He's not perfect
But he's so blameless
For whatever he does
He does with caution
Always responsible
For his actions
He's the type that stands by his words.
He's so fearless
But very humble
He never fumble
Neither did he belittled any
Nor did he take
Whatever is not his
He's so upright
For he's always standing right.
He's very dangerous
But so generous
Whatever you get from him
Depends on what you give
He's the aura for aura type
He always makes you smell your s.
All this chaos you created, like a contagion you conveyed.
You cherish cunning and deceit, as you claimed.
Like a disease you spread your misfortunes and unsureness of the world that you lived in.
As a child I wished you were gone, as you beat me and belittled me until I bled.
This in your mind earned you your street cred, as you punished the people around you until you fled.
From the burdens and blunders that you dread, but dare declare an empty reply with that.'' Your sorry''.
All this worry and woe, tiptoeing around you- oh, how I must have misjudged you when you muttered,'' your sorry.''
Oh the worries cultivated a collection of complications, that piled up, needing a lorry to carry them around.
No, I won't shed a single tear from fear or pity, as I wish you were gone.
But it's okay for you to utter your hollow, 'Your sorry.''
When I raise my thoughts from the dead,
All become coloring beauties to my bedspread.
No one exist without a quirk:
Raising bloody craziness that irk,
Moulding new happy home-- an artwork;
Not only Innocent people do jerk.
To win; some envy, some criticize
And not only politicians politicize,
But I don't Know of what is it to actualize--
Reasons people stand to antagonize.
Conversation with myself is a boost;
To be belittled to such a roost--
It must have not been of spruced,
Yet doesn't need to be deduced!
The best bird's improvised nest:
Is in God's centered mind contents digest.
(Isthmus)
we used to lock them up
people who thought they had gone to heaven
or glimpsed hell
we labelled them
belittled them
made fun of them
the good old days
now we have books written by them
they rise to the best seller list
these authors are revered and honored
they go on book tours
how times have changed
how we have changed
some of us were not ready
still are not
i love my skin. God has blessed me. from the beginning of time, my skin has been seen as a weapon. my skin has been seen as a curse. my skin has been seen without even looking. the world was quick to judge and belittled my people to nothing. no voting rights. no human rights. men go work! women go produce! both tie my shoe! move wrong, get whipped. breathe wrong, ladies have to dip. bend down, bend over. bore children from a master who holds not just the whip but the pen to free and deliver. deliver to freedom or try to escape. harriet tubman tried but not many relate. some got stuck, some got free. some are in the ocean, from where the middle passage had to be. my skin i love. my skin i am unashamed of. we matter. we are loved. happy black history, those below and above.
me
Ever
Blamed,
Belittled
You're nothing
The reason for our woes
Something wrong with you
Failure of the family
Needs help
Pathetic
me
All
Voices
Long silent
Still deafen
Crushing
Small
me
Yet
In the pain
Hides a choice
Different
A path, to listen
A voice
Yes
ME.
Tears trickle down my face
As blame of something I did not provoke,
Comes screaming my way.
I told them I said no.
I told them I screamed.
I told them I begged.
But all that came my way was
A merciless laughter,
Telling me it was all in vain.
My clothes were blamed
And so was my body.
What am I supposed to do,
When both are belittled
Despite the form they take?
I asked them what my fault was,
I asked them why they defended them.
When I was the one begging them not to blame me.
For all I remember is walking down a moonlit street,
My overcoat tied to my upper body,
Knee-high boots concealing my lower body
And eyes ignoring the lustful gazes
That made fear turn my mind into incoherent dazes.
Suddenly the moon turned red.
My overcoat was thrown away
And boots screamed on the pavement,
As they mercilessly dragged me away.
My screams were muffled
And my eyes were teary-
Both with tears and pain-
Before my body succumbed
And they had their way.
Whittled skittled Bazball skint
Belittled lost the glint of Clint
Have a dig make my day big hint
Whatever they say never skinflint
In every stint we will always sprint
Hope dope blueprint trope's mint
The jibber jabber about the Gabba
White knights or ghoulish frights
Stagefright day night under lights
Highlights or more foolish flights
In the ascendancy have that tendency
Heresy or do they deserve clemency
Jealously let them preserve their legacy
Lose again barricaded in the Embassy
Stokes blokes smokes with their high jinx
Ben’s mens sneaky kinks find the chinks
Bazball minx in sync with cheeky winks
Glasses clinks as fans sinks their drinks
Nearly boys ploys bring us back from the brink
What do you think ..will our envoys annoy shrink
Another pity ditty in a sweltering city.. sh**ty stink
Or blink ignore the noise....spurred on by the slurs
Purrs like the Psychedelic Furs..joys of Pretty in Pink?
when will it stop:
people getting blamed-
for what they did not cause-
all, because the narrative told them so.
when will it stop:
getting told to feel ashamed-
for events my forefathers did not cause-
all, because the narrative told them so.
when will it stop:
delusions hiding behind the invisible truth
And ignorance parading as fact-
all, because the narrative told them so.
when will it stop:
people blindly following a cause-
all, because the narrative told them so
when will it stop:
people being belittled
because their opinion is the opposite
to the opinion of the day-
all, because the narrative told them so.
when will it stop:
something from
the past is cancel or censored because
Because it doesn't conform to today's ideals-
all, because the narrative told them so.
when will it stop:
the double standards,
one rule for one and another for everyone else.
all, because the narrative told them so.
when will it stop:
people being told to conform,
just blindly follow the narrative.
all, because the narrative told them so.
the divide is widening,
and it needs to stop.
NOW!!!
I stood in the garden, looking at the tree,
I laughed at its shapes, so alien to me,
Belittled the branches, some blooming, some burned,
Though my ignorance, so blinding, soon turned.
I sit near the tree, admiring its might,
The subtle features, the dark and the light,
Its cycle, eternal, of wither and bloom,
Brings about hope, for my coming doom.
I’ll lay on the roots, under the tree,
In light or in shade, you’ll have to see,
Though I’ll be gone, my fruit may grow,
Legacy its name, as you may know.
In the reckoning of moments between thoughts
Born in the space of actions
Reactions to the stimulation
Expressions, expectations...
Ruined things, broken lie, belittled
A cry sold in old homes
Scattered around after a war's wrath.
Hear the rage far and away drone
I walk in the ruins of soul alone
I feel forgotten on foreign soil.
The drifting of imagery
Pressing the fragments...
Shards hard into skin
Forsaken forbearing in fringes
A soul not tethered to this realm or reality...
Walking the footfall of a secondary soul
Wreckage of my divinity...
If you are disobedient, I will disinherit you.
This was said in a mean way with a snotty face.
the young woman felt sorry for her mother.
her mother's attempts to control her belittled her.
I love you Mom, she told her, but not your ways.
She resolved to never raise her children like her mother.
She raised them far away, and they had no contact with the woman.
No idea that their mother had a mother.
Suicidal
Ohh little one
The world knew not for you let no one,
Not to find out, but kept your woes.
Your thoughts became your biggest foes.
You belittled yourself if not fitted.
Where is your voice hidden?
That all at once you just quitted,
The life so good one would be smitten.
You woke the alarms of death,
And broke the hearts of your dear ones.
Who would have gone depths,
For life without you I loathe.
Sassy soothsayer’s sorcery vexed the man
He belittled it as only envy and jealousy can
The rest of the village recognized his usual hit tune
He is the kind of devil who hounds at a harvest moon
Sassy soothsayer’s sorcery vexed the man
He belittled it as only envy and jealousy can
The rest of the village recognized his usual hit tune
He is the kind of devil who hounds at a harvest moon
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