Ben Jr
Ben Jr
6 days ago

How did we get here?
Where we hide our thoughts,
And only speak in fear,
Just so we don't get caught,
So we keep to ourselves our opinions and ideas,
How did we get here?

How did we get to this?
Where we have a limit of a way to think,
And we limit our right to freedom of speech,
All just so we don't offend thee,
How did we get to this?

The men who are meant to serve,
Can't handle the truth,
So we don't tell it as it is,
Coz we know what they'll do,
From courts to jail and at times beating,
Yes that's true!,
So it all comes down to what they'll choose,
And they smile like its all good,

So we have to hold on to our dictionary for a consult,
Just so when we speak we don't accidentally insult,
'cause you know the big men can't take a joke,
Or a poke and what not,

And its not that we can fight,
We can't take them up in a round with all their might,
They'd squash us down like a bug,
And then just shrug,

How did we get here?,
Its not like they need it to earn our respect,
We've already voted for them,
How do they not get it?,
We did it with clear mind,
And know that they ain't perfect,
Why do we have to regret?

So I sit here just asking,
How did we get here,
I thought things would be better,
Instead we all now have to look over our shoulder,
How did we get here

#freedom   #people   #us   #right   #speech   #government   #election   #leaders  
Lawrence Hall
6 days ago

Speech of Freedom

I will listen – now tell me what you think
And tell me what you think, not what you feel
Not what you were commanded by bullhorns
Not chants beginning with “Hey! Hey!
     Ho! Ho!”

I will listen – now tell me that you think
You, not a crowd, a hive, a swarm, a shoal
You, not a mood, a whim, a committee
You, not a photocopied manifesto

Because I want to hear you – you, not echoes
I will listen – now tell me what you think

Freedom of Speech
#freedom   #of   #speech  
maxime
maxime
7 days ago

I don't need to look into a mirror to see that I'm turning into you.
I already know that I am slowly deteriorating.
Nightmares plague me,
So horrible I am trembling and barely breathing when I wake.
There isn't a single person who makes me feel safe.
You always told me you were wary of everyone.
Including yourself.
The words that fall from my lips are formal, protected, carefully calculated.
My words sound like their coming from your mouth,
Like you have possessed me and will never let me free.
The wanderlust is the most painful.
I'm pulled by the sharp knife twisted into my gut.
Wanderlust makes me reckless. Wanderlust slowly kills me.
Tell me, darling,
Am I haunting you like you're haunting me?
The further we are apart, the more we see we are alike.
Before too long you'll look in the mirror.
You'll see my face instead of your own.

This poem doesn't flow the way I want it to. I can't seem to fix it.
AB
AB
Mar 9

I have stories in my head.
I have feelings in my heart.
I have songs in my mouth.
But the words don't flow.

I want to write of adventure.
I want to sing of good times.
I want to express how much I love you.
But my mind forms these thoughts too slow.

I want to tell the stories of heroes I've dreamed up.
I want to compose ballads that stick in people's heads.
I want to write of love and life as I've experienced them.
But as I grasp for the words, from my hand they go.

I want to write. I should start today.
But here, in this moment, I don't know what to say.

It's always a struggle to make myself write and to put my thoughts to paper
#love   #life   #adventure   #thoughts   #stories   #writing   #speech   #songs   #notes  

words drenched in love
for some
a dangerous declaration

her disheveled heart
speaks only after dark
whispering over the phone
stuttering syllables stitch
stories to shadows of secrecy

let’s strike a comparison:

pen on paper
for me
a novelty
pen on paper
for her
a crime

to think out loud
to read you the soft words
of my beating heart
i am praised and applauded

to think out loud
to read you the strangled words
of her bleeding heart
she is beaten and taunted

why may I write with freedom
while she writes with fear?

why may i be viciously vocal
while she is sold into
solemn silence?

i can
recite
sing
rant
slam
without being told
i need the permission of a man

but she can’t
stand
speak
swear
share
lips sewn shut with threats
hands tied tight with rules
the men shout:
stop
shut up
be quiet
do what your told
fit the good wife mould

her father competes for the
most submissive
dull daughter
and so he lies—

“my daughter is a
‘good girl’
uneducated
no interest in
writing
reading
or poetry.
she never desired
to go to school”

accused of lovers and affairs
her verses spat upon
her lines snickered at
her brothers rip up her notebooks
they rip up a literary soul printed on
pages doused in tears

there she is
on the edge of an arranged marriage
risking death to have her two-lines heard  
they call it a landai
can’t you hear her
voice crying out
to be validated
verified
valued

here I am
on the edge of a couch
binge watching Netflix to avoid what matters
they call it procrastination
you know me too well
a millennial pretending
to not have time to produce
the littlest of letters
smallest of sounds

granted poetic privilege
i often throw it away  
the loud whispers of the NGO’s
scratch at my door—

“what a waste!
  what a waste!
  the basic human right
  she dies for
  sadly is the right
  you take for granted”

she’s on the other side of the world
but i feel her pain prick at my heart
while i try to do her story justice

she lit herself on fire
dying for love
a flame of rebellion
a martyr to the little girls
desperately wanting to feel
the weight of
a pen in their hand

she speaks because she has to
i speak because i can

she says more even when it means
she’ll suffer

i say less even when it means
she’ll continue to suffer silently

i’ll never realize
what i have until i lose it

she knew from day one
she didn’t have freedom
but that she would fight for it
until her last breath.

Yes, it's International Women's Day. Let's make a big deal about it.

This original poem, written in 2015 and re-edited since then, is inspired by a New York Times article, “Why Afghan Women Risk Death to Write Poetry.” I was completely torn when I first read it, as I never knew writing about love and being creative, for many women, had them abused and killed. I've had numerous journals full of stories, read aloud my poems to a 100+ audience; I couldn't believe the severe oppression and lack of free speech that was embedded in the lives of Afghan women. This poem stems from the comparison of women's rights based on cultural differences.

Mirman Baheer, Afghanstian’s largest women’s literary society works to liberating these women that have for so long been silenced. I encourage you to take time and read the article below, let's get real about change.  #beboldforchange

www.nytimes.com/2012/04/29/magazine/why-afghan-women-risk-death-to-write-poetry.html?_r=0

What if in all actuality
I’ve been speaking sins?
I preach what I don’t understand…
Unfaithful lies escape from my lips

PRESIDENT TRUMPS SPEECH TO CONGRESS
IS POWERFUL STRONG AND TRUE
PUTTING AMERICA FIRST WITH
STRENGTH AND CONVICTION RENEWED


HE FINALLY HAS A PRESIDENTS STRENGTH
AND SPEAKING FROM THE HEART
PUTTING THE AMERICAN PEOPLE FIRST
THE NEW AMERICA WILL NOW START


HE DELIVERED A SPEECH GOOD FOR AMERICA
AND FOR THE WORLD NATIONS TO
PRESIDENT DONALD TRUMPS VISION
IS MADE FOR PEOPLE LIKE YOU

IT WAS INCREDIBLE TO SEE PRESIDENT TRUMP DELIVER A SPEECH FROM HIS HEART THE PRESIDENT IS IN THE HOUSE. THIS POEM IS JUST MY THOUGHTS ON WHAT I WATCHED.

Evil is the new good;
and truth becomes
hate speech.

iamthe_avatar ©2017

A poem for humanity.
#truth   #hate   #good   #evil   #speech   #smh  

I was told by my peers that letting my voice be heard was preferred , yet they say the words I speak are absurd

What's the point of freedom of speech if my words still have a safety lock. The day I will be happy is the day I find the key to chains around my throat

I don't want to drown in this bullshit but just stay afloat. if I always wrote by putting my pencil on paper, why does someone else have to be my eraser

I am a chaser of dreams, and a speaker of my thoughts. I will untangle the knots that they keep tying. I will preach my beliefs even when I'm dying.

Who’s the puppet,
the one pulling the strings?
Is it he whom liberty stings?
Shouting a flock of profanities
through fabric softener sheets.
Listening to the screams,
cries, shrieks
of the squalling Eagle
as he reaches Tower's peak.
Barking screech.
Patriotic speech.
Leaves crumbling in syllables
as he speaks.
Felt as stones to the
sheep on the ground
where politicians sit
in pig shit
as a crowd is he(a)rd around.

K.R.Dalton
1-26-17 (C)

I truly don't mean to offend anyone.
I'm just really tired of all the politics. This is my only place to voice this feeling. Thanks for reading! K:)
#politics   #speech   #sheep   #liberty   #politicians   #pig   #eagle  
 
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