Long Sectioned Poems
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USA
This land is the land of the free....the land of dreams....
the land of unlimited opportunities....the land of greed...
the land of schemes, and broken city schenes....
the land of the judged....stereo typing us by classes....
sectioned in cities....in different neighborhoods....
where its easy to by pass us....dreams shattered like glasses....
schemes becoming more contriversal poisoning the young's mind like gases that pollute our air...
high class treated special....middle class treated fair....
lower class treated as if they're not there....we are aware...
not easy to scare....we are here with no fear with our polluted air to share...
this land is the land of the free...costing so much to live...
the land of dreams.....nothing real to give....
the land of opportunities that has been taken by the greed....
the schemes that feed the need to stereo type us by classes...
sectioned in our cities...Government Bullies we are not scared of ya....
because this is still our UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
(this land is your land...this land is my land...from California...to the New York Island...)
United We Stand...Divided We Fall...
New York City....The City for All....
By: Peter T. DeSpirito
In the City of Galactic Beings of light, there is no disease no feast or famine
floodlight beings from another dimension take our best interest at heart
They own Divine connection to each and every one of us
as they pour out light, truth and inspiration they help us to
stay connected to each other...
They lead us to inspired thought and action, 22 intergalactic races
living in communion as one under one big beautiful, pulsing sun
The battle has been won already, we just need to open our eyes and see
that the destruction of humanity is on a set course for a re-awakening
we will all soon move like luminous vapors into the nimbus light of God
some of us limping, some of us whole, some of us sectioned off
but we will All be loved under the big red umbrella of UNCONDITONAL LOVE
The Poem Is Dedicated To My Friend Dianne
Without Her Love And Understanding, I would not have understood
the grandeur side of this wonderful act of selfless love...
I entered the ward in clerical attire,
my presence setting a young patient on fire
with fury. “You preachers who teach us about
forgiveness from God,” as she started to shout.
“My step-dad tells me he's been born again,
freed through the mercy of Jesus. That was when
he'd confessed at his church just what he had done
to me. The pastor told him that he had won
forgiveness from Jesus and now he was free.
Well just how do you think that feels like for me?
I've not forgiven him, so bugger your God.
No freedom for me from that dirty old sod.”
She collapsed in sobs.
Could medication save her,
having been sectioned here for her behaviour.
Others looked at me as she continued to weep.
How would I respond when mercy seemed cheap?
He might have felt ashamed at being caught out
but the freedom he had found was worthless without
forgiveness from her.
I could only listen
in sorrow and absorb without condition
the hurt. On God's behalf I said, “I'm sorry.”
The pain, the hurt continues in Christ's body.
It was Mona’s lucky day.
She found a four-leaf clover.
Faeries rarely do, for they are not supposed to look for them.
It is in the faerie code, but she accidentally looked up
and there was a beautiful green one under a mushroom.
She left it undisturbed, of course.
Her usual lunar moth had sent a replacement.
His name was Chet, and he was amiable, and personable.
They hit it off right away. He asked where she wanted to go, and she
said “faerie meadows please.” He would not accept any faerie dust for his trouble.
It was indeed her lucky day.
When she was dusting the roses she found a most unusual caterpillar.
He was not the fuzzy sort, but he was multi-colored, and most peculiar looking.
“What are you?” he asked her.
“I am a faerie,” she told him
“Faeries aren’t real,” he told her.
“I can show you some other faeries” she offered.
But the other faeries were shy, and fearful as he was a most peculiar
looking caterpillar. He was sectioned off orange and blue, with yellow dots.
“He’s not real,” one said.
“He can’t be,” another faerie interjected.
It was just another day in Faerie Meadows, discussing who is real, and who is not.
“Life”
Sat here in this god-damned courtroom,
unable to move
backed into the corner by kangaroos
no escape from the ill-informed
baptised in their five minutes of fame
they like to pin me like I’m a donkey
I have no tale to wag...
but they’ll beat it and wag the dog
just the same,
it seems I'm becoming a fable;
stupid decisions
I made sometimes in my life
I was the try-hard
fat boy slim, wrong place, wrong time
criminally forensic
I could have avoided it all
but here I sit, shackled and seated
as if sinking 6 feet in cement, humiliated to nothing
unable to move
to present a remarkable meaning
a motive, an inkling to open end it all
I could be innocent, admission of something
anything,
before the whole world.
They are ALL -
magnetically pulled
towards me, yet unseeing
to what is directly in front of them,
fathoms underneath it all;
why here?
closed off,
buried already
like I’m sealed
no open case
without a true voice heard
vaccumed sucker-punched
in a closed box
rat-a-tat-tat
in front of those
in a more superior world
grave diggers all, ignorant,
yet more virtuous their call
they’ve had their voice heard;
Me -
three words
in a sectioned stance
I say audibly loud enough
as if in a trance,
“I respectfully decline”…
the ball bounced against
a dumb wall
where vacuous minds are lined up,
resounds back.
Life
4
consecutive times
applied
somewhere
out there
the real monsters
walk free.
And here I am,
dealing with mine, inside,
perhaps a patsy,
the outside continues to debate
angel or monster?
human or demon?
I have no voice.
the audience
speaks it for me,
has its final say -
true or false?
I turn away;
163214
the number of a man
on the table
pen and paper
a work of art
for deciphering,
a black heart remains
CandideDiderot ‘25
The mind was an enemy of itself
A weapon forged by its own hands
Every thought a spiral of panic
Every decision a thought out plan
Silence became a blessing when noise is all you've known
It becomes a safe place after a war of chaos
The betrayal of your own thoughts is a tragedy on its own
To not have your own back, in a world against you
Is to have a house not a home
To be surrounded by people, yet still feel alone
A prison of your insecurities
Haunted by the ghost of regrets
Forever lingering in the deepest part of your soul
The mind a vast ocean of dead past selves
Screaming to be heard
Begging to be known
Wailing to be loved
But who could love a mind that's perception of love is non-existent
Fatigue drains the fight from the spirit
Within the mind numbness creeps
Paralysing the mind until it gives in
To a life sectioned by depression
Until the poison of self deprication becomes too much
That you fall into the state of being a zombie
Trapped inside a body you no longer own
Each day becomes a blur
A constant reminder of a life long gone
A sad ending to the person you were
They want me to be what they want me to be,
I want to be me and I'm a problem you see,
and mum says do what makes them pleased
she wants me to be what she wants me to be,
they want me to be a servant to their needs,
and they disrespect, ignore, and neglect me,
they call me a liar who attention seeks,
they joke openly, and tell everybody,
who don't know me, but suddenly believe,
they know me as needy, that's how they treat me,
my unnoticed grief added to unnoticedly,
as my reality is not real it's just make believe,
as I should be silent and what they want me to be,
a servant beneath who they compete with and beat,
oh I didn't say, in their head a need to better me,
I don't compete yet still they keep repeating,
and now I'm gone forever they say it's a mystery,
saying it's all random made up untrue history,
and that they think my head is gone mentally,
while mum interacts with them and never me,
fuelling their view, their make believe reality,
thinking I'm the problem causing the misery,
she's dead, they're gone and everyone's pissed at me,
she talks her side, they talk their side, I'm not believed,
no one even knows because no one listens to me,
manipulators have a motivation and I simply cease,
anyone they manipulate is someone I don't need,
I'm better off now I've left behind this mental disease,
the people are the disease and their believers are sheep.
They want me to be what they want me to be,
a mental disease who attention seeks,
who admits make believe so the blame is on me,
whilst they're in the free selflessly seen helping me.
Shallow dreams (they tried to get me sectioned)
desperate deeds, because I did reject them,
CONTROL I CEASED.
Lines reign rectangular beyond widely
sombre dour density of inhabitants
Living rendered responsible behind wisely
secure doors definitely insure us
Neighbours harbour unfamiliar stories
Measureless textures hold untapped instruction
Sectioned protected fences forbode inquiry
Composite dismissed in driveway's reflection
Stranger to Earth's purposeful cycle
Continuum of plenty and scarcity
Cup overflows with options available
Convenience success declares to be
Money making matrix of tyranny
directs development's doctrine devours
Cataclysmic quick fix erect a thousand
nature inhibiting pattern of houses
Maze Ministers administer complacency
Tempered treacle assertions anethetise
Placated patients injected with necessity
Propel dominance of capitalism's rise
Studious city sews a hem pressed wide
Insidious greed knows a slow demise
Commodities local harvest would provide
Remote industry manoeuvre bulk supplies
Creek dipped reaching tree to residents listens
Combined myriad of incessant insects minuscule
Comical tousles, tasks of a toiling existence
Trials surmounted gain victories incremental
Environmentally in tune communities
easily trade effort borne resources
Trust, patience, guidance received
Compassion's fountain pours importance
Muscle of masses hinge bones as ligaments
Harvesting knowledge of fecundity's longevity
Endurance and learning with strength intersect
Woven contribution formulates society's liberty
Sterilisation.
The ending of a bloodline
The tree has now stopped growing
Overshadowed by the other flourishing trees
Almost as if it had never existed
But that's what they wanted
To eliminate. To exterminate. To eradicate.
A whole race
It's why they lie with every smile
It's why they feign care whilst they kill
They look young black women in their face
Whilst taking their right to reproduce
Leaving them unsure as to why they struggle with fertility
Leading them to ask the doctors if something is wrong with them
Being heartbroken by their blunt answer
'Yes.'
They gaslight us into believing we are the problem
Then add fuel to the fire if we question Their 'knowledge' - tell us 'doctors know best'
Their only solution is to get us sectioned
When we notice a pattern
Of medical negligence against black women
Because at the end of the day
If a black woman was attacked by a bear
With wounds all over her body
They would claim she deserved it
Which is ironic
Because black women are expected to solve everyone's problems
Yet when we are not of use we become the problem
So they -
Take and take and take?
But black women are the problem
Yet without us your entire empire would crumble
Ending bloodlines
The erasing our futures
Just so you can dominate and become
What? -
The 'superior humans'
A flawed plan when the world was hand crafted by our blood soaked hands
You call us jealous
That we envy your whiteness
When in fact
It was you who was jealous of our blackness
Even going as far as to prevent us from meeting our future children
By blocking their access to a world we created
Stolen by you all because of envy
The Bullet
By Nathan Hannen
This torpedo of death smashed the heart
This precious gift of life is torn apart
It was this that allowed us to play our part
Spearing through lives and breaking peace
Never told and never asked just sleaze
I can't go on, I am not that strong, Appease
Congratulations you have just killed another
An old man, His sister, Or it might have been your brother
In a quiet place there is a girl and her lover
The power they have does not permit them cover
When piercing fragments attempt to write a thesis
No one man can be there to pick up the pieces
There may be losses and leakage of our species
But remember blood is life and there are leeches
There is a boy playing under a morning sky
A man pretending to feel sorry for his lie
The end is black and the stars say it is nigh
The lady cries in pity, A mirrored image in her eye
Tell me this and explain that in a second
Its something that we couldn't comprehend and only reckoned
The stars are not scattered, Just sectioned
A body grove in the soil with a stench of death
The putrid stain of blood on blood with no breath
The lord will lay these souls to rest
The End.
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