Long Chattel Poems
Long Chattel Poems. Below are the most popular long Chattel by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chattel poems by poem length and keyword.
she carries the child on tired hips rested on chains ‘round her waist
wasted on freedom designed to serve a white man’s lustful desire
branded inferior as time repeats itself and the pain knows no end
a tattoo on her skin confirms her as chattel in self-righteous shackles
festering wounds of Apartheid resemble the foul stench of humanity
as her child suckles from an empty breast and cries out for more
they did not really abandon slavery merely gave it a different name
too sweet are the rewards of exploiting the world as we know it
division of labour and they enshrined her firmly as an illiterate pawn
her soul wrapped in skin and bones and her eyes like rusted steel
an empty gaze almost gave up on merits of justice from hollow eyes
camped in concentration of power domination she is raped daily
of her dignity while she ploughs on in fields of plenty and the dust
of history and yet she never gives up on struggle for emancipation
some got the vote in a rigged system with dice slicing the fortune
disembowled by wolves in capital’s fangs her innermost treasure
has become hope that succumbs to memories of her forebears
born into poverty and meant to stay there she rattles her manacles
in vain in defeat because leg irons and handcuffs are made from
diamonds and gold in the heartland of theft and misappropriation
when her child dies she carries another from the master’s loins
expendable and forgotten her tears are salty and polish the gyves
and just maybe might help to corrode bilboes and unholy bonds
because human emotions do not forget who triggered the hurt
outcast in a so called homelands or locations she requires a pass
to enter the kingdom of opulence in which she serves as a maid
but the young maiden has become old and dies cleaning their dirt
a stolen life is all that her daughters will remember with hatred
and when they rise they too will die by the greed of their captors
but one day the tables will turn and revolve in anger and retribution
20th August 2020
‘Apartheid’ in South Africa was the system of racial discrimination
Workers needed a ‘passbook’ to enter rich suburbs for work
‘Homelands’ were the allocated regions where black people would live
Their abodes where called ‘locations’ to sweeten the tongue of evil
The clock chastises me,
as painted petals bloom brilliance
in illuminated wonder that attempts
escape from the hidden crevices
deep within my beleaguered mind.
The beauty I seek is but an allusive dream,
flowing rags of worthless chattel
that fill me with words, heavy, like stone,
my rhymes but pointless emotional prattle.
Yet, still my need must pursue that dream
to create another verse so sublime as to define
me as me in a world filled with poetic doppelgangers
and, so, I write just one more sad, lonely line.
"Extant nectared incense she lit, burning inside, slow but alone,
Arrogant me, let her leave, as here I sit, awaiting the unknown."
Clever, perhaps, but are my words,
like the melancholy song of the lonely Lune,
beautiful?
Geez, or should I say jeez, no Cuneiform here,
shall I try once more...
"crystalline sparkles
achromatic winter jewels
spring paints with colors"
...to bring out in me that which,
through these many years of seeing
my world ravaged with emotional upheaval,
still, in its turn, allowing me to experience
love and enchantment from eyes
that held me in the warmest embrace.
"I see the storm as rage engulfs those lovely eyes,
the blue intrepid sea of passion's lost release.
Inside, the tears of torment flow to sooth the lies,
yet, pain remains in every moment's wish for peace.
As burning anger seethes inside of you
the path it seeks obscures your point of view,
and leaves the ragged scars of bitter love
left blurred like mist in sodden clouds above.
Emotional, these moments steal your gentle heart
and eat in to the darkened void that once was you,
but misplaced hate can not keep you and I apart,
when, with my shroud of love, your heart I will eschew.
I hope you'll see just how I feel for you,
for you are why I do these things I do."
Crap!
Total
crap I read!
and I chuckle
as I re-read it.
In a single sonnet,
iambic hexameter
and iambic pentameter,
the Bard must be turning in his grave;
I guess I'll have to try another day.
08/15/2018
Form:
God of Abrahan, Isaac, and Jacob,
God of the White Man and Indian,
You are the God of the *****,
who created all people of one blood.
You are not divided; you are One God.
The ***** was made in your image,
and crowned with glory and honor.
He is superior or inferior to none,
but by your design, equal to all.
Our fathers were hauled from their homeland,
huddled into the hull of ships like cargo,
and transported across the oceans.
They were sold into slavery and savaged.
Then they cried to You in their affliction,
and you showed up and succored them.
Those who enslaved them became slaves.
They worshipped mammon and spurned You.
Their hearts became hard as a hammer,
and their consciences were corrupted.
Our fathers found in You all they needed.
You were their joy in sorrow,
freedom during slavery,
comfort in times of grief,
and strength when they were powerless.
In the crucible of chattel slavery
and the furnace of forced labor,
You forged the ***** into a strong,
Spiritual, resilient, and resourceful being.
Like a Phoenix, he has risen from the ashes,
with a passion fueled by the fire in his bosom,
and a purpose piloted by the pain of the past.
With Your help, the ***** has taken his place,
as an equal among the people of the world.
But alas, success has turned many away from you.
They claim to have pulled themselves up with their bootstrap.
Like their masters who worshipped Mannon,
they are educated, their pockets are full,
but their hearts are lonely, and their souls are empty.
They have arrived at their Promised Land,
and discovered a barren wasteland,
watered by lust that never satisfies,
and proffering pleasures that pauperize and pain.
Black Man, turn to your God.
*****, acknowledge your Creator.
Without Him, you are a shell of a man,
a figment of your imagination,
a fraction of what you were created to be.
Value the virtues bequeathed by your fathers.
Build on the foundation they laid.
They trusted in God and He helped them.
They discovered that the God of the Hebrews,
the God of the White Man, and the Indian,
is the God of the *****.
There's a man who I call DeSatan
From Florida to Sunshine State
who said that slavery for Black folks in America
was beneficial and great.
they were taught skills on how to be
better productive slaves
and those beatings, rapes and lynchings
was simply how white folks behave
no need for us to get bent out of shape
we just need to realize
to that to have been a slave in America
was considered an enormous prize
and to add insult to injury.
we have a few token Blacks
who co-signed that bull
as some historical fact
DeSatan in my opinion,
is simply a Nazi fascist prick
who tends to overcompensate
as he probably has a little dick
an angry and bitter man
who on divisiveness firmly stands
to go pick a fight with the Disney corporation,
your state's largest employer is beyond dumb
and if the company vacates your state,
where will all that lost revenue now come from?
slavery was an abomination
America's most heinous sin
and if we don't stay diligent,
they may try to revive it all over again
white nationalist, domestic terrorists
and the MAGA Supreme
will try to tell you that slavery
wasn't what it seemed
generational chattel
never an opportunity to be free
born into captivity, no chance of liberty
degraded, debased and worked
like the lowliest of dogs
hell, they had more respect
for their cattle, horses, pigs and hogs
slaves were caned, whipped and mutilated
for the smallest offense
Yet the slave owners never showed any empathy,
no consideration and no penitence
slaves were viewed as 3/5 of a human being
who only deserve endless and senseless beatings
I can't imagine nor see any benefit in all of that
and for anyone to say otherwise. It's just bull crap
slavery wasn't slavery.
It was involuntary relocation
a training program to teach African Americans.
a viable vocation
slavery wasn't slavery
it was an inconvenience ideology
a social experiment that white folk in America
don't believe warrants an apology
it was what it was and Black folks need to let it go
as slavery wasn't slavery because white folks say so
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...
When I was a child, children were chattel, threatened by our parents and our preacher.
We did not even dare whisper a tiny bit of a sliver of a question at our teacher.
Today’s brazen un-mothers drop their children off for breakfast, lunch and supper.
They have school toilets destroyed before you can spell the word ‘upper.’
The well-behaved, socialized, well-mannered children experience a daily scene
Of how fast our wild ones can commandeer the classroom, showing their mean
They respect no one. Least of all themselves. They refuse to go to a buddy room.
They yell cuss words, and they make noises that are worse than a rocket’s zoom.
What do they receive for disrupting the classroom day after day, in non-moderation?
Rewards in the form of extra recess, basketball, an elaborate celebration.
How this magnificent reward system for bad behavior has backfired is anyone’s guess.
Some of our other children, are starting to throw chairs, wanting to be in this mess.
Is it the prizes, the chocolate sundae bar, the cash? Is it the three hour play on the swings?
Is it the McDonald’s lunch they receive, while the rest are eating lukewarm onion rings?
Is it the laughs they get watching their well-behaved classmates sitting down hard and bored?
Is it that they see the tally sheet, and they realize they are the only ones who scored?
One of our five-year-olds has our school in lock-down mode daily, never there or here.
His teacher is counting the days until break, so she can start interviewing for a different career.
What started out as simple defiance is in full-blown mode now. Our fire escape is broken,
Most white boards and windows have been destroyed, and this is but a brief token.
Is it mean to ask about the rights of the other twenty-six children in the class?
Is it okay to wonder, how in the world in math and reading they will ever pass?
Ask your grandchildren if I am right, and then run to school and for the good ones, please fight.
Written 12-06-2018 Contest: Let ‘Er Rip Sponsor: John Lawless
Today’s a day that’s supposedly filled with political rhapsody/
Yet I sit down and write these words in full spiritual apathy/
I rather be electing a leader whose ideas can capture me/
Chattel ghosts are after me so I can’t afford to be an absentee/
That’s the way it has to be. Many died for my right to choose/
Even if I don’t like the dudes, I must vote, despite the mood/
Despite my feelings that elections do little to bring changes/
Choosing sadists with king wages as their armies sing praises/
Imitation sages. Thinking their group rhetoric is visionary/
Ideas as basic as having sex in positions missionary/
Political dysentery. This system has always been infected/
Vote’s been subjective since the first slave owner’s been elected/
I’ve been neglected and I don’t have the dough to get noticed/
One of the faceless voters. A pawn used in racist quotas/
I face disorder but I’m weighed down by a chaotic tapestry/
Guilty of blasphemy as I elect the next masonic majesty/
The honest travesty is the reality that we’re all expendable/
The poor’s reprehensible as the rich’s laws are extensible/
Democrats more sensible? They all come blunt? I doubt it/
Republicans don’t like me. At least they’re up front about it/
Our wisdom’s clouded. We can’t see their both on the same team/
With the same dream/
Get as much as they can then wipe the slate clean/
This bipartisan system doesn’t allow new voices to surface/
The powers that be, when faced with new choices, get nervous/
They’re hired to serve us, but we transformed them into royalty/
Despite what we feel morally, parties demand total loyalty/
Pay raises quarterly as their conduct grows more disorderly/
Abhorring me and the very few civil laws supporting me/
I don’t mean to be apathetic about the electoral process/
Keeping tabs on the government is an acceptable obsess/
A myth like Lochness? Is Democracy just a pipe dream?/
I must vote to find out. No matter how pointless it might seem...
Form:
These leopard eyes warily see
another crimson dawn
on the cold concrete Serengeti
A scarlet sun
shaped like the barrel of a gun
Dark plume of heat
triggers the survival instinct scatter
Watch the bulls-eye prey run
Where to in the confusion?
It doesn’t matter ...
I see every bent knee flee the fatal gather
And the hard asphalt ground
is soaked with cull pleasure splatter
Such cruel reign,
heated shell cases falling
on a barren plain
Torrential stains
fear clouds another powerless pain day
Shattered bones in the herd traffic fray,
cast carcass shadows on the smeared terrain
Listen to the Serengeti dirge refrain
Unrelenting spherical storm of violence
hold saltpeter spittle sway
Last rites spoken,
whether vain poacher say:
Expect more endless safari days!
These leper spots wearily feel
bewilderedbeest misery
Great paleheart hunters of colony cage-makers
roam conscience-free
on the cement-dried Serengeti
Thus be the hunted fate
we eclipse-coated [e]scapegoats tear bleed
The killing fields of poverty
is the gravel grass on which we daily feed
Closed-eyes witness the hopelessness stampede
Open wound testimony
ain’t necessary
when the muzzled silencer takes a sniper bead
And the holstered predators
with the rifle-scope gaze
Whose mercantile hue eyes, masked in blue camouflage,
trespass the boundaries of morality
Nimrod brood coin collectors
set the savannah air ablaze
Human hunters’ breath gives Death a smoking homage,
iron-copper cry of Serengeti tragedy
Perforating enamels on metallic patrol,
their pelt-piercing lust has devolved
into the next caveman iteration
From runaway chattel catchers to gated property protectors,
their trophy wall filled with
gory plaques of commendation
Seems like these sullen safari days are grief endless
And every red blot
on this paved prairie,
flatline view Serengeti
Will be trodden down erased by each bullet confess
08-16-21
When is hate,
voiced and aggressively acted out,
not a crime
victimizing all us criminals,
convicted and otherwise?
Should we criminalize
fear of fundamentalists
or anger about presumably predative aliens
or anxiety about internal
and external
climate changes
or worry about long-term costs compared to short-term benefits
of violent revolutions
in lives outside our narrow ego walls?
How does criminalizing hate
deter or feed it?
Does punishment for aggressively articulated bad attitudes
merely add hostile fuel
to short-fused flames?
Would active hate fade away
if criminalization evaporated?
Would love grow easier
if colonizing bullies,
with bibled GoodNews liberating intentions,
returned to creolization supporting naturally polypathic children
daily longing for reborn WinWin multicultural Trust?
PreHate children
prefer co-empathic PositiveParadise
and not so much loseLose
hellfire breathing hate
projected onto a jealous
all-powerful ecopolitical
yet personal
ForceSource.
What about crimes other than hate,
motivated by greed
or need,
or something in-between?
I would not know how
to criminalize my rampant raving revolutionary needs.
But your greed remains better locked up
for stealing our properties
and too loudly proclaiming me
your stupid and deluded chattel
at your greediest disposal
except for my inconvenient properties,
transparently vulnerable needs
to eat and drink
to taste and see
nutritious GoodFaith Integrity.
When, if ever, is active hate
not a crime against health?
When criminals, like greedy us,
are free to return polypathic love
to grow toward co-empathic trust
in our cooperatively nurturing
mutual listening
non-threatening and non-bullying
mutual infatuation,
curiosity,
co-redeeming grace
of mutual invitation
into shared trust
democratic space.
A place
not feeding prisons
while watering polypathic
free-range love.
Life as we know it makes no sense if we have no choice
So what is the alternative and do we have a voice ?
The world is spinning out of control with violence and death all around
And the Republican presidential candidate is a racist media hogging clown
Everything is off kilter and while I sit and contemplate
What is my alternative and what will be my fate?
How do I sing songs of joy when chaos is on the rise?
How do I survive a Babylonian society and keep my eyes on God's prize?
In the midst of perversity and immoral behavior
My only alternative is to stay connected to Jesus my Savior
When I see a white man kill nine African Americans in a church
And after arrested given a bullet proof vest
Yet when an ex-military black man kills five white cops
He's blown up I feel such unrest
Over the injustice and the inequality that is occurring every day
Over 123 black men killed this year what more is there to say
What is the alternative? What is it that we need to do?
What is the alternative? As a nation we need to seek truth
I don't condone Mr. Johnson's behavior
but I understand where he's coming from
Too many young unarmed black brothers
Killed by white police guns
So what is the alternative?
What as a nation do we realize?
That racism is alive and well and killing blacks is on the rise
What is the alternative?
How do we bring about true change?
It's time for white Americans to stop acting like we're deranged
We are Americans too my people have been here over 400 years
Yes we were once slaves but let me make this clear
We are no longer your property
We are no longer your chattel
Stop killing and slaughtering my people
Like they're mindless cattle
So what is the alternative?
It's time we all develop a true relationship with God
And hopefully be infused with a Christlike love
And true compassion in out hearts
THAT IS THE ALTERNATIVE