Tag Archive | hate

Do What You Can’t

Test Your Limits, Then Break Them

The haters and doubters aboard the Titanic
Sipping champagne are headed for a collision
With the iceberg of destiny. We creators
Do what we can’t. We are energy translators.
We’re good at manifesting what we envision.
The old dogs must be willing to learn a new trick.

Do as you’re told. Play it safe. Wait your turn, and ask
For permission. Learn to compromise. Listen to
What the experts tell you. This advice is obscene.
It’s not conducive to proper psychic hygiene.
Don’t let others tell you what you can and can’t do.
You can redo the world if you’re up to the task.

The world of content creation is exploding
On platforms made available to one and all.
With some work and time folks have become millionaires.
There is substantial value in what each one shares,
And the role that advertisers play isn’t small.
Nothing about this adventure is foreboding.

All one needs is a phone, internet access, and
A good story or idea. Your confidence
In yourself is within you. Those who say you can’t
Are not in a position to where they would grant
Anything of value. Do without the expense
Of distractions that don’t allow you to expand.

Game Of Freedom

The Risk Of Citizenship

Bittersweet independence inflicted upon
A few more of its citizens by someone who
Is deranged yet has high-powered weapons to play
Deadly games with the populous slaughters the day
Of the birth of a nation. So what else is new?
Soon the hearing of such news produces a yawn.

Any Tom, Dick, or Harry, no matter how sick
Legally is an arsenal, so it’s game on.
We The People are by now also sitting ducks.
I fear leaving my house. The anxiety sucks.
There may not come a time when it’s completely gone.
I’m as safe as a perverted carnival trick.

To the days of Matt Dillon we’ve sadly returned.
Everyone packs a piece. That’s just the way things are
So I’d better be careful wherever I go
Anyone without reason can decide to blow
Me away. Who’s to say that this has gone too far?
Why is our leadership so grossly unconcerned?

A gun or a sick bastard has more human rights
Than a woman by now due to misogyny.
Everyone has their piece to say. This is my own.
Marshall Dillon can’t be everywhere that is known.
This wild west is no place for creatures such as me.
Who is next to be caught in some crazy man’s sites?

A powerful motivator fear has to be
To get things moving toward the right direction.
Politics and the dollar can be defeated.
A nation reflects how its people are treated.
Pro Life means banning weapons of mass destruction.
Freedom now is a game that is played lethally.

Counter Oath

Propensity For Disruption

Just how much do you hate me? The evidence shows
That you most vehemently detest persons who
Are not white. Goodness! That surely does include me.
Should I contemplate the reason this has to be?
Suicides of police officers is a clue
That you hate me grotesquely. Why? God only knows.

Members of the fine boys’ clubs – the proud and oath kept –
Are like trailer park weeds clustered throughout this land.
Mow them down and they rise again with a vengeance.
Since childhood I have been trying to make some sense
Of the blustering hatred. I don’t understand
How it is such an attribute of the inept.

Don’t tell me what your oath is lest I defecate
On your words as you speak them. They are in theory
A portrait of the recent past. What can I do?
There is no form of justice that can defy you.
I am needlessly cautious. That’s no way to be.
What I could do is learn how to infuriate.

Freedom to hate is granted. It’s part of free will.
Nothing I feel or say can make a difference.
The heart that wants to be rotten down to the core
Needs someone besides itself that it can hate more
Which means that I must be conscious of self-defense.
Dangerous is the one who is anxious to kill.

Judgement And Self-Hatred

Negative Fixation

We can always recognize what we don’t prefer
But the concept of recognizing doesn’t mean
That we need to invalidate or take up arms
Against what is not wanted. This behavior harms
One’s sublime peace of spirit and mental hygiene.
We can choose in our lives what we want to occur.

From a neutral, observational position,
We can recognize what is not wanted without
Placing negative judgement. Each choice is valid
In its own right, though it’s hard to see this amid
Atmospheric conditions of terror and doubt.
 Judging is not the way to get anything done.

Everything is neutral, but we charge everything
With emotional judgement. Thus we magnetize
Ourselves to situations that may be adverse
To the way that we want things. Indeed it’s a curse
To hold on to resentments, and it is unwise
To not be neutral. Clarity is appealing.

What reason can I have, then, to judge anyone?
From a place of neutrality I have power
Over how things affect me. My freedom of choice
Means that I can always find reason to rejoice.
What I find in myself that is wicked and sour
I will seek out in others as some solution.

If it’s right in our face or some lightyears away
It cannot really matter. We’re not affected
By something someone offers that is negative.
The higher vibration is to learn to forgive
Ignorance for the soul that is truly misled.
But how many can do that in this world today?

Uncivil Mitosis

Painful Growth

Red and Blue come together to form a union
And escape from the tyranny of monarchy.
One nation undivided with territories
With their own constitutions and racial disease
Has remained but a battlefield. Lord have mercy
On this land most bedeviled by contradiction.

I would not have thought things could turn out quite this way.
The illusion of brotherly love was intense.
Psychedelic were those days of Reverend King.
Now, the dream of America is not a thing
That resembles inclusiveness. Does it make sense
That a part of society serves as its prey?

Liberals and conservatives, blue folk and red…
The confederate and union troops on the field
Also make up the government and places high.
Blatancy is becoming. Here’s the reason why.
It is only through battle that we become healed
So that we can remember and honor our dead.

As it has been it will be. No change can occur
But the ongoing process of cell division
And the up and down cycles of racial hatred
Is something that I’ll ponder perhaps ‘til I’m dead.
I alone have the right to make the decision
That allows for my freedom as I would prefer.

War Games

The Wages Of War Is Sin

Enemies of the planet, deplorable ones
With the mindset of Satan, have taken control
Of the soul of a dark world predestined to doom.
The aroma of feces immersed in perfume
Permeates most of consciousness. Dark is the hole
Of the red racist rabbit whose cup overruns.

All the excellent training for so many years
And crap loads of equipment are played to the hands
Of the evil egoist who will have his way
Until karma kiboshes him some sooner day.
Yet the world must play nicely. It well understands
Mass destruction should be one of our biggest fears.

Quid pro quo is the tactic most commonly used
To elicit desertion of moral value
Among troops, belief systems, and populations.
When the smoke clears, the people who’ve died are the ones
Remembered then forgotten and placed out of view.
Pardon me for not feeling. May I be excused?

This will go on forever. Lethal tit for tat
Is a game of the human soul trapped in ideals
That have become malignant. And now, running wild,
This cancerous conundrum is what has defiled
Our most human behaviors. What it most reveals
Is a species addicted to mortal combat.

Desantisy Land

World Of Horror

Right To Life is the message good Christians digest
But we should not protect children from a disease
That’s indeed a known killer? Hypocrisy reigns
In the sick hearts of those running evil campaigns
For their own selfish purposes. Can someone please
Tell me this isn’t happening? Give it your best.

Terrorized by white privilege and in a state
Of empowered pandemic, those people, I pray,
Who have some sense about them, find ways to escape
From the demon possessed. What is now taking shape
Is a case for mass murder. How can one betray
The respect for life basic? Perhaps it is hate.

If it’s hate and the demon has this much control
Over people’s wellbeing so personally
And beyond all known reason, can forces above
Rush into the abysmal and find in it love?
Those who reach high positions through dishonesty
Suck the life from a nation. In fact, it’s their goal.

Can I blame this on Putin? He did but ignite
What was already present. The hate that grows wild
In this field of the filthy was there from the start.
The momentum is felt as it flows through the heart.
Human rights of this nation, unjustly defiled,
 Still are something for which everyone has to fight.

Why People Hurt People

Blind Desperation

Civil War is but one thing devolved into two.
When the brain’s hemispheres get along not at all
It is called epilepsy. There’s loss of control
Of the muscular functions. Oneself isn’t whole
When attacks come at random. This is nothing small.
One can’t predict at all when the next one is due.

Trauma is about not being able to feel
All the pain that it causes. The soul is made numb.
Being so cut off from one’s own humanity,
Desperate are behaviors that all others see
As a problem to intricate to overcome.
Every new dawn is swallowed in hopeless ordeal.

Self-destructive behaviors are frustrated by
Self-preservative programming. Clearly at odds,
One must sort through the numbness and draw from the pain
Something that feels like hatred for relative gain.
What society offers completely defrauds
Some of us as truth warriors willing to die.

What has died is the hope for an old way of life
When we were manufacturers with steady jobs.
Drug and alcohol crises and suicide rates
Climbing higher each year is the fate that awaits
Those of us who feel cornered. The menacing mobs
Will not cease their aggression until there’s no strife.

You’re About To Ride The Lightnin’, Son…

The Good Old Days

“White Lightnin’ … White Lightnin’ … We’re in red hot pursuit.
We got one in escape mode… We need some support!”
This one’s awfully dangerous with his sharp tongue

But this black nigger bee is about to get stung
By the wasp of enforcement. His life we’ll cut short
If he so much as whimpers. Our thrill is To Shoot!

Up against the wall, nigger, with hands clearly seen.
Take your shoes off and tap dance on hot asphalt roads.
Lick my boots and then give them an excellent shine.
Since that’s one of your best talents why do you whine?
We take much pride and pleasure in hunt episodes
Where the prey are so many and already mean.

Lightnin’ strikes every day, son. This fine one is yours.
And for me it’s an excuse to let off some steam.
Family life frustrations and issues at work
Punctuate my history, so I Am A Jerk
And so fucking proud of it that often I dream

Of a nation of assholes and bloody race wars.

Oh, did we make a faux pas in being so rude…
Pepper spraying your dog and you and needlessly?
Well, that’s life on the lightnin’ bolt. What will you do?
 To the false right we claim, you’ve the real right to sue.
We’re still back in the forties as far as I see.
This one hell of a negative triggers my mood.

Exit Methodologies

The Brightest Way

A black man wouldn’t hang himself. That would be like
Jewish ones suicidal wanting to be gassed.
Some will hack at their wrists. Others go by the gun.
When it comes right down to it, to get the job done
So that one doesn’t fuck up, it has to be fast…
Like electrons – not slow as in taking a hike.

My perception of self and all that I perceive…
Indeed everything I know or thought that I did
Dissipates into nothingness. I know but pain.
Logic dictates remaining would be inhumane
To the rest of hell’s residents. Heaven forbid
That I go while unnoticed as I alone grieve.

Some use cigarette burn marks to fuck with their skin.
I mean that in a kind way. I would do the same.
But I’ve fucked with this website for too many years.
It’s not quite as effective. I’ve shed enough tears
Speaking out but not one God Damned person I claim
As a point of connection, much to my chagrin.

A poet I’ll still call myself even as I
In one last burst defiant to stark nothingness
That this world thing and all I know is and always
Has been and will be. How dare that I covet praise!
I’m a drop in a strange bucket and nothing less
Than a weary old nigger just wanting to die.

On Beating The Blues

Endless Cycles Of Gloom

An old man on a job search is death wish engaged
At full throttle straight into the darkness of hell.
Able bodied I am with an excellent mind
But this world doesn’t see that. In essence, it’s blind
To what I have to offer. I’m just a hard sell
To the age of the phone app. Indeed I’m outraged.

But who gives a bat’s dropping among hell’s elite?
Having spent the last few weeks as a prostitute
On the road and in offices for interviews
That upset and degrade me, I’ll not self-abuse
As I sense that’s the intent because they can’t shoot
Me for sport or for pleasure. Still I’m in defeat.

Sent way out to the boondocks through Amazon Flex
With a carload of packages on gravel roads
With no God Damned thing guiding me but a phone app
Then the fucking phone dies. The whole day’s turned to crap
I bent over and puckered for copious loads
Of the dark seed of Satan in virtual sex.

I’d take this as a joke played on me with a smile
And forget like a bad dream what’s happened to me
If I were a lot younger – not old and depressed.
Vows I’ve made to my doctors were not made in jest
But when push comes to shove one would have to agree
That to ask for a breastfeeding isn’t my style.

I cannot be employed, yet Magic I create.
I have many fine talents and education
That I’m still paying off after decades by now.
This life hates my damned guts. This fact I can allow
To solidify suicidal decision.
But for now, I’ve decided to nourish my hate.

The Squalid

The "Deplorable" Ones

Someone called them ‘deplorable’ once. The Term Fits
More so right now than ever. They’re getting much worse.
Other ‘civilized’ countries take pity on us.
We’re the ripped open scab that is now oozing puss.
The much more first world nations consider our curse
A surreal evolution that evil permits.

Such a team of fine leaders – indeed but the best…
All the Tuberville’s, Jordan’s, McCarthy’s, Hawley’s,
Lauren Boebert’s, Ted Cruz’s, and sick Taylor Greene’s…
Have top notch educations and provident means
To support filth and violence. Scum such as these
Are the brains of the business of social unrest.

Never had it been done. To come up with a plan
So crazy it just might work takes some kind of nerve.
With the flag of the nation crumpled in their minds,
Wild conspiracy theories and lies of all kinds
Spark the sickness in childish ones who they subserve
In commission of high crimes befitting the klan.

We all know of their names now. What they almost did
Was their damnedest endeavor to make the alt-right
A new change in direction. They will try again.
May this world be relieved of the scourge of white men?
They may think they have power to keep up the fight,
But the numbers defeat them and usher their rid.

After The Riots

Foresight Post Trauma

A diehard chump supporter, not feeling at ease
Even though it’s a dark stage, is mostly unseen.
That’s because he’s a coward who will only share
His psychosis verbosely with heartfelt despair
If he remains anonymous. Mental hygiene
Is of newsworthy focus and analyses.

 Self-described as soft spoken, this family man
Made a trek across country to participate
In the great resurrection and stopping the steal.
Knowing not what is hogwash from that which is real,

All these ‘boys’ groups of stunted growth live but to hate,
And the wages of such is a shorter lifespan.

As if Alice in Wonderland married Sambo
And gave birth to some colored dwarfs, then took a vow
To denounce her snow whiteness – these poor folk are sick!
Like lost bullshit dispensers, they lay it on thick.
Any trick of the mind they will use to allow
Complete justification for their redneck show.

Their false godhead betrayed them, yet some still have hope
That return to the good times of wholesome hatred
May enforce understanding that racial divide
Is the way God intended. Malefic white pride
Is the scourge of the nation because it’s widespread.
Waiting for their next orders, in limbo they cope.

“Don’t believe what they tell you; they’re all full of lies,”
The conservative mantra is echoed worldwide.

Bigotry is convenience in making things fit.
Yet some facts in the mix that they try to omit
Are that people of color have nothing to hide
And things won’t change to suit them despite futile tries.

Brave Blood

Strongly Principled

When Denahi’s first seen as an old and wise man
Telling stories to young ones, he is as he was
Until death claimed his brother. Good-natured was he.
Most determined and loving, He’d joke playfully.
His innate sense of humor did not take a pause.
He was one happy camper at one with his clan.

The demise of one brother brought on by a bear
Took a toll on his character. He became mean
And ruthless in demeanor. Vengeance was his goal.
In his bitter pursuit he became a dark soul.
His descent into madness was slow and obscene.
Anger grows into hatred and utter despair.

What had happened was this bear, provoked to a fight,
Killed the brother in anger. Indeed self-defense
Was the motive the bear had. The one who had died,
Now from spirit the sibling was able to guide
Denahi to some semblance of having some sense…
Not at first, but he used some spiritual might.

Turning brother to bear, what the spirit had done
Was to teach a firm lesson about forgiveness.
Animals are shamanic as brave people are.
The return to one’s old self is now a memoir.
Brother bears are not obvious… that is unless
One transcends dark emotion. Then peace has begun.

The Roots Of Anger

On the Horizon of Hate

There’s a root to my anger. When it cripples me,
I’ve but one of two choices. The wrong one results
In destructive behavior and harm to my health.
Like three ships into sunset accustomed to stealth
On the stillness of sea, the intention insults
Who I am at my best. Disturbed I mustn’t be.

Once I know where those roots are, I can overcome
How they feed through their festering into my peace.
Until then, I’m a loose cannon and a time bomb
Who may do harm to self or others without qualm.
So to heal and get past things, it’s best to release
Energy that is toxic and makes the heart numb.

The process of the healing begins with reaching
From oppressed to oppressor to let it be known
That the bad perpetrated has done the one harm,
And that one does one’s best with intent to disarm.
Asking help from the other will help both atone.
In the final analysis, it’s no big thing.

But it isn’t that way always. Deep rooted hate
Along gender and racial lines practiced worldwide
Passed down through generations is most powerful
And complex as the dickens, therefore it is bull.
Suffering is not mindful and can’t be a guide
In transforming my anger by what I create.

Final Duties

Spiteful Acts On Departure

Ain’t it just like a nigger to act the damned fool
When there’s nothing to do but to bow gracefully.
But his kind are deficient and rather uncouth.
They are mentally lazy and lacking in truth.
It is right that this dark one be hanged from a tree
For his acts of treason and tyrannical rule.

The next beast shall rise surely within a few years.
This one has made a breeding ground like a ghetto,
Or a trailer park haven hog tied to the past,
Where direct insurrection does but flabbergast
The dumbstruck with amazement by such a lame show.
Now the door is swung open, but who on earth cheers?

Those would be those off color who glorify hate
And are driven by greed and their lust for power.
If and when they lose bigly, they are driven mad.
The resorting to destructive acts is quite sad.
To behold the beast whimper is what I’d prefer.
It facilitates healing that most yet await.

There’s no proper transition forthcoming this time.
The toddler now in office will not say goodbye.
So instead, there’s destruction and acts done in spite.
And four tenths of the country will swear that he’s right.
This old, fat, ugly loser gives it one last try
Perhaps not even knowing that it’s all a crime.

Serenades Of Sedition

The Simmering Unrest

The Wild Western Empire has expanded beyond
What contiguous statehood cannot comprehend
As a song of seduction. Sedition is clear
In the eyes of sore losers who madly adhere
To the awfully bad actor who they must defend
While not caring the least bit that they have been conned.

As it was, and is now, and forever shall be
Blown along with the sagebrush and acid hot dust
Is the thickness of hatred in bitter belief
That if I’m not of their kind then I am a thief.
All that I have accomplished must fuel their disgust.
In the blindness, an enemy is made of me.

The song keeps getting louder and won’t go away.
The replay of post trauma I did not expect
To recur in my lifetime. Am I again wrong
For believing that blacks and whites can get along?
The drum beat is deep rooted and has the effect
Of a discordant weapon that savages play.

Warriors are not made or born. They just exist
As strategic abstractions that must take on form
When the duty to slaughter the other is called.
The grand party of outlaws, though they be outlawed,
Leave no peace for the restless amid the dust storm.
What I get from it is how to write with a fist.

The Struggle

Stormy Encounters

Interacting with others… Sometimes it’s a bear
To maintain good composure. Things get out of hand
And straight into ferociousness in word and deed.
Anger does have its purpose. The demon is freed
In the hope that the other will well understand
That when strict lines are crossed others then should beware.

The mind may be more active with hostile intent
When two wills come emergent in heated debate.
Animals of one species are just like the rest.
When prepared for a challenge, we’re put to the test.
But is there a derivative reason for hate
Among human existence? What feeds our dissent?

In these times there are lynchings. The noose has evolved.
The mindset of the niggard is still much the same
As it was in the good days. Some folk need an edge.
Black men are still in season as white racists pledge
That there will be no struggle. They will cheat the game.
In the long run our issues are damned to be solved.

Have A Great Weekend!

Utter Helplessness

My last shift in the ER has left me a wreck
So, I don’t know if I can put out much today.
How’s your friend in oncology? ‘Heard that she’s bi-
But that’s none of my business. I’d bang her while high….
We do have a new patient right here, by the way
And whatever he’s got, he’s a pain in my neck!

He’s assigned to nurse Nuisance and Doctor Derange.
How about them damned Hayseeds. They shocked us once more!
“Everybody! We’re planning potluck for next week.
This job is such a hazard, as some patients wreak.”

Who’s that blond bitch I saw you with on the ninth floor?
Though it don’t seem like Friday, it doesn’t feel strange.

“Oh, this guy is a nutcase. Let’s step from his sight…
All he wants is attention. So What he’s in pain!”
We shall gift him no comfort. By fate he is here

And our subconscious mercy most rooted in fear
That a sense of compassion can lead to no gain.
Can you scorn our behavior because it’s not right?

How can you for a heartbeat not see it our way?
Sickness is complicated and vital business.
Interwoven, our tissue is the need to hate
On the grandest scale, focused toward those who don’t rate
Protection from predation. We need not confess.
Patience does that well for us when pushed to the fray.