Long Enslavement Poems
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……Musing in Moonlight……
Nay, of holiday splendours, do not sing.
Speak ye of integrity, winsome, bright, true
Words resplendent, as in days of my youth
Verses, meaningful, and thus, nourishing!
Ban words,banal-only words for a Queen!
Avoid the enslavement to daily post.
Years passby~best, enjoy a sunny coast,
With family, not these internet ghosts!
Life, with its glories, passes way to soon.
Lovers, children, dogs ,cats do need our time.
Whilst we avoid them, our fruit on the vine?
Candles, bright~musing in dreamy moonlight!
10/27/2022
QUATRAIN ABBA each Line 10 words
10 April 2025 1:08 PM
The sky is crying
Humanity is dieing
Giving way to transhumanist enslavement
Through mind altering entertainment
Cyborg glory can be yours a body that won't die
Just let them change your DNA and believe their every lie
Diseases and overcrowding the preach from every nation and mountain
Shortage of food and public housing climate change all lies from their poisonous fountain
Get your mrna shot it's the only chance man has got
Look here look there fear everything but our boiling pot
Soon the useless eaters will all be dead
And the usefull will have our chip in their head
Then satan will stand where he should not
Declaring himself as the one and only god
But his reign will be short lived
His chains are forged the pit lay open with its waiting lid
Yeshuas Kingdom of a thousand years
Will ensure that His gospel reaches every ear
Then satan will roam for a short while more
Then the weeds that spring up with him will be burned
And new heaven and earth God will make
And forever we'll live with Him where sin never again will wake
We are complexions of being,
gradations of actualization.
Our nature coming to be or passing away,
Aristotle wrote.
Mere complexions of being,
gradations of ontology.
In every American thing we claim to know,
Pigment is the currency,
Our petty underlying divisor,
Our pixelated property.
The color line preserves white privilege.
We are complexions of being,
gradations of realization.
From The Age of Enlightenment
followed the epoch of enslavement,
Our white patriots traded in commodified skins,
Learning how an emboldened empire wins,
Learning how merchants on the take use race.
So their destiny was manifest,
Genocide was their bequest.
In their path, all traces of different races
Necessarily disappeared,
The indigenous people they feared.
Hunted, murdered, and jeered,
White entitlement forgot them all and moved on.
We are complexions of being,
gradations of sentience.
Quickly unraveling before breakfast,
Whites come alive, staggering like air dancers,
Inflated gas bags thrashing, and lurching,
At their dealerships, certain something sensational
Is happening somewhere.
The reasons never explicated,
The false complexion dichotomies
will never transfer power.
Until there is no white or black,
Until we are gradations of one,
Until we see our shades of immanence.
Published: Dissident Voice, October 2, 2022
They wrote laws
with cold ink
and dried blood in the margins.
They called it
the Black Code
the way one names a prison
with clean words
so as not to hear the screams.
In the harbors
the powdered gentlemen
counted bodies
the way one counts coins
barrels
harvests
sacks of coffee
livestock promised to the fields.
And man became
movable property.
Yes
movable property
like a chair
like a table
like a broken tool
replaced without a prayer.
The triangular trade
drew its salty routes
between oceans
and even the storms were sometimes ashamed
to carry those ships.
In the holds
a human cargo
breathed on its knees
inside the caulking of darkness
children pressed against silent mothers
old men chained together
men turned into captives
before being buried alive.
The shipowner calculated profits
without looking the sea in the eyes.
The slave trade
had accountants
shareholders
Sunday prayers
and well-dressed murderers.
They called it civilization.
Then the whip spoke
in a language of leather
a language that opened backs
the way one opens a field for plowing.
And the masters laughed.
There was servitude
from dawn until the stars
hunger tied to ankles
bodies sold
names erased
the slow dehumanization
that turned human beings
into obedient shadows
into numbers
into sweat.
And then the rape
always lurking behind a door
inside a room without a sky
where even the night itself
no longer dared to enter.
There was the hanging
raised like an evil tree
to teach fear
to those who still dreamed of freedom.
Enslavement
was not only a chain
it was a gigantic machine
an imperial mechanism
that devoured peoples
and spat out sugar
cotton
and silence.
But listen carefully.
Beneath the scars
something was still resisting.
A song.
A drum hidden inside the chest.
A memory stronger than iron.
For no Black Code
no whip
no hanging
no merchant of men
has ever truly managed
to completely kill
human dignity.
Cogwheel Ballet
by Odin Roark
Hot
Humid
New York summer
Industrial commerce 24/7
Textile scents of humid wool
Acerbic edge of chemical dyes
Permeating wood and air
Thick oily lubricants
Layered enslavement
Nowhere to escape
A century’s senses imprisoned
Drawing on all he has…
One work-for-rent dreamer
Of agile body
Holds forth
Awaiting his nightly concession
His arabesque of glee
2 AM break
The precious pause for moonlight’s silver
Thrusting its presence through
Floor to ceiling windows
Refracting off bare metal frames
Arcing visual life across the radiators
Curling over his labor station
Arcing across planked floor
His rough hewn dance surface
Awaiting…
From floors below
Dissonant seduction begins
Printing presses come alive
Rhythmic noise
Machinery’s first chaotic movement
Changing its accelerated pace
Into allegro’s process
Then back to a scherzo finish
The imaginative sounds
Many dismiss as noise
Even as others hear music
This crescendo of background rumble
Joined by circular rises and falls
Sustains the dancer’s cocoon
His undaunted confidence
In iron cogs gnashing
Creaking gears kissing
Turning belts lathering
Pistons rising
Falling
Pounding energy
Echoing its creation to the imagination above
Gracefully
He moves about the floor
Contorting his body
Bending into pain
Releasing into pleasure
But
Nightly sensations end too soon
Midnight shift perks infrequent
Labor’s drudgery winning
Rendering body vapid
By morning’s sunrise
Squinting at daylight
Infused with a Spartan workout
Of fantasized dream movements
Between lifting warehouse containers
His aching arms of no-questions-asked effort
Hang limp beside legs often of steel
Now mere precarious stilts to make it home
You are not the victim
Stop trying to manipulate the situation
We are all seeing
We are all knowing
We are all loving
Not you
So when we change the narrative
And put your hate in the spotlight
Don't use our discomfort
Our resistance
And our need for justice
As a way to use your tears
To make you the victims
But you won't get our sympathy
Nor our empathy
Your guilt is not our problem
You won't one up us
And we will call your bluff
We have generations of fight in us
You should know this
We have always had to fight for the right to exist
Because of your hatred
So excuse us for not buying it
We have rights and we will not submit
We are not here to coddle your ego
And make you the hero
When your actually the villain
We see right through the bull
That you spew
To manipulate the narrative to suit you
Well you
It takes a special type of evil
To kill us
Enslave us
Falsely incarcerated us
Exclude us
And every horrible thing you did to our ancestors
The when we speak up
You try to silence us
With your tears
Don't ever try and tell us how to feel
Do
Not
Say that we are always playing the race card
When it was you who did that us
So you could own us
And yes everything is about race
Because you made it about race
The foundation of the world is built
Off of the enslavement
Of us
So try and take a hard look in the mirror
Because it was never about us
Being dangerous
Being predators
Being aggressive
Or being a threat
It was about you throwing a tantrum
About how we consistently rose from the ashes
To take back our freedom
You can't stand our intelligence
Our resistance
Our resilience
You can't comprehend
That no matter what we will always love our blackness
So let us ask you a question
Is it because your jealous
No matter the answer
Your racism disgusts us
Created a little ditty about hypocrites and
double standards, racists with drawing boards.
Media dinners with dubious
double meaning placards.
The Spade of hearts.
The Jack of Swords.
An adversity of diversity,
assorted stuff for their hating,
tarot cards,
racial fits in the music awards,
and a grammy for
"sex in the city."
Man who is that dude on the Grammy, Satan?
Jean Luc Picard with Baphomet itties?
Idols for idols, adverts with priority
misplacement, Universal standard.
Mesmerized tazement,
enter lame-ment.
Amazement for sheep enslavement under
black candles.
As the hypnotizing blow is more than
a psyops experiment.
But here we go,
gonna run at it hard while I vent-so.
Everyday I listen to the same old thing
Tune in to VH1 or Mtv, see what I mean
Only degradation gets attention, is it ADD?
No, they know the words, they are listening intently.
With a mother****** this and a dead *****dat. Posthumously-
Gangland in the home with a baseball bat.
Un-Just like liberal Congress across the nativity scene.
Is it positive reinforcement?
Or New World Laws Enforcement.
Fasting for lent?
Come get your sisting y'all.
Come and get bent!
In genre hostage making,
30 year experiment?
Yo Mtv raps, yeah I get it
(about murder $$y & pot leaf sense)
I guess when the airwaves got a monopoly
from the Lord of the Air and GoogleBerg
Hall Monitors.
Not the Right, but the wrong
afraid of debate, running away, running with impunity, running with devil- the PMRC, the CDC ,FCC,
FEMA and Columbia University.
Now you want to talk about Satan,
check the connection between Crowley and JayZ.
On how you get chicks for free
and money for nothin, nothin but devil worshipping,
special sales from wolves making sheep
clothing and accessories.
Accessories to many of the things you see.
A circus act
A puppet
A clown
When you think of these you think of a
Performance
Or even entertainment
You think of
Comedy
You think of
Jokes
You think of
Laughter
So what happens When you become the butt of the joke
Where they are not laughing with you
But at you
Not because you're funny
But because of what's being done to you
Oh you don't know
Well good for you
But what about those who do know
The ones who's pain were seen as entertainment
You know them
All to well
The ones
You laughed at
Saw their blood
Decided it wasn't good enough
So you spilled more
All in the sake of a laugh
All in the sake of trying to humble
All in the sake of making us a spectacle
Now do you know
Or are you still trying to put on a show
By acting the victim
You know who I'm talking about
The people you love to hurt
Still acting dumb
Fine
It's black people
The people you have continously harmed since
Forever
But that would be an understatement
That taking our blood was your idea of entertainment
Your idea of Comedy was our enslavement
And your idea of a good performance
Was watching us hang
Watching the life leave our eyes
You desensitised
To the violence You used to kill our lives
To you this was a joke
For us It left us broke
Devoid of any hope
So I hope you choke
On the guilt of what you've done
This will be our show
Watching you trying to clear your throat
Sometimes, I grumble in my weariness
my heart complains of burdensome toils…
yet when silenced by God
engulfing me with His loving peace
all I need to do is express my weakness litany
confessing self-pity’s lamentation
admitting skeptical justification of carnal arrogance
in the guise of rational argumentation, indeed earnest
believing fully well that He knows my needs
even before I come to His throne of grace.
At times, I’m despondent
about my pursuits’ profitability
as mocking reproaches attack my soul
questioning my commitment
for life-building concerns…
then when the Saviour quiets me by His mercy
I yield to His assuring embrace of approval
thanking Him for commending my sacrifice
exalting His name in worship, basking in His goodness
for the privilege of being in His ministry.
Ceaselessly, I seek divine silence* of heavenly bliss
within the Almighty’s secured haven:
His truth-fortress, tenaciously steadfast
where my faith finds strength upon Scriptures’ upholding
shielding me against despair enslavement
gearing my spirit toward temptation flight triumph
so I can continue fulfilling His granted roles
marked by reaching-out endeavours
of leading others to enjoy the blest tranquility
Christ offers through His gift of eternal life.
*Psalm 35:22 This thou hast seen, O LORD: keep not silence: O Lord, be not far from me.
June 24, 2020
2nd place, "Reflection in Silence" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 6/25/2020.
I Don't Believe in Slavery
By Franklin Price
07/01/2020
I don't believe in slavery of any class or creed.
Slavery most always comes from power and from greed.
When the rich don't have the riches, to control what they survey,
They oft resort to slavery, as they did back in the day.
The ones who built the pyramids and most the wonders of this earth
The powerful said they did it, but enslavement gave them birth.
Not so much has changed today, the rich and powerful control.
They take advantage of the lower class and their methods take a toll
When profit margins start to sag, the workers are first hit
No way the rich should suffer, no not even just a bit
Send the work to foreign nations where their dollar is our dime
Sounds like slavery to me, for the rich it's not a crime
To put our own on welfare doesn't cost the rich a cent.
For the taxes that they pay, doesn't even make a dent.
The middle class will pay for it, that's the way that it should be
It's time we stood up for ourselves, and threw the tea into the sea
I don't know many of the rich, who have made it on their own,
Except for some who bet on stocks, or won the lottery alone.
Most on the backs of others, while staying out of touch
Not paying out a living wage; Is that Slavery?; not so much.
At least that's the way they see it, yes I'm speaking of the rich
And our government who helps them, now isn't life a .
Who do you think finances them, these leaders of the land.
If you think the ones on welfare, then you just don't understand.
The longer they are on the hill, the richer they become.
Enslaved there by the richest, they've forgotten where they're from
They think they are the royalty, ones who control the land.
We must oust them in November. It's time the people took a stand.
We're supposed to be the government, instead we're just its slaves
If we don't stand up to Washington, we'll take enslavement to our graves
We've got to pull together, red and yellow, black and white
Rid ourselves tyranny, put some new blood in the fight
I hope it's not too late for us, and this country that we love
The statues and the monuments, remnants of much push and shove.
Our way of life's not easy, we must retain the peoples' power.
What happens in November could be our worst or finest hour.