
now emerging into bicultural East-West consciousness,
a preconscious QBit trend,
promising polynomial branches
with cooperative productive leaves balancing consuming string-stems,
and richly pollinated organic flowers
of glorious gratefully incarnated diversity,
our Tree of Life in Fuller bloom,
now comprehensively conscious,
self-aware of our EarthTime progenitors,
grateful for history's herstoric nutritional roots,
paradise shared with birds and worms,
sun and water and air,
breathing and beating
our flowing steady stream of dreamy swimming "Yes!"
At last, at last,
we share our Beloved Community InformNational Dream,
full moon beams rapturing Gaia's radiant dark camouflaging skin,
political economic ecological natural philosophical religion
credentialed with Taoist Permacultural Systemic Consciousness.
Predative production winner function
struggling against victimized consumer prey-loser dissonance,
remerge with Win-Win interdependent cooperative relationship,
as cooperatively predative preying parasites'
thrival of the polycultural fittest.
Fully diastatic consciousness loves a closed 8-frequency prime octave
to emerge one Positive/Negative thermodynamic
and mutually gravitational bilateral
binomial fractal form,
of inside is to outside
as what goes up
come down as coincidental double-bound spacetime,
where any +polynomial binary information
must also be not-not binomially
and Left-Right hemispheric
dipolar balanced octave harmonics
of Closed Set Universal Information String Theory.
Each bilateral conscious moment within Earth's natural space
is equivalently birthed by EcoFather's Prime Unitarian
seasons of analogical function:
Tao = Time
as +Yang = (-,-)Yin
as Polynomial QBit Information = Not-Not Polynomial Functional Consciousness,
as +1 = (+/-)0 digital binary negative dipolar correlation,
open universally systemic zero-sum cooperatively Win-Win balancing.
This emerges from camouflaged intuitive consciousness
of wu-wei as TrimTab tipping,
toward 4-dimensional spacetime harmonic octaves,
Zero Vertexial Yang OVER Zero Vortexial Yin-Yin's
bilaterally emergent alpha and omega of present full consciousness.
Long poem by
Raymond Ngomane | Details |
Once upon a struggle
Songs used to express and define a feeling before reactions struggled to impress a rumbling stomach
Songs used to harmonize our black lips giving away the strength of empty tummies
Lips were diguised in masks of zam-buk aiders
I live next to embarrasment built in power craving bricks
A house that give birth to Load shedded leaders
I choose chocolate skins dressing smart reactions
Choking on words drafted on school chalkboards like Mbeki's state of mind resurection speech
Every second in my creation,
a hand pulls a trigger to rob souls whats ment for dinner
Get it or dont get me just look at the corner of my thoughts
This is poetry
This is my written confidence conducting a choir of confessions
My mouth craves to shoot military opinions
I choke words to impress my existance attached to all conscious writings
In the midst of wrong times at the expense of our leader's useless time celebrating ignorance
The state of Julius Caesar seized at a nation's heated selfmade selfish awards
Our votes planted rain and forgot muds and mop sticks
Buttocks play suprise jaw gestures as extras with less umbrellas
The Architects of futureless champion times in the back seat of our helpless knowledge
Fear less of your fears
Its poetry in Politics
Poetry pollute ignorance and rejects any dictatorship shipping from goverment pimps
Toilet queues are too strict to jump conclusions
and waisted opinions
I am pressed and oppressed
I graduated in depression carrying a school bag of my reasons
My black skin will bury my thoughts at your own funerals
I am a walking poem
My education speaks against your numeral straggles
My political virgin actions exercise mini immortal respect
My mind state is highly pressed
Lets 6-9 on our parliament doors in atittude
Poetry screams the need for them state of minds
The hunters of truth in rhymes
Verbal exchange battles to change opinions at the expense of my people's change
Verbal violance changed the meaning of an educated homeless stomach
You spoke and littered gallons of spoken words
Tladi, Kgafela, Lesego re feng masego
The pain of giving birth to poverty was never painful for these learders
Leaders Who lead to feed us handwork leaders
Handshaking the success of a visible thief
Bleeders change your scissors
Your poetic blades cannot play polygamy in parliament
These Perpetrators penetrate our hearts from a distance measurement
Adament to show off easyness of playing a nation as a primary school assembly
Bulls determent to press elevations of oppression to the last floor
The evolution of my opinions is high in poetry
The revolution will never be compromised
Please restore faith in my written oppressions with no humor
The state of my opinion circles around Jakobo's puma
We need Kwame Nkruma
6-9 = Street slang meaning Urinating
Tladi, Kgafela, Lesego re feng masego = A plea for help from Poets Lefifi Tladi, Kgafela oa Magogodi and Lesego Rampolokeng
Vuma = Agree?
(c) Raymond Ngomane
Long poem by
Christine Phillips | Details |
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
Long poem by
Victoria Anderson-Throop | Details |
STEALING FROM A GODDESS
Beside the sea
Under the tree
Behind the dunes
For his arms.
by colors without confines of name
By the mirrored waves—
Bronzed by Dawn’s immortal dazzling eye--
My Beloved’s smile
Goddess bruise-kissed brilliant
Still shy-- but painted guilty
In unfamiliar splendor--
Ignited by a bronze lit blaze.
I do not turn to face him—
but look-- water down--devour
His beloved smile
Insistently appealed forgiveness--
Dimples-- flashing his secrets, seek me
from the rippling water--
Breaking through the brilliance
Encasing me in
warm muscled arms which escape
the mad reflection.
Faintly in my ear flickers
Delicate-- but Jealous-- moans--
The Morning Goddess,
She, Pulled once again
into timeless sandy dunes--
Aurora’s seaside prison hideaway
Beside the sea
Under the tree
Behind the dunes
(In throes of wildest passion
there lingers the delicious thought—
Stealing from a goddess
Is a rare-- but heady-- morsel.)
Aug 12 2013©
Long poem by
LATARSHA GRANDBERRY | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/a_womans_worth_522236' st_title='A Woman's Worth'>
A Woman’s Worth
When she walks in the room
she wants people to stop and stare
not because they’re whispering…
what she got on girl, what’s up with that hair?
But because she looks good, conservative and chic
looking her best from head to feet
she knows the spiked heels and look at me blouse
will make all the men become aroused
she knows that look would make conditions tense
but how she’s dressed builds confidence
she doesn’t do loud make-up, green hair or tight skirts,
if you don’t know, how will anyone else know your worth?
Not trying to be Nicki Manage,
never putting on a fascad
being original, still blending in
all because she’s good in her own skin
She looks pretty
and carries herself well,
clothes should hide
what only time should tell
When a man calls us out of our name
boy, do we get offended
Aretha told us the Rule of R-e-s-p-e-c-t
It’s usually us that bend it
Wearing anything to work,
any and everything to church
talking that ghetto talk
walking that ghetto walk
telling your friends, girl, he don’t respect me
your friends telling you that you save nothing to see
Asking him out first
Not knowing your worth
You didn’t give him a chance
giving all of yourself on a one night stand
sitting there wondering why he didn’t call
now you’re starting to feel about 2 feet tall
think back, yall never took the time to ask for number and name
now you’re feeling so ashamed
It wasn’t your smile or your smarts that got you here
that drink, you didn’t think
Oh, is that a tear?
Men respect us based on how we think of ourselves
they measure us on what our body tells
what is your body telling?
that you have something you’re selling?
there’s so much you can tell with your body
you don’t have to be revealing to be a hottie
besides, I have daughters and they’re watching me
I try to always give them something beautiful to see
what are we teaching our little girls?
that our bodies will further in this world?
the answer to that question is no
the BIBLE says train a child in the way they should go
what we need to understand as women we deserve respect
but sometimes what we give is what we usually get
when most men see a woman in low -cut shirts, short skirts and high heels
to him you’re worth about as much as a happy meal
if I’m a meal, I’m Crème Brouleé , Beluga Caviar, Laute Truffle Chocolate, with 1945 Chauteau Vintage wine,
That’s who I am all the time
Be who you are,
can’t be me, I’m taken
If you think you can live as someone else
you’re sadly mistaken
I’m a woman every week,
365 days a year
I don’t clock out
I wanna make that clear
Ok, sometimes I can joke and be crazy,
but I never forget that I’m a lady
so girls, get it right,
you can stay on your grind
FOR A REAL WOMAN IS A WOMAN FOR REAL AT ALL TIMES
Long poem by
nick armbrister jimmy boom semtex | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/junipers_daughter_picks_a_man_635530' st_title='juniper's daughter picks a man'>
Juniper’s Daughter Picks a Man
On a cold rainy early winter night Juniper’s Daughter landed her flying disc on the car park of Aldi and went for a beer. She was dressed in casual attire so as not to stand out, she wanted a man and did it the old skool way. Juniper’s Daughter sauntered in the bar held the door open with one hand and let all of the men in the venue get a good look at her, in turn she took in each of them.
Most were crap but one caught her eye. She slowly looked his way and made eye contact and entered the pub, walking over to him. Two dozen sets of male eyes and several female tracked her as she went to the bar and stood next to the man. The witch shook her hair and ruffled it with her hand.
Turning she glanced at the man and announced in her Danish accent, “Hi there, you gonna buy me a drink then?”
The man looked at the young woman beside him noticing that she was toned up under her loose fitting casual clothes and replied, “Yea why not. What are you having?”
“Why young man I’ll have you! I mean I’ll have a beer!” Laughed the witch slightly blushing, this got the man exited and guaranteed his interest in her.
His gaze never left Juniper’s Daughter she looked into space at the spirit bottles upside down behind the bar. The man ordered the drinks in a flustered voice, losing his cool a little? She smiled gently at him and asked his name, he replied, “Jason.”
“I’m Anna but people call me The Witch due to my blond hair and looks coz I’m from Denmark. I don’t mind that actually.”
“Really? I’ve never been to Denmark but I like their beer they make, really good. Have you drunk it?”
“Oh yes my love, I’ve had it many times. Thanks for the beer.”
The couple were quiet for a minute drinking their drinks and thinking about the other, he liked the blond lady. She wasn’t like local gals and did she really want him or slip up?
She liked the young man from first glance and soon she would make love to him in her flying disc after their drinks. Moving closer to the man, Jason, Anna gently held his hand and slowly moved her face towards his and kissed him once on he lips.
He didn’t back away or resist, he met her kiss and parted the witch’s tongue with his kissing her deeply, she closed her eyes and ignored the envious looks from other people at the bar and tables in the pub. A few people whispered and pointed, this doesn’t normally happen and who was this foreign gutsy stranger?
After a long timeless kiss the witch let her hand brush Jason’s jeans feeling his bulge, they kissed again and finished their drinks. She whispered that she wanted him and held out her hand, he took it and followed her. Together they left the pub and walked over to the car park where he thought her car was parked.