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Poems On / About CULTURE  7/24/2016 7:13:38 PM
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Best Poems About / On CULTURE
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It Is The Culture That Feeds, Permits And Defines

To lay blame on another,
Is part of the culture.
Very few will admit that sat,
They resolved their own problems...
With a doing not to have them come back.

Who has not told a lie,
As if for them a truth existed.
And who has not involved someone else,
They knew had been innocent.

Denials are seldom put on trial.
To be judged by a jury interpreting laws.
To then convict someone with a sentence given.
And too many prevail to sit confined in prisons or jails,
Later to be released because of a flaw in a 'system' fails.

It is the culture that feeds delusions that exist.
It is the culture that permits mental illness that exists.
It is the culture many define as not being the way it is.
But its 'is' a culture of self righteous conformists,
And their addiction to conflicts and hypocritical beliefs.

It is the culture that feeds, permits and defines!
All the time.
And it is the culture that defies with excuses made,
To rely on alibis to defend, whether wrong or right...
The actions of its people inside and under church steeples.
Or on the streets where hidden crimes reside to protect,
The ones who lie and try to defect with kept imperfections.
As if not to reflect to affect effectively.
Lawrence S. Pertillar

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Travel Haiku - San Diego's Fiesta Cinco De Mayo

Fiesta Cinco de Mayo
he launches his staccato flamenco feat
to our query whether we look mexican enough

On May 3rd and 4th, in celebration of Cinco de Mayo, San Diego's Old Town transforms into a colorful mercado filled with mariachis, Mexican food, and crafts during the Fiesta Cinco De Mayo, the West Coast's premier celebration of the culture and food found south of the border. Mom and dad can enjoy a margarita and dance while kids play in the Pueblo de los Niños (Kids Village) . This celebration of Latino culture commemorates the Mexican defeat of the French at the Battle of Puebla on May 5,1862.
john tiong chunghoo

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Africa Is Just.

It is just a piece of land. Just a Continent. Just one Big country just a storyboard Oozing with Blood of slave Trade. T's Just a battlefield For Political partriachy. Divided by Many Pre-COLONIALY Boarder lines drafted on a Wooden Table. A medical Laboratory Culture Media That Cultures Diseases. Afrika is just......? ! ¿? ! .

It is a Habitat For Street Kids, Street Thugs, Widdows and Orphans. A Hive of demons, MUTATING Christians Communists and Carpitalists. Litterary Litterates, politicaly Violent. With no Currency Of Themselfs. AFRICA is Just My motherland. That i till with both My Hands Bare footed. It is just my foot bearrer she that Hide Many Of my Dreams overnight. It is just an Not Guilty of Collonialism. It is not A Victim of Collonialism but just a Victor. Africa is just. Ndezvavanhu.
Poet jerrimos mugweni(ZVAVANHUVEVHU)

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Cultural Dream

Unable to make concealment for being the cynosure of all eyes, the belle without her adonis... being perished in the shauri of pathological nature, in the halcyon sphere of the hades, the quietus, one of stygian odyssey not inapplicable to all. Fermented in the sacrament of hallowed culture, and the unwonted path that failed this moment. The patrician elders came, saying the medicine that works not requires yet the addition of a leaf. A sufuria carries out its duty at the expense of live fire. The widow's right to woo another studmuffin inherent in the necessity to swim in the aqua of copulation with her deceased husband in the splash of a briny dream, whose anticipated content of verbal precipitation would be divulged and honoured within the grip of an authorized few. Sleep hit each night, belying the direction of brittle cultural haven... not the culture but the young widow that had to be diagnosed. Let her be equipped with her beauty, her chignon, some seemingly quirky succotash and brisket within the context of her hubby's fav: to liberalize the pavlovian urge through the incipient verbena of dream, she would carry her feet tranquilly to the very grave, to the Shangri-La in Lost Horizon, where in firm quietness her love was laid.
Tunji Ibrahim

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Poems On / About CULTURE