When fitting in means the complete seduction of everyone’s (female) lover by a single Prick. What? - If it makes love, it makes sense.
They found ways to make him odder than what he was.
They would receive messages
and would filter some and
not deleiver others.
His relationship was undermined
on purpose.
they found it wise in there worship
to celebrate the acheivements of some
while others were to struggle in there relationships.
into the interest of something
that has potentail
all things then were scrambled into confussion.
She wished him to be hurted by her choose in men.
(which is more efficient for flowers; however, modern methods like rosin pressing (heat/pressure) or solvent/subcritical extraction)
"Rosineer Presso" she had affairs with other men to tell his secrets. She found shameing him a sporty way of feeling feminine. Stories, .In questo paese è illegale praticare o ricevere sesso orale. Which is neither taught or preached. She smiled as such made her decision on who she married easiest.
( she heard a Preacher breathing heavily through the microphone saying "the devil:the devil the devlvil, she stood clapping her hands!")
Failure was taboo, in a world full of expectations
Success was a burden we were forced to carry,
And burnout was a truth mistaken for laziness
Perfection was a cursed pushed on to black children,
And yet when we exceed it still isn’t enough,
Rest was a heaven we were promised after death,
And life was a test of struggle to get there
White kids are allowed to be average,
And are rewarded with excellence
But us being called average was a privilege we never got
Instead we would be criticised for breathing the wrong way,
And if we complained, we were called a problem
The system was built to break us,
Education is just a trap to bait our reactions,
Excluding us from the conversation,
But complaining about our ‘silence’,
This a silent strategy of educational violence
They erase our history, then they erase our voice,
A system favoured by bias,
Means in the end we will never get a choice -
To have our say,
Or to make space for our excellence,
School was never about inclusion -
But to send a message to all black children
There are only two kinds
of people
the Chilean poet said ...
the innocent
— and the living
(Dreamsleep: December, 2025)
When light fades at the end of a day
And people switch on their lights
When outsiders can see in
They see some interesting sights.
It looks like watching television
On screen without a sound
Where are all planning something
And outside, no clues are found.
You hate me for my color.
You hate me for our differences.
You hate me for my successes.
You call me names.
You call me useless.
You call me an outsider.
You marked me as invisible.
You made me your scapegoat.
You expressed your hatred, and
Excluded me from your world,
Allowing you to define
Who was welcome into your group.
Do you feel united?
Are you at peace?
That is, until the next tension rises and
A new scapegoat needs to be found.
I may be hooked on kush
my body bruised and worn
wandering the streets of Freetown
but I’m a Sierra Leonean too.
I may not pay my taxes
can’t even clean a gutter
but this land is still my home
I’m a Sierra Leonean too.
I may not make decisions to sell state companies
or pass laws for pregnant girls in school
but I carry this country’s name
I’m a Sierra Leonean too.
So if I don’t snatch your phone
don’t break the locks to your home
reach for me, teach me to see
there’s more to life than kush alone.
My heart plays somber symphonies. It plays them exclusively for me. They are fragile and feminine. Breathtaking and melancholy. They perform songs of tragedy and cry out with sorrow but they are perceived by myself alone. Like an isolated violinist in a vacant theater, they are radiant but heartbreaking. My heart plays somber symphonies. Can’t you hear them?
Away too more exclusion
Hated so much of self-deprivation
I take myself to a cliff
Asked a question for sigh of relief
The road map to the journey
Either bitter or sweet honey
Eluded choice of decision
Concrete abstract confusion
Madness and losing track
Held me bounce back
I felt I am on crack
Shiny days turning to dark
I was pushing life’s luck
I am searching for my way back
In the middle of a crowded
Experiencing a pain overloaded
Breaking my neck I forget to push my chest up
Humiliation over my head drip drop
Am taking a break for another lap
Scissor tongues and false clap
Slayer of my throat no more crap
Mirror my self-talking to sharp
Judging world end my nap
I want the peace to start as snap
...
..
.
PEACE OF MIND FOR ALL
I said yes,
you disagreed…
no longer to be friends
P.C. culture,
zero-sum,
misleading to the end
(Rosemont Pennsylvania: September, 2020)
HE STOOD IN FRONT
OF PEOPLE WHO THOUGHT
OF HIM AS BEING RIGHT
IN THIS TIME
AND RIGHT IN ALL TIMES
THAT HIS POSITION AGAINST
POEMGRINNING WAS RIGHT
AND THOSE WHO OPPOSSED
THIS POSITION WAS/ WERE WRONG.
THE LEFT THE DEFINTION OF
POEMGRINNING OPEN, AND ALLOWED
THOSE WHO OPPOSSED CERTAIN POETS
TO TAKE POSITION AGAINST THEIR WORKS.
AND TO CITE DIFFERENCES AND SAMENESS'
AMONG THE WORKS OF THESE WRITERS.
THEN ONE STOOD AND SAID,
THAT BEYOND THE SCOPE OF WORDS, AND IN THE
EXPRESSION OF THE AUTHERS INTENT.
MIGHT THE RIGHTS OF THESE POETS BE CONTESTED
AND THE VEIWS OF THIS PANEL CHANGED
THAT THESE VEIWS ARE WRONG IN THESE TIMES
AS THEY WERE WRONG IN THOSE TIMES.
MIGHT THE EXPRESSIONS AND GOODWILL
OF PEOPLE HAVE MERCY ON YOUR
DISCRIPTIVE SOULS!
THEY TOLD THEM TO CHANGE THEIR LYRICS OR THE POET'S SOCEITY WOULD MAKE IT DIFFICULT FOR THERE WORKS TO BE PUBLLISHED!
A STORY OF GAMM'S AND GRINNING!
Waking to murmurs
Hum of smooth white noise
Or waves slapping rocks
Through mirror-like glass
I see russet wings
Dampened by dewdrops
.
Walk to the kitchen,
my feet soft and bare
on tiles cracked, and
wish the sea
surrounded
so sinking
floats
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