Long Subjugate Poems
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Written: April 28, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Sara Jama
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When cruelty becomes a badge of honor
empathy transforms into an act of defiance
while the evildoers are celebrated!
The resonance of your words
Your words echo as a sharp blade
revealing the possum
shameful crawl
dragging through sacred remnants
they cut through the fragile chambers
of my vulnerable existence.
A rustle of grass
in the Cimmerian pre-dawn.
Watching you drown in your denial
Now, a landscape of sorrow
once vibrant with the hues of joy
has faded into mere shadows
Shades of happiness did thrive
I stand frozen, bleary-eyed
trying to bear sense of
eerie glow of empty eyes
I am a witness to the casualty
of an all-night bender
Your gaze, a weapon
cold and unyielding
left my spirit in ruins
forever haunted
by the ghost of what once was
The dreams you stole
That left me stranded
broken in body and soul
Amidst the unfolding horrors —
border violence, displacements,
police brutality, genocidal oppression —
Remember this: Cruelty is the point
Cruelty is not humorous nor edgy
Cruelty is not justifiable
Cruelty corrodes the sense of self
Cruelty for cruelty's sake
a repulsive and vile toxic waste
What started as casual banter
quickly turned into a serious dialogue
banter quickly grew into a colloquy.
I walk a path of despair
a subdued plea
where cruelty reigns
Some find joy in the suffering of others—
the essence of schadenfreude
Do we embody barbarism
when we think
we have the right to be cruel
And ignore the agreements we made?
The casualties were unintended
Yearning for a healing touch
for the grace to set me free
Yet the scars remain
a stark reminder
of the cruelty
that has etched its haunting mark.
Your malice roars like a storm
within my spirit,
leaving me shattered
and utterly out of control
I am a victim
The cost of your design
and now I seek peace
In my life
Humans possess the capacity
for empathy and reason,
yet systems of violence.
They are crafted to dominate
subjugate
dehumanize and oppress
Cruelty is always at the core
It feels as if we are consumed
by cruelty in our thoughts
defending the indefensible.
Many men will hate me for shining light on this touchy subject
And women will inevitably want to throw me under a bus
But as sure as a virus is the root of a pandemic
This subject has breached our hull and is now leaking into us
Was it not inevitable this would happen to a culture?
Like roving hoards and idealogy will subjugate the weak
Our religion, arts, and cultural stories now eclipsed by flashy images
And our perceptions of who we are now come from commercial TV
I can image what it was like to be viewed as a witch on trial
And I realize I’m opening myself to the most soul-withering scrutiny
But most every man you meet has struggled with this very issue
And the long and short of this message is this is not about me
Perhaps my fear of women fuels my longing for power
And in this fantasy world nothing ever goes wrong for me
Or perhaps I should say that’s true until the show is over
Then I drown my empty feeling in the asylum of sleep
There are women I know, cherish and respect in my own way
Who I would not touch if I could, because they are my friends
But when I see these women performing these acts on video
It will make me sad because somewhere, someone cherishes them
I can imagine the judgment from those now reading this message
And the chasm of alienation caused by this impossible fantasy world
Propaganda so sophisticated even the Nazis would be jealous
Incinerating the innocence of so many boys and girls
With every view, these women are banished further away from me
But is it possible that all along that was my very goal?
I don’t understand them, and they don’t understand me
And sometimes I have to wonder if I hate their very souls
Then I think of women that inspire me like Shakespeare
Who I would without hesitation give my life to save theirs
Then I wonder if their man has his own hidden ***** stash
And is imprisoning their ‘lady’ in a cell of hopeless fears
I do not wish to plant a seed of doubt in the minds of women
For many men say they do not find *********** appealing
In many cases I guess these guy’s brains are wired differently
And regarding this widespread religion, I think many are not even lying
Peace is though difficult
Yet not impossible to uphold,
All the kings of the states
Must remain self-concerned,
Without poking noses
Into the affairs of others,
Curbing cupidity
To expand the territories,
Subjugate the nations of the world,
Enforce the so-called personal visions,
And put the humanity
Into new-fangled trials.
All the weapons
Latest, conventional or primitive,
Precious or utterly worthless,
Nuclear or less potential
Made of common explosives,
Be spoiled,
Be thrown into the deep waters
Of the unexplored seas,
Wherefrom no devilish character
Could ransack them back.
When some is killed
Neither Hindu, nor Muslim,
Neither Christian nor Jew is killed,
But a man: a child of Adam and Eve,
The same red substance
Pours out of his injured ragged body,
And it pains me.
All the weapon producing units,
And the blood spattering gadgets:
The tanks and cannons,
Mortars or machines guns,
The armadas
With the squadrons of fighter-jets,
Submarines that navigate
Secretly chase the nautical targets,
Catapults and all the missiles launching frames,
Be thrown into furnaces
To be remodelled and redesigned
Into of the earth moving machinery,
Instead of the appliances
Colouring the Earth red.
All the medals or symbols
Of chivalry be taken back,
Combatants and men
With the crowned shoulders,
And medalled chests,
Who often move in the battle-fields
Puffed with the martial pride,
Imparting, rendering
No service to humanity
Be employed to plough the lands,
Plant the gardens,
Make the dams and reservoirs of water,
Feed the cattle and get them milked on time,
Engaged them
To perform some rewarding assignments.
Upon the earth,
There must not be a single
Blood-claiming weapon;
If men are incensed
And fight is unavoidable,
They must fight with knives and rapiers,
Swords and shields made of gossamer,
All the time heeding
Lest they should break;
And all inhabitants of the world
At least once a day must trim their nails,
Lest when they are indignant
And resentful should scratch
The skin of fellow beings or their own.
Form:
What makes a girl?
Is it not “sugar and spice and all things nice”?
What makes a woman? Oh…all that and so much more
A woman is made of sugar…sweet to the taste
Spice…Oh…she can burn your tongue and soul
All things nice? Hmmmm…
Things….let me define them for you...
The warmth of her body
The warmth of her soul
Her nurturing heart
How she makes a man whole
Her soft curvy form
Her luscious sweet lips
Her pillowy bosom
Her curvaceous hips
Her eyes that can speak
In many a way
Her hands that massage
All the worries away
Strength that bears
The pain of giving birth
How she puts herself down
To give you more worth
She is wispy and dreamy
Ethereal, unreal
Sent from above
To make a man feel
She is a seductress
Who can be a friend
She is the strong one
On whom to depend
Who can define her?
She is beyond all this…
The mystery of life
Is contained in her kiss!!!
Now…..For the glimpse of her other side!! I’m posting an old poem of mine,
Warrior Princess. Yes, women can HUNT as well! Read them and Weep.
The Warrior Princess
Don’t think me fragile, quick to break
No, don’t ever make that mistake
My warrior spirit’s deep and strong
I can avenge when faced with wrong
I am the Warrior Princess
I gallop on my mighty steed
Brandish my sword, fulfill my need
What my eyes crave, I swoop to take
No human dares this heart to break
I’m the Warrior Princess
With mad abandon, I make love
With eagle talons, I’m no dove
I subjugate, and I command
Full surrender to each demand
I’m the Warrior Princess
When you think me supple and weak
The fire in my eyes will speak
I play a role, capture your soul
I dominate not part but whole
I am the Warrior Princess
In my veins the power to rule
No man can play me for a fool
Yes, he may think my heart is won
But can you hold the blazing sun?
I’m the Warrior Princess
My fierce passion, you cannot match
Your body from her bed I’ll snatch
Ravish you till I’ve had my fill
Might let you live or I might kill
FOR I’M THE WARRIOR PRINCESS
Eileen Manassian Ghali
You can never DEFINE a woman!
September 29 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Luke 18-19
Key Verse – Luke 18:1 And he (Jesus) spake a parable unto them to this end, that men ought always to pray, and not to faint.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY PRAYER UPHOLDER
Lord God, You are my prayer Upholder against heart’s fainting
Thank You for granting me Your mercy that’s soul-uplifting
Though I’m fearful due to crises so frustration---
You protect me from troubles constantly besetting.
Lord God, You are my prayer Upholder against guilt’s binding
Thank You for besieging me with Your peace of blissful surrounding
Though I’m attacked because of doubt that is blinding---
You forgive me from confessed sins with Your holy shielding.
Lord God, You are my prayer Upholder against impossibility’s undertaking
Thank You for pouring unto me Your revival for ministerial working
Though I’m afflicted by humanism that’s mocking---
You prop me against unbelief toward righteous walking.
Lord God, You are my prayer Upholder against falsity’s torturing
Thank You for promising me Your salvation spiritually assuring
Though I’m little of stature in faith-soaring---
You propel me toward service of stewardship-nurturing.
Lord God, You are my prayer Upholder against worldliness’ occupying
Thank You for leading me to obey You with joyous complying
Though I’m defiant when subjected to grievous trying---
You subjugate me with Your serenity of no delaying.
Lord God, You are my prayer Upholder against frustration’s falling
Thank You for enlightening me Your wisdom of truth-sealing
Though I’m confused because of deceitful calling---
You teach me for Biblical knowledge-filling.
Lord God, You are my prayer Upholder against futility’s gripping
Thank You for comforting me because of failure-caused weeping
Though I’m weakened by carnality’s propping and pride’s clapping---
You aid me with Your gracious assistance of ready helping.
September 29, 2023
Our great Balboa has left the hillock bare
And two waters converge in evening mist
Where from our vision he made us stare
As the divided dimensions rose and kiss
So sleep the sailor, so sleep the caravel
So sleep great Balboa, toll, toll your knell.
A sprig of spring is all autumn's promise
Winter is for children play, and for hubris.
The navy man has taken his golden wings
On glinted them against the silvery dusk
The eagle rising fro the earth sweetly sings
On dust-rock horizon where triumphs husk
The veil that cover human tears and fears
With tragedy that all mass and matter wears
A sprig of spring is all autumn's promise
Winter is for children play, and for hubris.
So Balboa, remember your craft on one engine
The sound barrier rescinded, brings you to earth
The grave has no remembering, O the final spin
That undo all dream of birth! fair Deist now inert
Shall only watching moon alert us of this memory
The great walk that expanded the edge of history?
A sprig of spring is all autumn's promise
Winter is for children play, and for hubris.
Conquistador of the modern world, great sailor
What tribes did you subjugate beyond Korea, tell
What corn you planted, what gold in your valor,
What new dominions now your great spirit swell?
I hear Darien laughing in the silence of the moon
I see the caparisoned horse, and the taps balloon
A sprig of spring is all autumn's promise
Winter is for children play, and fo hubris
They come, they come, stolid mourners slowly
The riderless horse ignorant you are gone, gone
Forever, grief bowed us, and pride lingers greatly
Thanking you for gyral cycle of an ambitious dawn.
But Balboa do you hear them, can you see tears
Can you reverse the plunder of the vernal years?
A sprig of spring is all autumn's surprise
Winter is for children play, and for hubris
He was once considered a Prince, a King and even a Chief to some… He was the ruler of the
land were the birth of mankind was rumored to have begun? A former trader and a once
great exporter of fine goods and spices to everyone, reduce by another man’s desire to
subjugate another man’s race and reduce them to a value worth less than the number one.
Then traded like a common farm animal and paraded to the center of town to be inspected
like a prize cow at the County fairgrounds on a hot summers day.
His dreams of watching his children and their children’s playing in the vast open plains of the
great land of Gambia now washed away to sea…as he laid there in the hull of a ship
chain to his fellow countrymen like a criminal who has been condemned to be put to death.
Bound for a place where he would be considered a commodity and nothing else, were even
a dog was worth more than himself. A place were a beating was…but a mere deed to repress
the souls desire to be free. As they would beat him as his stood tied to a pole as he looked
up at the sky and watch the birds fly so freely… he would think to himself... even the birds in
this place are worth more than me. They tried to break his desire to ever be free, they even
took what was left of his dignity and sprawled it over the ground like the leafs that blow
from off a tree during a ruthless storm on a falls eve…they even told him that he was worth
less than zero.
But now that he was finally free, he had made it to heaven even though they said his kind
was not welcome there and that the nearest he would ever get to heaven was working in
thier fields and basking in thier Sun?
Well my Masters, I saw Jesus and talk to God… and he said to tell you all, that zero is not a
worthless number…but it is really just the beginning, before you get to one and I was no
longer zero here in heaven,but number one .
The stranger is strange, pariah, leper sounds offbeat,
Neither truculent, nor relevant, all destined to encounter the doomed relic;
The bizarre outlander, alien to stimulate the instant pulse-beats!
The uninvited hobnobber, one despises to welcome in routine frolic.
The stranger is unsolicited, the object of latent fear,
As strange may be the ways of the unbidden ones' intentional cares!
The stranger is unfaithful: weird to tranquility, comfort and cheer,
For the sceptical one, we become anxious by a mere fateful encounter!
The stanger lies in our conscience; in a distant land in paradoxical disguise.
Masquerade, the image generates an uncanny fear to sigh!
Sounds delinquent to subjugate the wires of prudent conscience!
Nonetheless, cogitates as usurper of peace; an ineffable parti pris.
Self-centred, they are loquacious, spell bound like con stars;
Babbles from the masks, camouflages as the epitomes of pretenders.
Unknown, unfamiliar, stirs alarms not to mingle, to be away, to be cautious.
In disguise, comes the alleged stanger to ruin ones' peace to shudder and shatter.
But the most alarming of all preconceived archetypes, are the strangers:
Who lingers on, as routine friends and well wishers,
On whom we doted on, are the real dear strangers,
Who by feigning friends, acted quisling, an obvious stranger!
'Hold!' sometimes left us dumbfounded with their insensible fickle deeds;
Even when the unknown stanger might spare and stand by us in awful needs!
When our intimate ones deny to wink at the distress;
While busy in spilling the beans, our woes go unnoticed by the feigned well-wishers.
Indeed! They are the untagged apparent strangers, fugitives in our trials.
Beware of those strangers, whom we adore as near and dear ones, 'bosom friends,'
the agnates and cognates, to entitle the crown, “an actual stranger" who elopes in tmes of miseries!
All Rights Reserved © Silpika Kalita
In love and in you, lunar wings fade like spectral silver gliding gently,
In the dark abyss of an obsidian sky, refracting dreams of a lost realm,
Sliding and undulating through opalescent glass, like a window hiding truths,
Sprinkled with pearl dust on your hidden face, between curved lines and lips of longing.
Like Selene floating on red waves in a shining chariot with sparks of citrine,
Woven with flames dancing in the night. I challenge you to follow the silent traces
Of words forgotten by time, for they are the key that unlocks gates of light.
And when dusk falls over your trembling silhouette, the moon whispers to you again.
About loneliness etched in the void that reverberates in a deaf silence,
Without questions or answers, without winds to wrap you in warmth,
Without colors to soothe the cold, without stars to sew the heavy silence,
Return to the crescent moon hammock that emanates the gold of eternal peace.
A hummingbird's heart, lost in the feathered horizon, turn back to the twilight,
To taste the temptations hidden in the mysterious and tender crepuscular light,
Let your soul kiss the hot tips of the sun setting smoothly,
You are the master of the moon, the artist painting the air with divine acrylic hues.
The weaver of fragrant dawns preceding the storms gathering on the vast sky,
We, the immutable poets, silently implore the awakening of your sleeping consciousness,
To mold you, to create you, to return you to your purest and most vivid form,
As you rise like the pulse of a dragon released from the day's warm embrace.
Of the megalomaniac sun that cannot subjugate my mind without eternal breath,
I am the master and mistress, the queen of tranquility, crowned in mystical thoughts,
Enthroned among galaxies struck by thunder, never fearing the unknown,
Ruling the moon and the cosmos, captive in the eyes of undefeatable celestial magic.
Tonight I’m in my element
I sense the power surging
To place of imminence
Taking control
I will whisper my demands
Into your soul
You will be transformed, Woman
I will make you
The Mistress of the Night
I start my transformation
By visiting your lips
I cherry stain them
I enable them to turn seductress
With a smile to beguile, I grace you
You will part them to whisper
Words that will render him weak
Helpless at your feet
I will bless your lips
Tonight I’m in my element
I will tangle my beauty in your hair
Leaving my essence in it
The virgin softness of silk
The scent of summer dreams
The strength of the bonds of love
The flowing movements of liquid passion
His hands will feel my presence
Drawn to these tresses
I will move them
To touch and caress
And at my height of domination
His hands will tug and pull
His lips taste the strands
Inhaling me…
Listen, I am Desire
I Speak
I am in my element
Let me caress your form, woman
Your skin I will soak with my wine
Spilling myself all over you
To make you sweet to his taste
His tongue will be filled with me
As his mouth takes you in and travels
To those places where I lead
For I know your form well
And what pleases you
With essence that inebrites
Your navel will hold him for a while
Until I move him to taste inside
Cherry sweetness of my smile
Opened wide
I am in my element
I am Desire
I speak
Woman,
I have visited and ravished you
You still quiver from my touch
I've empowered you
Made you a goddess
A Goddess of love
A Passion Queen
Conquer him and subjugate
For I am Desire
I demand it
Remember my name
You will cry it out in ecstasy
When you come into your glory
When I am fulfilled
I will quietly leave
Like a soft evening breeze
Until I visit you again
I now kiss your lips
Where his taste still lingers.
Eileen Manassian