Long Caucasian Poems
Long Caucasian Poems. Below are the most popular long Caucasian by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Caucasian poems by poem length and keyword.
I can select scant options
available among figurative
menu of life (mine) case in
point, this ordinary day (July
10th, 2019) typifies small
number routine prospects
regarding how I will while
away hours, cuz restrictions -
circumscribed, linkedin,
predicated by sought hade
curried parameters incorporating
genetic propensities inscribing
mental, physical, and spiritual
potential random talents bestowed
upon yours truly in tandem
with environmental factors
during childhood (upbringing,
middle class household income,
homogeneous Caucasian
neighborhood...), plus outcomes
wrought by countless decisions
(unfortunately usually, lapsed
deadline determinant and/or
nonpositive avoidance behavior -
identified as passive aggression
by mother dearest, she passed
away 14+ years), since...tender
boyhood age, when volition
allowed, enabled, and provided
restrained freedom (limited by
parental approval until arbitrary
18th birthday), thus this moment
essentially represents rapid
flowing confluence regarding
cumulative outcomes, whereby
nexus (Lexus) of one outcome
determined possibilities for next
situation till present, which
narrow bounds straitjacketed
alternatives to utilize liberty
productively, i.e. cultivating
strengths finding this garden
variety baby boomer (crying
the blues) frittering time courtesy
non beneficial trivial pursuits,
which tellingly (no surprise)
did not bring happiness to this
life, where loose analogy being
imprisoned since essentially
majority (default) actions not
serve best interests (mine),
though recently conscious
proactive effort to hone writing
bred thru existence as bookworm.
I conclude non jarringly tipping
figurative hat to Fiona Apple,
The Idler Wheel Is Wiser Than
the Driver of the Screw and
Whipping Cords Will Serve You
More Than Ropes Will Ever Do.
Trump’s the promoter who doesn’t give an iota thumps Minnesota
Damnation of mongrel nation’s fascination with immigration quota
Each voter another boater sailing through every derailing floater
The ICE age rages on front pages centre stage masked Miami Vice
Tasked & asked by the elite to beat any Asian who likes some spice
Shoot at every protest hoot boot out any non caucasian eating rice
Murderous lice slice & splice US already killed not once but twice
Toted odd bods devoted to guns on roughshod runs promoted as Gods
The resident President nods doesn’t give a sod it’s all about the wads
Against the odds rogue vogue Rogan brogue bogan pods onward plods
Will erase poor prods with taser rods buried in clods by Death Squads
Bogus slogans in a country built to the hilt on colonial guilt a melting pot
This lot forgot that America should could be the ultimate cultural hot spot
Not a blot beast of vultures feast on have nots with the least & society’s rot
Paralysis whole country’s in ICU lies on dialysis then dies from a blood clot
Almighty Evangelical Angels delight at the trite blight as might's always right
Scorn despite being born here the fright at sight of friends stolen in the night
No respite from sworn spite of religious lite.. the colour of ICE is bright white
We know what they will do facts skew impacts broke folks of a different hue slew
Nothing new slate voodoo as focal local few hoodoo pacts imbue hate will spew
Whatever your view be vocal as you never know next in the queue could be you
Trolls with Christian souls still rue losing control.. last roll of the dice the ICE crew
There shall be no praise
In your rage
Through your discomfort
Within all your hatred
There shall be no praise
you strong-arm those races
Who are not in compliance
With your suppressing and genocide wishes
In your rage
You gamble you parley
No mercies granted
There shall be no praise
Yet we have the same God
Who's your master?
You cover up your disgust
You call it trust
There shall be no praise
Hanging memories first-second generations,
hanging necks closed eyes on trees
Where's the equality
I'm non-European-caucasian
There shall be no praise
You can't escape God's palette
the mixer, original artist
In your rage
You caused this
Through your discomfort
Within all your hatred
There shall be no praise
you strong-arm those races
Who are not in compliance
With your suppressing and genocide wishes
In your rage
In your mistrust
In your discrimination
Against those non-European-caucasian
Careful
You caused this
There shall be no praise
Through your discomfort
Within all your hatred
You're so complacent
In your hatred
There shall be no praise
In your rage
There shall be no praise
For the way you behave
There shall be no praise
8/29/20
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020 ©
Das papa anathema & furor he hiss toward patriarchal hierarchy
Courtesy mine eldest sister Amelie
Beth (thirteen plus months my senior),
whose maternal love equals heart as emoji,
she nsync with other kith and kin
painstakingly fleshed out family tree,
formerly severely uprooted, me
knowledge of ancestry
truncated, denuded..., bereft
any extended offshoots you see,
thus without doubt earned a priori
gene nee us award for peopling bee
silly decorative swallowtail and
wild asparagus coat of arms motif,
but particularly her artistry
paternal branch Harris and
maternal Russian limb named Kuritsky,
yet now unwittingly feel stumped
I ruminate, speculate, tabulate..., re:
garding one or more descendent did trumpet
objectionable bent with bias, decadent,
flagrant... haughty jarring averse trait
invariably patriarchal heir arch key
impossible impossible to hold figurative tongue
and rebuke stereotypical tendency
resigning, excluding, kraaling..., privileges
to any persons except Caucasian wealth thee
males, who fathered established, commandeered...
western civilization paradigm, I smart
with displeasure at gross injustice curtailed free
choice to acquire unshackled life, liberty,
and pursuit amidst avast booming population,
whose supposed inalienable rights blithely
usurped and denigrated creed, ethnicity,
and indisputably those with frizzy
hair still evident this late date two thousand
nineteen, I decry, grieve, lament,... particular lee
how women haint got no choice - chattel
to grand poobahs - to terminate pregnant sea
really irksome, when predicted on incest, rape
non viable offspring...violation this
garden variety poetaster recoils with knee
jerk loathsome, how young females jailed
if they undergo abortion
(with unwanted, unloved, unborn..., bay bee
thru no fault in their own stars),
punishment nasty, brutal and abhorrent
essentially enslaving the gentler sex lee
ving terror and horror, when peering into mirror
ogre looming ready to strangle gal lest she
obey mandate else...
.
The flower’s image before me
stares
So overwhelmed by the splendor
my fingers become
agitated
restless
frantic
and what spills
sears mine slip
stunning sky blue decorate
the sylphs eyes
clustered blond tresses ornament
her soft Caucasian flesh
to her hips
leading this soul’s gaze to those
naked distended lips
The poet pining for this
petite nubile miss
like linen sheets upon a clothesline breathe
air circulates through our home
Pearl City Oahu
~
a small fenced in yard bumps the busy road
where a papaya tree grows
along with my children
~
a forty-five minute scenic drive
from calm to North Shore steep waves
a surfer’s paradise
~
my twenty something husband boogie boards
waves throw his ride onto beach
thrill seeker befriends life
~
toddler son embraces milder waters
billowing seas at twilight
high tide bids aloha
~
this haole misses most the awesome beach
precious time of family
the aloha spirit
~
3/5/2018
Aloha - hello, goodbye, welcome
haole - caucasian
To the Dove World Outreach Center and Westboro Baptist Church
At the Sunday gospel meeting
Coded words of hate repeating
Welcome in if you're Caucasian
Enter not if black or Asian
Sheeple purple Kool-Aid drinking
For the ones who do their thinking
Giving up their right to question
For a soothing mind possession
You'll take no vino with the host
It might offend the Holy Ghost
So you'll save your Ray-Bans for
The covered drive-thru liquor store
Come sit upon the front row pews
Be born again to hate the Jews
All brother this and sister that
Unless you wear a bishop's hat
You handle snakes and speak in tongues
But you can't even spell in one
You know a single Spanish phrase
And that's "Habla usted ingles?"
You can abuse that Venezuelan
While you worship Sarah Palin
Who can stoke your fiery yearning
For a little Koran burning
You're the lily of the valley
At the LGBT rally
In the spirit charismatic
And the gun on automatic
Time to do some holy rolling
Just outside your place of polling
In each verse and chapter quoting
Clear instructions for your voting
* Title is from The Merchant of Venice - Act 1, Scene 3
Bearing a European polymorphism, I should be branded by shame.
I am the White Devil as they claim.
The Ciakara, a bipedal reptilian that fades in and out of gamma rays.
The Ivory Dragon with razor fangs.
He who breathes flames of artillery; consuming the indigenous cultures of men.
I who supposedly slaughtered, raped, and evangelized my own fen.
A Caucasian falsely accused, I must defend.
I sigh with Celtic lungs.
Long ago in antiquity, they cut my foreskin and Gaelic tongue.
Apprehending my crown and bride while the rebels hung.
Enslaved and hate I have not done, but due to this achromatic shell, their numbers I am among.
But I am the blank hero who is sullied and unsung, for an enemy of all is an enemy of mine
Yet compassion’s tide is on the rise, I am consumed by love for all races and all colors of hides.
Reds, blacks, browns, yellows, blancos and pinks.
An alabaster bastard I may seem to be, but in the utmost totatality, I am proud I am me.
Despite my lack of melanin; my reverence and acceptance of self sets all others free.
So I will slay the Neo-Nazi supremacists and ethnocentrisms, by nationalist and patriotic decree.
To reorient this cumbersome narrative; as such that I see fit in my mind’s eye.
The Maverick Abolitionist of Light, I let my skin audaciously shine.
So yet again, the fierce Anglo Saxon attacks; swiftly and valiantly one more time.
Only to redefine the phrase “White Pride” so I may make it mine.
This poem may get into trouble,
The world wants identity double.
Attempting to culture commonality,
The world champions individuality.
Theft of language has become all too common,
Yesterday’s use today identifies one a strawman.
Definitions change, words take on other meaning,
Often toward groups one way leaning.
At our language different groups continually hack.
In the case of *****, African American, now Black.
Or European, White, then Caucasian,
Korean American, Indian, rather than Asian.
Why is it that unmentionable words,
You know them, our dialect’s turds.
The use of people demeaned still proliferates,
While outsiders use carry’s different weights?
Color, religion, disability, sex, and age,
All lines in the sand drawn to disparage.
We should agree that race be set aside,
Bound together in one Human pride?
Our world needs new words and labels,
Not old words containing past fables.
Words that create, unite, and rejoin,
Not words that change on the flip of a coin.
Straight should mean unbent?
Snowflake should be heaven sent.
Gay should be a happy feeling.
Black’s big “B” should begin peeling.
I applaud the generation of Ze.
The neutral meaning of he or she.
A word with definition created anew.
A word defining both me and you.
8/31/2017
Old picture seldom
You can see them
I have the chance
To see one hid by time.
A photo album of my
Grandpa who still
About ten years old
Together with her mother
A pre-colonial spanish motiff
The mother wearing filipiniana
My granpa in spanish suit
Its tainted black and white
In the mid-40's to be exact.
The affluence appears in the dress
The jewelry are sparking
From necklace, earrings to rings
Speaks the rich colonial era.
My granpa is of Caucasian Spanish
Descent, demonstrate his long
Pointed nose and his white skins.
My grandpa is gone, we, his genes
Are continuing the goodness
And the good deeds of my granpa
He's a teacher but an a-class carpenter
By propession, he's character is strict
That he don't want others overseeing him
That traits we inherited until now.
The old picture hangs in the corner
Of the room and in our memory lanes.