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Emanuel Martinez May 2013
Teasing the beast
Looking for a feast

Hounds barking at our ears
Vultures flying up ahead
Circling a bald eagle's fresh corpse

Compartmentalizing symptom after symptom
To hide the great systematic sickness
Labeling the suffering, outcome from desire

We, wholeheartedly accepting being
Appropriated, labeled, discarded
As construing our own oppression and sadness

Enduring the **** of our minds
Being castrated of our consciousness
Before we reap the products
Of its bold liberation and grandness

Its the belly of the beast
And its hungry
Insatiable, amoral entrails
Hoping to salvage a feast
From the casualties of d(e)moc(ratic) wars

Hoping we feed our monstrous fear
Thirsting for the greed
Dripping off of accumulating wealths
Impatiently waiting, we keep parceling out grudges

Disfiguring our minds, our souls, and our bodies
Its misanthropic nature lashes out without conscience
Knowing we'll never realize we are masses

Disappearing the individuals who realize their suffering
Ensuring there's no collective opposition or action
Trying to reassure we are weak

Knowing at some point or another
We all act mute, deaf, and blind when anyone experiences:
Oppression
Pain
Silencing
****
Hunger
Fear
Violence
­Repression
Retaliation
Discrimination
Torture
Negation
Alienation­
All forms of mental, psychological, physical, and spiritual mutilation
Fearing death more than fighting for necessary abolishment
Preferring to live out our veiled miseries
Endorsing their continuance
Instead of risking our lives for everyone's liberation
Always ensuring the feast of the beast

By its very efforts trying to decree our very human nature
Ingraining greed, fear, animosity, and weakness as if inherent of us
All parts of its most damaging weapon:  the seed of discord
Its implantation, a socialized deep desire for self-preservation

Sheep bleating painfully toward our ears
Vultures flying up ahead
Circling a bald eagle's fresh corpse
Signifying the impending recapturing
Of our true transformative desires
May 4, 2013
Mateah Jul 2018
There is a line                           
                                             That none dare to cross
On one side is riches                                       
                                      On the other is loss

The thing that stops them
Strikes fear like a wraith
It's the "truth" of deception
In those who have faith

One side is worse                                   
But ignorance is bliss                                          
                          ­              You cannot cross over
                                                            ­Or in your next life you'll regress

In                there          no        
       reality                is          line

The            line     ­  within
only           is    

The line has been caste
                                                    down
But
the­y
ignore
its
abolishment
DISCLAIMER: I do not mean to offend anyone by this poem or the meaning behind it. Poetry is raw, which means it can be harsh too. The way I speak of Hinduism in this poem could be considered harsh, and I apologize if it does.
EXPLANATION: Okay, so this poem is inspired by the caste system of India which is heavily based on Hinduism. The caste system basically places a person in a caste (or social grouping) based on the family they are born into. The system says that you cannot change your caste (i.e. if your father was a soldier, you have to be a soldier). If you do try to change your caste, it is considered bad karma; you may become a lower being or lower caste in your next reincarnation. The caste system used to be enforced by law, but was legally abolished in 1949. However, due to it being a religious practice as well, it is still upheld by many people in India (specifically the more rural areas). With this poem my goal was to sum up the state of some of the Hindi people of India in relation to the caste system.

P.S. Sorry for the essay! :)
PenAndPadPoetry Aug 2014
To everyone
Subjected
Arrested
And put to rest
In a coffin
I apologize to every single person that isn't apart of the majority
I apologize for a race so far into themselves they fail to see murals
Because lately all they've cared about is how simple a blank white canvas is
The only way to make art is to have color
Lately I've turned off the news because of how embarrassed I am
Of a country that undermines success of women
Takes rights from gay people
And openly ****** black boys and men and women in this country
But walk away to their white houses
With their white families
And teach their white kids
That this is America
That America isn't slowly turning into a second holocaust slowly killing off everyone who isn't their definition of pure
Except instead of chambers
This deadly gas is inhaled by us everyday
Because it hasn't stopped
And more people
That have seen
Black boys
Fall from a bullet
Walk away without conviction
This poem was written to make
Every splinter in a wood coffin of a Martyr to shake
To hear what I am saying
And not to accept my apology
For years of abolishment
But to understand that we don't all come from hate
And that every time I am told I am the problem
I just say I'm sorry
Because
Of my race
Not me
Black fathers shouldn't have to call their sons to be safe when walking home
Mothers shouldn't have to tell daughters that it's okay to be just a housewife
It's only okay to do what you want
So do what you want
Stand up
And never stand down
First they decentralise
secondly they marginalise
then they criminalise
and all the lies make you
believe
that you're the
bad guys.

Nothing changes what is and can be,
democracy
was a pipe dream in
Ancient Greece
which was sold on and we hold
on to the dream.

Criminal records play a very poor tune,
the sooner you realise that what lies
ahead is not what you thought of,
you'd  be better off dead, but
the triumph begins when our sins are absolved by the abolishment of parliament and the reinstatement of choice, what choice do we have?what more do we need?

How about enough food to feed the family?

If I could weave you a story then I'd spin you a yarn.

The potter and his pottery,
dull clay on the wheel
can you feel how the spin turns and starts to begin
when a shape takes its form and
is that not sheer poetry by the potter
and his pottery?

No one kills you with kindness, but with kindness they will and the World will become a still place ruled over with one face, stern, unartistic, sick and pliable the people are liable to fall under the wheel again,
can you feel again,
is this not another poetry by the famous,
is it some adultery by the nameless,
add 'lise' on the ends of all words and
are they not shameless?

Blameless?
I don't think any of us are.
Birds of a feather flock together/
We have no feathers so we run together/

as individuals

Two heads are better than one
And that's the minimum
Requirement/
The outcome is determined by the
general
Acknowledge it/
Follow good leaders and lead good followers
The problem is
no ones up to solving it/
A select a few
Perpetual intellectuals
The Rest vegetables
War what is it good for
Abolishment/
Eradication
From savagery
Toward civilization
Now savage nation
Prerogative/

Granted/

Provocative
Inclination we hoist
  pedantic's/
components change
But The operating
basis stays the same
Famished/
hungry for change
Dollars are appetizing
6 million ways
To do nothing
Tragic/
Feeding Negativity
Food for thought
Absolute positivity
postulate/
No man stands alone
Obvious/
so start
Until you build
your on
Conglomerate/
Aggregate with
Those that's dominant
Then accomplish it
Anything else
Is a zombie pit/
Walking dead
Become prominent
Set precedent
Become astonishing/
It's all in
Following good leaders
And leaders  good followers/
Stephen E Yocum Aug 2013
I extend out my arm,
just as far as it can go,
I covet things you know,

More things can be the
answer to all my dreams,
The abolishment of my pain,
An ending to my loneliness,
And even buy me friends.

There is nothing they say,
that money can't buy,
It's a proven panacea.

I want to be a Has,
and not a Has Not,
And I want everyone
to see it.

The only real problem is I guess,
That my grasp it seems,
Can't begin to match my reach.
Lusting for what we can not have,
will nearly always bring us nothing.
Energy better spent taking care of
what and who you do have and
being thankful for it.
Coveting for a bright person is
usually a fool's errand.
-3-
Produced the reduced use of deuced youth as well fall flat on back relapse of a matter oh’ fact there is no reason to bring back the lack of acts that have collapsed as endorse isn’t the course we force the indorsed remorse’s horse it how it sounds from the round about turned down, wrapped around the mound of wound bounds traced as we wish to erase the missed ace am disgraced to waste the space from haste it is misplaced finding grace abducted, while we are interrupted so disruptive all corrupted instructed that we be introduced to a new place to set loose then choose to roost.

Audible is honorable when placed in space of a new disgrace we haste to chase the base relate the mate is gallant, accordant abeyant to reliant now defiant why deny, when have tried to reply the unquestionable supply of high relies reprieved cephalized isn’t the aim to gain the same remains of main stained for blame, have strained the aim of shame to restrain the bargain attain then pass the refrain again the demand to stand on the right hand of man as have banned the uttermost do tend to boast then coast on to deposed what isn’t supposed to mean the most.

Regulate the agitate of will you wait till the proper date to calibrate where we have done, what have become after having won no youth refund underhung rung the reliefs beliefs in this we speak to realize have agonized the civilized tho don’t deprive for now do thrive from abrasive wise isn’t lies relented the dependent to sentence the pendent, abolishment of what was, have turned around the have does, to what wasn’t because of we lock without a knock of shock we stopped and sought to sample of what before couldn’t handle now we have another hand ful to dandle.
Little Wren Oct 2016
I think it's stupid
How I refuse to use straws
Because of a video I watched one time
Of one stuck in a sea turtle's nostril.

Or how there is really only the illusion of choice
And statistics from unreliable resources
Making us feel better or worse
About our decisions.

I tell myself to quit sugar
But honestly I just like my lattes
Sickeningly
Sweet
Like the love stories I thought could be under nooks
Around the corners
Of everyday life.

I like ice cream on winter days
Hot tea in the suns of summer
A walking talking irony

A bulb on its way to burning out
Sputtering in the half-eaten room
No one wants to go in to change it.

It's not my fault
The walls dissolve
And that same chord is continually played on the piano
In the corner of the upstairs closet.

It's not my fault
Cameras don’t bring me security
But sensitivity to my own identity.
Dissolution into absolution
Abolishment of egocentrism

And always,
The illusion of choice
Hanging in the rafters chattering.
Disjointed musings in a coffee shop.
Qori Pinto Jul 2014
Human beings are reckless developments.
Our minds are to destroy.
Let me explain, you see human beings are the only species with the concept of self-destruction without a real purpose.
Do you comprehend?
Let me clarify by giving you a scenario.
Close your eyes.
Well, figuratively you need to read this first.

You just moved into the most beautiful house you could ever imagine.
The one you’ve been envisioning since you were a wee child.
Now, you sit on your comfy couch and just relax in your beautiful new house.
You have everything you could possibly want, but now you’re bored.
Getting used to the décor you once thought unique and beautiful.
You decide you want more, something different, something better.
You go into the kitchen and notice there is something not quite right.
I should smash that wall, you think to yourself. Create an open concept.
So, that is exactly what you do, tear up that wall.

What once was beautiful is now gone.
What you once held as a goal is now your past.
But you have that open concept you never wanted now.
That my friend is how the human mind works we destroy to create.
Yet, what we don’t realize is that we hardly appreciate the goodness of which is given to us.
The goodness of which we have always dreamt.

We become comfortable.
We become bored.
And the vicious cycle for more embellishes and plagues our keen minds.
We destroy to become.
We destroy for it.
It being us, our species.
Us being our brain.
The brain being our end.
Because one day, it will become so powerful that we, our own species, will become too dull for our own senses and we will push our own mortality, our own meaning to the point of abolishment.
And that folks will the culmination of our reckless development to extinction.
Kari May 2017
We are living in a dictatorship, a tyrant is at large.
The Aristocrats are clawing on to their wealth and privilage
Ebenezer Scrooge pales in all spectrum
The Peasants awakened in anguish, brews a tempestous whirlwind.
Torches brought to life,
roaring ******* flames of justice
Torture’s a friendly foe,
the time for lamenting has been extinguished.
 
Directing their stubby fingers, master of guile,
stroking their overgrown stomach
“Leech the Swines!
Bury their bodies, all but their sham crown
Garlands of heads, draped on my wall.”
A source of warmth for the winter’s plight, A trophy
triumphing the seeds of abeyance
Desolating fate is sealed by this stern decree.
 
Free hand-reading; not requiring an oracle.
“Am I not a benevolent King?”
**** out the roots.
One by one,
**** out the roots of evil.
For the root of all evil is good.


The peasants thin and scrawny.
Hunger, their morning advocate and evening lover-
Lusting to sink their teeth in to Pride.
 
The Nobel robed in mulberry silk
making love to a ******* pastry, birthed by a coinless *******.
Ascended into the abyssal inner circle of Hell
 
Those armoured with royal blood adorned in leather costumes
-vagrants cannot discriminate-
slaughtered while Mercy slumbers.
**** the aristocrats, for they are selfish!
The abolishment of poverty, the bane of the Monarchical eradication
 
A diabolical scheme!
Says the soulless estranged with peace.
inspired by Charles Dickens' "A Tale of Two Cities"
Vyiirt'aan Nov 2017
Satisfaction lingers
The inherent bliss that warms
The buried fears that flounder,
The abolishment of qualms

The radiant glow materialises
Substantiating to a path
Hop onto the luminescence
Guiding you to your guard

I am a container

A crystalline beaker fills me to the brim
With affection in a golden hue
The amber nectar seeping in abundance

As a tap leeches my soul, my mere essence sways
As I bleed and stand on crystal shards

An empty vessel yields no spirit
From the empty barrel that remains
For a heart devoid of soul would not
Display nor muster

I am the light that dissipates
Yet the darkness brought me back
It does not leave me alone
Why does it clamp itself to my back

Get it off
Get it off me
GET.    IT.    OFF.    ME!

It does not leave me alone
It does not               leave me        alone
It does not        leave        me alone
It        does not leave        me        alone



It
         does
                        not
                                ­    leave















                                        ­                                                         *It doesn't...
Keith Lumapas Aug 2015
You are the light that shined on my darkest days

The answer to every prayer that I have ever prayed

A sign of hope that you'd hear people say

From here on out everything will be ok




I can compare you to a fluke accident

Because I found you while in a worst predicament

On your white horse you arrived in astonishment

And saved me from an absolute abolishment



Words are not enough to describe

The overjoyed feeling I feel inside

To have finally found someone to confide

And tell the whole world that you are mine
aurora kastanias Jun 2017
The place was the unexpected carefree host
Of several tipsy nights wetted
By friendly toasts and temporary infatuations,
Lasting the duration granted
By gulping red clepsydras measuring
Time with the flow of inebriating substances.

My passion alas soon drove to the abolishment
Of such street hours of darkness to the benefit
Of clarity, concentration and sobriety,
For the unfolding of a novel awaiting
Virtual carbon particles to stain
Imaginary paper pages.

The place hence became my daylight salon,
Betaking myself to it, a necessary resolution
To having a semblance of social life, a foot
In the “real” world, while taking a compulsory break
From self-relegation to the seclusion
Of my private abode and imagination.

The sun, a spotlight directed on the thespians,
Lifting the nocturnal curtains, to unveil their act.
The stage, a familiar space for adult orphans,
Searching in Bacchus casual company.
Amongst the heterogeneous lot, a tall, big-lipped
Man, plays reminiscences of Tambourines.

His wide smile uncovers chipped white teeth,
Clashing with the colour of his skin.
The first time I saw him he was giddily bragging
Of recent dates made of sandwiches eaten
Sheltering from heat, in the fresh vegetable department
Of the discount down the road, from his apartment.

Incredulously I believed him, until he told me not to,
As of then he would be, my new befitted friend.
The big time dealer serving the entire region,
Always there when you need him,
To take care of the kids or escort you to the dentist
When in pain and to the other side of the city.

Notorious for going out of his way for others,
Generous with time, kind words, smiles and money,
His job does not define him yet completes
The spreading euphoria his presence bestows
Upon those who look for him or those
Who simply stumble into him, by chance.
Karisa Brown Nov 2019
Her riot forced her into predomination
Of all the abolishment this was
The final end

She played the game
Far too long
To not give in

But to leave
All for once
And all at once

Blackhole ****** thru me
Turned toward
The torched Sun
Only to peel the bleached
infectious skin

Vibrating in the
Noise I call THE WIND
It whispers at first
Then turns up the volume
To see a traveling herse

Jokingly I submerse my body
Only to find that the
Purest necter
Negotiated on that tree
The vines wrapped around my leg
Wouldnt
Let me Go
Thru it
Around it
It wanted to eat me whole
And so I let it
For a season maybe two
But wasn't this the me
I'd hoped for lived with
It gets confusing
And this mess
Looks like a mess
A pig stye room
And after eating dinner
She roast a toast
To her dead lovely awaiting
Husband
Patiently they walked up and over
The corpses law

Jagged and weary
Their bones fell
Into each other
Lost they put the
Wrong pieces together
And now he's she
And him is her
Everything doesn't
Make sense
Except for true earth
Which vibrates
At a frequency
That is drums like WIND
Like fire
Like all the crusted attire
These women warmed me with

Nothing beats the flesh
Of another true warrior
Nothi,e and I mean
NOTHING
REUNITES AS IMPALLING
AS HIS FLESH RIPPENING FOR HIS OWN URGES

Kisses by sins nature
He throws shame and anger
Meeting her at the door
He greets his afterstare
brian mclaughlin Dec 2015
The sky still blue and spacious
our fields grow golden grains
snow capped mountains
are still viewed in placid reflecting pools
fruits and nuts are upon our trees
but as for brotherhood between the seas
the good has become harder to find
our light has dimmed

They came seeking relief from religious oppression
only to convert and pervert what they found
their freedom meant
the abolishment of the ways of
the new world they had come to
with violence and death
taking more land
there was no self control
no liberty
no real law other than
might made right
for the new people did not honor their god
and were deserving of death

These were not heroes
they did not liberate the peoples of this new land
they showed no mercy
there was nothing noble or divine in their treatment
not of the peoples
nor of the lands that they found

They had a dream
of great alabaster cities
built them
but today
these are filled with empty dilapidated buildings
the homeless
and the violence that built them
tears run down the cheeks
of mothers and fathers losing their sons and daughters
tears are shed by the victims
of the religious extremism that was seeded in those early times

How can we continue to sing America The Beautiful?
One “FAKE” rumor purports April Fools’ Day
accepted with hostile abandonment
according to Giggle ling search result
conducted by this gent
adopted when France switched

rather than fight abolishment
transitioning from Julian calendar
to Gregorian calendar,
(yet maintaining same gender reassignment)
called for by the Council of Trent

affecting chronological abridgement
forthrightly, immediately, and
magically decreeing making
with flourish of inkhorn - prestidigitation
"****" quite few months absent

necessitating rejiggering
displaced vanished days forcing
latter time keeping paradigm absorbent,
asper sands of time no matter such
figurative tectonic shift population

aghast at August accomplishment
and probably did March in protest,
cuz entire season,
sans couture accouterment
suddenly rendered obsolete and unfashionable

manually crafted, swiftly tailored, and
harry styled clothes no mean achievement,
and uninformed folks got hashtagged
kindled, and named plenti admonishment
visited on their person such as

bumsteads, dolts, fools, et cetera
howling guffaws when derriere adornment
slapped with "kick me steady ***,"
or stuck with tail like appurtenances
eventually this "FAKE" – advancement

ha ha April fools historical joke
became embedded tradition inn advertent
lee established meshugas, where Jews
and especially gentiles went meshugoyim
generating cottage (cheesy) industry,

and brisk business for nascent advertisement
industry, (albeit handily horse drawn
attention grabbing kiln fired tablets)
mainly for (Philly buzzfeed string) affluent,
who secured lifelong gentlemen's agreement
with artisan, and of apprenticed trumpeting sons

(after tithe thing allotment) earnings
portion squirrelled away for rainy
May Day festivities ambient
brouhaha babushka's celebrating divine comedy
21st century poet tindered mild amusement
regarding this "FAKE" flight of fancy!
Screaming writhing violent
uncontrollable spasms of abandonment
immediately followed her (like Mary's lamb)
where e'er she went
verbal communication attempt didst rent
ear piercing outpouring

barrage heard clearly by vested gent,
a bajillion miles away e'en
stymying the likes of Lois Lane, Clark Kent
or special ABC letter writ agent,
when aforementioned younger daughter
raged day and night without abatement

soon after our baby's birth
agonizing distress self evident
when bundle of joy became a toddler,
which ordinary concomitent
expectant joyful milestones
hoop fully attendant

with hypothetical offspring
aurally learning oral rudiment
basis of language skill
with instructional accouterment
mastering native tongue
celebratory breakthru achievement

acquiring brisk command of lingua franca
easily excelling telly
tubby "FAKE" accent
gibberish with cogent
encoded development coaxed ability
regarding divine acknowledgement

pertaining to obvious delayed development,
when dada decried disabled
doc's "NON FAKE"
dupe forced mine abhorrent
realization upon crestfallen papa,
that our precious progeny

requisite remedial requirement
versed here, viz poetic abridgement
thee youngest of
(deux) daughters afflicted
at young age initial

general consensus genetic accident
engendered ambiguous diagnosis,
cuz forming words absent
purportedly linkedin with
high functioning autism
spurred self blame abutment,

sans cognitive fluke (most
likely inherited) malady immediate adherent
parental duty entailed, promoted
vouchsafed, et cetera
lifelong intervention convert,
a blessed webbed accompaniment

decades later nearly wrought total abolishment
whereat now grown year old lass
defied wildest predictions, adjustment
witnessed thee cherished apple of my eye
metamorphosed since early adolescent

to secure part time employment
attending Bend, Oregon Community College
and coordinating advancement,
where Shana Punim secured plane ticket
and took to friendly skies to my amazement!
Though no advocate of radical mass stick tummy,
there must needs be
some nonviolent modus operandi and/or
modus vivendi spelling abandonment,
whereby two party bicameral political  
system in United States buzzfeed ding,
sans avarice, greed, nepotism... abasement

of sacrosanct principles enshrined in Constitution,
and Declaration of Independence clamor
for immediate attention to weedout,
uproot, stymie... crass, baseles, abhorrent...
exploitation of egregious abuse of power,
particularly of abolishment

vitiating sacred inalienable rights
vaingloriously, mercilessly, diffiantly...
killing (albeit courtesy of skulduggery),
hence requiring abortifacient
to terminate unfair fallout upon heads
(shoulders, knees, and toes)

of middle and lower class
countrymen/women nonabsorbent
to the countless injurious infractions
to manny innocent individuals
forcing vast majority of population
to become abstinent

asper the inherent abstract treasured gems
of life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness,
which once fledgling lucky accident
embarked upon by thirteen original
colonies bestowed opportunities
for migrants one and all to exalt

(amidst setbacks) many an accomplishment
unattainable in their (not so secure)
homeland when avast mecca of pristine
sea and sky invited fiercely
enterprising pioneers accouterment
to be plucked from the land, unfortunately

at mercy of indigenous people
(an unpardonable genocide), which blood,
sweat and tears allowed accruement
justly deserved personal,
or colonial achievement

oft times brutal not so short,
but nasty acknowledgement,
(this anonymous, conscientious, efficacious...
frivolous gent writhes at ****** history),
yet mindful premeditated how to be worthy,
and now feels forced to be acquiescent

(as well other citizens might) calling
(er...actually writing), an August
aegis body vowing to be adherent
to codas, doctrine, ethos...adjacent
with government sanctioned destruction,
and indefinite adjournment

of peaceful coexistence with native peoples,
who never accepted unfair (raw deal) adjustment
(most often forced with violence) preceded,
and/or followed by admonishment
of aggressive, corrosive, deceptive...
indiscriminate butchering and adolescent

women and children,
an irrevocable Janus-faced advancement
fate awaiting all aboriginal tribes
fueled by advertisement frequently with bounty
fast forward to present age of affluent
price tag to lobby and or represent

deliberate gerrymandered voting districts,
where ******* up agent orange
iz new black aggrandizement
finds Donny Brooks saturing the media
with proclamation defamation of this very day
stigmatizing valuable news as so subtly "FAKE"!
Vda Jun 2020
Liberty of Convenience

Some of us saw the world from the tiny circles of our prisons
As the guards navigated through the waters that took us further away from our homes and outdoor kitchens.
We were stolen on the premise of a better life
But we quickly learnt that the shackles of poverty was far more luxurious
To the fetters that locked us like sardines to the deck's floors day and night

We were hoodwinked with the idea of freedom
And made to believe that we now could dream
But the con artists were masters
and so we were outfoxed with treaties and promises not to be mean.
We were released to be hunted
And our women to be bedroom antics.
We were released to be house slaves and kept in our places
Forever the users of "Madam"and "Sir".
Abolishment they said,
So we danced and sang, began to wear shoes and created our own
Only to be placed in backs of buses
And denounced by oppressors in closets
When they realized how strong their purchases have grown.

Fast forward to centuries of a modern time
When all men are equal
And we can break bread and all colours together can dine.
But the masters weren't happy
They couldnt believe
That their domestics could try and actually win.
It was too late to take the "freedom" back
So they disguised as protectors with batons and their guns in racks.

It doesn't matter if you kneel or obey
They get to decide when it is your final day.
Euthanized for a crime you didnt commit,
Canines eating your hand in the streets.
Your shoulders now a bench press for their knees
Or you become target practice on your couch where you sleep.
Our talents, our culture, our famous cuisines
They gladly indulge in but want to strip us of our priceless melanin.

From a new deck chromed with new fetters.

— The End —