Showing posts with label bamboozled. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bamboozled. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Speculation or Spot-On? (Part One)

I know that a lot of people will be looking at me crazy if I ask about this, but...
Did anyone question the source of the earthquake(s) near impoverished countries, much less the countries that were once under European rule? It's just too type-casted to be like biblical scripture, ESPECIALLY since these words have been heavily altered.

Disease and pestilence - The famine and bio-chemical warfare that takes place in Africa and The Americas has been prevalent. This is no surprise, seeing that this government pretty much controls the strings of the UN in determining who gets what aid, or how fast it gets there. These "oldie, but goody" diseases are popping up and are rampant. Ebola, Bird Flu, and H1N1. Panic is getting out of hand and it seems as if the CDC "magically" had an answer for it. Inoculate EVERYONE...or pay a fine, or go to jail. Even the soldiers MUST take something before training and battle. Ain't that a bitch?

Political turmoil and civil unrest - Seriously, I voted for President Barack Obama, but it seems like our own people are quick to turn on possibilities (and I admit I was heavily skeptical, and somewhat still remain so) of a quick economic turnaround. As talks with countries continue, one must wonder what is it for. The greater good of America? The greater good of the world? Or fatter pockets. It's almost a Catch-22. You root out the 8 year dictatorship that soiled a lot of relationships between great and small countries, and when you dismiss him for something new and maybe better, you pass that burden on with a 5-second delayed start behind the gun to a man who was ready to take off from the jump. Add to the fact that the questioning of remembering his heritage has been against him from day one (as all of our has since the beginning of human inception on Earth) there has been NO breathing room. I do think that his neglect for scolding and scorning the European dominance in this world has been a hamper on his judgment as well as negotiations with certain up and coming powers. They don't know whether he's taking off from where Bush ended, or beginning to dishevel the foundation of indigenous societies by meshing everyone together...through a European perspective. In that case, it serves NO ONE, and starts resentment of the man that once captured the world's attention for 3 years WITHOUT being a president at that time! Wouldn't that worry you as well? A man who defied a long legacy of Caucasian rule (some with a bit of black blood in 'em and those before that were leading during the Articles of Confederation) that acknowledges his predecessors as being great for anarchy, then ruling as their "oppressors" once did them. It's like the red-headed stepchild and the stepmother separating from each other, and sorting out their comics collections...but still, the comics collections won't be returned back to the store they STOLE it from.

I have plenty more to speak on, not rant, because I believe that ranting is something you'd do without thinking of others to follow, but to condemn.

To Be Continued...

I.O.II

Sunday, January 10, 2010

"Resident Evils"

"30 poems in 30 days" is a challenge, not a contest, presented to the few willing to take it upon their duties to create in anyway way, shape, or form, with no strenuous, strict rules, starting December 15th, 2009, and ending January 13th, 2010.


#18 of 30


My color is nigger
My language is Negro
My heritage is monkey and part baboon
I am defined by my tail and black magic
This here is my census mark
The casted freedom papers that spark a debate
About my kind being able to talk
Walk
And work
as 2/5ths a machine
A laborer of the day
A breeder in the night
I have a degree in Drapetomania
A graduated form of escaping
Fever pitch presentations
I shun my job
Which is I
In so many ways
I am holding the whip
I am destroying the ties on the spikes holding the boat
On this land
I came willingly to get my ass beat!
Here!
I am full blooded-outcast
Biblically proven!
My possessions were taken, thank God!
(Or Jesus, what you may prefer I pray to now)
The lashes match the cross I kneel to
My scars show the miles I've gone
Or at least tried
My staple is pig innards and lard
My song is your contradiction to our release and personal will
My thank you???

A fuck you.

Is this what you want me to accept, oh "New" America?
"Land of my ancestry"?

That's my vote in the election.
Forget throwing my hat in the ring.
Hang me over the ballot box.


Have it your way!
Because my soul will have NONE OF IT.




Ifeanyi Okoro II © 2010

Thursday, January 7, 2010

"Found Amongst Blank Skies"

This poem was oriniginally made for "30 poems in 30 days". I decided not to do so, and gave it time to matriculate into a well of words instead.

What color is discrimination?
Shade of unemployment?
Homelessness under the census origins?
Better yet, immaturity where you sign the dotted line?
Missing the point with no direct finger to use
And the more self-righteousness we collect
The lesser self-respect used
We the people
Turn into miniature gods of Cyndi paupers
And silent killers of fat-cat tycoon slaves
A calendar with letters as days numbered
Like blood types created on seven accounts
Drinking from horns of religion
Eating the bread of Nero's gluttonous downfall
Stereotyping as if one tapped their digits against radio
Broadcasting a thought process
On deaf minds
Brainwaves be rough, crashing against shores of truth
Trying to hang ten, or break loose
So we surf for knowledge and find halfway colleges
Online like Greco/Roman formulas
For brother/sister/homo/animalhood
Sprinkled in their sparkling pimp chalice
An African staple and fables of fame
Stamped with tribalism, categorial shame
Shit, half you mafuckas don't even know your own name.
Yet...
We know the color of...











Ifeanyi Okoro II © 2010

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

"Self Unshevled" (Two Parts)

I am honored to participate in a flourishing exercise of "30 in 30". This is a challenge, not a contest, presented to the few willing to take it upon their duties to create thirty poems in thirty days in anyway way, shape, or form, no strenuous and strict rules, starting December 15th, 2009, through January 13th, 2010. (Twitter hashtag #30in30)

Here's #12 of 30 of the "30 in 30" project

Ifeanyi Okoro II (CopperSoul)
Houston, Tx

Part 1
My heart
My soul
My spirit
My love
My life
My thoughts
My skin
My desire
My drive
My will
My power
My weakness
My future endeavors
My past regressions
My pain
My anger
My despair
My grief
My struggle
My blaming
My faults
My fears
My apathy
My vengeance
My troubles
Part 2
Funny, it's not really not about me, is it?
I must realize things aren't always what they scream
The needle in the hay stack dream busts through my seams
And the theme isn't a motto, find the points, tips, unhollow
To correct and lead forward, the lesson and rules I must follow.

© 2009 Ifeanyi Okoro II

Thursday, December 24, 2009

"At The Hour"

I am honored to participate in a flourishing exercise of "30 in 30". This is a challenge, not a contest, presented to the few willing to take it upon their duties to create thirty poems in thirty days in anyway way, shape, or form, no strenuous and strict rules, starting December 15th, 2009, through January 13th, 2010. (Twitter hashtag #30in30)

Here's #9 of 30 of the "30 in 30" project

Ifeanyi Okoro II (CopperSoul)
Houston, Tx


So we give thanks to those who wear
The coldest apparel with the general flair
Soldiers with those black boots
Lead by the orisa with that royal red suit
White trim, wielding the ax like he was wired on Grey Goose
Nights afire when lightning bolts get loose
This ain't Santa, it's Sango
Dark like the Congo
Called by the bataa songs sung like the bongo
Tapped and relaxed on the throne like bones
Chaperoned to the ocean floor with revenge to be honed
Left alone to be hung and return like Redeemer
Seen as a crafty one, some say the schemer
Scheduling the scene to be torched to the crisp
Blowing Osun a kiss, but it's Oya he misses
Others think he was born on just December 25th
Misnomered, honored by people frontin' folks with gifts
No wonder the try to confine his entry through the chimney
Simply cause they smoked the history of African memories
Entry to the logs of computerization
Numbered and blogged to synchronization
I'm hatin' not even our own wanna give him praise
Then wanna cry to Christ when all hell gets raised?
This nation did a good job, adorning the door knob
With the "Do Not Disturb" sign near the fresh floor mopped
Of ya past, trashing your ancestors with imagery
Of a pasty male, impaled on a fucking tree
Lucky me, I awake eyes open to mockery
Stopping the utter recycling of hypocrisy
And not to be outdone
there's always gonna be a sound shoutout to those
Who recognize the sun
Coming unfroze...but celebrate that bullshit I suppose
Give me the Nubian-nosed King in the crimson robe
And that's dope.

Kabiyesi Kabiosile


© 2009 Ifeanyi Okoro II