I may have written this for a band to sing,
or maybe I just wrote it for me.
Maybe it’s for the kids in dirty Vans,
or those reppin’ spiked Converse hi tops.
To the ones sipping ten dollar lemonades
in the merch line? This is for you.
This is your anthem.
Indoctrinated, you know the lifestyle is law.
Be kind, be generous, and always go hard.
For the kids with patches and liberty spikes
who mind the pit and the fallen?
To the ones sipping ten dollar lemonades
in the merch line? This is for you.
This is your anthem.
Spiked with music you hear the fine print,
no need for drugs that hard edge just hits.
False flags can’t hang when a guitar shreds,
it branded the rules right on to our hands.
To the others sipping ten dollar lemonades
in the merch line?
This is for me and this is for you.
You know what to do.
This is our anthem.
I saw her in a meadow high
Where red flowers touch the sky
Her eyes were mournful, so much inside
I looked within, skepticism died
(chorus)
I'm in love with a big blue cow
And a big blue cow loves me
She don't have a job, but she survives
Without that college degree
She don't take drugs, and she don't drink
We agree about politics, I think.
I used to date a gal, who talked a storm
But I felt cold, I had to feel warm
I wanted a date who understood me
This cow is electric, I touched the fence, and I see.
Now its the wrong species, my parents would plea
But species is what I say it must be
In Kindergarten, they indoctrinated me
with a gender book, for kids aged three
At this point, you might say I'm moronic
But true love is always platonic
over 28 percent of young women say they are gay
I think that society made them that way
So don't laugh at me when I avow
eternal affection for my big blue cow
I'll go to the meadow, and gaze in her eyes
where bees buzz, and the condor cries
You may say I believe what I want to believe
But who doesn't, and love can't deceive.
Earthquakes of bedlam quell
As tectonic plates of emotional instability cease shifting.
The tears of a discarded clown, suspended in animation—
Numbness overtakes.
Masks slip, shattering.
Shards scrape, lacerating apathetic flesh,
Revealing the painted doll underneath.
Remove its colourful costume;
Discover marionette strings embedded within a fraying back.
Strip the howling voices from its waking nightmares.
Feel deadening voids devour any morsel left of a wounded heart,
Whilst balmy plasma metamorphoses into gelid hemoglobin,
Hardening undying devotion into frigid detest.
Titanium walls, reinforced with razor wire, barricade a hollow soul.
For she was mere amusement for the indoctrinated masses—
An illusion of happiness, playing day in and day out.
Listen, as her inviting laugh transmutes into the cackle of hyenas.
Watch the paint, plastered upon an unwilling face, crack one last time.
Her eleventh hour has arrived.
Bear witness to the merciless statuette you birthed.
Conservatives’ banning’s apropos of nothing
At twelve when he delt with this
shouldn't have to jump through hoops
should’ve been able to explore when a teen
But because of many conservative groups
The Ire excessive was the coming of age
Juvenile mistakes made in adult years
Denied the ability to pick up social skills
Sexual assault and sexual awaking
considered pornographic
Q**r’s often live a second adolescents
This is a guide for the coming of age allies
States have taken off the shelves
Intersectional as his life
Chapters are a collection, four acts
referred to as “parts” in this guide
self-contained essay’s
The memoir progresses through Johnson’s life
Two letters appear alongside
the chapters for mother and brother
Conditioned to think what’s the truth
Indoctrinated in us
Stop crying, racialized
School bullies
The flee market incident
Institutionalized violence
Family structure marginalized
Community –college fraternity
And black joy
Tells the truth
A black and q***r boy’s experience
Gender identity
Toxic masculinity
Brotherhood
Weighted down with
a load of TRANSGRESSIONS;
Indoctrinated by and infused with
a myriad of INFORMATION;
Having given every ounce of my being
to the pursuit of SANCTIFICATION;
And always Hoping and longing for
the certainty of my JUSTIFICATION.
Several years would transpire before
I would realize that in and through Christ,
the account for my Transgressions was settled.
I had been released from the penalty of IMPUTATION.
Yes! That was when Easter shouted out to me
that my pardon had been Secured;
That the penalty for my sin had been
paid for; my eternal judgement Averted,
and that now and forever, 'It is Finished'.
Yes! Easter shouts to me that in and
through Christ, I have SALVATION.
The marooned mind gets confused
by the maddening ways things happen,
lies hidden somewhere in the depth of perception,
maybe in the undefined gene of reason,
forming the motif of indoctrinated norms of normalcy.
Someone standing up against the tide of tradition,
refuses to submerge within docile submission,
discovers the mind born disoriented,
asks questions on life's rationale,
but finds no answer,
tears the attire of conventional psychic trait,
rakes up the mind disposed in disarray,
paves the pathway to travel alone
to the fragile forlorn home
in the world made out of madness,
where the wind of frustration
can't upset the stronghold of mental balance,
designed with deranged sense of equilibrium that upholds
the tenet that madness is the balanced state of mind.
So, from birth we’re taught to aim high.
Not the height of the garden fence, the side wall, the house but for the stars in the sky.
So, we’re indoctrinated to believe that the acquisition of power and wealth is the meaning of life!
Slaved to the pound all our working lives.
So, the new car, the new house, the new kitchen reflects our success in this ‘life’!
My shoes cost £800 pounds you know and they fit just alright.
The killer instinct in business is the gold medal that’s needed to survive!
What about kindness and compassion… oh, I’m sorry those the spreadsheet does not a column or row provide!
Work hard, work fast, work harder, work faster and work until you die.
Good luck if that’s you, but for me that’s just not a life.
First you get
Castigated.' Because they are?
Irritated.'
Next you get, indoctrinated through
Being educated.'
Then you'll be casterated
That gets you celebrated.'
Then you can, get trans-mutated
As truth becomes mutilated
Yet before all this goodness related
Can happen.' Did you get wormed?
And Hack-cinated.?
Only because juval haraani, needs to know??
My Personal Opinion
Miracle Man
8/18/2023
Some radical activists
financed by foreign wealth,
Spread socialistic values
destroying America’s health.
First infiltrate local government
then invade our schools,
Knowing that young minds
are any country’s crown jewels.
Our children are being indoctrinated
at much too early an age,
It continues to happen
despite parental outrage.
They’re being schooled on matters
that should come much later.
Things that shouldn’t be taught
to any eager third grader.
or are the creators not part of the human race
looking for a reality where i don't exist
Marvel at my strangeness
all you indoctrinated
let the system have a pause button
i could never resist a button
all the moneys gone
see your leaders
ones partying
while his people die
one starting a fight
hope the cats and dogs take over and
reign for eternity
I see that your life has had many interruptions
Due to misguided assumptions, faulty guidance,
And a lack of fundamental education from the start.
You were thoroughly indoctrinated in orthodox mythology
And kept sheltered from the cold harshness of the truth.
You are particularly religious in most everything you do.
You make a dedicated service of ritual and routine,
As a sacramental passage from yesterday to tomorrow.
You are religious to a fault, but not at all spiritual.
You have learned to survive without vain superstitions.
How many angels, saints, and unicorn saviors
Could dance on the back of a crackerjacks box
While you faithfully watched Davey and Goliath
Before you went to mass every Sunday morning?
When you’ve found the answer to that, go tell it on the mountain.
The cat who owned dogs was boasting loudly the other day.
That she had the means to convert them with her ample pay.
She made them wear whisker masks that made them look like cats.
Then she indoctrinated them into an army that chased big rats.
The dogs stood behind her and waited for her whistle command.
She made them wear clothes that would have suited a mariachi band.
The cat who owned dogs was a disgrace with neighbors on her block.
They did not like dogs living in pens there, around the clock.
We like to meow a merry melody once in a while one of them said.
But when the beagles begin to howl with us, our pretty tone is dead.
And when the Great Danes begin their bark from the gates of hell,
It’s something that makes us angry, even worse than the dogs’ smell.
The cat who owned dogs liked getting on her neighbor’s nerves.
She pranced around in pretty dresses, showing off her curves.
She stole their husbands and had litters almost three a year.
She is not a terrific neighbor a friend, in case that is not clear.
When the poets fall silent Man will not only lose his voice but also the notion of Life. ~Quote by poet.
Steeped in the pain of his slain countryman,
surrounded by the turmoil of real fears
which lay exposed on the stone-cold tarmac,
a poet dipped his ink in the spilled tears.
He had a name … He had a name …
A mother’s son had stood up to be counted
during a time when voices were made mute,
indoctrinated to a point of stupor.
A poet observes and remains resolute.
He had a name? He had a name.
No statue would be erected in his name
as he was not the first man to be slain.
At the next roll call of the civil unrest,
the poet’s words ease some of the naked pain.
He has a name! He has a name!
13/7/2001
___________________________________________________
Challenge accepted at Jenna Logan’s blog, An Exercise in Poetic Camaraderie, dated 13 July 2021: cathartic, courage, calming.
I used a combination of the poetic devices epistrophe and epizeuxis in this elegy.
I try to convince her to save herself
she has been indoctrinated
it is too late; her essence is long-buried
I beg her to remember her former self
she cannot go there
perhaps it is too painful
my efforts are futile
I keep trying which is insanity
The vulnerables are
Those so called believers
Who believe too much to think
On whose heads candles are lit
They are those blacks
Who have believed the lies
That they aren't worth anything
Who are too afraid to change anything
They are those kids
Who cannot dream their own dreams
And those industrious mothers of ours
Only found in the kitchen and other rooms
They've been programmed like robots
To do only those things that
They have been indoctrinated to
Yea, only those things they are allowed to
They are those in uniform sent
To stop peaceful young protesters
To dutifully execute the Lekki massacre
Killing the very ones they ought protect
until we all unplug from the metrix
Exercising our freedom of thought
To think free and moral as ordained
We will all remain only as Stooges
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