Where does capital end
and mere terrorism begin
untamed masters, tame
their subjects, until they're tame
enough to follow.
#Life
Tour of trials and hostility, in this cave, life capture's my soul, hell prey's for my flesh, indoctrination waits in ambush for my mental GPS. With this God DIY tools, equiped to unearth parth's long consumed by creation and evolution...
from four cardinals of earth, horns of wisdom positions distressed and discareded abilities of mother nature. Waterfall's bearing rebirth, cleansing drained long extinct men conscience...
from under earth plates, smokes with insence, awakening purities long ingraved in packages of human descendency to life. Hijacked dreams and hopes of child's maps of earth, peals from bondages of captivity and brainwash...
The world, for the first time, wows and collides with rage, for denied and amputated abilities, that earth stole from genesis. Rise of greatness, beyond wisdom and intelligency, degenaration in every hole and pores of earth and men, here and there pillars of change, marking the begining of magnitude.
#Poetic_Ink
"A Serious Matter" is a free-verse-ish or "loose" villanelle.
A Serious Matter
by Michael R. Burch
Listen, love, it’s a serious matter:
I love you better despite the fetter.
I love you madder than any hatter.
Now even though you’re my chains’ begetter
and keep me your slave with that braless sweater,
I love you better despite the fetter.
You say you’re afraid that you’re getting “fatter,”
but your curves are my lust’s prime aider and abettor.
Listen, love, it’s a serious matter.
I love you madder than any hatter.
When you come to bed in sheer lace, my thoughts scatter:
first to the firmer, then to the latter.
I love you better despite the fetter.
I love you madder than any hatter.
Listen, love, it’s a serious matter!
Keywords/Tags: villanelle, love, love hurts, mad, madness, slave, slavery, lust, passion, desire, curves, lace, bed, chain, chains, fetter, fetters, ties that bind, mad hatter, madder than a hatter
Did you cry for me
when none but the crows
was both black and free
in yon cotton rows?
When you saw me hung
did you cry for me
as my body swung
'neath the lynchin' tree?
Such prosperity
must taste mighty sweet
Did you cry for me
when I didn't eat?
Heard you gone some years,
died in poverty
and I cried no tears
Did you cry for me?
Begin at treason acts of non allegiance
Human Speech
Business license is created to take from human voluntarily
Or otherwise
Advertising is not free speech
Use of surplus against legislation
Fraudulent bypass of poverty laws
Document theft from slaves
Slavery Acts
Calls from the job you needed
Connecting without the shove
Turning down the press
Finishing the letters in the heart shaped box
Quiting going to work
Letting yourself run out of money
Getting yourself back
strapped to a chair while wires
pierced my skin, tested my knowledge
Will this ever end? Come forth not
My tongue tells all lies, as it splits
down the middle towards your
demise.
My eyes turned black my skin crawling
With fear, as my speech comes out
I feel endless fear. strap me down as
The room shakes, come forth as my
Shackles come off I'm going to my
happy place.
Unmarked grave
Epigraph reads slave
Not even dignified with a name
Just a ghost of a boy surrounded
By tombs of those known
Tombs of those never alone
In a cemetery full of strangers
Even in death he is separated from his family
Who was he?
The world may never know
His body buried just like his story unknown
He was born into shackles
And died in them
He never got to taste the sweetness of freedom
Even in death, even in the afterlife
He will always be known
Through only his skin colour
We will never fully know will we?
An atheist living soul was floating above on deathbed,
because if he touched it, he would leave this world.
He let the pain out and screamed through his dying soul.
A guy who was once drenched in every bit of gold
comes to him and says:
“I want to make a compromise with your soul and body—
I will save you, but for the rest of your life,
you have to serve me.”
But then suddenly the man who created every bit of the universe
comes to him and says:
“I will save you, but for the rest of your life,
you have to believe I am real.”
Then the living soul thought:
It’s no different. Both are slavery,
but in different ways.
But he thought,
since he questioned God in the life he lived before,
he would face judgment for that.
Either way, he was going to hell.
He was thinking of every possible possibility
that would grant him some life.
But he died in his imagination while sleeping.
– THEBLOODYPEN
Shenandoah cries
Voice of a Leader
Echoes of a Nation
Tomorrow only the beginning
The change needing a change
Soulful hope
Skies above in realize
Direction from Heaven
White House woes
Freedom, Wisdom and Rise
Bitterness through emotion
Far from the Liberty shores
Darkness plight
Wonder of the day, and the offspring of thought
Turnaround to oppose
No Slave shall be
Rebel no more
Freedom ways
Impact says
Pathway to a better life
No more demands
Freedom by order and command
Honor and Leverage
Proclamation and Freedom is now a privilege.
Dressed in their Sunday best
Toothy grins
Pristine shoes
Eyes sparkling with joy
A simple family picture
The epitome of innocence
'Spick and span' as they would say
A nice family outing
Where you ask?
Church?
A family picnic?
Day trip?
No.
They dressed up in their Sunday best
To watch a black man succumb to a slow and labored death
To watch his long drawn out last breath
The slowed movement of his chest
Giggling as the now still mans body stops all movement
They await their turn to take picture
A forever reminder of their first lynching
Streets littered with white paper sheets
Printed with the ink of black missing kids
Floating through the air desperate to find somebody who cares
Empty are the streets, just like their parents home
Awaiting the day they'll be reunited with their beloved children
Authorities won't listen
Not one eye lid batted
They look the black parents in the eye feeling joy from their sadness
And as cold as ice say their kids disappearance doesn't matter
They claim they've probably run away
That attention is what they want
So they won't feed into their kids 'temper tantrum'
Then to sprinkle salt into the wound
They claim the town has been much quieter
I didn't know that it was a crime for children to play
But then again when you're a black kid innocence doesn't really matter
Last week they stated BLACK LIVES MATTER
Then again it would be naive to believe
That a system built after slavery
Would care to 'serve and protect' black people
Maybe there is a reason to their indifference
Their ability to lack sympathy
Maybe just maybe
They're the reason the black kids went missing
The stench of shame fills the air
Tears fallen choked her words
Laying in a pool of red
Her massa had stolen her innocence
Bruises decorated her already scarred flesh
A mark of ownership
A sinister smirk sends shivers
As the white man admires his coloured canvas
Pride engulfs him
Watching her struggle against the shackles
Her screams silenced by his hands around her neck
As he brutally ravages her again and again
He whips his initials onto her untouched back
As a reminder that he also owns her flesh
She had no autonomy left
Her insides felt dirty, poisoned by the white man's lack of mercy
With every violation her grip on hope was slipping
Until she fell into a numbness unending
A shell of who she was
She was forced into a life of silence
Held captive by the punishment of violence
That day a lesson was taught on how to live a life on mute
Hot summers dry up the land
The dirt crumbles under the heaviness of disrespect
Fresh flowers adorn the land
Covering the uneven burial grounds
Overshadowed by privilege
What better way to claim superiority
By soiling the plantation they stand on
Ignorance crowds the air
Cast aside by vows of love
Tainting history with a wedding
The stories of black labour whitewashed into a picture of a bride in white
Covering the truths in a veil of fragility
Ironic how they use the innocence of a white wedding
To ink over history
A picture is worth a thousand words
A simple picture of a now conjoined family
Haunted by secrets of ownership
How the brides grandmother was once a girl
Who stood on this same plantation
Watching her parents become slave owners
A simple picture
Once innocent becomes a sinister backstory
A history haunted by the darkness of whiteness
Flower petals spread across the venue of black bones
Not to pay respect to those buried
But to honour love consummated on the grounds of black history
Smiling in pictures with a tainted memory
Plastered in magazines profiting off of slavery
But hey at least they gained popularity
Stalked all their life
Stained by a crime not committed
A permanent mark on black skin
A reminder how we will never fit in
Labelled as criminals
Despite being exonerated
Probation was for those in need of reformation
Not those who already good behaviour
But any chance to stereotype
The oppressors will take their chance
To keep the invisible chains of oppression are locked in and secured
A way to surveil those who now walk in the light
Constant checkups, now a normal routine
Having to ensure their record is squeaky clean
Being suffocated by the fear
Of breathing wrong
They'll do anything to keep us behind bars
Freedom they promised, yet freedom we haven't received
Being watched doesn't equate to being free
Especially when we still hang from the trees of your critique
You can't claim slavery ended when we are still slaves to your constant surveillance
Not when incarceration is used as a way to keep us hidden
Not when we live a life of normalcy
Yet are still followed
By the law that claims to help
Yet shoots us as soon as we open our mouth
You can't claim it ended when we live under the power
Of the white man
Specific Types of Slavery Poems
Definition | What is Slavery in Poetry?
Poems Related to Slavery
bondage, labor, enslavement, servitude, captivity, serfdom, enthrallment, thralldom, restraint, work, thrall, grind, drudgery, indenture, drudge, toil, moil, subjugation, subjection, peonage, serfhood, feudalism, vassalage, bullwork, chains constraint, helotry, menial labor,