Best Assimilate Poems
i sit lonely.
the crowded restaurant is thick with sound
i pick away at it
moving back into the stagnant silence
of my own comfort
the air is nasty here
it telepathically abuses my thought patterns
still
a far cry better
the loud hum of food
marching to the vacant crowd
suffocates me
a decorated plate joins my table
strikes a conversation with the cutlery
there is no call from the governor
as i attack my food
fork knife teeth
bites later
a paper plane flies in
a swipe of my plastic
makes quick work of the bill
i exit
seemingly quicker
than human eyes can catch
i hate this part
i parley my way through
too many bodies
all the while staring
at a concrete maze
never making eye contact
with a single soul
i do that
i always do that
keep the entrances of my being
away from those who would stare me down
attempt to engage me in conversation
with a desire to lock eyes
if they looked in they would burn
i’d be held responsible
FINALLY
home
the only environment i feel safe in
my therapist will be proud
almost an hour today
assuming i see her again
i am covered in my own dew
my breathing sporadic
i line up an array of pills like good soldiers
as i continue my attempt
survive another day
it will take hours to regain my sanity
all the while questioning the purpose
why must i assimilate
back into the dungeons
they call society
it behooves me
find one reason
join the rank and file
plug back into a horrendous grid
i had escaped
i
grow
weary
of
my
own
thoughts
ignore my voice
slowly regain my footing
plant roots
hope they’ll take hold
attempt to return
into the vacuum of my existence
i sit lonely.
I was cursed with ink
intoxicating blank canvases
with toxic scribbles,
releasing twisted tales
of suppressed troubles.
I was a forsaken ebony rose
in satan's grasp,
kneeling on ungodly needs
in a gothic fortress
of woeful odes,
surrounded by black knights
and colorless blossoms,
searching for legitimate sestinas
and versatile villanelles
to ignite my quill to bleed
without semantic barriers.
Swaying like a pendulant,
on the edge between
light and darkness,
resembling midnight's
black ice queen,
I thirsted for a
universal prophecy.
A poet who would engrave
perennial verses upon my
discoloured healing heart.
To paint antique stones,
during sunless days
in a moonless kingdom.
A calligraphic catharsis,
adorning the sincere crown
of an imperial ivory king,
whose angelic voice
glitters like gems,
soothing insensitive beating drums
within my pondering pensive mind.
A majestic master of his quill,
reviving poetic intimacy,
fusing his musings
deep inside untouched chambers
with an unscratched itch,
of my undanced fandango.
F a t e has a way for
versifiers to assimilate.
From the first drop
of his couplet,
he had my tongue
rhyming to the rhythm
of his unspoken lyrics.
Now, I am a slave to
what I have become.
Handcuffed and blindfolded
by preserved petals
between perfumed pages
written from the tip of his
magical wand like fingers.
I am weaving crystal quartz
words in witching hours,
whilst he pours dulcet musings
incensed in white sage
over my rustic bronze silhouette,
as I am his willing mistress:
a submissive subservient pawn
to his silent slavery.
Throned in intricately carved
prose and poetry,
where monochrome strokes
of thin lines no longer perish.
There’s no need for a sorcerer
when his sentimental sonnets
are an addictive elixir.
I am deliriously comatose
and chained in piercingly
euphoric sagas of his saccharine soul.
Even Lilith seized the moment
to behold what belonged to her
In the name of infatuated love.
So this is me, stealing
scented seeds
sown along parallel paradigms
of his rightful Parnassian paradise,
d r o w n i n g in
metaphorical monograms,
leaving memoirs of a poetess~
seething glitters and gold
reborn from the depths of
a savior that saved
me from burnt chapters
of darkest oblivion.
Come, dear Krishna!
Fall in love with my love for you.
When my honey- filled glance dips your unsurpassed beauty, fall in love with my eyes.
Fall in love with my imperishable ardour for you.
When my feet dance to the tunes of your flute, fall in love with the music of my anklets.
You are the colossal cosmos and I'm an infinitesimal splinter
You are the sweetness in a mellowed fruit and I'm the wrinkle on a withered flower.
You are the dream of every soul and I'm a forsaken lonely petal
But, oh darling! when you assimilate me into you, we become one.
Melt in the music of my longing for you
Fill the flute of my desolate heart with your benign breath
Kindle my lame soul with the shimmer of your smile
Let's sing, let's swing and let's dissolve in this darkness tonight.
He grabbed me up from where I lay, peaceful in the sun,
with my brothers and my sisters round about me.
I felt four digits seeming to be one of a whole,
which clasped around my form.
A fifth one, slightly broader, pressed onto me from my other side.
And then with a jolt, I found myself next lifted high into air,
the dry hot bed beneath me but a whisper of my past.
Accustomed, at the most, to being trodden upon,
I barely had the time to assimilate this rare experience
(I seemed to remember a sweeter touch long ago from a smaller being who had picked me up, examined me and then placed me back on the ground).
Suddenly, I was moving, this time unsupported, through the air.
I spied in a single spinning moment
a world I’d not envisioned from the spot on earth
I'd shared with pebble siblings. In that place, we were surrounded
by greenery that blocked our view
and by giant old gray boulders, my ancestors perhaps.
Reposing heavily as if attached to land,
one such silent sentry supported him,
the creature who had flung me far from my home.
I found myself then bump, bump, bumping along,
making little rings across a shiny stretch of blue.
And when I lost momentum,
I disappeared beneath the final circle I’d created.
It felt much like the times I had been buried in cold whiteness,
but this instead was liquid cool!
I dropped down and down,
onto a different kind of ground, unusually soft and sticky,
the way earth used to feel for me after a sudden downpour.
Settled there, I noticed brown and silver shapes that flitted past above me,
much smaller than many of the creatures of the land above me, but swifter.
Also there were tall green blades that swayed in place.
They resembled those that stood on solid ground.
Best of all, I saw around me others of my kind;
a multitude of us, small, beautiful and round,
with whom to share my soft new cozy bed!
June 25, 2017
Submitted Aug. 8, 2021 for the Stone Poetry contest of Anthony Biaanco
Children as young as three years old,
Killed for not doing as they’re told,
Forced to forget their culture bold,
What a tragedy to unfold!
Two hundred fifteen, that ain’t less,
Young innocents abused, suppressed,
How can humans be so heartless?
It breaks my heart, I must confess,
Wonder, how they would have pleaded?
Their cries for mercy unheeded
Residential schools, not needed,
Were soon closed, but lives conceded,
In the name of education,
A way of ‘assimilation’,
Native kids faced termination,
What a gruesome excavation!
07.01.2021
{On 28 May, 2021, the bodies of 215 children were discovered in a burial site at the grounds of the Kamloops Indian Residential School using new, ground-penetrating technology. The deaths are believed to be undocumented. The school, which was closed in the late 1970s, is located in Tk’emlúps te Secwépemc First Nation. First Nations refer to a section of indigenous inhabitants of Canada, along with Inuits and Métis people.
Between 1831 and 1996, Canada’s residential school system forcibly separated more than 1.5 lakh First Nations children from their families in order to assimilate them into the Euro-Canadian and Christian ways of living. They were forbidden to acknowledge their indigenous heritage and culture or to speak their own languages.
According to an information resource set up by the University of British Columbia, children were subjected to physical, sexual, emotional, and psychological abuse.
In 2008, then Prime Minister Stephen Harper publicly issued an apology, on behalf of the Government of Canada, to all indigenous people acknowledging the country’s role in the residential school system.}
For Edward Ibeh's "This or That, Vol 4" contest
camouflaged body of singular bird,
on late Winter oak’s
white, gray and brown bark,
would assimilate feathers,
except for a blooming red head
that rises from the hollow’s depth
3/11/2022
Bite Size Poem no.39
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
A Potluck of People can be hard to Digest or assimilate
Different customs Different taste
Only One dish can truly Satisfy the human race
A Serving of Joy placed on the table by Love on Christmas Day
That’s so gay.
You say,
As I’m brushing off the slang you defend.
My cheeks burn red trying to comprehend,
But I wont.
I wont grasp this trend.
I wont hear the monster.
I wont permit your condemn.
I wont drink the water.
Thirst. I crave acceptance.
I need the peace.
Allow transcendence,
Compel the hurt to cease.
That’s so gay
Unaware of the violence you assimilate.
Unaware of the arrogance you demonstrate.
Unaware of the intolerance you pontificate.
Unaware of the ignorance you perpetuate.
They’re just words.
You say with a clenched fist
They’re just words.
Whispered to the blade at her wrist.
That’s so gay.
7/16/15
Form:
A selfish man protects his family
like a guard,he contemplates the welfare
of his beloved family members,endures pain happily
THEY ARE A HAPPY FAMILY
A self obsessed labor focuses
on his work,pays no heed to others
accomplish task,within a given time, to grab bonus
HIS WORK IS FLAWLESS
A selfish teacher persuades his students
to assimilate the tough chapters,and make them
fathom the subject, to gain self esteem and improvement
STUDENTS BECOME KNOWLEDGABLE
A selfish politician indoctrinates his followers
by his bewitching words to procure their full support
and intentionally resolve their problem to retain his power
THE COUNTRY FLOURISHES
The selfish soldiers possess patriotism,sustain
in the inconsistent weathers,tolerate rain and heat
to fortify their nation,never allow the opponents to win
PEOPLE ARE PROTECTED
We are all inherently selfish,no doubt in that
Showing concern for our family,friends,pets,nation,
But,in fact we need to become the selfish human beings
to take care of the beautiful planet we live, to halt
the wars between the countries,rationing the food
with our fellow beings and to share resources
After all,we all belong to one planet.We are already the selfish men,politicians,soldiers and why don't we become selfish human beings?
This is my hundredth poem.
I honestly never thought,I would reach 100. I am so glad to be here.It is all because of the poetry soup members.So many talented poets are here and I am learning a lot from you. More than anything else,it's your encouragement that made me write.Thank you so much for your encouragement and support...
Waking to sight of day
The ironic disorientation
bedroom ceiling moviescreen
fades out this dreams last scene
left looking dumbfounded at tiles
Sunrays shine splintered through bent blinds
casting illuminous entities into otherwise
darker turf
Blanket tangles limbs and ambition tight
traversing body and shielding one eye
guarding it from the illuminites
I draw higher to seek shelter for both
Life's rumble manifests in murmurs
builds gradual, head clears
Horns, tires, voices-reality appears
The window sings soundtrack for urban noise
the horn annoys-the voices noise-the bird song annoys
noise annoys noise and pisses me off!!!
Mind flips modes from hazy wander lust
To more acute senses... tune and adjust
The morning is a step ahead
we will assimilate soon-just before noon
Rise ...casting off covers takes convincing
face the day begrudging and wincing
See...this Evening's eve was very good to me
I reveled in debauchery-I tore the town down, you see?
I went to the school of bar-red knocks--and rocked
bellied up brasher shot for shot
As the sour mash showed effects
I drunk dialed my entire roladex
Jameson ,my Irish ego, whispered dares to me
I performed them to shocked stares, you See?!
We gloated stumbling in revelry
This is the price for the tab last night....
The noise pounds into my mind
Street noise, chirp annoys, pound in my head noise
noise annoys noise
I close my eyes to remind me,
then time has no meaning at all
whence overwhelmed in nature’s call.
To sense again the wind so free,
hear the groans of majestic bough
gaze the fiery sun on the brow.
Roam the track of ‘Wild flower lea’
Scale upon yon rocky fortress
that towers in splendid sheerness.
Spy wild Rose attuned to the Bee,
in harmony assimilate
in dewy shadows, oscillate.
Gladly would I my youth to see,
from here thousands of miles away
relive my dream of dawn each day.
I close my eyes to remind me
to sense again the wind so free,
roam the track of ‘Wild flower lea.’
Spy wild Rose attuned to the Bee
gladly would I my youth to see!
© Harry J Horsman 2012
Caren
Creative, Empathetic, Respectful, Helpful
Wife of Joe, mother of Angela, Tracy, and Susie,
Mother-in-law of Josh and Andy,
Grandma of Emily, Cali, Molly, Tony, Jack, Josie, Lucy, Daisy, Max and Johnny.
Lover of children, dogs, and family.
Who feels joy, excitement, and amused.
Who needs people, work, and love.
Who gives happiness, soft words, and tender touches.
Who fears violence, anger, and rage.
Who would like to see the world assimilate as one.
Resident of Kansas
Krutsinger
Atomic Canary
Angels seed
The death bell tolls to the masses
Putin ill be your dog
Netanyaho ill be your dog
I love this land
This is where I want yo die
Sing a song
Soul from the Earth
All of us tresspass
Some other country wants your ass
Not direct assimilate
You out on a street leaving your home
Lay down your arms
Leave torture to horror shows and horror shoes
A Cruel subjugation to remain
No name Generals
Agressive canaries
I saw angels renegation
Turn your water on
War be a boring
So make some tea
Innocence of a god prayer word
The innocence of a crime
Defeat me arches back back back
Disposing substance OG
Evil tourists
Fake rich
All in the way
We take your one life away
So much truth in homeless
Cherished mansion
A surreal prosperity
A tattered shack
In front of my fireplace
I read a book
Its not Captain Hook
It's time to see what is
One life and what we give and what we take
Who decides
Our fate
*
The American Heritage Medical Dictionary
defines "Psychopath" in the following category;
"A person with an antisocial personality disorder,
especially one manifested in perverted, criminal or amoral behavior."
*
The following is in response to the above anonymously
from one who displays key symptoms of Psychopathy.
*
Misunderstood
I'm not prone to violence,
but I have no conscience.
I'm aware of happiness, saddness and every emotion,
but I lack the ability to feel any of them.
Every smile and tear I display I always fake.
I study the behaviour of others and assimilate,
but not so much as a conscious deception.
I'm just desperatly attempting to fit in.
My world is one of me surrounded by alians
whose lives are apparently dictated by their emotions.
I cannot make a connection with any of them
and so I live most of my life in isolation.
I have lost my share of so called loved ones
but I never for a moment grieved for any of them.
One cannot grieve when one does not know emotion.
I have an accurate awareness of what is right and wrong
Like so many I strive to be good. I want to belong,
but I'll never know what it feels like to love, cry or laugh,
and I too have been diagnosed a psychopath.
*
Native Speaks Truths
She's not your princess or your squaw;
She is respected clan mother of the Chippewa.
He's not your chief, buck, or redskin:
He is a proud warrior of the Algonquin.
We're not your fashion trend or mascot;
We are the original peoples, have you forgot?
Racism comes to us in many ways;
Often disguised with passive aggressive praise.
You demand that we forgive and forget;
And with your good book you preach and beset.
You say to stop living in the past;
But continue to treat us as social outcasts.
You claim that you've learned from what your ancestors did;
Yet you repeat it world wide and the truths forbid.
You judge my frustration and anger with ease;
But continue selfish ways and to do as you please.
You celebrate men who massacred my tribe;
Your holidays confirm your need to inscribe.
You cry that you are the current day victim;
That reversed racism is your affliction.
You moan that we don't understand what it's like;
But your greed has caused the mistrust and dislike.
All the while you refuse to admit;
That what you ignore is what you permit.
Are you so different than those that turned away;
While my people were the cavalry's prey?
How much have you really changed;
When history repeats and so much is still the same?
Perhaps you only wish to silence my voice;
Because guilt today can be a weapon of choice.
Does white privilege still exist today;
Do you still want us to assimilate and obey?
If I am bitter it is with good cause;
It is because you continue with hypocrisy and faux pas.
Should one day you learn that all lives truly matter;
I will consider forgiving the lives you have shattered.
When you can learn to love the brown, black, yellow, and red;
I will then forget the broken promises and the massacres you've led.
Until that day do not patronize me with lies;
I will only believe what I see with my own eyes.
When colonization is no longer forced upon;
We can then let bygones be bygones.
By: Darlene Doll Smith