Genesis's Poetry

blog #45: Patch Adams Couldn't Fix This

Sun, 12 Feb 2012 18:05:26 +0300

blog #45: Patch Adams Couldn't Fix This:

It’s been a rough couple of weeks. But not as rough as it’s been for Mishkat, my 21 year old niece.

Mishkat was diagnosed with Typhoid - a not so rare occurrence in our humble Sudan. The doctor who diagnosed her prescribed the necessary medication. Mishkat also has an ulcer. She knew that Typhoid…

A Broken Song ©

Tue, 03 Jan 2012 19:41:41 +0300

A remake of Maya Angelou’s ‘I know why the caged bird sings’
Why does the caged bird sing?
I’ll tell you why,
a part of it dies when it gazes at the sky,
Its romance with the big blue forcefully terminated,
it’s insides clench when it tries to fly,
only to be told otherwise by the chains tied to its little bench.
And the memories of the freedom its wings once symbolized,
stolen, it’s heart cries because it’s freedom’s been compromised,
and the symbol that God made it to be,
has been shattered, its impressive sight blinded by the cloth covering its cage.
You really don’t know why the caged bird sings?
its composition is not one of joy, but of a great depression,
lacking the means to express its aggression,
with a voice as hollow as its bones, it sings.
of hopes and dreams broken by the entity that put it there,
one that enjoys exploiting his natural talent for torture.
It sings because it has no choice,
without it’s wings all it has is a voice,
a voice virtually unheard beyond the bars covers,
blocked out by the constant humming on the other side.
You cage the bird and then dare ask why it sings?
its every urge to spread its clipped wings and fly goes unsatisfied,
its very nature, compromised, its tears, invisible,
its song, heard, but never verified.
it sings because its hurt like it fell to the pavement,
its freezing cage prevents its movement,
the ice in its drinking water prevents the quenching of its thirst,
and the bars, prevent the quenching of its thirst for the prevailing winds.
I know why the caged bird sings,
It sings because you force it to,
it sings to ease the pain of its soul leaving its entrapped body,
It sings because it can’t speak,
It sings because it’s reached its peak,
It sings, from morrow to morrow,
It sings to express its misery and sorrow,
It sings so its life isn’t consumed by boredom,
it sings, because it longs for freedom.

#Generationalist ©

Tue, 03 Jan 2012 19:20:52 +0300

I once heard that Our generation will leave scar on the earth,
That the torch passed down to us would combust from the hydrogen that is our arrogance,
That the future mothers and fathers will fail their children starting a line of ill blood,
I heard from our predecessors that walking a mile in their shoes would be too far for us.
Everything sounds negative when said with a sadistic tone,
like a dull voice over the speaker of a busted phone,
our pro’s downsized, our cons swollen,
like slugs in massive quantities all over like pollen.
My generation is a revolutionary genesis,
A breed bred with a creed to succeed,
to strive, to conquer, to survive,
to show the world the difference between living, and being alive.
My generation will take their footsteps and turn them into miles,
will create an entire new world from their 4-wall based infrastructure,
Will make their technology more efficient than it’s ever been,
Will create a perfect world for our descendants to live in.
We won’t pester our children with depressing rules and regulations on how to live,
nor will they grow up subjected to any mistakes our predecessors made with us,
We will raise a great generation to raise a better generation,
Hopefully a brighter tomorrow with no segregation.
One thing our forefathers forget is, we learn all their lessons,
but have enough time to learn more than they did,
We have the potential to accomplish all the goals they haven’t,
the chance to efficiently make they breakthroughs they hadn’t.
Every generation has it’s line of black sheep,
consumed by corruption destroying what the hardworking create,
and every generation tries it’s best to rid the world of these hindrances,
but they will always be around, it’s the law of the universe.
Thou can’t judge what thou can’t be,
like how thou can’t describe what thou can’t see,
just because your generation gave birth to me doesn’t give you the right to judge me,
nor does it give you the power to control me as a person to ease your stress.
Who are you to judge whether or not I should be seen,
because of my modern dress code of polo T’s and baggy Jeans,
is it the rugged afro that I shamelessly flaunt?
then walk with me in the street we’ll count the compliments and taunts.
Were it not your forefathers who looked down on you?
were in not them that belittled you and criticized what you do?
You may have sat there silently as they forced obedience upon you,
but we will not share the same fate.
The day will come when the world is passed down to us,
and when that day comes, the change that they wanted in the world will be in fruition.
The dark clouds that they caste will be purified,
Leaving no shadow for our descendants to live in.

A Broken Person ©

Tue, 03 Jan 2012 19:15:51 +0300

So he said he’d be there till the very end?
That he’d be there for you more than your closest friend?
and you believed him when he said you need not worry of his ways,
Saying he’d take care of you until the end of your days,
Wasn’t this the same guy that said you’re nothing without him?
Wasn’t this the same guy that made your life about him?
the same guy that would make you think you’re a pebble in his shoe?
well the love that he promised you is way overdue.
He strikes you to the ground and you can’t say a word,
can’t make use of your fists like you’re swinging in the mist,
You have a blackened eye yet you can’t object,
to the pain inflicted by the man that swore to protect?
It’s amazing what depths you’d go through to satisfy him,
to make him feel like he’s always right and you’re right beside him,
you’d let him make a fool of you to the whole wide world,
yet you’d still cuddle up by his side like daddy’s little girl.
Have you no pride? No self respect?
how can you lay there awkwardly as he violates your integrity,
how can you live with yourself knowing you sold your soul,
to a man you thought was cool, but just turned out to be cold.
Honey, this rainbow has no shades of white,
when you sold your soul you sold all your might,
in return for a bruised face, and a disfigured heart,
yet still nothing seems to tear you apart.
Be brave, It’s never too late to do the right thing,
save yourself before you’re sent to an early grave,
save yourself for someone deserving,
save yourself, before there’s nothing left to save.

Reborn ©

Tue, 03 Jan 2012 19:12:57 +0300

Let it go, ease the weightload on your shoulders,
there’s no use in carrying boulders,
The world has a lot of land and people to support the weight,
so let it go, before its too late.
Let it go, let the aftermath of your endurance pass,
leave reality behind you, it’s temporarily irrelevant,
you can move a lot faster if you put the past where it belongs,
a lesson to learn is all you need from it.
Don’t let your cons confine you, let your pros define you,
appreciate yourself for who you really are,
you live in a shell like a hermet crab,
hiding away all your scars and newest scabs.
You let life wound your pride,
strip you of your dignity,
the pillars that support you are what you lack,
you, and only you can take them back.
When life brings you back to where you started,
the only direction you have left is forward,
to re-take a path from your past,
or embrace a new.
Let your anger fuel you,
let your shame school you,
follow your heart, however damaged it may be,
it’s your only navigator, use it wisely.
Bring back the head of the beast that humbled you,
rise above the hate, anger, shame, and guilt,
forgive yourself for all you’ve done,
and you have a fresh start, A new, brighter tomorrow.

Tick Tock ©

Tue, 03 Jan 2012 19:04:53 +0300

Inspired by LOVELESS.
Tick, tock, the clock ticks for you,
because there’s something I was promised, and it’s way past due,
I ponder it’s arrival, subjected to suspense like flames are to smoke,
thoughts of you corrupting themselves, but you can’t break what already broke.
Fate is cruel, and it casts it’s merciless eye upon what I thought was a promise,
it would seem all hope is lost, but a shred of it clings on for dear life,
not enough to sway me, but just enough to put a smile on my face,
enough positivity to make clear the negativity brewing at a steady pace.
Recognition, Acknowledgement, truth, words like needles pin-pointing my nerves,
aiming for where it hurts the most, taking it’s time to pick-apart my very being,
the fall of a dreamer, a fate no one deserves,
yet still that shred of hope, disregards what I’m seeing.
It had been my dream to be the wind that sails the still water’s surface,
quietly, but surely, bringing peace and prosperity to those calmed by my gentle breeze,
and legend would speak of me as the dew that quenches the land,
but alas, not all dreams come true.
My purity has been compromised, my soul corrupted by vengeance,
hath endured torment to find the end of the journey,
torture, seeking my own salvation,
in your eternal slumber.
but fate would see fit that I am left deprived of a dream once again,
and time would see fit that I rot in the memory of fate’s repeatative betrayal,
the more they try to end me, the more I live longer,
and the more they belittle me, the larger I grow.
For now, I retreat,
conceding yet another painful defeat,
but your debt still stands, and I intend to collect,
for there are more important things I must protect.
But to spare the lands, the seas, and the skies, I offer thee this small sacrifice,
a loss to be named victor, while subjected to fear and doubt like playing with fire is to burn,
and even if the morrow is barren of genuine promises,
this I promise you, nothing shall forestall my return.

I Am ©

Tue, 03 Jan 2012 19:01:03 +0300

I am the words you find so hard to say,
I am what you want to hear from those around you each day,
I am what you ponder when you gaze into the starry sky,
I am what I am, so you ask, what am I?
well I’ll tell you.
I am a weapon of the merciless, feared by my victims,
A life changer, to liars I am but a stranger,
I destroy what lies have built,
I am the main reason you’re full of guilt.
I serve no man, fear no man, favor no man,
liked by few, disliked by more, hated by millions, and denied by billions,
I am the monster underneath your bed,
I am the true memory of you when you’re dead.
I wear the mask that reminds you of all your fears,
I am the face that brings about your tears,
I am what is left, when everything is gone,
I am that which shines in the darkest of hours.
I am the spark which you see when all lights are out,
I am misunderstood, not all know what I’m about
I am a word that has no similes,
I am the force that brings about epiphanies.
I am not a man, I conquer men, women and children alike,
I am the bully you pretend to like,
I am the fate that awaits those who deny me,
the payback deserved by those who despise me.
I am what snitches snitch, I am what pigs squeal, I am what snakes hiss
the thought of me is subjective, if you hate me, then you hate yourself,
I follow the foundations built on dishonesty, like a bad smell follows it’s creator,
I am a sinner’s liberal, and a saint’s dictator.
I am the entity that brings about ill speech,
I am what impurities refuse to hear, what priests and Imams preach,
every day I turn critics into believers,
and make soothsayers out of pathological deceivers.
Fear, guilt, I am your father,
your mother is humanity,
I show no mercy, I am brutal, barbaric, unstoppable. To no one I am Ruth,
I am what I am,
I am,
THE TRUTH.

Humanity ©

Tue, 03 Jan 2012 18:58:24 +0300

We say life is hard when we have nothing to compare it to,
We complain that life isn’t fair, but make it worse is the only thing we do,
We border our lives with made up rules and live under our own curse,
And we exile those who don’t abide by our made up ways,
Leaving them swimming in self doubt, wasting their days.
The meaning of ‘Humanity’ has been replaced with ‘Survival of the fittest’,
For life, is a mental game and those who are unarmed are taken prisoner,
Into a prison of the mind, one that a simpleton is doomed to die in,
It’s a sea of misfortune and we are encouraged to dive in.
One form of imprisonment is when you can touch the bars and see,
Another is when you can’t see the bars and you think you’re free,
Brainwashed down to the core, believing in other people,
When it’s those people who wont let you be.
The heart forces upon us things that logic can’t explain,
And if we try to fight it our efforts will be in vain,
And in the darkest of hours,
The darkness within creeps up and devours,
It sucks you in, swallowing you hole,
Creating new pits of shadow in your soul.
And when we are uncomfortable under our own skin,
We take it out on others, illuminating our differences,
Making wrong from right by judging appearances,
But discrimination only magnifies insecurity,
And pride there of only illuminates impurity.
And as we quarrel amongst ourselves the inequality proceeds,
Planting in our minds its seeds and germinating its disease,
The sins that the almighty warned us about are now part of us,
Part of our being, part of our new meaning for ‘Humanity’.
While others have skinned their scalps to cool their heads,
We lay under artificial breezes and grow long dreads,
We complain about our sleep but some can’t even afford beds,
We complain about our small houses while others live in sheds,
We complain about our shoes while others have no feet,
So when the light at the end of the tunnel comes to take you, I hope you’ll acknowledge,
Life was a game, and you’ve just been beat.

Oil & Water ©

Tue, 03 Jan 2012 18:40:26 +0300

We used to be brothers, none like any pair,
we used to share one pair of shoes should one of ours tear,
but now you’ve changed for the worst, and it’s me you try to scare,
And to think, I thought we were brothers.
You lay in watch like a crocodile, planning my demise,
you throw darts at my face, piercing my eyes,
you spend days and days perfecting your disguise,
And to think, we used to be brothers.
You try to break me, make me cave in,
you try to shake the ground below and force my head to spin,
you fight a downed opponent because you’re confident you’ll win,
how could you, we used to be brothers.
You smile when I’m around, and curse me at my back,
you aim at me with precision deciding where to attack,
you conspire against me, when it’s dark, pitch black,
how could you, I thought we were brothers.
I try my best to find out what went out of place,
why we’re neck-in-neck like we’re in a race,
I try to find out why you flinch the sight of my face,
yet still you, humiliate me in the presence of others.
Well keep knocking like a def person at a wooden door,
you can never bring me down, my back will never reach the floor,
because I know you’re weak and I’m hard to the core,
I’m ashamed to even call you my brother.
Revenge is a dish that is best served last,
I plotted my revenge so that I can laugh last,
you fell for my trap, now your conscience is your cast,
and I’m so glad we’re no longer brothers.
Now you lay at my feet, begging for me to forgive,
but I will never forgive nor will I forget, for as long as I live,
you should have thought of that when it was mercy you didn’t give,
I disown you, You don’t deserve to be my brother.

Misled Rose ©

Tue, 03 Jan 2012 18:36:09 +0300

Dear misunderstood, delusional rose,
just what are you trying to accomplish with that pose?
another night with your pillow swimming in tears?
did you think he’d be around for years?
Just Who do you think you’re trying to attract?
another fly by night guy with a cold act?
another tailor made suitor, who cares too much of himself,
and reduces you to a used toy on a shelf?
Have you not realized that it doesn’t work that way?
haven’t you pondered on why they leave the next day?
do you think it’s coincidence? That they’re all jerks,
it may be true, but that’s who you attract with the flashy perks.
All you end up with is a long list of exes,
they form a tree with hierarchical complexes,
too much for you to remember them, but they’re all you’ve got,
all he’s going to do is fill up the next name slot.
If you want a quality dude, don’t cover in make up,
so dense that he can’t see your skin from the neck up,
beauty lies within, so make that clear,
whoever doesn’t see doesn’t have to, so don’t fear.
Impress without acting, don’t act to impress,
when you’re tired of acting he’ll only go looking for a mistress,
respect yourself if you wish to be respected,
and protect yourself if you wish to be protected.

Tue, 03 Jan 2012 18:32:27 +0300

One of these days they ground below you will split in two,
with one leg on each side the pain of the split will brew,
and burn you shall the disrespect you carelessly blew,
one of these days.
One of these days they sky above you will shatter,
and as it becomes one with the ground nothing more will matter,
than the apologetic words you replaced with insulting chatter,
one of these days.
One of these days they air around you will suffocate you,
the lies you told will bind your tongue and the air will drown you,
when the tables turn over you’ll ponder impatiently over what to do,
one of these days.
One of these days your world will turn upside down,
when the ground becomes your sky and the sky becomes your ground,
you wont know where to fall as your smile turns into a frown.
one of these days.
One of these days your cookies will crumble,
your paragraphs will turn to lines and broken sentences you’ll mumble,
your self centered-ness will disappear and you’ll try to be humble,
one of these days.
One of these days, karma will do it’s thing,
the bees you sent to harm others will fly back and sting,
karma can get you in a number of ways,
one of these days.
And on that day, I’ll be there,
I’ll travel the distances, no matter where,
because on that day, i’ll be overjoyed to see clear,
that all that frenemy bullshit has turned into fear.
And on that day, I shall pop my corn,
and rejoice the fact that you can’t toot your own horn,
so you’ll have your birthday, and the day you wish you were never born,
one of these days.

Hallelujah ©

Tue, 03 Jan 2012 18:30:04 +0300

What will you do to aid yourself in time of need,
when a time comes for you to recall your creed,
when it’s either you act, or laze and bleed,
then someone comes to save you,
and you shamelessly utter Hallelujah.
would you rather sit around and hide,
or would you rather face it with dignity and pride,
would you hook yourself to a set of wings and glide,
on the bird that came to save your hide.
as you shamelessly utter Hallelujah.
Your pride is at stake, cooking on a griller,
keep pretending to smile while your life turns into a thriller,
dodging from every direction, evading responsibility,
maybe someone will come to save you from your killer.
and once again you’ll get a chance to say Hallelujah.
Will you depend on others your whole life? Have you no shame?
and when others fail you, who shall you blame?
when will you learn that life isn’t a game,
yet still, you rely on others to scoop you from the flame.
and as your sweat dries up you whisper Hallelujah.
Since you hide by those closest, do you hide behind your mother?
and when she passes on will you hide behind your brother?
what happens when your son watches his hero become a coward, and cries,
will you hope that someone will come to cover his teary eyes?
though this one, is a heartbroken Hallelujah.
what happens When your favourite things in life are at stake,
and your most prized possessions they threaten to take,
the things without which your life is hollow,
are you hoping someone will come to ease your sorrow?
you wish you could say Hallelujah.

Echo ©

Tue, 03 Jan 2012 18:19:00 +0300

Standing on a stump, before him is an empty space,
where only his voice is present in this gloomy place,
his words head for the end of the empty void as if it were a race,
only to find their way back to his face.
The void listens well, but it never understands,
it wont remember a thing after the echo disbands,
and he’s left there talking to himself, staring at his cursed hand,
as time passes by unnoticed with every grain of sand.
He hears the voice of a man, who’s pride has been compromised,
who’s smiles have been shrunk and frowns have been super-sized,
He hears the voice of a being who thinks he has no purpose,
and everything he’d hoped wouldn’t happen has reached the surface.
The sounds he hears, are nothing more than his own,
his empty, petty sign that he hasn’t grown,
He still makes the mistakes he said he wouldn’t,
and he said the things he knew he shouldn’t.
He hears his own words, and gets annoyed,
stupidly shouting to an empty void,
he shouts to the empty space, seeking retribution,
hoping that he’ll hear something to heal his confusion.
But he confused himself, he tripped over his own wire,
he lit the first match and started his own fire,
knowing what he did, he looks to place the blame,
on anyone nearby who will still look at him the same.
Thinking of his actions, wondering if he’s cursed,
wondering whether karma or his conscience will hit him first
he wants to apologize for his hard headed-ness,
he asks to be forgiven but what he seeks is his own forgiveness.
His reality just set in, and took it’s time to unpack,
it wasn’t going to leave, not even for a snack,
it would stay and stare at him awkwardly as he stares back,
shivering on his little stump as if it were going to attack.
But the more he looks at it, the more familiar it seems,
like something he remembered seeing in one of his dreams,
he welcomes it like an old friend, with a smile,
‘you haven’t seen anything, unless in my shoes you’ve walked a mile’.
He leaves his stump, bids the void goodbye,
as he turned away the clouds left the sky,
the sun made a spotlight, for he finally realized,
the face of his problems was his own, only disguised.