Long Stereotyped Poems
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Service workers wearing fake smiles perform for the customer. Catering to their needs; pretending. Insecure bosses put the pressure on making it known that you are replaceable. Treated as a number, employees wear name tags. Told what to wear and that opinions don't matter. Corporate policies drive the machine and the answer lies in the picture book. Great emphasis put on consistency, resulting in robotic behavior that is rewarded. Individuality is highly discouraged. In matching uniforms to represent a company; divided into groups and stereotyped. A job well done is expected without acknowledgement but mistakes are called out from the other side of the window. Two faced co-workers throw you under the bus and get tongue tied when confronted. It's obvious that their own insecurities drive such behavior. The bigger person feels compassion. Walking on egg shells in their presence and justifying his behavior with hard work. Fools buy into the lies and carry it's message with confidence. Creating an image of someone they don't even know. Judge mental mentalities that boost egos at the expense of someone else. Ambivalence is rare in this word of mouth to mouth industry and your secrets aren't safe. Gossip queens give dirty looks and stick up their noses. Little do they know that they actually know so little. Often shocked when they find out the truth. I see through this transparent behavior and I don't get involved. I'm too old for the drama and my time isn't wasted on such issues. These attitudes are contagious and so easily adopted. Breaking the cycle and avoiding it's virus, calls for a man with life experience. Someone who has already been through this and been in the shoes that they wear. It takes an open mind built on a foundation of acceptance. This is an attitude that cannot be taught, closed minds won't listen. Lead by example, an impact can be made. Lowered expectations influence less judgement. People are born into a harsh world and at the end when the waitress presents you with the check; gratuity is not included.
A salute at being a woman
Being a woman
What does that mean
A success story of a dream
A nurturer a rider
A provider
Someone who makes things happen
Even when there are a lot of distractions
They are like math
They take fractions
And divide them
With you right beside them
They rule the world
Yes
You don't have to second guess
The power of a woman
You see
The power of a woman doesn't need a degree
It needs to be sought
It can't be bought
And visions and decisions
We make them
Credit we will take them
When I speak on credit I'm talking about credit that's due
Look at it from a different view
Whether you are a mother daughter sister or friend
You can win
We've been stereotyped whether we are doing wrong or right
We put up a fight
We have a voice
That needs to be heard
We have the right words
If it occurred
We are amazing phonemomnal but out of all of it we are humble
Even when we stumble
We get back up
One thing about us
We are never stuck
But if we are
Stuck we have the power to dig ourself out of a hole
We are in control
Yes
We are at our best
We have tears that have dropped y
We have situations we couldn't stop
We Had things we has to sacrifice our time our self
To be of help
You see being a woman
Is amazing we are wonderfully and fearfully made
By our heavenly father
I'm a precious daughter
Yes I am
Anything we want to conquer we can!!
Let's keep each other empowered
By the day the second and hour
Unity sisters yes
We are beauty at its best
Strong ambitious
Ambitious and strong
Courageous
Spirit is contagious
Everyone wants to be around
We are the sound of an elegant beat
We are the rhythm of soulful feet
We are the petal to a Rose
We can loose alot bit never self control
We are all that and more
We are the ones to be adored
Not ignored
We carry the hurt pain and tears and have overcome fears
I have so much more to say
Happy National Women's day
Written by Concetta Hardnett
03/08/2023
She Woke up Pregnant
She started out like any other weekday on her way to school,
Excited about the award she won for her poem titled "Nobodies fool".
Now her poem was about her struggles from the environment she was in,
There was no way she'd be stereotyped, and no way she would amount to nothing.
This strong black queen at the age of fourteen refused to become a statistic,
Though her world was full of pain and strife, she couldn't help to feel afflicted.
But she rose every morning, looked herself in the mirror, and promised to endure,
She'd brush her teeth, check her homework, eat breakfast, and walk out the door.
On this particular day to school, she decided to take a detour,
Thru the alley, under the bridge, a path she'd never taken before.
She hurried thru the route she took, for it was unfamiliar,
Oblivious to the hooded man in the mask that was out to get her.
He came up from behind and placed his arm around her neck,
He told not to scream for that'll be something she'd regret.
He dragged her to the roof that's where he tied her to the fence,
Ripped off her clothes, put his hand on her mouth, and stole her innocence.
Thru it all she reflected on her poem "nobodies fool",
How could she have gotten here, she felt somewhat responsible.
Now I'm the fool she thought to herself for getting in this position,
Why did I choose this path to school, why couldn't I've chosen different.
Now here I lie on this cold wet roof not knowing if I'll survive,
I hope that when he's finished he'll decide to spare my life.
"Are you ok", Are you ok, was the next thing that she heard,
It was six months later when she opened her eyes, looking up at the nurses and doctors.
You're a very lucky young lady is what the doctor told her next,
You were smashed in the head with a brick, and stabbed 3 times in your chest.
It was touch and go on the operating table, but there's one thing that's significant,
We were able to save you and your fetus we saved to, you are now at six months pregnant.
I wanna state a cardiac arrest for ya chest
Detest your own humidity within humanity, cats rest in vanity
Controlling underground charisma the mic got me checking
Wrecking one image of fame at a time
Cursed vines connecting family to 10 o clock news
Dues payed, lives strayed in the fray battling demonic entities
Loving life as it was given to me never forgetting how bad days are now
Whatever happened to old love music and jazzy tunes programed to everyone's ear
Fears hold hearts by the numbers count beyond two plus two into thunder
Anesthetic agility slaying demographic amendment abilities
Beckoning nucleic AC's, base combination weeds
Growing fast forget what you knew last
Before trash wonders pounce into eyes of ghetto stricken children
Stereotyped to end up living in hatreds domain, so much pain
Vividly orchestrated symbolically government debated
No-one has awakened accept a lesser few
Scripted by transcendentalist dues, golden hues and cyripted clues
BOOM!, did you feel my vibe
Arise and cry your hearts content, repent what grounds gravitational
Ration cuz they called me action with a little bit of attraction
For tainted pictures posted on shopping center windows
JC penny pillows, couches and Nintendos
Forget all the unnecessary smiles and hug with love's style
Is it wrong to file times when wrong was right
Darkness was light, she became vigilante bright
Yo...this poetry thing is so tight
I just wish i found it earlier in mainstream ignorance
To electrify my repentance mechanism
Schisms tattooed onto tribal ancestor blades
vector shijin played
Yuki im comin girl
Your my world and much more, although I love Viviana
until my heart dies of pore romanticism interpretations
Pounding silhouettes emancipation anticipate that
See i'm just one of a few that appreciate metaphores
and naturalistic lore, women with imaginative cores
Naw it aint hard, see im just cruzin
but i guess its hard to contemplate daily iluzions.
Experienced a third bigger earthquake recently but this poem I wrote for a smaller earthquake years ago)
My first trivial tremor experience had been in Southern Africa
And now this puny earthquake I felt in Tanzania.
I saw every thing waltz to and fro and lightly shake
Bottles turned ballerinas dancing slightly to the quake
I watched glass decors on the walls quiver and jolt
Scaredy me was half asleep, no wonder didn't bolt
I thought I was dreaming or imagining things
My bed and chairs converted into gentle swings.
All vials and vases
jiggled to dance a jig
The lil horrors over
So I cast humor's wig
Ah when began rattling, the knick knacks on my dresser
Was when it dawned upon me in horror
That this was really an early dawn tremor.
I phoned some friends but those early risers
Hadn't even noticed or felt those tremors
I bet they thought I was spreading false rumours
After all poets are stereotyped as fanciful philosophers.
My cell phone keypad became my panic button in a flurry
Of course I wanted all to be alerted, alarmed in worry
Nobody believed me until it was announced in our mosque
And every body was then called by muezzin to pray the signs prayers
Then every body knew the tremor was no hoax
Some patted me for being the first to notice this shaking of earthly layers
Of course I thanked God this was no major earthquake
I've heard in other places how terribly the earth can crack and shake
Who else but God could I owe my heartfelt gratitude
For this being my 2nd low power tremor in magnitude
As it measured low on the Richter scale
based on the seismic waves' amplitude
But the earth was shaken and I too was shaken
No pics of the shivering axis were taken
Todate runs down my spine such a shiver
On recalling how the mother earth did quiver
I have seen videos of earthquakes where the earth juggles things
like a salt shaker
May God protect us from such a waker and breaker
She was the girl that went unnoticed
She kept herself small, she didn't want to be the focus
But deep in her pockets
Her biggest secret
She was a poet
It wasn't some big revelation
Like she had already known it
Her lack of confidence wouldn't let her do it
But little did she know she was already chosen
When she was born her ancestors had spoken
She was the one to give them their moment
Throughout the years she had been bullied
She had learned to hate her skin colour
So she made herself invisible
Only speaking when some spoke to her
To nervous, to scared
To be stereotyped and met with judgement
She learned silence was a friend but also a weapon
She didn't know how to exist in a world that saw her as a problem
Then one day she saw this beautiful notebook
She thought to herself that this was a message
Not sure from who
But she felt like it had something to do with her lineage
The girl was observant
Her gift was watching
Each poem dedicated to a lifetime of experiencing
What it was like to not being treated like a human being
Her words spoke more than her mouth ever did
Her eyes the foundation of everything
What she was scared to speak on she bravely wrote
Secretly hoping that one day her her words could help someone
Even if it gave them a little comfort
She wrote about her own experiences of racism
Gaining the confidence to speak of injustices unknown
Speaking on the forgotten
For once in her life she didn't care what they said
Even if it meant she'd end up dead
She knew how to anger The racist system
She wouldn't hide and she'd lift up her head
To let them know she loved her blackness
Her ancestors watched like a proud parent
For the first time in her life she felt confident
Now infront of a crowd she stood up and read
All the poems she had written in silence
This was a moment
Her and the crowd would never forget
I lived so many years in a stupor being capable of turning crystals green
Now I’m sober it’s different and naturally alters my state of mind
Experiencing a wider range of feelings than I felt before
Emotional intelligence can be an awkward companion though
With heightened emotions my feelings become more revealing
And revealing is exactly what it is and can lay you bare
In the past when limited to anger and lust it seemed an easier place
Supposedly strong and able to cope, with a glass permanently in hand
Just accepting not being able to see, or so it seemed
Life was a breeze back in those hazy days when totally blind with drink
Lack of confidence or shyness masked with a cloak of inebriated skills
Popular and sociable but really an island of loneliness in an ocean of friends
Any social gathering, I was the first through the door and the last to leave
Not sure when it happened but I started to dislike myself
Like a stereotyped actor playing characters I no longer believed in
Knowing where I was heading, I felt something seriously needed to change
Sometimes I wonder how it is that the new simple can be so complicated
There seems much more to balance with a supposedly clear head
But can your head be clear if your mind is cluttered with so many thoughts
Clarity appears to bring overthinking which sometimes doesn’t help
When the darkness descends it weighs much heavier than before
So I tell myself that I need to plant my feet firmly and embrace reality
But that’s hard to do when unsure of what or who you are
I don’t understand myself sometimes so how to explain to others
I need my head in country roads not speeding down motorways
Not easy when life requires a bullet train but I yearn for the orient express
It’s true that life is full of challenges but often the biggest of all is ourselves
I used to think of tokens
in terms of appreciation
Until someone mentioned
something in passing
they said they had grown weary
of being a token
What a curious thing to say
is what I thought at the time
But I soon got to see it all
for what it really was
It often starts off innocently enough
The appeal of getting the opportunities
denied the rest of your kind draws you in initially
To be the exception to the rule
is most certainly a thrill
You get to be the exotic one
while the others are seen as repulsive
It can quickly turn to one selling their soul to earn or maintain approval
It's an easy trap to fall into in all fairness
In most cases you have to be a yes man
Willing to vote against your kind to fit in
Being a complete and shameless sell out is a must
You have to put up with being stereotyped for effect
Even throw in a few laughs at bigoted jokes
aimed at your kind for added bonus
Nobody wants to be rejected obviously
but being a token might result in self betrayal
or even self hate,I think
You have to shun a part of yourself
in order to be useful in concealing disparity
Be the bold voice and face that represents a false display of equality
How do you ever look your kin
in the eye again after that, I wonder
Or even look at your skin and coily hair with love ever again
Do you simply stop seeing any of that
as part of your identity, maybe
How does one even begin to cope with all that burden
You might even start believing the scam that you have been lured into
Its truly tragic in my opinion
But then again what do I know
I'm not built to be a pet
I'm an African wildling
I was born free
Form:
finds yours truly groveling along
February third 2022,
never linkedin - analogous to stray animal
without being befriended,
thus I don't belong
survival instincts taught yours truly
the necessity acting
courageous and headstrong
even if necessary
to stare down King Kong,
who actually shows me respect
such that every now and again
we play a game of ping pong
and on a crisp night
roast marshmallows kindle campfire
and sing Kumbaya song.
This tramp (which stereotyped
caricature familiarly epitomized
in countless Chaplinesque productions,
Dickensian tales,
oil paintings from
artistic hands of great masters
and others anonymous
exquisite painters, et cetera)
remembers practically nothing
of me nine-month stay in utero
birth, childhood nor early adulthood.
My amorphous gauzy,
hazy fractal memories
solely comprise fractured,
fragmented and splintered collection
of miserable experiences,
which characterize living
a hellacious hand to mouth
hard scrapple existence.
Past wispy vestiges of wretchedness
and now present woebegone existence
seems a worse fate than death.
The overpowering urge to survive
and summon up one barely audible
l’chaim utterance against the depredations
of the grim reaper only found
nothing but defeat.
That daily dismal
grinding away of last shreds
of a purpose driven life fending off real
and imagined threats sought salvation
in a vividly encased jammed
preserve of mine imagination
an existence awash with ample
trappings of comfort.
Distilled Jamaican Anthem Part 2
Teach Us True Respect For All
for our workers are all important, our farmers, our artisans
our women at the stove, our women at the mill, our women
who birthed us, our teachers, lawyers, doctors, and the men
with axes, yard cutters, fishermen, bakers, drivers, politicians
Stir Response To Duty Call
that our hearts be not faint, nor our minds become lazy
that our flesh be not weak, and our loins be firm to bare
the load of home, community, country, and will to share
to give our all and never complain of being ever weary.
Strengthen Us The Weak To Cherish
for we were naked too, and homeless, stereotyped, accused
and we are the poor, the uneducated, the exploited, the sick
give us strong compassion, resources mental and economic
that open prison bars with love, and comfort well the abused.
Give Us Vision Less We Perish
to know the present and where its coming from, and to know
where we are going, and why we have chosen the path we take
father guide us to best choices, and not the easy ones to make
and wealth is multiplied may our vision not hide you in the flow.
Knowledge Send Us Heavenly Father,
from the person in the hovel, fromm the man in the street, and
from the child who no experience blinds the alternative eye
from the student, and the master, from angels through the sky
and your holy spirit, o god give us back bones worthy to stand.
Grant True Wisdom From Above.
and may we find it devoted to love
Justice, Truth be ours forever,
Jamaica, land we love.
Jamaica, Jamaica, Jamaica land we love.