OPTIONAL SLAVERY (Excerpts from Everyone hates the English)

refugees

“The world is full of loud commentators, with deceptive commendations their many willful listeners obviously find aptly admirable and not coy. But I am an exception to the norm, among the few appropriating critics who equate affirmation of evidence with the clearly advertised ruse with serious concern,” Cyril started.

“You and I know that getting into Europe is the easy part. But living in Europe in the most sub-standard conditions, a far cry from illusions perceived, assumed, created and forwarded, is the real tough part. Africans integrating into evidently hostile economic and social European societies that segregate against foreigners, as they increasing learn to abhor migrants for clogging their systems and worsening their already precarious situations, is the reality of things. I will rather accept the fair situation I can manage right here, than pursue an elusive pot of gold at the end of some European rainbow.” Cyril was assertive and Mr Bill was impressed.

A fellow intellect, the English man thought. Then the elderly man tarried at the door to explain further. He felt Cyril has earned the right to understand why it is only fair that Africans escaping war torn regions or economic difficulties or simply seeking to better their lot, must get a chance to pursue a life anywhere they desire without any hindrance from those who seek to make choices for them, yet again.

“I am not doing this for the money,” Mr Bill said. “I am doing it because it is the right thing to do. For centuries European slave merchants own Africans and traded them across continents as they pleased. Everywhere they took them, the prosperity that was gotten through their unpaid work for centuries funneled into making these European nations the model economic and social communities they are today. Then there was colonialism, when European nations arbitrary siphoned the wealth of African nations for free and incessantly bullied them with the same effect, which resulted in making large economic powers of European countries.

“A lot of people consider the abolition of slavery and subsequent independence of the African nations as an act of charity, a favour granted the most belittled and unjustly treated people in all history. No it is not and any thing that remotely offers a whiff of reparations should be encouraged and milked till it is drained. What do you think the world’s racial history will be if the black man was styled as the clear antagonist? Just consider that before you write off your siblings.” Mr Bill ended.

“You should consider that most of those going over will end up as liabilities. The long established tedious ways for Africans to legally get into Europe ensured only the best Africa can offer do migrate. The new trend only dumps from the dregs of the continent. At this rate Europe will be full of the sort of people that it needs the least. It is like allowing locusts to rest on your farm because they also have a living right to feed. But maybe the English do not really care and it is a continental Europe problem, since England is still an old independent island, still on it own while playing to be part of Europe. Still with its currency in place, as the presence of the Queen imprinted on it.” Cyril remained every bit as steadfast in his opinion.

“Good people do bad things for good reasons, my friend.” Mr Bill said.

EVERYONE HATES THE ENGLISH - Small
EVERYONE HATES THE ENGLISH

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Recycled words

Impressive piece

moonworld

The words he wrote for you;
restored from the recycle bin of his life –
tweaked a little, saved as ‘for you’.
A generic ode that speaks to all,
much as the words of a tarot reader.
Each believes their substance is ‘for me’.
You hold the message in your hearts,
watching and waiting for the future,
when all that is told becomes truth.
I spoke to one whose fortune was told.
You are waiting for synoptic lives to come to pass;
a tall, dark, handsome man
whose palm you cross with silver and gold
before he disappears into the night,
notebook and guitar in hand.
He wrote you a love song,
and when you played hard to get,
he gave it to another.

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HONESTY

bird in hand

Honesty is not seen as it should be anymore, it is not seen as a wholesome noble act of justice, and not even measured and scaled properly or ensured or indeed insured. In its place is an insatiable quest for a luxurious life style that guides a preference scale of needless priorities.

Only the human conscience has the most taming influence on the excesses of people.

TAMING AS THE CONSCIENCE

With this thought comes the word
That a taught mind does afford.
From the heart’s thrust for action,
The spirit reveals its intention.

Creeping up guts and spines
Of the anguished, as he pines.
The real is seen not as before,
For requests never ever bore.

One thoughtless act or yet
Another rehearsed and so wet,
Could afterwards be active
And securely hold any captive.

Days go by written with them,
Hours pass mindless also then.
As minutes and their seconds
Of their pain’s mocking bonds.

the poet in the poet - Copy
The poet in the poem
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Boko Haram
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FAIRNESS IN SUBORDINATES

girrafe

The self-centered uncaring nature of the generality of people with advanced mental intellect is revealed in the way they treat their subdued and resignedly subjective subordinates, who are always less endowed. This unfeeling attitude is characterized with ignorant arrogance. It is too demanding to be civil and most certainly not effortless to be cruel.

There is always the need to be bias in being so, especially when treating or interacting with such perceived lesser persons. This is the case in every respect where there is identifiable superiority and inferiority, when physical disability is visible or intellectual disparity evident. Economic and social parallels, tribal and ancestral linage, religious and racial symbolism, and even age, form a basis for these perceptions.

The world breeds cheat in this way and it is so hard to tell who is true to their words or action.

CHEATS

To a mass we wore those frowns again,
Webbing lines on our brows with pain.
These insects spanned and trapped we are,
Drunken hulks with secular cheats we spar.

the poet in the poet

The poet in the poem
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Right the Wrong

chick
The desire to right the wrong of another by embarking on the very same quest they had undertaken usually ends with behaving exactly like they did. It may be best not to criticize those who criticize you, instead give yourself less reason to, if you could manage it. Living as best as you can is more than often the most suitable remedy to handling unfair criticism.

But the world is full of lies and people living their lies.

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HYPOCRITES
Those who curse the dog’s wet nose,
Let them please cast the first stone.
It can’t wag its tongue mouth close
As they commonly do on their own.
It barks its reason like all of those
Who do but wouldn’t leave it alone.

the poet in the poet
The poet in the poem
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WOMEN AND THEIR MEN

10665933_804523602943607_8970360027335449884_n (1)Women have the dirtiest minds if you ask me. I know because as a young lad I have been in lots of position to eavesdrop on men discussing their women and women discussing their men. While the men are normally conservative in their conversations, giving away little details, women tend to be very vivid, describing even their men sexual prowess like they would an piece of elegant clothing.

If you doubt this then consider this. You can tell a lot about people by how exhibitionist they are in their behaviors. While men find it difficult to look at one another’s private part, even when they ease themselves, women do not think much of stripping down naked in full view of one another to take a bath. (Straight men).

But when it comes down to it, it is really always about who is really more superior;

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BATTLE OF THE CELLS

Who must comes first,
Males or the females?
This knowledge a thirst
That quenches with cells.

If what is common birth
Forms females or males;
Supremacy is their myth,
Caged within each cells.

the poet in the poet
The poet in the poem
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The Only One

Powerful piece

Rapid Fire & Short Bursts

The Only One

image

She gives her love
With a certain grace
The countenance of
An angel, on her face

For even the littlest of things
She is grateful
Treasures them all
Even a cup of coffee
A gift so small

Easy to love
Full of wish
Dreams it’s true
He’ll always be there
Her past deceives her
Often she doubts

Brilliant of mind
Quick to grasp
Bit too quick to judge
Chalk it up to her past

Smart and funny
With a biting quip
A loving mother
She gives her best

Yes, she’s found love
It’s lasting and true
All she needs to seal it
Is to believe in you

She craves publicity
Of the bond
It’s not his style
To trumpet his life
Out loud

It’s with no disrespect
Or qualms of doubt
He’s told her he loves her
For him it’s all right

He pledges his word
It’s…

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I remember

really nice piece

Liter-art-ture

I remember the night when the warmth of your blood had set me on fire.

I remember the night when the ocean of your body had drowned me completely.

I remember the night when you skin became the blanket for mine.

I remember the night when your hands painted love on the canvas of my body.

I remember the night when our bond was stronger than that of the stars and the sky.

I remember the night when your heights amalgamated with my depths.

I remember the night when opening up was not just about clothes but the secrets we hid deep withthin.

I remember the night when our togetherness made us invincible.

I remember the night when you took all my fears and I gave you all my happiness.

I remember the night when the darkness of that room had ignited the lightning of our eternity.

I remember the…

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