Best Culturally Poems
A fire blazes behind the veil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This veil I wear
is not made of cloth
for no fabric could withstand
the incendiary passion
I command
It's self-imposed
not forced
no man's hand
would dare cover me
yet here I am
swathed in these layers...
folds of security
you see
it's easier
much easier
just to be like the rest
not a subject of discussion
or the brunt of derision
with meanings misconstrued
by the crass and the rude...
thus,
anonymity allures
I finger the veil
its threads: religious doctrine
its dye: denial
its paisley patterns: protocol
culturally appropriate
I stand:
~chaste~
silence simmering
with actions inactive
I stand: quiet, demure, serene
but my thoughts burning, unseen
and behind the veil
I smolder
passion flares through my eyes
the only indication
that I'm alive
I pass you by
another woman
unseen
unknown
unacknowledged
I pass you by
you...frivolous in your freedom
you...unappreciative of accpetance
I pass you by
and yet, inwardly I smile
warmed by inner flames
emanating from my core
I know…so much more
There's potential...
potential this woman has in store
for this I know
when the time has come
when I'm ready
it will fall away
by my own hand
unobtrusively grand
and you will see the sight
the walking, breathing delight
of the unveiled woman
confident
sublime
a woman
calmly, gracefully, purposefully
passing you by....
Eileen Manassian
This is not meant to be offense to anyone from the Islamic faith. The veil has symbolic meaning.
Ramayana, a Hindu epic,
written by saint Valmiki, in Sanskrit
one of the two largest ancient epics,
the first ever poem ever created
many many centuries ago.
It depicts story of Lord Rama
as a kind, fair, brave, soft spoken,
handsome prince, who had
the kind benevolence of gods.
Himself an avatar of lord Vishnu
he was bestowed with divine,
powerful weapons of gods
to be used to fight evil forces.
He won over his consort, Sita,
daughter of King Janak,
in a 'swayamvar', a competition.
Keeping the tradition of honouring
a given word or promise at all costs,
a tradition of his sun god lineage
he went to forest for fourteen years
obeying his father, King Dashrath
and forsake the throne of Ayodhya
for his younger brother Bharata,
as demanded by Queen Kaikayi,
the mother of Bharatha.
He went to forests
with Sita and younger brother Lakshman.
There, he often killed many demons
who had terrorised and killed saints worshipping
peacefully in their holy monasteries,
on latter's requests.
In the 14th year of his banishment,
along with younger brother Lakshman,
with help from his follower Hanuman,
and, King of monkeys, Sugreev,
he fought with King of Lanka, Ravana
a demon King, who had kidnapped Sita
and had wanted to marry her.
After this victory of right over wrong,
and freeing Sita and killing Ravana
he returned to his kingdom Ayodhya
and became the king himself theteafter.
Ramayana, steeped in morality,
depicts duties of relationships,
portraying characters, ideal in nature,
like ideal son, ideal father, ideal servant,
ideal brother, ideal husband and ideal king.
Ramayana has greatly influenced
Hindu poetry, life and culture, thereafter.
Presenting teachings of ancient Hindu sages
in narrative allegory, it intermixes
philosophical and ethical elements.
The characters of Rama, Sita, Lakshman,
Hanuman, Ravana are still revered and worshipped,
in some of the culturally conscious
South and East Asian nations even today.
Two great Hindu festivals,
Dussehra and Deepawali
are celebrated to mark the victory of good over evil,
in India and elsewhere
with fervor and gaiety, every year.
8.6.2020
The Adjective Twin: A Poem of Pain
I am "presumptuous" -- and with my brother, "arrogant"
we are the adjective twin of "gentle" blame
of "gentle" wounding, of "gentle" continued "colonization"
constantly in an "unconscious" search for unsuspecting names to attach to,
so that we can remain collectively unconscious of our shadows.
We were born (and are constantly re-born)
from the culturally "unconscious" womb of (even "progressive") white privilege,
with the help of "pre-judgment" the midwife who abhors "decolonization."
And heed this warning: We do NOT like mirrors, because clear mirrors tell
(at an uncomfortable-making non-white-privileged "pace" of needed transformation)
the kind of "decolonization" truths that inconveniently bring to consciousness "well-intentioned" unconscious "Orientalisms,"
("Truths" that could potentially flourish into "Reconciliation" healing--IF allowed mirror-full-ness);
and these kinds of truth make my brother and I really (mostly "unconsciously") uncomfortable,
because we don't resonate with mirrors, with reflection,
'cause rather than truthfully being "set free"
we like to be comfortable in our privilege.
When we, the adjective twin attach ourselves to unsuspecting names
(who expect standards that befit real civility, real nonviolence, real caring)
Mother Earth's mirrors of tearful eyes break in 1,001 pieces of feel-goodist "progressive" self-deception,
that "gently" kill peace--on Earth.
Don't blame us, though,
(and definitely, but "gently" DO silence the wailing sirens of inconvenient awakening)
because we are the adjective twin,
and the "progressive" harm we cause is ever so "gentle" and "well-intentioned," you see?
By: Moji Agha (Mojtaba Aghamohammadi)
Monday, March 26, 2018
Boulder, Colorado
Deemed significant culturally,
a fantastic and old comedy
is this film I love,
which is the tale of
a weatherman played by Bill Murray.
This weatherman Phil has been sent
to cover the groundhog event.
He’s so hard to please,
and that’s because he’s
an arrogant cynical gent.
There’s a blizzard and Phil’s forced to stay
in Punxsutawney for one more day.
He awakes. Something’s wrong!
“I Got You Babe,” the song
by his bedside is what he hears play.
It’s the same song from the day before
when he woke up at six. Out the door,
he goes onto the street.
Things repeat and repeat.
This is something that he can’t ignore.
In a time loop he’s stuck! Each time when
he is hearing “I Got You Babe,” then
that man, once so vain,
begins going insane.
Groundhog Day comes again and again!
When he understands that there won’t be
any punishment whenever he
does anything wrong,
it isn’t for long
before Phil behaves most crazily.
He drives reckless and binges on beer.
Since tomorrow will never grow near,
he drives right off a cliff!
He would not do that if
there were hope, so he’s lost all his fear.
There’s a woman that Phil’s come to know,
and he talks to her every day, so
he can learn more and more
how to make her adore
him! His feelings for her start to grow.
With his efforts to win Rita’s heart,
Phil begins to appreciate art.
He learns French and to play
the piano! Each day
in the townspeople’s lives he takes part.
Seven years come and go. By year eight,
Phil has changed. But will this change his fate?
Knowing everyone’s needs,
he is doing good deeds,
and in Rita’s eyes, Phil’s looking great!
It’s his last Groundhog Day when Phil learns
his life’s lesson. This time his world turns!
Through the great power of
unconditional love
and his good works, a NEW day Phil earns!
“I Got You , Babe” plays next to his head.
But it’s NOT Groundhog’s Day, for instead,
Phil wakens to see
unbelievably
true love won! Rita’s with him in bed!
March 27, 2018 for the FAVORITE COMEDY MOVIE Contest of Alexis Y
From my balcony, I watch children play:
their color blindness encourages me.
They do not let skin shades stand in their way;
playing games together, for all to see.
I hear laughter, with no sarcastic sting:
there are no racial slurs slung to degrade.
As I observe these fledgling birds take wing:
my worries for our future slowly fade.
A culturally closed society
is like a wound, in need of a suture.
It bleeds out, pressured by anxiety,
and yet, these children can change their future.
Watching these kids play, I don't feel sorrow;
I feel hope for a better tomorrow.
CULTURE VULTURE
Once gave a girl I liked a black
Tribal mask from Africa, with real hair.
Don’t know why, but she gave me it back.
It all went downhill from there.
Then I fancied her sister Gail
And at Christmas I presented her in vain
With my collection of clippings of toenail.
She never answered my calls again.
Some women are very attractive
It’s nice to enjoy their tease,
But I’m a guy who’s culturally active,
And women are so hard to please.
My land is culturally richest,
Yes not as bloody as canvased!
Purely we follow the same lord,
At same time we offer, so faith is restored!
Knotted in holy month to fast, all together,
In my home, religious values still haven’t blur!
So we speak different languages but,
The followers of same prophet!
And we have the different skin color,
Nationally but we are alike, greener!
In my home, hospitality for which people dote,
Nobly I say religion we culturally denote!
And the love imparted in closely knitted families
So rich, but live only under father’s monopolies!
I make hackneyed proclamation of beauty of my home,
Anchoring the same ship, we stand under the same dome!
When I was called little brother,
I smiled.
It meant I have an elder sibling.
One from whom I could learn,
To discern,
Between Light and Dark.
What about the Grey?
Only a few would about the grey;
Enquire.
Even fewer,
Perhaps none
Would even begin to aspire,
Is grey the divider?
What is a divider?
A partition,
A separation,
A barrier.
In essence a carrier,
Of both dark and Light;
Having both thane sight!
The grey is never contrite,
It does and will do on sight!!!
Come with your purported might!
Closer…
Closer…
Unseen seen chaos,
These are my instruments,
Your might;;;
Will be eaten as sacrements.
For continual human growth within,
Mistakes rectified by the elder or role model;
Taught the current crop must be,
Lessons are as seeds;;;
Planted into our mother,
Blending with Earth, Water and Sun,
The seed transmutes and soon the seed has had its fun,
A plant is now the end product.
We humans are also ever transforming,
Perhaps not as apparent as natural beauty forming,
But what is natural beauty?
What is beauty?
Random randominity is beauty natural,
Random beauty is natural randominity,
Natural randominity is random beauty,
Beautiful randominity randoms naturally,
In essence;
Culturally cultural.
Not an over-spill,
Providence shines.
Understanding and comprehension,
In succession,
For thee.
The trick however is to pass on that understanding and comprehension.
But how do you do that?
When most of the generation is tuned to the Playstation!
Violent games evocating the continuation
Of our disgusting violent nation.
Perhaps attempt to not scold or tell;
Allow thane actions to speak wonders,
As an undiscovered well.
Keep the resonance of thane bell,
Consistant.
Perhaps another revolutionary,
Your prodige has to be selectant,
Of his student, his confectionary.
Without this passing down of knowledge,
We all might as well eat the most poisonous berry.
Rationality exorcised,
Culturally terrorized,
Freedom lost in the blink of an eye,
Federal coercion,
Statewide indignation,
Selling flag nooses for resuscitation,
Christianity stifling,
ISIS plea-bargaining,
Embracing flawed ideology without even reading,
"Societal oppression",
Active aggression,
Against the bystanding citizen and the egalitarian opposition,
Educational revisionism,
Internal terrorism,
All in the name of matriarchal Marxism,
Gender criminalized,
Youth institutionalized,
Submitting future generations to intellectual genocide,
With a porcelain mask of pseudo-benevolence,
You spew lies and propaganda demanding executive orders of masculinity's temperance,
So with societal lynchings,
Your dogma is breaching,
The foundations of animosity,
Into the world of pure insanity.
In youthful exuberance I become a culture bandit
Well exposed, but never really learning.
Modernity taking a toll as Papa and Ante chased the goods
For my sake they said... No mistakes... deed was good
Nanny TV with her bright inviting light
My imagination on wide escapades around the world
And farther altering my personality by giving me languages, dress codes, and even an accent.
So I stole, other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere or so I thought.
And Yet
In all my juvenile delinquency I could never, tell an adult to his face you are wrong
Revering old age; what is that, where is that from?
In my Success in Corporate with policy of first names and no regard for age but ability and brain
I could never bring myself to say Pat.
Aunty Pat can you please email the document to me
Wait, what? Am I not her boss.
So I stole…. Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere, Or so I thought.
Drawn to the immaculate white of that gown
Instinctively I top it off with a colorful Kente Scarf?
The height I can rock in these 6 inch heels
but how Royal the Ahenema slippers makes me feel
This perfect perfect pony will do well with…. no not pearls or sapphire;
Animal bone necklace and earrings
Oh how perfect my manicure will be accessorized with these….no not diamonds
Bamboo bangles
I will wear the jeans, But only with that tank top with Adinkra symbols
So I stole… other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere… or so I thought.
My true culture grasping at my core
As I gasped, when that little boy called his father’s friend Larry
When He picked the carrot stick with his left hand from the bowl serving the community I died
Though it didn’t make sense because as a right handed person I would say my left hand is as clean as dried
I smiled brightly when that couple spoke Twi, while we waited for the A- train on the subway
My Culturally biased heart coveting a conversation
So I stole, Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere
A cultural bandit … infused with other cultures… blending in well, or so I thought.
Without need of Affirmation, I have Ghanaian blood flowing through my veins
I know the voice of my people, the beautiful colour
Of the soul that makes a Ghanaian.
In the mother land or not. Ghana comes with us.
From generation to generation Ghana is us
Perfect Culture Chameleons
We fit right in
Ghana is our heritage.
When I awake each morning,
I may be culturally alone,
my breakfast is peculiar
and to many be unknown.
Procedure may be unaccepted,
nor traditional as such,
but seeing it’s my culture,
to others shouldn’t matter much.
If I blend garlic with ice cream;
eat apples with tomato sauce,
and I do this in my own home,
then it is cultural of course.
It is my culture … my desire,
to eat the way I do,
it is the way I choose to live,
and just the same as you.
And naturally your culture,
will be different to mine,
if it’s restricted to your home,
then everything is fine.
But when a brash invader,
comes uninvited through my door,
and tries to push their will on me,
this leads to cultural war.
The lone coconut tree that dared
to lean towards the sea,
gave shade to her friends while
playing on the beach.
Running half-naked so natural
to those blossoming teens,
mother's lagoon fishing straddling
the sea so blue and pristine.
Water glistening on her bare breasts
with ti-leaves as a skirt,
father hunting in the bush,
tanned and muscular without a shirt.
Other than a t-string,
he was completely nude
culturally, he was fully dressed
in a traditional tattoo.
Then the missionaries came!
Pagan worshippers too many
idols, so they said
And their One true God
Did not condone her ways.
Erotic moonlight dancing,
the young's cultural right but
like nakedness, was labeled
the devil's own delight.
They cut her hair and
she woke up wearier,
found everything foreign
was then superior.
The young's wild spirits,
broken like tamed fillies
brown skin covered
from head to their Achilles.
Mother's long tresses
made to hide in a bun
head to toe dressed in cotton,
in the heat of the sun.
Father's tattoo was a mark
of the devil's blood rites.
Respect meant wearing suits
with matching ties.
Many years later traditional dress
covered all except the face.
Confused why bare flesh in a hot place
could be such a disgrace.
Then came the tourists,
lovers and sun-seekers to paradise.
Beaches were the destination;
brown,tanned skin the ultimate prize.
New trendsetters, a see-thru blouse,
a bikini top and mini skirts.
Worst of all were the logos
"God is Dead" on their t-shirts.
They swam in near nudity
and lovers embraced on the shore.
Oblivious to bold writings in brochures,
of things banned in Samoa:
"Please respect our Culture;
Sunday only for God to be adored,
No Flesh Exposures and do your Kissing Indoors."
In youthful exuberance I become a culture bandit
Well exposed, but never really learning.
Modernity taking a toll as Papa and Ante chased the goods
For my sake they said... No mistakes... deed was good
Nanny TV with her bright inviting light
My imagination on wide escapades around the world
And farther altering my personality by giving me languages, dress codes, and even an accent.
So I stole, other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere or so I thought.
And Yet
In all my juvenile delinquency I could never, tell an adult to his face you are wrong
Revering old age; what is that, where is that from?
In my Success in Corporate with policy of first names and no regard for age but ability and brain
I could never bring myself to say Pat.
Aunty Pat can you please email the document to me
Wait, what? Am I not her boss.
So I stole…. Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere, Or so I thought.
Drawn to the immaculate white of that gown
Instinctively I top it off with a colorful Kente Scarf?
The height I can rock in these 6 inch heels
but how Royal the Ahenema slippers makes me feel
This perfect perfect pony will do well with…. no not pearls or sapphire;
Animal bone necklace and earrings
Oh how perfect my manicure will be accessorized with these….no not diamonds
Bamboo bangles
I will wear the jeans, But only with that tank top with Adinkra symbols
So I stole… other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere… or so I thought.
My true culture grasping at my core
As I gasped, when that little boy called his father’s friend Larry
When He picked the carrot stick with his left hand from the bowl serving the community I died
Though it didn’t make sense because as a right handed person I would say my left hand is as clean as dried
I smiled brightly when that couple spoke Twi, while we waited for the A- train on the subway
My Culturally biased heart coveting a conversation
So I stole, Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere
A cultural bandit … infused with other cultures… blending in well, or so I thought.
Without need of Affirmation, I have Ghanaian blood flowing through my veins
I know the voice of my people, the beautiful colour
Of the soul that makes a Ghanaian.
In the mother land or not. Ghana comes with us.
From generation to generation Ghana is us
Perfect Culture Chameleons
We fit right in
Ghana is our heritage.
A kingdom with flower citizens
competing with the west with discoveries and inventions,
boasting of a time-stretching written language
and a non-stop dynamic civilization globally significant.
White is for sadness and red symbolizes happiness.
Even with its obese geography,
all of it is timed under one scale.
Its culturally molded body-defense arts
originates from ancient hunting and farming skills
Unique in its glamour and special in its glory;
from the awe of greatness of the forbidden city
to the great modernization and powerful skyline of Hong Kong.
Also the beautiful intimidation of the stone forest
and the amazing human grit exhibited in the terracotta army building
all stand tall in the flaunting of the globes bragging rights.
Popular is the amusement established in the combats of crickets.
Inhabits one of every two swine in the planet.
Creation of ghost metropolis as its exhibition of economic power.
American census can’t even beat the number of its English speakers
and yet, the pipe sucking out its mental potential
is known to be the largest in the whole world
Alcohol is a culturally accepted drug
Many drink alcohol at point in their lives
Some only drink during social occasions
Others may have an evening glass of wine
Moderate alcohol consumption can reduce your risk of heart disease
The benefit is not so great that a non-drinker should consider drinking alcohol
About 1/3 of those drinking alcohol will develop problems with alcohol
Drinking problems can increased your risk of serious health problems
Accidents
Or injuries
If you want to drink alcohol
Moderate consumption is considered safe
Moderate drinking is considered 2 drinks a day for men
1 a day for women or lighter-weight men
A drink is 12 ounces of beer
5 ounces of wine
1 ½ ounces of hard liquor
Each one counts as one carbohydrate choice
2022015