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Best Bigotry Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Bigotry poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of bigotry poems written by PoetrySoup members

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The Best Bigotry Poems

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People of Mystery

Should doomsday prophesies prove true
     and our planet’s life cycles renew
          mysteries of “people” will be more than a few

Provocative questions may await future life forms
     blessed with intellects surpassing our norm --
          creatures who live without doing harm

If they decipher man’s history
      what will they think of our great mystery --
          the one we refer to as bigotry

Black labs, gold retrievers sleep side by side
     wild stallions and mustangs on prairies ride
          both red ants and black, free to colonize

More-evolved species might not comprehend
     how women workers were paid less than men
           and why “free speech” was not just a given

Questions would most certainly arise
     how any believer in God denies
          the right to free worship without compromise

Indeed such mysteries in man’s history
      would leave a perplexing legacy
          sure to confound any new specie

New beings may thrive on diversity
     of religion and genealogy
          and speak of our inferiority

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2018

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Mankind's Greatest Mystery (inspired by Chris Higgins)

If 2012 prophesies prove true
And Earth’s life cycles again renew
Mysteries of man will be more than a few

Challenges may await future life forms
With intellects far surpassing our norm
Created to live without doing harm

For if they decipher man’s history
What will they make of our great mystery
The one we refer to as bigotry

Black labs, gold retrievers live side by side
Wild stallions and mustangs on prairies ride
Both red ants and black, free to colonize

Man’s refusal to accept differences
To wiser beings may make no sense
What in man’s makeup can give it credence?

Earth’s subsequent creatures may reproduce
Not needing two sexes to call a truce
So mating rituals may be pursued

A single-sex species might not comprehend
Why women workers were paid less than men
And why “free speech” was not just a given

Questions would most certainly arise
How a believer in God denies
Rights to free worship without compromise

And how could so many wars be waged
Evoking God’s name in death-march crusades
With killing, torturing in every age

Indeed such mysteries in man’s history
Would leave a perplexing legacy
Sure to confound any new species

New cultures may thrive on diversity
Of religion and genealogy
And speak of our inferiority

Note:  This is dedicated to Christopher Higgins whose poems about prejudice inspire readers 
to do more than just think about one of the greatest ills in our society.

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009

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You tell me that my love is not real
You tell me that my love needs to be more concrete
More box that I should fit into
More small manageable pieces
That are easier to swallow
But I can't just do that
When explaining my sexual orientation
It is so easy to say not straight
Not straight is easy to understand
Not straight is just the opposite of straight
But not straight 
Does not feel right
Because sexuality is so much more
Than male and female
Gay and straight
It may be hard to understand 
But some people don't fit into those labels
Some people reject labels
Labels are meant to be on boxes and not people anyway
I am not a box
I am not some pretty little package
That you can just name and make it so
I am a kaleidoscope
A brightly colored mosaic
Changing with each twist and turn
I am a beautiful cascade of emotion
Rushing over the cliff of hate
To wash away all the bigotry
I am a fire
Raging with a passion to share with the world
I am pansexual
I love all people
No that does not make me a ****
No that does not mean I will date anyone
What it does mean is that I will give you a chance
I will see how we can coexist
I will show you the love that we all deserve
Not as male or female
Or gay and straight
But as human beings

Copyright © Brittany Larson | Year Posted 2015

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A Divided Nation

Confined in one boundary, living together showing different reactions in changing weather. Stabbing each other, hoping to reach same destiny creating a stumbling block as the way, what an Irony. Loving outsiders in possession of a different gene to the point patriotism withers and becomes lean. It is time for one side to enjoy the rain then the other sits and curses in envious pain. Hatred and marginalization then becomes the trendy skill compressing the mind, even to the point to kill. Nepotism and bigotry are fertilized to cause so much evil interaction between distant compatriots liable to be far from civil. One nation, one people, if this family can together not see then for humanity sake, let everyone simply be. Separation entices, building up the end enemies of each other, yet can attempt a mend. Seeing through the binoculars of what lies tomorrow love, patience and unity, there’s a need to borrow. Diversity is a blessing, like departments of a college one can function as the nutrient, the others as the roughage.

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2016

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Way back when I was ten

A canopy of innocence, invisible to me
hung over playful joy shielding all that would come to be.
The world was mud and grass and trees, oh, puddles,swings and bikes
shrieking, shouting, rampant running anywhere we liked.
A watchful eye as we ran by from neighbours way back when
our life we weaved in make-believe, way back when I was ten.

Fights and tears did not last long if anyone fell out
back to being friends next day, the rift forgot about.
We romped and larked, new friendships sparked wherever we would hang
our open door to rich and poor within our merry gang.
No hatred spite or bigotry existed  in us then
for that was what the grown-ups did, way back when I was ten.

I'd often wander by myself for hours through the fields
and check the schoolhouse orchard, help myself to what it yields.
Blindly unafraid, there were no barriers to me
'till twilight fell, exploring everything that I could see.
No warnings from our elders about talking to strange men
the world seemed a much safer place way back when I was ten.

Just like my photo album, everything seemed black and white,
a mother's touch could heal the world, make everything alright.
Dad put food on table, Mum made sure our stomach's full
safe in our family unit we all felt invincible.
Sometimes I look around and think how nice to go again
back to that summer bubble where I lived when I was ten.

For contest 'Way back when I was ten', sponsor Kelly Deschler

Copyright © Viv Wigley | Year Posted 2016

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Joan of Arc, For God and Country

Joan of Arc – For God and Country
On the feast of the Three Kings was born, a baby girl, in 1412, under the sign of Capricorn. Destined to accomplish great deeds and achieve fame, Joan d’Arc was her auspicious name. A religious and political scapegoat, her short life to God and country she did devote. Fervently spurred by heavenly voices, Joan’s fate was guided by singular choices. She avidly believed in her mystical visions, and was obsessed to fulfill her divine mission.
Each night she prayed, “Oh God, save France,” until at last she was granted the perfect chance. Leaving her family and the village of Domremy, she pursued her destiny to defeat France’s enemy. The “Maid of Orleans” with religious fervor and zeal took a vow of chastity and her fate was solidly seal. During the Hundred Years’ War, she took up sword and banner; mounted on a white horse, arrayed in a white suit of armor. Leading the French army to a momentous victory, her rousing battle cry was, “For God and country.”
Abandoned by King Charles the VII and betrayed in the end, she was burnt at the stake by French collaborators and English men. Accusing her of witchcraft, heresy, and for dressing like a man, at age 19, her life was all over according to their devious plan. But even though her light was snuffed out by hatred and bigotry, her exemplary courage and strength helped to unify her country. Joan of Arc, a simple peasant girl, became a woman warrior, and to the world a symbol of conviction, fortitude, and true valor. Canonized a saint by Pope Benedict XV 500 years later, Joan was named Patron Saint of France, rape victims, prisoners, and martyrs.
08-28-2015 Contest: Joan of Arc Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst Placement: 2nd

Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2015

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America, Why Did You Stray?

America, why did you stray from the old way.
A constitution put forth, the foundation of our land,
barely recognizable what was originally Jefferson's hand.
Tarnished and smudged by misinterpretation,
overindulgence and greed, to satisfy political,
judicial, and journalistic need.
Once majority rule, now bordering on ridicule,
the law of the land, ever changing, meeting demands,
of whoever takes a stand.

America, why did you stray, parents unable to discipline,
fear children undisciplined now rule, school in chaos,
students unruly, guaranteed to pass, unprepared for their future,
parents unsure, wish for the past, hope the next generation,
won't be like the last.

America, why did you stray, streets used to be a place to play,
neighbors knew one another, socialized every day,
doors left unlocked, nothing to fear, families stayed close,
helped one another, took care of mother.

Now drugs rule the day, hate and crime more common than play,
multiple locks symbolic of today, rarely talk to a stranger,
living in fear; life no longer precious, taken away,
day after day, the bloody count rises, a country in crisis,
victims pay, guilty appeal, courts give them the best deal.
Nobody protests for victims rights, put a murderer to death,
they scream all night.

America, why did you stray, hatred and bigotry alive 
and well today, nationalities split, long for the old way,
when an American, was just an American, now hyphenation,
the accepted way.

America, why did you stray, once an industrial giant
you gave it away, too high a standard for industry to pay,
moved out of country, the new American way, unemployment,
poverty, homelessness rapidly increasing, ruined lives,
while billions are spent on so called allies.

America, why did you stray, what's written today,
barely address the wrongs building every day,
religion is accepted, God is not,
country divided, politically split,
presidential bashing provides journalistic wit,
hatred and bigotry, live for it.

America why did you stray, new chapters every day,
really a damn shame.

Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010

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I Don't Need You

Know that you can sleep well if I’m not right Grabbing anything to brace my border Instead of this time fixed to pick a fight Getting lost in your twisted disorder
Grabbing anything to brace my border When you carry on with your bigotry Getting lost in your twisted disorder You think it’s a joke when you laugh at me
When you carry on with your bigotry It isn’t just me who can see right through You think it’s a joke when you laugh at me I’ve nothing to prove anymore to you
It isn’t just me who can see right through My insecurity is miles away I’ve nothing to prove anymore to you I love me more today than yesterday
My insecurity is miles away I give you an earned twenty cent goodbye I love me more today than yesterday Before you bury me I have to try
I give you an earned twenty cent goodbye Instead of this time fixed to pick a fight Before you bury me I have to try Know that you can sleep well if I’m not right
5/19/2016 Musical Pantoum - 10 syllable count Favorite Band: Goldfinger Songs used: 1. If I’m Not Right 2. Anything 3. Pick a Fight 4. Disorder 5. Carry On 6. You Think It’s a Joke 7. It Isn’t Just Me 8. Nothing To Prove 9. Miles Away 10. More Today Than Yesterday 11. Twenty Cent Goodbye 12. Bury Me.

Copyright © Lukas Ficklin | Year Posted 2016

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The View From Where I Stand

I’ve an anger which cannot be hidden!
A burning passion that comes unbidden!
My Soul desolated with grievous rage,
reacts with furious justified outrage!

Occasioned by the offences of ignorance,
bigotry, discrimination and intolerance!
Though evil are the ravages of vandalism,
they pale to the magnitude of racialism!

Colour, creed, even the shape of the eye
is little enough to make bigots cry:
“He’s not of us!  He’s a different breed!”
“Watch him close or he’ll do us an ill deed!”

There is no cause for remarks such as these,
but pestilent views are like a disease!
Some ill chosen words expressed in vague
terms, insinuate like a fatal plague!

Ethnic slurs in the guise of humour, fester!
With but one angry response one protester,
can incite more slander, which raging out of hand,
foments a backlash! Runs rampant!  Inflames the land!

But racism is a sword with a two edged blade!
It cleaves not only those on whom it’s laid
but those who scorn to curb their vicious tongue
from whom such defamatory words have sprung!

Can we not accept those who are not as us?
Must we blame the innocent for the fuss
instigated by such biased perception?
Let us quash ignorance at its inception,

or by default we shall be guilty too!
By using diverse conceits we construe
to make imprudent acts lawful decrees!
While disregarding all impassioned pleas

for tolerance!   Unless we denounce this blight,
or take a stand and with fortitude, to fight
and end disharmony, discord and dislike!
Racialism and hatred will flourish alike!

Rhymer April 1st, 2017.

Copyright © Denis Barter | Year Posted 2017

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News flash
Paris attacks;
Violence strikes


Innocent deaths
Terror unveils;
Death delivers


Madness conspires
Human debris;
Bigotry unleashed


Evil men scheme
Distorted agendas;
Self-destruct roams


Good people die
Bloodbath escalates;
Terror unleashed


Signs of our times
Deceptive turbulence;
Mortal casualties


Moods swayed
Fear catapults;
Distorted means


Uneasy chimes
Violent crimes;
Explosive times!


Details of gore
News galore;
Killing fest




Sorrow sums
Deadly outcomes;
Cruelty strikes


Newsprint copy
Headline news;
Terror firms madness 


Propaganda hurls
People fodder;
Bombs and bullets


Create if you must
Lodge your complaint;
Body bags not included!


Exclusive news;
Pain sells well


Face to face
Terror redecorates;
Body debris trophies


Why do you do
The things you do?
Tell me


Love hurts
Violence hurts;
We all hurt


Precious times
Ransoms forfeit;
Sad humanity mourns


The cycle of circles
Bad and good;
Seeking balance


Maybe we can
Find tomorrow;
Safely better?


Leon Enriquez
15 November 2015

Copyright © Leon Enriquez | Year Posted 2015

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What is love?

The North Star guiding
a lost seafarer home
or the Siren’s song luring
him to the rocky shores?
Is it frolicking in the moonlit 
nights in a field of flowers
or trudging across
an arid, scorching desert?
Is it a freeway to bliss and joy
or a meandering trail
through a rugged terrain
of grief and woe?
Is it a cup of hemlock
or a chalice of nectar?
Is it a snake pit
or a bridge over the chasm
of hatred and bigotry?
Is it an ever-elusive mirage
or the rock of Gibraltar?

Love is all that and more
and yet it’s nothing,
A mere emotion, a feeling,
At first blush, irrelevant 
and yet it’s an impetus, a catalyst--
An euphoria permeating our entire being.

It is here, it is there,
and it is everywhere...
Yet, it is nowhere!
It creates mayhem and chaos
if it turns and walks away.

Love knows no boundaries,
It follows no customs or creed;
It cares not for any
race or language.

Not unlike air and water
or the enlivening sunlight--
Vital in good measures
devastating in excess,
Vexing as a thorn but
as enticing as the fragrance.

Love is but love!

No one has seen it
Yet everyone is touched by it,
Its constant presence is overwhelming
Yet you’ll never find
if you go looking for it,
It traverses distant shores,
Yet it doggedly never
leaves your threshold.

You are born with it
but never can you own it,
Forever it hovers around you
but never can you rein it in.

“Love is a many-splendored thing”.
Yet none can explain its true meaning,
It would call through a bullhorn
and you may not hear it,
It merely whispers in your ears
and turns your life topsy-turvy,
More furious than the flowing lava
It would give you the chills if provoked.

He indeed is a poor soul
bereft of hopes and dreams
who befriendeth not love!

~Free Verse on Love contest by Laura Loo

~"Love turns the world around"
contest by Nayda Ivette Negron

Copyright © Abdul Malik | Year Posted 2016

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We stood hand over heart as the flag was unfurled
We were sheltered from the real world
All men are created equal is what they did teach
Never realizing, they don’t practice what they preach
Who said poor? We were rich beyond our dreams
Working to make ends meet, endlessly, it seems
There were Italians and Jews, Lithuanians and Greeks
Puerto Ricans and Poles, Germans and Dutch
No matter what your nationality or color was
We were neighbors. So, it didn’t matter much
I have memories of neighbors walking in our front door
Nobody knocking, just dropping in
I have memories of children playing on the parlor floor
Nobody judging the color of skin
Our riches were neighbors. Affluence carried no weight
We were sheltered from bigotry, sheltered from hate
God bless the children who knew neither hatred nor fear
God damn the people who brought those things here
When there is acceptance beyond what the eyes see
Then perhaps we can call this the land of the free
When there is truly no master and truly no slave
Then perhaps we can call this the home of the brave
We need to see the unity we’ve not had in the past
If we continue to hate, our country can’t last
If the American people can stand side by side
Then we can restore our American pride
When we stand together, again we’ll be strong
And we can be sheltered from all that was wrong

Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2009

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Absolute Truth, Judgment and Lies

The Damnable Sin of Self-righteousness.
All of our leaders have their different views of human rights.

Our leader has repeatedly resisted calls to assume the moral leadership that is expected from. Rage, hatred, and bigotry are spreading like a wheat field on fire. Lie after lie, has cemented like and ant hill filled with fire ants. Do we want to live in a country ruled by a ruler with total power over our country; with maybe a result of genocide in our nation? Thousands of children might now become homeless orphans.

sorrow, tide of fury grows
where are the children

His self-righteousness is destroying the future of human lives. People are out of work, which adds up to, no food on the table, no insurance for healthcare, car, or home. Not enough money to pay the house and utility bills. Will they be out on the street joining the thousands of homeless people!

When is this going to end?

I look at my hands
dark brown, green, black, red, yellow
with each heartbeat felt


Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2018

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Dinner Is Served

Your cup is filled with anger. Always a bitter brew to be swallowed Revenge will be your soup de jour. It is a soup that is best served cold Disappointment sits congealing on your dinner plate. It rots the gut Condemnation sits aside the rest. Quick to jump on the plate Deceit rounds out the meal. Bits of meanness too tough to talk your way through Bigotry is a bread that when left to rise will overrun the pan Jealousy is your just desserts. A green sour grape confection bit

Copyright © Paula Swanson | Year Posted 2010

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A True American Hero for the Ages

A True American Hero for the Ages

I thought it would be most appropriate to take a moment to
reflect on the life and public service of the late U.S. senator,
retired U.S. naval officer and aviator, and military war hero
from state of Arizona, John Sidney McCain III, who is, for me,
a “True American Hero for the Ages.”

Since I am a retired U.S. military veteran as well, there are, for
me, certain qualities and attributes that clearly define, distinguish,
and portray the essence of what made Senator McCain’s life, service,
and commitment to the nation he loved and selflessly served—so
special and important.

Throughout his sixty-three years of military, political, and public 
service, Senator McCain embodied and personified the calling of
Duty, Honor, and Country. His leadership and character, and love
of country have been beyond reproach. And, beyond the churlishness
of American politics, both past and present, he always believed in
putting the country first and foremost as reflected by his many noted
actions and unwavering support in the defense of democracy and good
governance in the United States of America and worldwide.

During the Vietnam War, the time McCain spent as an American
prisoner of war in the infamous “Hanoi Hilton” during 1967-1973,
speaks volumes to his personal bravery and courage in the face of
horrific torture, abuse, and terrible treatment—and to his personal 
belief and commitment in standing together in solidarity with all
of his fellow POWs.

Senator McCain believed in the spirit of true bipartisanship during
his long service and time in both the U.S. House of Representatives,
and later in the U.S. Senate. This was very important to him, and was
a demonstrable cornerstone in how he conducted himself as both a
congressman and senator throughout his long political career.

Reaching across the aisle and working with the political opposition
on many occasions was one of Senator McCain’s hallmark virtues
in seeking to find realistic and meaningful solutions to many problems
in American society, and in helping to address the continuous challenges
facing America and her allies in the realm of foreign affairs.

Senator McCain was results-oriented, and fervently believed in getting 
things done! He was a devout Atlanticist and supporter of NATO and
other international treaties that are significant to America. He recognized
the critical importance of “American Exceptionalism” in the international
community, and clearly saw America as that quintessential bulwark of
freedom in the world.

Doing the right thing was always important to Senator McCain regardless
of the challenge or task at hand. He also stressed the urgency in rejecting
the politics of fear, bigotry, and division in our country, and in our society
writ large. Seeking out and speaking to the “Better Angels of Our Nature”
was another notion and attribute he felt that all Americans should strive for
and fully embrace in their interactions with one another.

Finally, I will always remember Senator McCain for his innate sense of
humor that he oft displayed in public forums, and for his unabashed love
of country that he constantly reflected in his many of his speeches and all
of the positive deeds he accomplished during his lifetime.

May God Bless. Rest in Peace.

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 1, 2018 (Narrative Tribute)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2018

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Another Slice Please

A slice of Americana
love their Mar-a-Lago cream cheese pastry
immorality a lot
They crave their leadership cake ...
spin-sugar batter laced, 
full of vulgarities and obscenities
in a profanity pot
Call truth to them: 
this is guaranteed to give your soul gut rot
Response be a fork crooked limb:
give us another slice please, we love it a lot!
Politically incorrect gluttonous fake bakery eaters
admire a misogynist strong, dictatorial leader
Someone who demeans women,
flush their feminine dignity down the toilet
Strip their honor bare and sewage transport it
Mar-a-Lago Café got a line out the door
that adore the pungent immorality smell of this
Let Trump blow freedom a snot rag kiss,
Mr. Booga Man do autocratic Aryan insist 
Sour cream de la spoiled cheese,
oh how they love it so ...
Begging the Prez Fuhrer’s pardon, yo — 
they’re neo-Nazi-ing for another slice please
Getting soul gout ...
selling their empty calories
conservative principles out
Mar-a-Lago decadent immorality
served by the hateful spoonful, no doubt
Cream cheese colored bigotry
Very Berry White crooning
on the karaoke vanilla jukebox grapevine
Take one last slice before democracy closing time
But you didn’t hear it from us black raisins,
standing in the back of a separate cafeteria line   

Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2018

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New Year 366 Page 60b

Compassion II

A Million Suns may light your sky
A Joyful Gathering makes you feel high
A Morning Star may seem too much
A Blazing Sun we'd love to touch
Compassion II though we all must show
With the lords help it will be so


There was a young man named Frank
Who loved to play the odd prank
He thought it a joke
His siblings to poke
Till his mum gave his bottom a spank


As a child I played with a boy in my street
Every day outside we would meet
We'd play with a football and kick it so hard
Then one day it landed in a ladies yard
He went to ask if we could have it back
In not very nice words she said he was black
I ran home and told my mum what she had said 
My mother said she was ignorant but when I went to bed
I thought about it and new she was right
That for his friendship I may have to fight
For I knew that he was the same as me
Glad I am not to be swayed by that woman's bigotry
How will this bigotry ever die
I not sure but with God's help we must try

Days To Go

One hundred and seventy four days to go
Then the end figure then I'll show
It’s all downhill from here
Three sixty six poems is long gone I fear
Thanks to all you who read
Thanks you all I'll succeed

Six Hundred

Wow well today is the day
Six hundred verses have come your way
So for those of you who read them all?
Thankyou seems so very small
Yet the year has days to go
So onward we go still words to show

Copyright © Owen Yeates | Year Posted 2016

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A Mistake At The Pearly Gates

If by some technical error I get to Heaven,
I don't think I'll be there long.
The powers that be, God's helpers, 
would soon realise I'd slipped through the net.

I know, God knows everything,
but he'd be too busy checking on real imposters,
like catholic priests and bishops,
to focus on the likes of me,
and I might just last a week or two.

I'd make my stay worthwhile.
I'd get Lennon to write a song
about how badly the place was organised.
I'd teach Mother Teresa to play strip poker,
and promise not to look when she lost.

I'd persuade Martin Luther King to deliver
a speech about the bigotry up there.
In fact, I'd enthusiastically encourage him
to put himself forward for the boss's job.
He's not into retribution like the current guvnor.

I'd tell Ghandi that God had decided
one of us must do a streak,
and that would be the one with the least hair.
Drop that old Gunga Din outfit, and off you go, son!

I'd play rock, paper , scissors with Dean Martin,
loser downs a large shot.
I'd take all the children to Heaven's best beach.
They'd ride donkeys, watch a Punch and Judy show,
eat sweets and drink bottles of pop through a straw,
and I'd not give a toss about animal rights,
violent puppets or sugar.
NO, I'd not last long up there.

Copyright © Jonathan French | Year Posted 2018

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The Poet from the East

It's true that I was in town
When the trumpet sound
And soldiers came down
Spilling like ants on the ground:
Heralding the royal feast!
The Gods have had their seats
To celebrate the poet from the east
Whose lyrical prowess beats
The best they've ever heard.
It is heavenly inspired:
The lines of this bard,
His hands neither slack nor feel tired.
Here, the bard comes
Clothed in divine grace!
Let the trumpet sound; beat the drums
Let the world seek his face
For he has the power to heal.
His lines drew angels down
And make kings to kneel.
Let him have his prized crown.

Such is the power of poetry,
It is universal; devoid of bigotry.
It is the king's treasure,
It is a soldier's pleasure.
In that stately estate,
In that heavenly state,
Only to the brave
Would the sky be a grave.

It's true that everyone would die
Someday, that is why
If ever the poet should die;
Let his pen ascend to the sky,
Let heaven and earth mourn,
Let their tears turn to blood;
Let the graceful muses mourn,
Let their tears cause a flood
For the loss is without measure.
But there's end to every beginning
That's why the poet we should treasure
So that if he dies, he dies smiling.
Let the fire from his pen burn
First, in the heart of men
Then to the streets let its face turn,
Let it scorch the land till when
It has reached the palace and its tower
There too let it burn and smoke;
Let it bring every knee under its power,
Let it bring every neck under its yoke.

Such is the power of poetry,
It is universal; devoid of bigotry.
It is the king's treasure,
It is a soldier's pleasure.
In that stately estate,
In that heavenly state,
Only to the brave
Would the sky be a grave.

It's true that poets can be made
As much as they can be born,
There are those who trade in charade;
Who cannot our admiration won.
Behold the ancient bard!
Behold, in the morning he rises
With his book and ink in hand;
As sparkles flash from his eyes.
When in early morning birds are yet mute,
His countenance is always plain
He does not argue nor refute
But undisturbed he always remain!
In the abode of the poet
There is grandeur and majesty
Befitting a grand laureate poet
And a monument of modesty;
He is the poet at heaven's gate
Who have ran a fine race
He will never be late
He holds the ace.

Copyright © Chime Justice Ndubuisi | Year Posted 2018

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Love's Power

Love has no boundaries...
Like magic, it has its own energies.
Healing sickness & ending sadness.
Saving someone on the brink of madness.
It gives us the power to reach our goals.
It strengthens our minds & nourishes our souls.
Ending bigotry & destroying rage.
Existing beyond race,sex, religion & age.
Love is eternal. It never dies.
You will see it reflected in your soul mate's eyes.

Copyright © Wendy White | Year Posted 2018

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A Witch's Plight

Take away this negativity.

Banish it with my Goddesses light. 

Protect this witch's family.

Heal them with your aura tonight.

End a troll's bigotry.

May the laws of karma stop this fight.

Destroy the anger inside of me.

Learning to forgive...can end my plight.

Let there be prosperity.

Absorb magic from the moonlight.

Copyright © Wendy White | Year Posted 2018

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Skin Bigot

It seems these days, across the land,
that the Klan has somehow got a tan.
Somehow, instead of being free,
folk now take pride in their bigotry.

They say their skin defines their life,
even dictates who they take for wife,
claim it is their ‘identity,’
determines their morality.

Then they attack those ‘other’ folk,
who along with this crap won’t go,
the souls that shout,”Listen to King!
Color is a meaningless thing!

“Just because you have the same pigment
does not matter, ain’t worth a damn!
What’s inside is what matters here,
our dreams, our hopes, our thoughts, our fears!

“If you can’t judge a soul by that,
they you’re a skin-bigot, that’s a fact!
You won’t see people as they are:
Individuals you should not tar.”

Yet when you speak this simple truth,
they claim the bigot there is you?!
When you call out their bigotry,
they claim,”Oh no, that can’t be me!”

They scream that they don’t have ‘power,’
then shoot you an undeserved glower,
how convenient that their beliefs
from moral sense give them relief.

Lets them slander others all day,
lets their skin-bigotry blaze away,
But all their lines can’t change what’s real,
they’re bigots true, and here’s the deal:

If you judge a soul by skin alone,
even if that soul may be your own,
then you are a bigot, bona-fide,
no matter how you spin and lie.

If you lump together other blokes,
and whine of ‘privilege,’ being ‘woke,’
if beyond pigment you can’t see
if you can’t deal with history,

then ‘skin-bigot,’ I will call you.
You’re offended? Well I am too!
Every time I see loud lefties
cheapening our humanity.

…Your skin don’t make you special, but your obsession with it will make you evil.

Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2018

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He Fears The Bogeyman

There's so much love within the heart of Man yet His insecurities hide its glow. And fear and bigotry visibly show although His soul interjects when it can, but like a child, He fears the bogeyman. And faced with injustice, he'll let it go skipping storms, He sees only their rainbow convincing Himself it's part of God's plan. Evil overshadows the glow of good for anonymity favors the dark. We wear blinders and ignore vague rumors meshing with the system like robots would. Yet the heart of Man fans every spent spark, hate's a cancer and love attacks tumors. (Italian Sonnet) Nov. 26, 2018

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018

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What Kind of People Are We

What Kind of People Are We

In a Shakespearean sense of tragedy and doubt the well-used
“To Be or Not To Be” from Hamlet is not the question I shall
discuss in this narrative. Rather, I shall consider a few things
concerning the current Middle Eastern and European migrant
situation that has riveted the attention of the countries in those
regions as well as the rest of the world. And it’s my opportunity
to reflect on some of the things that have occurred (and are still
occurring right now), that I find quite troubling and morally 
offensive to me as concerned person and citizen.

As a writer and poet, and as a moral human being, I can say
that I was truly shocked at the sight of an innocent, young Syrian 
refugee boy named “Aylan Kurdi,” who had drowned and was lying 
face down on a Turkish beach near a resort with his head turned
slightly on its right side, as the ebb and flow of the salted waves
pushed and pulled on his little body. A real tragedy for sure that
might have been prevented, if humane, responsible, and responsive
migrant immigration policies had been in place so his father
would not have been compelled to put his wife and both of his 
sons—who all drowned together—on that fateful boat at the very
mercy of ruthless and evil human traffic smugglers.

The horrendous scenes played over and over on the 24-hour news 
cycle of the migrants and their innocent children from Syria, Iraq, 
Turkey, Afghanistan, and other countries being treated like cattle
(or even less than cattle), and indiscriminately pushed around and
tear-gassed by unfriendly and unwelcoming jack-booted Hungarian 
Rendorség (Police) were certainly most shocking and disgustingly 
revulsive by both their malicious tenor and insidious intent. The
actions also of some right-wing Hungarian demonstrators hurling
loud and abusive comments at the refugees was also quite tragic
and disturbing. I found the actions of the Hungarian Police under
the direction of Prime Minister Viktor Orban to be similarly
reminiscent of the actions of Hitler’s Gestapo and Sturmabteilung
or the SA Troops after 1933 in Nazi Germany. Shame on them!
Shame on them! This is the same old tired bigotry and stupidity
on display today.

Despite these despicable actions of the Hungarian Police and many 
of Mr. Orban’s governmental officials, a number of Hungarian
citizens still showed their kindness and humanity in helping the
migrants at various junctures on the autobahn as they trekked
toward the Austrian border in route ultimately to Germany. This
caught my obvious attention as well.

For me, the “so-what?” here turns ultimately upon the following
philosophical and human question: “What Kind of People Are We?”
The migrant problem as we know is largely the result of the massive
displacement of people that has occurred (and is still occurring) in
in the war-torn countries in the Middle East and in certain areas of
Southeast Asia. This tragedy is one of many of our world’s current
and future 21st-century challenges. How each of us as “concerned 
citizens,” in consonance with the policies and actions of the various
governments in the countries we each live under, will certainly
play a role in reflecting in the end the kind of people we really are. 

For me, the nationalistic actions of the right-wing parties and
extremists, in many countries (including the United States) and 
particularly now in Europe, provide no real solution at all, and 
become a convenient excuse for many people to forsake their
conscience and basic humanity—and to stick their heads in the 
sand like a bunch of frightful ostriches lost in the reveries of
their hate and prejudice, and disgraceful cowardice! There can
be no apology and justification for this ever! This type of
behavior is a deep-seated cancer ever-lurking in the genes of 
our human society and in mankind’s soul—awaiting its chance
to metastasize and reek its horrible destruction upon its victims.  

The point I’m driving at is this: The current responsible actions
of a number of world leaders, to particularly highlight those of
the European Union, appear to be taking several of the right steps 
in helping these refugee migrants and their families undergoing
this terrible strife forced upon them by the tyranny of war and the
resultant poverty and dislocation. Being stupid, hateful, and clearly
prejudiced as some people and certain governmental leaders are in
our global community today is not the answer and it never will be!

To people who really do care about this ongoing migrant tragedy,
it’s time to rally and act in support of local, regional, and worldwide
efforts to help these migrant people and their families so afflicted
by poverty, disease, war, injury, death, and territorial displacement. 

For me, I desire to make my voice heard loud and clear as a writer,
poet, and concerned world citizen on this matter and in my own
most humble way. Keep in mind that many of us are descendants
of families who at one time or another were migrants from other
countries escaping the whip and lash of cruel dictators and their
terrible regimes masquerading as legitimate governments of the

In my estimation, the kind of people we should be or aspire to be
are those who relish the winds of freedom, the certainty of justice,
the spirit of friendship, the values of fairness and fair play, the
magnificence of humanity, the desire for cultural diversity and
inclusion, and the love of our fellow man under the very eyes
of God Himself. 

What kind of people are we? With this, I rest my case. 

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
September 11, 2015 (Narrative)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

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Our world Today

Why is it in this world People never can agree There’s bigotry, prejudice and hatred Around us, so clear that all can see People argue and fight to prove That there way is correct With no room for compromise To them there is no doubt That they are the chosen ones They speak with their God direct Who has given them a special right To denounce others who would dare, Question the infallibility, of one so fair Expect no justice, peace or freedom to exist It never can, it never will, until we can agree Were not just nations but a world-wide community That looks after all its peoples where ever they may be Which ensures that all respect the rights of humanity

Copyright © Brian Armstrong | Year Posted 2015