Long Massacred Poems
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Once our land stretched from coast to coast
and the drums of the people beat proud
we were mighty and we were strong
we were happy . . .
then the white came to our shores
they thought our land was theirs to take
they called it Canada
they brought disease unknown to us
when we fought for what was ours they killed us
and we killed to . . .
we were a savage people true and skilled at death
many of our chiefs were tricked to come in peace
many of our chiefs were hung . . .
they called this justice
the whites stole our land and our way of life
they massacred the buffalo and bear only for their fur
and left their rotting bodies and we wept for them
the ancestors of our people fly with the eagles
drifting and falling on the wind
their cry is our cry . . .
we were herded into reservations like cattle
starved into submission and left a broken people
and they called this justice
but in each of us burns a fire bright that can never die
in each of us is a strength and courage
a tranquility and serenity
we accept the past as the white acknowledge the wrongs
and the Prime Minister of Canada
is trying to say sorry
with tears he apologizes to the people for
the hangings
the killing of our people
the stealing of our land
the 1960 scoop of our children
the residential schools of abuse
the highway of tears that goes on and on
yet, the social injustice to the people is still present today
when they steal the land we have left
for pipelines, and other projects without our agreement
we want to keep our lands pristine for wildlife
we do not want polluted water where the fish die
some of us are living in third world conditions still
with no water, electricity, heat . . . still on reservations
so you tell me where the justice is . . .
I am just a girl of the here and now but
but I hear the drums of my ancestors beating
in my heart . . .
_____________________
April 1, 2018
Poetry/Free Verse/They Call This Social Justice
Copyright Protected, ID 18- 1009-383-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Social Justice
sponsor, John Hamilton
First Place
the world watches Holmes
sit “dazed” in the courtroom,
with each mainstream media
monolith
churning out the sound bites
referencing his eyes & his
red hair---
the picture that goes viral is
of course the one that can
be likened most to something
out of Heath-Ledger-as-The-
Joker-101,
visually answering questions
for the people at home,
because we all know that
individuals who dye their hair
red are megalomaniacs who
will more than likely, eventually,
inevitably, order bullet proof
clothing, a gas mask & 6, 000
rounds of ammo, with the
“calculated & deliberate”
intent to walk into a movie
theater & blast everyone into
oblivion.
and when every talking head
from Oates to Obama, comments
on the massacre, we watch them
stumble over the responsibility
that this culture has to own up to
when something like this happens---
rather, they weigh it all on the
shoulders of one red haired
young person, whilst hugging
the loved ones, the family of those
whose members were killed.
subtly inactive in regards to the
actual problem at hand,
mumbling things about finding
better ways to “take every step
possible to ensure the safety of
all of our people,” all the words
that flow from mr. hope & change’s
mouth add up to no actual veering from
the status quo in the future & the mum
mum hush hush gun industry knows
this, giving the big man a nod.
instead, we look with inspiring eyes at
Obama, when he tries to gain a
collective sense of sympathy from the
crowd, when remarking that “we may
never understand what leads anybody
to terrorize their fellow human beings
like this”…
and as we shake our heads &
hug ourselves, just hoping that such
violence never affects us directly,
or harms our own families/friends in such
a manner,
we all turn a blind eye to the people
that our military has massacred throughout
the more than 200 years that our country has
existed &
we turn a blind eye to the violence enacted
upon the citizen’s here at home, who have
suffered & continue to suffer
at the hands of the police & state
officials,
whilst the paranoid & terrified hicks
out in the middle of bumble****
no man’s land,
clench their rifles & their pistols,
never having been threatened by anyone,
anywhere, for any reason at all,
thinking that the whole world is out to
get them,
swearing that they will never move a
muscle in the direction of progress.
It's when aristocracy begins to feel like a mid-uphill battle
It's when the armageddon features evil on both sides
and,
the good are speculating from the auditorium
It's when a 10year old is ducking depleted uranium in Benghazi
It's the bicentennial brainwash that is rapidly depopulating the black community,
It's the fake pastors leading the blind
It's the bloodshed in Raqqa that features berserk jihadists
It's the human traffickings increasing the traffic on the offramp to hell
It's that uno blunder that results in millions bearing a thunder
It's the bogeyman in a tuxedo you voted for stealing away dreams that he sold you.
It's when your future is decided in a one page boustrophedon
It's the bushveld your forefathers were massacred for that you don't have the papers to occupy that continues enriching the man you're working for
Another piece of land sold!
It can't be a rainbow nation with a camouflaged sincerity shaking hands with the devil that's pleading for your votes momentarily
It's another puppet in the whitehouse raising hell and forfeiting heaven.
I had to analyze it properly to see who the "holy bible" really benefits
It's the difference between a peacekeeper and a peacemaker,
It takes peace being present to keep it but little children are starving and homeless because of an American airstrike claiming to fight terrorism that they birthed
It's being an illegal human being because that's the true definition of an African American,
It's the young teenager popping xanax for a deadbeat euphoria
It's the disintegrated city of Mosul and obliterated future for millions of infants
When evil is an obligation they program your mind into denying intuition
It's all about control!
It's an Mk ultra anniversary
It's the disinclination to grant you freedom
Because you can't be free if you aren't a free thinker
It's the trend they sponsor that further demoralizes the black youth that you see your idols promoting
It's the creative freedom you lose once you become a marketing plan.
It's the literature they don't promote the reason you think this is too long to read that actually educates you
I'm offering you this disillusion to share with those in the same dungeon of thought you just escaped from after reading this.
Peace!
The Chopper Cyclone
Oh Wild Wind! Why so rude?
Oh Dear God! Why no mercy?
Waited for rains; what we got is rage
Nursed hopes; only horror remains
December last, unbridled floods,
December this year, the Wild Wind
Gory events; misfortune manifested
With none to stop; our life is on hold
Oh Wild Wind! Why the dance of death?
Felling thousands of trees, we loved
All cables and power lines snapping to halt
Through howling cries; all passed away en-mass
A moment of mayhem, wrought havoc untold
The tall trees all, massacred, maimed
The wild aerobics; snuffing out the breathe,
Mauled and mangled the city is left mourning
Those that escaped wrath, some flora exist
Battered and bruised, broken and bent,
Twisted and tampered; crippled they lie
Centuries old, veterans, in ruins, they cry
Revival; may take a hundred years,
Alas, many of us will be gone by then,
Our companions, all through they were,
On a mad noon act; all vanished to nowhere
Ten thousand trees lost; is the count we have
As the city lies barren without, the green it wore
Family of trees lay victims; in parks and on pavements
While every road and compound added to the lore
Yes we waited for our reservoirs to fill
For flora, fauna and fields to survive
In turn; only received tears in our eyes
Only numbness remains, all hearts bleed
Last year water; this year the storm
Call it what you like; but curse is same
All elements that we presumed were allies
Turned a foe; that tale, God alone can tell
In a moment of madness; hate let loose
The ghost wind, showed rage unending
The fierce storm, hell bound it stood
Decimated everything in its path
Relenting only after revenge; extracted
As everyone around was in sheer disbelief
Dazed and shattered and shocked were we
Too numbed to think and too dumb to act
Yet the calamity will soon be forgotten;
As History’s bosom has many such stories
But both the scars will remain for decades,
The World has its dark side too!
no end to this neverending sentence...just a sour note and a few mad quotes from the afterlife
afterlife? more like ants in the afterbirth...once a mighty warrior now a worm...i slither and i squirm...
no fire and no heat just chained to this seat...forced to view the victims of violence from this man of misery
with eyes and ears open...not even a blink...with every scarred soul the lower i sink
the movie begins and the theater is dark...and i'm not alone...i can hear other dead dogs bark
these innocent faces turn insane just in seconds...i can feel their disease...turning blessings to curses
a sad symphony and a choir of chaos keep spewing their venomous verses
i once was the greatest but now i'm the worst
i just can't breaK FREE from these shackles and chains...i hear the word NEVER into eternity
the echoes of screams they just come back from the screen
now the skeletal masses are laughing at me
i ask for forgiveness 1000 times a day but my tormentors just laugh..."NOT A CHANCE"
graves of ghosts empty and they all come to me to thank me in person for just being me
no uniformed ugliness just brutality beasts...they all take their turn from the
a to the z
i cry out to God and he says, "IT'S TOO LATE"
i talk to the devil and he says, "you'll be free any day"
vengeance was mine now i'm getting slain...for all of my sins and my murderous ways
for attrocities all...from the small to the large...i turned good men to monsters and massacred love
i turned peaceful neighborhoods into ghetto battlefields
i broke apart happy families as they cried,moaned,and squealed
more than six million got sent to their makers with lead sleeping pills
i lived the devils deal...now repaid with revenge...i'm sad,seedy and sour...still no suicide syringe
like blasphemy on a binge i tore hideous holes in the fabric of time
yes to my children of darkness i made the demonic seem divine...i even claimed to turn water into wine
now truth and terror has me thirsty for some kind of a release
from this concentration camp i NEVER can leave
please just one tear from heaven can put me at ease
a fellow atheist who was making a peanut-butter & jelly sandwich one afternoon
while her pesky neighbor continued to make noises on the other side of the paper-thin
walls
(annoying the bejesus out of her),
gripped the butter knife in her hand
letting all the murderous fantasies enter
(how easily said neighbor could be made to stop said noises)
which would allow her to begin enjoying her saturday again &
yet that thing we call a conscience
stepped in & slapped her silly
(as it does every time),
bringing her back to the world where she was virtually powerless,
as calling the super would only escalate the situation,
that is, if he even showed up &
yes, she could go further, calling them coppers,
but they would show an even greater amount of
indifference---
she knew that once they were done with their little afternoon romp,
that things would quiet down
(as prior experiences revealed),
but the wait would be excruciating.
a jealousy grew within---
this feeling came from knowing that
if she walked out the door, knocked on the neighbor’s,
waited until they answered & then
massacred the two of them in cold blood,
that she’d have nothing to use as an excuse like so many good believers---
you see, she couldn’t stand before the judge & say that
“satan” had told her that the two she killed had “demons” in them
so she fulfilled her duty of sending them off to “hell,”
like Andrea Yates did when she drowned her 5 young children, Mary, Luke, Paul, John & Noah in a bathtub in 2001---
she would certainly not be able to say with a straight face
that “god” had told her to smash two of her son’s heads like a pumpkin in her front yard,
like Deanna Laney in 2004 &
she definitely knew that unlike Dena Schlosser, who cut her 10 month old baby’s arms off (as well as beginning to try & cut her own arm off via her shoulder) while listening to a hymn in hopes of offering them to “god,”
she just wouldn’t be able to get away with such
privileges of faith &
it just made her eat that pb & j quicker
so she could go for a walk
until her neighbor stopped ****ing.
Native Speaks Truths
She's not your princess or your squaw;
She is respected clan mother of the Chippewa.
He's not your chief, buck, or redskin:
He is a proud warrior of the Algonquin.
We're not your fashion trend or mascot;
We are the original peoples, have you forgot?
Racism comes to us in many ways;
Often disguised with passive aggressive praise.
You demand that we forgive and forget;
And with your good book you preach and beset.
You say to stop living in the past;
But continue to treat us as social outcasts.
You claim that you've learned from what your ancestors did;
Yet you repeat it world wide and the truths forbid.
You judge my frustration and anger with ease;
But continue selfish ways and to do as you please.
You celebrate men who massacred my tribe;
Your holidays confirm your need to inscribe.
You cry that you are the current day victim;
That reversed racism is your affliction.
You moan that we don't understand what it's like;
But your greed has caused the mistrust and dislike.
All the while you refuse to admit;
That what you ignore is what you permit.
Are you so different than those that turned away;
While my people were the cavalry's prey?
How much have you really changed;
When history repeats and so much is still the same?
Perhaps you only wish to silence my voice;
Because guilt today can be a weapon of choice.
Does white privilege still exist today;
Do you still want us to assimilate and obey?
If I am bitter it is with good cause;
It is because you continue with hypocrisy and faux pas.
Should one day you learn that all lives truly matter;
I will consider forgiving the lives you have shattered.
When you can learn to love the brown, black, yellow, and red;
I will then forget the broken promises and the massacres you've led.
Until that day do not patronize me with lies;
I will only believe what I see with my own eyes.
When colonization is no longer forced upon;
We can then let bygones be bygones.
By: Darlene Doll Smith
It what it is?
How can it be what it is?
These are humans,
These are living beings,
Just like you and me!
How would you like it?
if you were the ones.
You were the ones that were facing all the sins that you do against a fellow brother
Yes they are your brother
Yes they are sins
Your father, God!!
We are His children
We are all brothers and sisters of one Father
That’s your brother
That’s your brother that you torture
That’s your brother that you sell
You cause pain and suffering
You are immoral
You torture
You stab
You beat
Thousand and thousand times
Over and over again
With no absolute remorse
That's the sin of your hands and foot
But your eyes they sin the most
The watch you do all that
And they watch you
Without a single blink
why won't you blink
you enjoy it
you enjoy every bit of it
you enjoy yourself
As you cause pain beyond belief,
Harm beyond belief,
torture beyond belief.
Beyond belief!
Absolutely beyond belief!
Because no words are strong enough to carry the pain you cause
Not to an animal
Not to a toy
But to your own brother and sister
If you think you tape their mouths not to hear their screams,
I promise you they will follow you for eternity.
Each life you take
Every pain you cause
Will follow you till judgment day
It's a sad world
A sad world indeed
Because you think you could get away with it
You are getting away it
Just like many others before you
Just like many others now
If the Rohingya people in Myanmar are being massacred and fleeing,
With a pope visit,
That spoke about peace without mentioning the massacre
Surely, if I was you I would think I could get away with it.
Perhaps, you might.
Don't be too sure because no one gets away with anything on judgment day
Each of you will pay
All sins will be accounted
It is NOT what it is !!!
Form:
'I want you to use all your powers and your skills
I don’t want his mother to see him like this
Look, look how they massacred my boy'...
Don Corleone (Marlon Brando) in “The Godfather”
-------------------------------------------------------
Playing the game. It's a game isn't it?
Life is but a game, but a dream isn't it?
I drove home by that road many, many times,
that very same short-cut country road that you took
that road where our lives crashed, exploded and shattered
shattered in jagged shards of Silver-Saturn pieces
(This is where you must have seen the swerving headlights
What were your thoughts? Were you worried? Were you alarmed?
This is the spot, oh God this is where, where it all hap...
What were your LAST thoughts? What were your last words
when that pick-up jumped, jumped and flew out of that ditch?
You always said "WHAT THE"...Yeah, you must have said that)
Driving myself to madness playing the 'what if' game
What if you had driven just a little faster?
A little slower? Stopped to pick up something?
DIDN'T stop to pick up something? (Did-didn't-did...)
Stayed at work a minute longer, or left a minute early?
(What-if-what-if what-if-why-where-what-how)
Just what are the odds? Just what are the chances?
2:AM? Maybe one car, one car every 2 hours or so?
If it were a head-on collision, you may have survived
If on the rear side, perhaps only a violent spin
But no, no it had to be on the driver’s side door
It was 'perfect timing, a 'perfect' flash in time
(Perfect-imperfect-perfect-why-where-what-when)
I drove home by that same road many, many times,
that very same short-cut country road that you took
that country road you were driving; innocently driving
just trying to get back home...
Yes, playing the game. It's a game isn't it?
Life is but a game, but a dream isn't it?
ISN'T it.
UNDER THE FATHER LAND
We serve under the father land
In huminity we render
Selfless services in cosmopolitanism
In peace-less and troubless downtown
We inhabit as national stuccoers
With the aids of the bourgeoisies
Starvation, annihiliationists and insurrectionists
Famish the proletariats
We serve under the father land
Where the national integration is but tribal
Our forerunners neither retire nor die
As their successors grow older
Anti crime commits crime in crimeless communities
Where we smell not the throne
Yet, we're the leaders of tomorrow
When our tomorrow is afflicted with sorrow
We serve under the father land
When we die in bloody combat
In pursuit of national unity
We receive superfluous medication after death
When the copy of a copy is off the tracks
Lingering to the land of no mean city
Oh! the Cross is too heavy
But we're the leaders of tomorrow
We serve under the farther land
When we're dichotomized, massacred
With our immaculate neoclassical ideologies
In racial milieu
We hike sheepishly in an unknown land
With vigorous expectations in future
But the future features fruitless flowers
Yet, we're still the leaders of tomorrow
We serve under the father land
When we diminish our trivial capital
In selfless services
To the in impoverishers
But the father denies the children's welfare
Shall we perpetuate these?
If right we must be
Then fatherless we must be
The cross will be the crown'd
Blind eyes shall see
The pyramid
Our tomorrow is but yesterday
When the skeletonic promises will be fulfill'd
then shall the leaders the youths be
Our precious blood shall be sav'd
The national combat must be dignified
(Opurum Precious: Nigeria)
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