Caste Poems - Poems about Caste

Dinner scraps, primal deathtraps. Life’s meal is the class struggle, and some of us are left starving. We are the movement of the masses, a sleeping colossus running on corporate time. Dinner scraps, merciless steel traps. We are measured only as commodities. We give our lives as wage chattel. We make our homes or lose them on the edges of a time clock. Dinner scraps,...

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Villanelle : Hide not behind caste nor bought courtly name [He who fears to affix his name to his face or words has something to hide unless the State is after him/her out of fear...] Hide not behind caste nor bought courtly name If no tyrant nor king seeks to blunt your pen Not even Maquisards make such...

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The calamity on the leaders of the dynasty was very heavy. Drona, Bhishma, Arjuna, all faded, all getting sad, A Suyodhana rose, speaking, 'Veer! Well done!' He again challenged Parth (Arjun) for a duel, The Guru hinted at Arjun to remain silent. Kripacharya said- 'Listen, heroic unknown young man' Arjuna is the child of...

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The seed of ego and pride continued to generate hatred Somebody grinded, somebody kept choking here and won Every human being described himself as the greatest caste Mankind was everyone's caste, why did every human forget it. In the face of hollow claims, know how the country is growing Now the curse of casteism is also suppressing humanity Do not blame...

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O foolish Amerikan klan, who hath Klux bewitched thee with pale poof? Kluless to the celestial truth, Love immutable is infinity grand Children of the Aryan band, what doth the dark star say unsooth? Thy divided house is quaking from the foundation to the roof, as incantations of hatred are caste by thine hand Stir madly the black cauldron with thy ladle iron...

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Did Compel to Caste a Spell Horn Haiku never would feel swell so did have to caste a spell to work time will tell Jim Horn How about that. Just completed over 7,900 poems shooting for 8,000. Sounds like a good, round and even number to me....

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Come quickly, let us tempt the fading mists we ghostly shadows of a graveyard tryst ashamed - not of our deed - but of our sin fulfillment of the dream of now, not then. And so among the silent headstone hush we lie beneath the tangled thorny brush endure the sting of freshly bloodied lust defile the silence of a graveyard trust. Thus...

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a tire swing in her tree a bird nest not for soup but to eat i'm an old soul but now a child going around going again attempting enlightenment but never to obtain say it again as i've heard it again and again but IT won't let me in for before the gate as i've waited countless times stating i don't want to come in unless hand in hand with her preferring to be a life's partner to the lonely goal of an everlasting celestial soul not complete without her...

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Caste Into Past Which Was Vast Onto a path were tossed and than caste, Into an unbearable and perturbing past, Problems created, We had hated, That had been huge and so very vast. Jim Horn...

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Into Water Words Jesus Would Caste Into Water His Words Jesus Would Caste; Knowing forever they were sure to last; Did understand, On sea and land; Had been brought forward from the past. Jim Horn...

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Other women’s fingernails are styled, painted, decorated, clipped and buffed. Movie star-type nails. With little stars, stripes, polka dots, dainty designs for the seasons even. My nails are not these. My nails are chipped, not clipped. I cannot stand the sound of a fingernail file. You know how chalkboard scratching hurts some people’s ears? I could scratch a chalkboard all day long. It...

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I don't know when these lines ran off my shouldering lips this morning... but I guessed they are spirit and being, home and forest, evil and sorrow. I don't know that men are made of two spirits & souls & bodies until I saw a boy cast out from his clan. his body remained in the Obi of his forebearers...

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Memories Caste Into Past So sad memories were thrown into the past; We have forgotten and they no longer last; Cause was lost; Forgot the cost, And into deep depression have been caste. Jim Horn...

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Trump Caste First Stone If Trump were to caste first stone We would surely moan and groan When hit and will have to admit The pain hurts and does not quit. Trump's stones become a big pile After he had been vain and vile As soon as last stone was caste By all our pleasant lives went past. Think Trump thinks he is smarter And may...

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Lights dim the audience is silent a giddy anticipation charges the antique air the air is warm there is a hum then a soft buzzzz louder and louder one is stung then another and another a swarm of bees invades the calm shrieks and chaos fill the hall everyone runs for the exits ushers stand dumb a glower of darkness descends curtain...

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