En.Citatepedia^®.ro

None Will Be Done Or Repeated

What do you wish to see from me?
Submission.
Weakness.
No depth of identity.
Or integrity I keep.
Mistakes I have admitted.
And my flaws are there to see.
However...
I have submitted to my weaknesses.
And my identity had not always been complete.
But if you believe I have not learned lessons,
I assure you none will be done or repeated...
To allow the same ones for you to teach.
Back off!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Identity Of I

Identity is not what I promise others
Identity is what I do when I am alone
Identity is what I think of others
Knowing all the hatred they've shown

Identity is what every wound reminds me
Identity is what I learn and what I pass by
Identity is what I see in the mirror
After giving my best try

Identity is what I make out of my given chance
Identity is what I accept and what I deny
No one else has control over me
Life is about me, and what I identify

poem by Abhiraj Rajadhyaksha
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The Lonely Spider

The lonely spider reaches out
For what, you might ask?
If not to spin his web then for what?
For his identity
The identity of him
His identity...

The lonely spider calls out
For what, you might ask?
If not for his mate then for what?
For his identity
The identity of him
His identity...

The lonely spider waits
For what, you might ask?
If not for his food then for what?
For his identity
The identity of him
His identity...

'A spider doesn't have feelings! '
How should you know?

'A spider isn't that smart! '
That could be true.

'A spider can never have a real identity! '
And neither could you, or any of us
But we try to find one even if we're not looking
And thats our life... after which we die

What have we done with our life up until then?
Either we've thrown it away, gave it up, wrecked it, lived it up to the fullest, took it for granted, or got far in it.
We still had one.
It's up to us what we shall do with it
Just like the lonely spider
Who will probably just end up on the bottom of your shoe anyways

poem by Andreanna Atkins
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Me: The thief of my Identity

The thief of my Identity

To my Friends and Family
My true Identity
Is all that makes me

I stole my identity
My personality
What I live for, What I breath for
What I'd fight for, what I'd die for

If not for my soul,
I would be lost once again
For my True Identity has fled me
Fled me for another

It is the dancing shadow you play with,
The beauty you can see in yourself,
And the hostility.
It wants to see you suffer,
It is most content, when you are in despair.

When I can look into my self
and find the real Identity of my inner self,
Until then I will not blame anyone
for my misfortune

poem by Brad Combs
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Identity of a person

Identity of a person
Identity signifies complexity
Identity identifies with reality
Identity is the bearer of all vanity
How does a person identify with identity?

You define yourself based on what?
They say, they say
You’re kind or moral based on what?
Or
You’re a genius and shrewd based on what?
Or
You make the perfect lover, look for no other

They say, they say
You’re strong without a thought it may not last long
Or
You’ve skills since with a record you run up high bills
Or
You are shy but no one ever talks to you or says hi
Or
You never give up because right now you are on top

They say, they say
You are generous or gregarious when all you are is conscious
Or
You’re innovative yet not the originator of the idea conceived

What are the facts?
That makes your identity intact
When change on identity has the last impact?

Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Your ethnic or sexual identity, what region of the country you're from, what your class is - those aspects of your identity are not the same as your aesthetic identity.

quote by Stanley Crouch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Their Knees

Theft and deception,
Have been their worst enemies.
And the power of truth,
Reduces them to miseries.

An escape hatch is sought,
As the plunge from their throne is felt!
The misuse of their own citizens,
Inflames them from within.
They can not blame anyone else!

Their struggle to maintain integrity has gone!
Not one of them fed on greed,
Has an identity that is strong.

Listening with patience and correcting their faults...
Had not been a priority.
So on their knees,
Lessons not learned...
To them are brought!
Too late.
To heal from self hatred taught!

So on their knees,
Lessons not learned...
To them are brought!
Too late.
To heal from self hatred taught!

Theft and deception,
Have been their worst enemies.
And the power of truth,
Reduces them to miseries.

So on their knees,
Lessons not learned...
To them are brought!
Too late.
To heal from self hatred taught!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The kid identity

The kid identity

Look at me,
It is not my true identity,
But when they see the true true me,
I am nothing but a messed up key,
When they see my true identity,
They want to go back to what they thought was me,
But they must not go and see,
Who my true identity could really be,
Just remember I’m my real identity.

By: Colby Selter

poem by Colby Selter
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Is Man A Winner Or A Loser?

Woman has a poof that the child is hers;
Man has no such proof to claim on the child.
She is cool with the child as identity.
He is desperate for his identity.

Identity crisis has disturbed him.
He invented marriage and chained woman.
He imposed chastity to mark his kids
And introduced patriarchal system.

Identity crisis has troubled him.
He assumed control over women.
He retained the progeny in his name
And made concubines to silence woman.

Identity crisis has worried him.
He bottled woman's skill and built up his.
He grew to be a Scholar. Sculptor and Poet
And assigned to woman the entertaining.

Identity crisis has bothered him.
He treated woman as her property.
He acquired family unfailingly
And labourd for its upkeep and status.

Identity crisis has bored him.
Water as she is, man could not cut her.
Tired of heat outside, man needed a shade
And sheltered himself in woman's coolness.

Woman treated man with due sympathy
With no fight with him for identity.
Her child is enough for her identity.
She helped him to anchor himself in her.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Since My Introduction

If I had not been misguided,
To right the wrongs I've done.
Acknowledge my mistakes.
Self examine my flaws...
And admitted I had heartbreaks,
I would not have the confidence...
To speak my mind.
And I would find myself,
Seeking acceptance to be who I am.
And it is only knowing who I am,
That has afforded me the opportunity...
To appreciate the caring less,
Of how I am perceived.

If I had not been misguided,
To right the wrongs I've done.
Acknowledge my mistakes.
Self examine my flaws...
And admitted I had heartbreaks,
I would not have the confidence...
To speak my mind.
And since my introduction,
Without outside confusion or seduction...
To corrupt my intent,
I will live with truth to pursue...
For the rest of my life!
Without needless dramatics.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Identity

So lost deep inside,
Is all that makes me.
My true identity,
Is hard to see.
To my friends and family,
I’m a different me.
I have a secret identity,
Wonder if you’ll ever see.
My thoughts and actions,
Are all that makes me,
But some things I may do,
May not describe me.
Now look inside me,
If you ever feel,
like it,
I’m no-one but me,
Never hiding my identity.
Don’t say I am hypocrisy,
Because I never showed you,
two of me.
Now please,
Look at me,
Try to see the real me.
I’m no-one but,
my real identity.
All full of beauty,
Inside me.

poem by Yisel Chong
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The narrative constructs the identity of the character, what can be called his or her narrative identity, in constructing that of the story told. It is the identity of the story that makes the identity of the character.

quote by Paul Ricoeur
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Identity

Identity
Is the crisis
Can't you see
Identity identity
When you look in the mirror
Do you see yourself
Do you see yourself
On the t.v. screen
Do you see yourself
In the magazine
When you see yourself
Does it make you scream
When you look in the mirror
Do you smash it quick
Do you take the glass
And slash your wrists
Did you do it for fame
Did you do it in a fit
Did you do it before
You read about it

song performed by by X-Ray Spex
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Identity

Identity
Is the crisis
Can't you see
Identity identity
When you look in the mirror
Do you see yourself
Do you see yourself
On the t.v. screen
Do you see yourself
In the magazine
When you see yourself
Does it make you scream
When you look in the mirror
Do you smash it quick
Do you take the glass
And slash your wrists
Did you do it for fame
Did you do it in a fit
Did you do it before
You read about it

song performed by by X-Ray Spex
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Others May Mistake A Duck

I remember being defined,
By...
How I spoke with a wish to be understood.
Pronunciating words with a clarity.
And spoken in the way they were spelled,
As they were meant to be.
I was not the one to accept mediocrity.

I remember being judge by the way I looked.
Where I lived and the interest in others I took.
And what I had to present and didn't.
I was 'out-of-it' to many.
And this was said to me as if to restrict.

I remember putting a stamp on my identity.
And the acceptance of this,
Had been rejected by others who could not then see.
In fact...others would approach me,
As if I had commited treason.
Or had an incurable disease.

People can be cruel when making their assessments.
As if those selected needed to be taught a few lessons.

Today with integrity and my identity intact,
I do not declare my 'Blackness'.
I've always been proud of that.
What is obvious to me needs no announcing of fact.
Or do I oppose those with a host of opinions,
To appear more bold to the ones opposing my goals.
Finished or not they will never be diminished.

I have learned not to pay naysayers any attention.
Or give them time to stretch the limits of their minds.
If others may mistake a duck in wasted debates,
To argue what they see is a parakeet...
Or something else to be caged.
They will have those same issues forever on display.
Regardless how outdated their manifestations,
With them stay.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Facade (a tritina)

So many have come to dwell behind a panarchy mask
Lost between the delusive dimensions of identity
Unable to perceive that which is deemed real

They dare not throw aside the caparison that veils the real
Lest those that wish to deceive and to mask
Would reveal the abstersive truth of their own identity

Yet if all would but don the verisimilitude of their identity
Then the shadows cast would corrivate into the real
And no longer would there lie merit within a mask

Are you the mask of your identity or are you real?

poem by Sheri Hockman
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What 'Fit' Would I Want

Identity?
I've had one for so long.
All my life,
I have lived to perfect it.
I don't get upset with those with none.
Those who prefer to turn away and run...
If confronted!

Identity?
I know who I am without question.
Acceptance I don't seek.
Not from those
Who believe my identity
Might leave others afraid to speak.
Those familiar with others,
Who shuffle along with stances weak.

I have no problem,
Being me and that might offend.
'Too bad! '
'Get over it! '
Nothing else or more is there...
I care to share with them!
What 'fit' would I want,
If that which I enjoy...
Provides me comfort?

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Is About Identity and Principle

What difference does it make,
Whose heart you take and break?
What difference will you fake next...
If you say you've made mistakes,
When those mistakes leave heartbreak...
Over again,
In a thoughtless process unconsciously taken!

And this is not about money,
Or being Afrocentric.
This is about identity and principle.
One's integrity and dignity.

This is about those areas of life,
That have never dawned on you.
Because you are just too caught up in 'things'.
And no one can pay for magic to happen...
If one's mind is already established in ego!
To adorn and impress,
A valued emptiness.

And...
Let me leave you with this,
When did you determine I was not Afrocentric?
Was it before or after you recognized I was not subservient?
Or after you obtained the benefit of my efforts...
Erased from beneath your footsteps.
And I had been freed with blood I left...
From displaying a humblizing ignorance.
You find to market is best.
Or was 'that' something you had been told?
By those sold on reaching for already polished gold.

You do not remember the days,
The path you did not pave...
Had not been laid with choices,
Do you?
But I forget...
You represent that generation absent of deeds.
Delusioned and free of struggle.

You just want to shine...
Regardless of who holds your spotlight.
Or who had paid to have that light shine upon you.
I knew those unafraid to be challenged by those paths unpaved.
And perhaps my comfort with that...
Leaves you opinionated that I am not aware,
I am black?
I just don't carry the affects of that on my back!
And why should I...
When every stride I glide is still followed!

And this is not about money,
Or being Afrocentric.
This is about identity and principle.
One's integrity and dignity.
And none of that do you represent...
As a means for your survival!
I can where...
And with whom I sit and eat.
That is something yet I can not do.
As I pretend to be unaware...
Of the closeness of my oppressor's teeth.
And you...
Could care less of who makes the mess.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dad's Lessons Passed On

He was not filthy rich
But had the depth of knowledge
That he had blessed me with
To face my trials with great courage.

Dad taught me the love for books
A quiet spirit in times of strife
All those years his lesson took
Me through the hardships of my life.

Teach a child the wealth of reading
To feed his mind, keep him from trouble
Values learned he will be using
To grow up wise and be responsible.

Dad's lessons I now try to teach
On the next in line there to impart
My children know their goals to reach
By keeping his lessons in their heart.

poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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My Identity

Look at me,

Tell me what you see

I have 2 identities.

Which is hard to see.To my friends and family, I’m a different me.I have a secret identity,

Which may not describe me.

The secret identity that I have is deep inside my soul which is hard to find. I’m still searching hoping that I will find the complete me.myslef and I.

poem by Lucia Domingos Fula
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For Thy Belief

FOR THY BELIEF

f
For thy belief
I can make any sacrifice
Of body or mind
Since I have no body or mind
For all is lost into you
My being is not a medium for yours
But the two at vain march to realms
Unknown
Except those who know
That their identity is no identity
Except the identity of their better self
The other
Yea frankly thyself

(karnailsingh Heranwale)

poem by Karnail Singh Heirwale
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