third eye pulsates
seeking our applause
we put such appraisals
immediately on pause
delusion of grandeur
taunts of ego
the time is now
to completely let go
The Society Calls Me Black!
I looked into the mirror, but all that was painted was black,
"Blackey," they call me, but my brain isn't dark.
These potentials led to pits in the dark,
Welcome, the society calls me black!
I could have danced to the rhythm of their appraisals,
But my "Kolomentalism" left me in columns.
Like Matrix, I left my rows to get my arch,
The society calls me black!
My color made me the "?rú" in my territory.
With my possessions, I'm called an ape with so much savor.
Why must I obey?
The society calls me black!
With my sound base in the pharynx, why do I remain voiceless?
My talks went blank, so I was soundless.
Yet my intuitions are invaluable, but the locks that seized my voice are mysteries.
The society calls me black!
My uniqueness is now barbaric,
Living in a life that snares.
My "ila," the beauty, is now a mockery.
Because society still calls me black.
©Butterfly
He’s ace performer, cream of cream,
But wait, do we have to tell him?
At best, give him some bread,
Butter may get to head,
Soon, we may have to kill his dream.
_____________________________
Told a boss to HR head with a bunch of appraisals.
Limerick |18.07.2024|humour
Through the woods, I'd take an ease walk,
No turmoil is present there to stalk.
The calm rhythmic sway of trees to the breeze,
That flows gentle and serene,
Relieves me of heart quakes.
I have been behind the enemy's line,
I have been assailed by their ceaseless missiles,
Much of what I call mine,
Are only a fraction of due appraisals.
A walk through the woods,
Journey with nature besides,
Strengthens dwindling hope.
March 18, 2022
A Combination of Forms Poetry Contest,
Emile Pinet
Tell me
I'm not a man.
Up against this
charred forest,
compelled along
its path.
Handed these levers,
these weights, these
high-stakes appraisals.
Delivered this beaten,
broken mired work,
these floundering hopes.
Living with my chiseled
consequences
and
fast turn-around
confrontations.
Captured in someone's climate
of conquest.
Clad in this breathless
armor of control,
a frenzy of packaged
identity
like someone's remedies
for whom I am.
Tell me
I'm not a man
along this tree-lined
midnight.
Lift this metal suit
that I may find my
way back.
Midnight Appraisals
The overhead street lamp was our only illumination,
As night shielded our concealed touchings within the moment,
Yet we saw light in the eyes of the stars as they watched us,
Peering at lips pressing past eyelids in the shrouded darkness,
There was music inside the shadings, along with hot breathings,
Made for the late embracing hours of our youthful yearnings,
With astonished meanderings and midnight appraisals of young lickings,
We first saw the highlands of our explorations in the mindless kissings,
We first realized the apex of our desires in the brazen lovemakings,
With the closing of our minds and hearts, surrendering to the moment.
wearing my brand new top
I am dressed up as myself
ready for gazing
appraisals
going out this Friday night
hey
hands up
hug me gently
feeling my breathing chest
make promise
what I do not teach you
you shall not learn before
We’re known by Our Fruit
Written: by Tom Wright
4/30/2016
We never know the heart of another,
But pray it’s the best that it can be.
Be it stranger, friend, or even brother,
We make appraisals from what we see.
God discerns our hearts and our fruit,
Even the shadow that we might cast;
With God, our behavior we can’t dispute,
Let’s live each day as if it were our last.