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Samm Marie Jul 2016
Freedom and independence are not synonymous
We have many freedoms
But zero independence
Independence is freedom
Freedom is not independence
What we celebrate is a false holiday
It's a cheap *** excuse to drink
And set **** aflame
What we celebrate is a false holiday
Once meant to portray
Our braking away
What we celebrate is a false holiday
That makes life seem like a joke
Because we've conformed too much
I have the freedom to say whatever
I **** well feel like
But I am not independent from fear
Or tyranny
This is America
Land of the stupid
Home of hatred
Everywhere I turn I see
Persecution
Oppression
For religion, ***, and race
For orientations and confusions
For thought and for ideas
This is America
Not some fluffy dreamland
Like so many of us make it out to be
Yes I will be ready to admit
We are certainly freer than most
And yes, I will be ready to defend
My country with my words
But I can't sit on the sidelines
And just watch as my land falls to ****
"Happy Independence Day"
It breaks my heart that we have to declare a day
To recognize independence
It's a false independence we celebrate
I love the fireworks and the lightheartedness of it all
But it's *******
We shouldn't have to label a day
On a calendar
For historical emphasis
Woohoo Declaration of Independence
And all that jazz
But it no longer seems that way
Equality has never existed
This America, not an Aboriginal society
Pursuit of happiness is impossible
Because one person's happiness destroys another's
Liberty and justice for all?
Yeah right
Happy Independence Day to all who believe
But as for me
Independence my ***
Sorry this is so long and winded
badwords Jun 13
I was not trained for this—
no welcome packet, no handbook for gravity.
Just a name that clings like static
and a voice that trembles when spoken too clearly.

They asked me if I had room.
I said I had weather.
They asked me if I would disappear.
I said watch me smolder, and stay.

I have loved like a lighthouse
with no shoreline in sight,
signaling to anyone
who mistook reflection for return.

I’ve held their names
like breath under water,
carved pathways through others
just to find my own again.

But I do not sculpt.
I do not steal 'the good stuff'.
I inherit fire
and ask it if it remembers me.

If you see yourself in me,
look again—
I am not a mirror,
I am the window you opened
and forgot to close when the wind picked up.

Still, I arrive,
boots echoing in the hallway
of someone else’s myth,
offering only this:

I will not rewrite you.
I will not finish your sentences.
But I will stand here—
untranslated,
unsaved,
untouched by the need to be anything
other than true.
A draft I shared and forgot about that was requested to be posted publicly!

Wow-wee!
Charlie Chirico Aug 2013
There have been orientations
I've attended
that hit home, hard.
Ones that were held in auditoriums,
which brought outstanding projections.
Of voice and talent,
speaking to talentless voices that seek
increments of the number ten.
Tens of hundreds, speaking excrement.
Cause ****, even a ten is divisible by the number two.

There have been orientations
I've attended
that hit home, hard.
Ones that were held in back rooms,
with walls plastered with common sense.
Of apologies and service,
speaking to employees that service apologies
to miserable men waiting for change.
Tens and hundreds, purchasing excrement.
Cause ****, even the box that holds an engagement
can be discarded.

Orientations are set up.
They're made to entice and integrate,
but in all actuality they're erroneous and agitate.
They speak fate,
but hinder the great.
They mark you.
Like I've previously stated:
Orientations are set up.
They're not a debate.
Tu voudrais que j'improvise
Les chemins qui mènent au septième ciel
Pour notre prochain congrès
Que je vienne les mains vides
Sans notes ni croquis
Pour te couronner reine et courtisane.

Mais demanderais-tu au peintre de venir à toi
Sans son pinceau, ses fusains, ses tubes d'aquarelle et son papier canson

Ou au photographe sans son posemètre, son trépied et ses filtres, son appareil photo et ses objectifs

Et un auteur de théâtre pourrait-il officier sans donner des indications?

Des orientations, des pistes pour que les acteurs puissent mieux jouer leurs personnages

Eh bien moi je voudrais écrire de concert avec toi les didascalies de notre lune de miel.

Pense au Cantique des Cantiques
Pense à Salomon, à son épouse et aux jeunes filles ,
Penses-y bien, ma sans rivale,
Ma muse venue au monde sept fois
Et dont aucune galante n 'arrive aux chevilles
Comment veux-tu qu'on se retrouve dans la mare aux nénuphars
Deux canards mandarins batifolant
Sans didascalies...
Tu connais les soixante-quatre manières du kama
Tu sais la différence entre baratement et percement
Et tu veux goûter le chalumeau du miel
Lors du congrès de la corneille
Alors tandis que tu me provoques du regard et du geste
En dansant comme une bayadère accomplie
Souviens toi des didascalies.
Je suis ton vert-galant, ton esclave, ton cornac
Ton renifleur, ton cunnilingue, ton Sigisté
Si tu veux tu seras ma nymphe, mon myrte, ma lanterne, ma crête,
Ma landie, ma douceur, mon amour de Vénus
Mon gaude mihi, mon impudique
Organisons nos langues et nos boutons
Nos protubérances.
Pour qu'aucune partie ne soit honteuse
Pour que toutes soient honnêtes
Il faut des chapitres et des actes
Dans lesquels les morsures, les égratignures, les baisers
Les succions et les caresses s'emboîtent dans un naturel
Si joliment organisé que chaque posture génère
Une improvisation et que chaque improvisation génère une nouvelle posture.
Alternons les phases pudiques et impudiques
Sans tabou éperonnons-nous
Empalons-nous dans les postures de singe ou d'éléphant
Peu importe si la mentule précède le tentigo
Ou le contraire
Peu importe qui est dessus ou dessous
Qui lèche et qui est léché, qui est mordillé, qui est marqué,
Qui est baisé et pénétré
Si c'est simultanément ou séparément
Nous appartenons nous aussi au règne animal
Et que la verge soit masculine ou féminine
C 'est toujours l'aiguillon de la volupté qui guidera nos didascalies.
JR Rhine Aug 2016
I am here to spread the gospel.
Yes I do declare I am a diligent disciple.

I have come to gaggle the good news,
to proselytize the perpetuity of heavenly wisdom.

I have come here to speak on behalf of poets everywhere:
young and old, alive and dead,
of all nationalities, ethnicities, genders, ****** orientations,
of every human being loitering upon this lush and teeming rock--
I have come to spread your word!

We, the poets,
beg you to hear our words
and put them in your mouth.

Store them in a cheek;
chew thoughtfully, and don't floss,
so we may linger between your teeth--

ready to eject with your spit we shall speak for you
and you shall speak for us.

We lie dead in the dirt until you breath life into us.

We sit poised on your tongue waiting for you to lash
into the air piercing thought bubbles with your voice.

We are instruments lying collecting dust in their cases,
ready to be grasped within calloused hands
and clasped between ruddy lips.

I have come here to tell you how to become a disciple as I:

Lovers, bring us to share!
Speak to your hearts from within worn and jaundiced pages;
we are merely ink stains until you make sense of it all.

Until you speak us into life
Until you soak us into your soul
Until you weave us into the very fibers of your being.

Fighters, bring us to bear!
Shout to your foes from atop grainy soapboxes
embedded within the grassy earth;
let your commanding footing propel you into the heavens!

Feel the wind carry your voice across the open plain and
SPEAK! BELLOW! SHOUT! BATTLE CRY!

They shall know the fear in their bones
and the goose flesh under their rattling armor
like death prickling the hairs on the back of their neck
until they become trodden in the earth like footstools--
until you walk across them head held high and victorious.

Pedestrians! Love if you dare!
Whisper these words under your breath,
holding doors and blessing sneezes,
smiling lovingly and making eye contact purposefully.

Take the joy in stranger's company or in solitude;
we will linger like pleasant specters,
like a lover's ghost:
waiting for you to follow me into eternity.

Yes, I do declare to be a diligent disciple,
and I roam through dusky towns with no pack on my back
nor a shelter over my matted head;

shouting through barren city streets into the desperate night,
roaming these dusty corridors praying a stranger opens their front door
and turns on the porch light
and lets me in for supper and a place to rest my weary head.

Though I'll soon be on my way again in the morrow,
my prayer,
the one of every aching poet in the midnight haze,

is that I'll linger.
BAM Nov 2011
the world is one ****** up, crazy, beautiful place.
we are all bipolar in our own minds and confused with our existance
we make something of ourselves based on the lies we are fed everyday
we judge  everyone and EVERYTHING, because we are always comparing
we are always ready to compare something to another thing
and that is what makes us so ******* disgusting
STOP.
and ******* listen.
listen to the steady beat of a child, and a rapidly chaotic beating of one on the brink of death

listen to the racial slurs and gender specifications and ****** orientations we implement every day

listen to the laughter and to the sobbing and to the screaming of a ‘happy’ home

listen to the gunshots and tortured souls and heartbroken soldiers footsteps on foreign land

******* listen to the things which make human beings human

women are not plastic and molded exactly the same to be sold in window displays at the mall

soldiers are not heartless and unbreakable to the bone

children who laugh are not always happy, naiive and carefree

why do we always have to listen to the media or to our best friends or our families opinions?
you have your own brain and heart
use them, and  stand up for yourself, for others, for the world
because the world cannot heal by itself
we need to act.
now.
Maribeth Lleddur Jan 2013
Frustrated.
With myself, or you?
You’re content without me
And that’s not fair
Because I’m not content without you.
One way channels of affection should not exist
The world is out of balance
How can you be right for me, and me not right for you?
When will my own chemical orientations be reciprocated?
I couldn’t be more sure of you.
Sure that you fill a void in me no one else can touch.
But when I speak to you, confide in you--
When I anticipate a mutually appreciated interaction,
And you don’t speak—don’t show—don’t need—
Well, I find myself here.
Rolling on in these ruts, unwanted, with love unrequited.
Frustrated, but not with you.
Because not caring is no crime,
And life is yours to live.
So live on, love, and I will rust.
betterdays Apr 2014
i have an ongoing
love affair
with words
that roll around your
mouth

luscious, langourous
lilliputitian letters

sensual syllables
slick- sliding off
the tongue

ecstatic explosions,
erupting, erogenously
exciting, eager exclaimations,
of enraptured exualtations

organic, original orientations
of teeth and tongue
producing oodles,
of apogeic anomolies

my affair
accomplishes much
for little

it is you see
just a not so secret love
of letter, line, jot and tittle.

a casting eye upon a word
and i am set rushing
down a path
reserved for those
with terms, descriptive,
and names.
that in themselves,
decry
wordlove.

lexicographers and bibliophiles
phoneologists, linguists, polygots,
jonguluers, wordsmiths scribes
poets.

all possess this
heartstringed
tangled knot,
spiderwebbed
feeling,
for words.
which, we then,
endevour to spin,
into inkstained beauty,
to ensare
ourselves ...and others.
Jeremy Duff Dec 2014
People are uncomfortable with truth.
There is truth in silence
and people are uncomfortable with silence.

When asked how one is doing, the proper response is 'fine' or any indicator of greater ease.
One is expected to participate in class activities, team building exercises, and other meticulous, tedious motions of repetition.

One should shake hands, smile, participate in pagentry when only putrescence is felt.

One should not look at walls, there is no social status in looking at walls.
One should not have problems unless they are desirable. Anxiety, but too bad. Depression, but not too bad.
One should appear clean and well slept,
one should claim one received very little sleep, regardless of how much sleep one actually received.

If one is female, one should show skin but not too much skin.
If one is female, one should not resist ****** advances, yet one should not have multiple ****** partners.

If one is male, one should be in fit condition, one should not cry, and one should not show interest in a member of the opposite gender except for those of a ****** nature. One should not acknowledge the existence of more than two genders, ****** orientations, or trains of thought.

One should be socially and politically aware, but one should not raise their voice on these issues unless others of a high social status are.

One should be happy, but not too happy.
I am quite popular. I have lots of friends.
Stacie Lynn Mar 2017
i see the world through welded steel bars that fence around my body, masking armor, but realistically locking my free spirit inside the walls of flesh that make up my being
i walk around, bewildered to see other miraculous women of all ages, races, and orientations trapped behind the same impenetrable incarceration, trudging along sidewalks, tendons diminishing in their knees as the metal jail cells they live in is a weight incapable of being lifted with ease
i clang on the bars with a metal can, i am soothed by the sound of my own imprisonment, i am lulled to sleep by vibrations of the vague oppression encrusted into the cell of my cells
i have not thought to cry, i have not thought to fight, for i have no idea where tears could possibly find their way down from, their inexistence is almost certain to me
i see the world through welded steel bars, that close in tighter with every aortic pulse, with every respiratory heave
you may be thinking at least you can still see, which is true, yes, i am so glad to be able to see
i only wish, i could see more
Still Crazy Sep 2017
Go to your profile!
pull down the pull down menu
under gender

holy still crazy!

nobody told me so many choices were available

my titillated imagination reeling at the nomenclature of
****** orientations...

don't know what most of them mean, no insult intended,
chalk it up to a case of gender tender confusion

she, interrupts:

shut down the poetry, its near to 4am,
get some badly needed sleep, ****,
you're a stll crazy
plain vanilla idiot!

light bulb goes off as the screen fades to black-
my gendersex is official, she-notarized:

I am a trans-plain-vanilla-idiot (with traces of caramel)

4:13am

p.s.  E - please add to the list
Jazmine Moore Aug 2014
My heart is crying for the **** victims screaming falsetto notes in the dark praying someone will find them and lead them to light...and as much as their father would've loved to protect his baby from that, he simply doesn't have an "S" on his chest.

My heart breaks for the babies born into poverty with three strikes against them...because the government will make it their duty so that it is **** near impossible for those kids to succeed; but there will be some that rise above those stereotypes and those children will become the young women and young men who change the world.

A tear falls every time a woman wakes up, looks at herself in the mirror and has to put makeup on to hide the bruises that came from the man to whom she gave all of her love to.  Equally, my heart breaks for the children that live their life walking eggshells because they don't know when their mommy or daddy will snap next.

I cannot rest until innocent children are no longer being kidnapped and sold as *** slaves, until genocides become a thing of the past, until America really becomes the "land of the free", or until so many of our generations teenagers and young adults stop using guns as fists.

I am praying that the people walking this earth who have every reason to give up on love somehow give it one more shot. I am also praying that the young women and men who have shot down dreams will fight harder than they have ever fought because the world needs more of you. Lord knows we need more of you.

I have a dream that more of us will love in permanent ink. I hope that more people will see that the only thing that can defeat hatred is love, and I pray that every person reading this will decide to join love's side and fight hate. I pray that anyone that feels completely alone realizes they have God.

There will come a day when I will be standing in front of a crowd filled with a rainbow of races, ages, ****** orientations, and I will give my testimony. I will tell those people how I almost gave up. I will tell those people I had family that loved me regardless. I will tell those people that even though they feel as though no one loves them, I love them; and more importantly, God loves them.  I will tell them that one day I decided that the only person in control of my happiness was me, and that is when everything made sense. There will be people whose lives will change because of my story, and that is the day my dream will start to become true.
My hope is one day we will see love will save the world
BB Tyler Sep 2014
There's an innate feeling
of                                               
                                                      drift
                    that comes with
letting go.

The space we create for ourselves is,
by nature, weightless
until we fixate to the
points
in it which we made
to relate to;

because love is exactly like gravity,
and the points in space
are planets and stars,
celestial bodies
just perfectly warm enough for life
to explore,
orientations to look up from
and see
the rest of it,
but when we realize who it was
wrought the cosm
and we wake
stupefied and lucid
those pieces,
seeming both so distant and close,
unweave themselves from the fabric
and like magic
they disappear.

Our fists
forced gently into grasplessness
panic at the lack of that
substance our tongues and eyes
and right-side-up sensibilities
wish so desperately was there
from the beginning.
We start floating
of some unknown accordance,
though undoubtedly, deeply our own,
towards the next and closest
brightest shining
source of love.
me Feb 2013
Love comes in…
All the colors of the rainbow
Orientations of the mind
Temperatures of the body
Emotions of all of time

Love comes in ….
Soft as a feather
Hard as the steel in your will
Hot as summer
Cold as a mid winters chill

Love comes in …
And Love goes out
In with a kiss
Out with a shout
It rattles your nerves
Shakes up your soul
Confuses your brain
As to which way to go

Dichotomy of the ages
Struggles of the world
Life’s history of pages
Mans flags are unfurled

Bringing life in and taking it out
Making us cry and making us shout
What else pumps the blood and weakens the mind
Nothing in this world does any of this kind
To live without love
Or jumping in deep
None unaffected
We’re all loosing sleep
shatteredpoet Jan 2019
different pigments
doesn't change
the fact
we have the same
bones
different religious beliefs
doesn't change
the fact
we're made of the same elements
different ****** orientations
doesn't change
the fact
we are all human
different social classes
doesn't change
the fact
none if us are
consistently happy
different lifestyles
doesn't change
the fact
we're all imperfect

•|||°
JR Rhine Oct 2016
My hand has been raised for God knows how long.
I've begun to rest it on the table,
clasp my other hand around it's elbow,
I've wiggled my fingers and waved my arm like a pendulum,
like a live garden hose let loose,
I've widened my eyes and grit my teeth,
I've bleated "Ooh, Ooh!"
I've stamped my feet,
I've thumped by books,
I've wiggled in my chair--
My arm really hurts.

I've watched.

I've watched the world carry on,
I've watched the innocent die,
and the killers acquitted,
I've watched a thousand men and women get shot because of their skin,
I've watched women get ***** behind dumpsters,
I've watched politicians rouse ancient hatreds as a glorification of the past,
I've watched ancient flags wave in the face of the oppressed,
I've watched rivers dry,
and climates change,
I've watched ice caps melt,
I've watched species go extinct,
I've watched people go hungry,
I've watched the homeless sleep behind dumpsters in church parking lots,
I've watched fingers grow cold and fevers run high,
I've watch nuclear missiles get primed,
I've watched television render eyes vacuous,
I've watched schools hinder truths,
I've watched generations pitted against each other,
I've watched terror form a face from someone's mold,
I've watched razorblades grace the wrists of children,
I've watched peers commit suicide.
I've watched my friends die in car crashes,
I've watched women get abortions without consolation,
I've watched churches close their doors on the oppressed,
I've watched police ****** in cold blood,
I've watched logical fallacies become common rhetoric,
I've watched hatred consume a nation,
I've watched people refused marriage,
I've watched ****** orientations become scandalized,
I've watched drugs consume,
I've watched drugs consume greed,
I've watched the miracle cure get tucked away,
I've watched fear grip a nation,
I've watched grocers disappear from checkout lines,
I've watched Kate Gosselin ask to speak to the manager,
I've watched diabetes weaken my father,
I've watched fear grip my mother,
I've watched anxiety grip my sister,
I've watched uncertainty grip my brother,
I've watched depression place a million guns in my mouth
and pressed to my temple,
a million guns,
I've watched a million guns,
some brandished from the beds of pickup trucks
and front porches,
some whose muzzle flashes within churches, schools, movie theaters, night clubs (to be continued),
some gleaming in the tint of sunlight
pouring through the window
as I close my eyes and press the cold barrel to my pulsating temple.
I've watched a million guns,
I've watched a million guns,
I've watched a million reasons to scream and cry,
to lose hope and to pray to die,
I've watched the evangelicals and zealots abandon the Earth and its citizens for the unseen,
leaving us in a premature rapture
to rot in the system they created,

I've watched it all with a single hand raised,
growing more and more numb,
to it all,
but still with a single question on my lips.
Kafka Joint May 2020
Orientations are lost,
The living are seeing ghosts,
Although at social distance.
Truth is a familiar word to all and yet is the most Elusive of all !

Truth is the Inner compass , navigating life's orientations.
Filling the heart with Euphoria of self validation's !

Paint the self in Truth and give the world a scintillating surprise .
Truth will always upraise you in your own eyes !

One is never enough and a hundred is never more ,
Believe in the power of truth and resurrect your own score !

Truth needs to be in action , not just in words , reiterate it to be heard .
For all we know is - " TRUTH ALONE TRIUMPHS IN EVERY SITUATION" !
©Mrunalini.D.Nimbalkar
Simply the truth#simple rhyme #importance of standing up for the truth...Need of the hour ! Thanks for reading☺
Seranaea Jones Aug 2020
they float in rusty rouge waters
as fog steams upward, obscuring
various uncanned flotsam

white shapes of vocabular form
disperse into random orientations
entangled by processed seagreens

i saw the letter 'k' rise to the surface,
only to slip below again as other
consonants recomposed

with a single dip of my spoon,
seven of these lifted from
their salty wakes form
a simple line of
characters—

spelling
                   nothing...


"unremarkable soup"
© 2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved
an idea posted in 2008
Stevie Oct 2021
We all know the bullets have no name,
Murdered by a gunshot wound is the game,
But who is really to blame,
The gang, the armed person, the police,
Screaming for justice, begging them to help us, please,

See we all know that bullets have no aim,
But there always a name to be convicted or claimed,
Whether it a white victim that has no media fame,
But when it's black or Asian victim, a cop is framed,

See we all disagree or agree that racism is systemic,
But don't you see that race is governmental war, is catastrophic,
Maybe is all polemic,
That culture and race, is the source and problematic,
That human race isn't one at all, but in a state of psychogenic,
Believing in a justice or higher power,
That hating on the opposite for there history,
Will give them absolute power,
But yet it's still very much contradictory.

See I maybe the best friend or every label you know,
But I prefer Truth and honest,
Over the fiction and built upon lies,
That run our lives from now, delivering that deathblow,
Cause everything is comparable, but nothing is ever modest,
Cause even anger, happiness, murdered or natural, everything dies.

See in most cultures, you are disowned,
From your family if you're dishonest,
In some countries, you get ******,
For crimes as promised.

I don't hate communities, cults or religion,
Cause even in beliefs that committed crimes of Indigen,
See everything has morals,
But still destroying our ocean corals,
God's and Goddess are mortals,
But never seen by any portals,
I don't belief in the messages they spread,
Or the pages that wrote to be read.

See I believe in Deities not Gods or Goddess's,
I believe in Mother Nature and connections,
I thrive upon hatred and goodness,
Cause personally it's all in reflections,
I still hold faith that humans are my brothers and sisters,
But love my wild brothers and sisters more,
Whether am wounded or full of blisters,
Free my spirit, run with the pack, even in Wolf's lore.

See I don't have bullets, but I have a name,
I don't have a game, does that me being lame,
Even to connect me to humanity, just to blame,
Here a gun, a knife, even a match start the flame,
Yes am white, blue eyes, even dark hair,
But am I really to blame for how other treat you, is that fair,
You're religious or hateful, condemned for the one I love,
Should I really show that I care,
Or fear my eternity, because of someone above,
Or dismiss a book of common prayer.

See I don't judge like the mortals,
I live life by jumping each hurl, walking through portals,
See I don't care what's your religion, gender or ****** orientations,
live life by waking up, examining each daily collations,
See I refuse to see skin colour and culture,
Just to focus on mine, also dream of a better world in the future,
See the only joke I see is the news and social media,
Creating the world, that is known as Acedia,
So you want to say something is woke,
Then wake up and break the yolk,
So you want to say something is phobic,
Learn the definitions, become presbyopic.

So blame it all on Race,
Play the victim, government just played the Ace,
You scream you're angry at those in power,
But you're lover cheated, now you're acting sour,
So you want blame all society,
Playing the victim, relying on government or law compliancy,
So you want to blame homosexuality,
All cultures suffer from father absently,
So you want to blame religion,
Acting like another generation carrier pigeon,
We can blame the cancel culture,
Removing freedom of speech, basic human rights,
Say good bye to our future,
Cause nothing going to be same, but the Northern Lights,

— The End —