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Best Poems Written by Isaiah Goorahlal

Below are the all-time best Isaiah Goorahlal poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Freedom the Lie

It's all in your head. 
It's all in your mind.
One day, you'll be dead.
One day, you'll be hard to find.
We say, "we wish we could fly."
We say, "Give us some time."
They'll work you till you die,
They'll work you till you commit a crime.
Freedom is only in your head.
Freedom is only in your mind

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Why the horse dance

Do you remember,
The grand horse carousel?
Pirouetting upon their endless meridian,
O! How they dance delightfully, with out care.
I know you remember!

But all this poor old man can recall, 
Are the coins infiltrating,
Pushed by small finger, and joyous smiles.
Then the lights overhead,
Followed by the grand gallop chomatique!
How I remember?

These stallions, they dance for wealth,
For life,
For aspiration, 
For pride.

But eventually like all good show-men,
They break a leg, and collapse,
And soon the money cascades too.

Do you remember,
The last time a horse cried?

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A singular Drop; That's All There Was

I gaze upon an opaque silver sky,
Descending dewdrops, developing above the mustache maw.
Ascending the nape to taste cherubim cry,
Permeating petrichor, pervade the nasal in auspicious awe.

Palpable pain of tactile taps
Kissing canker sores and rainstorm rush.
Radically rampaging, for its rapid relapse
Rain, it's infinite, swirling fervor flush

To drown by an inundated impound,
A vehement, vicious, void that immersed,
Wandering weakly on the ocean gored ground,
Drowning, isolated lungs; bellowing burst.

The tyrant tsunami my miracle world-wide flood,
Exploding existence, imploding insistence, ichor pools; blackened blood.

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The Man Who HATES Everything

My whole life I knew a man who hates everything.
Who had a distaste about anything, 
Even the do-nothings and do-somethings said to anyone, 
Because he hates everyone, 
So this tale of hate has already begun.

I know, that the man’s probably old,
Because he’s about to blow cause you’re driving too slow,
He’s wearing white tee; and I foresee me brake checking thee.
For the man who hates everything is a old geezer, 
Who probably got boiled chicken in his freezer, 
smoking daily a weezer.

I met another man, he was a g-man, 
He wore a suit from Iran, and a sign 
that said “help a pleading veteran if you can,”
With a camo design, but i ain’t blind, this man got no spine, 
He had no medals, but used  metal, when i questioned he backpedaled, 
For he, a man who hates is selfish, just devilish,
Until they achieve their wish, he won’t perish.

I was stopped the other day, by a blue jacket cop,
I didn’t see him he tiptoed, especially he hated my lingo, 
When twelve stubbed his big toe, he pulled out his pistol.
Trying to send me to Santo Domingo. 
I pondered: Was it the color of my skin, can hate run so thin,
But of course, A man who hates and enforce, 
are the same men who make up your police force.

I watched the news, and I knew it was true. 
He wore an orange jumpsuit. I bet a substitute
To his gang cloths, in streets where pain grows,
By troubled boys, who think guns are toys, and decide to destroy. 
Then they get incarcerated and take supplements to make them feel more hated.
For he, a man who hates, is a product of shared fates, 
Of men who rather act like primates than teammates, give us an update. 

The last man I met who hate, are the men we elected, 
who made america so disconnected,
We ejected the mexican, 
Neglected the african, 
Disrespected the woman, 
Obtaining an imperfected American.

An American who hates, maybe change is to late 
The man who hates outnumbers us 10-9-maybe 8.
Because the man who hates is here, there, and everywhere.
The men who hate can be anyone, and everyone. 

It’s sad to say, that it’s true to see 
That the men who hate, are you and me.