You all claim to be
Pro-life,
But where are the people
Who are pro-living?

And your
Lack of a cause
Has done what, exactly, to change
This world for the better?

Throw words around
Like they're *****.
But I'll brush them off
And wear them as a badge of honor.

Your feigned apathy
Towards fixing the problem
Is hindering the solution.

Just because you have no personal responsibility
Doesn't mean you have no responsibility at all.

You're scared of real feminism,
Because you think it will operate how
Your patriarchy does:
Violently and without remorse
Or consequence.

You fear equality for races
Because you believe
It will work the same way
Your oppression does:
Mercilessly and lacking real punishment.

You refuse to lend a hand to others,
To those dying in the streets,
Whether it be this nation or another,
Because you believe you won't get anything back.

And you claim to be pro-life,
Because someone yet to be born
Has no sin,
Is an innocent life.
But the moment they breathe in
All this air,
They are cast with original sin,
And you get to decide their fate.

And you claim to be pro-life,
But you're the one who makes the judgment,
You're the one who decides whether they live a life worth living
Or die a death unfitting.

And you claim you're pro-life,
But when there are
Children going hungry,
And parents getting sick,
And riots or bombs in the streets,
And hate crimes becoming
More and more and more
Can you tell me that you care?
That you'll do more than stop and stare?

You all claim to be
Pro-life,
But where are the people
Who are pro-living?

.
Some branches of broken horn
Called to me, as most others
Were rungs, the trunk, a great pole
For one to vault, into the heavens
Where was perched a wild nest
Of a red-tailed hawk, at the top
I could see the great bird, once
Was there, upon his cloud throne
And all the woods and ripples
With the lake, in dear murmurings
Played for me to soundly hear
The waves lap onto the shores
Under my flight and the lighted
Breeze that sifted through needles
And the sap that patched me there
Out on the limbs of my swaying
Daze.  
          O to sail in the scented sun
Of the great old pine of tinted
Sage and black tall bark, to be
Nestled in the forests on high
Within its mystery and wisdom,
All the way up I rose, the journey
Earthward was so much harder.

I've read a post on facebook about a girl who committed suicide. As per the narrator, she was a good person, a good leader, a good friend and as they can see a perfect daughter. But little did they know that she was suffering because of her parents. Her parents were dissappointed because she was not intelligent enough to graduate with flying colors, the pressure was too much that she wasn't able to carry it all. So she ended it all by taking her life away.


It makes me sad whenever I hear/read stories like that. Sometimes, I think that they are so brave, but sometimes I think they are just stupid to do it. But who am I to judge??

And to all the parents, you are suppose to know, support and understand your children, not to chain them and definitely not to cause them to die..

this is my personal opinion, so an advance apology for the sensitive topic

Maybe I should have
walked on eggshells,
kept my face down,
and only spoke
when spoken to.

It’s not like
she broke my tooth
or cracked a bone.
Even if
the shirts were ripped
at least she didn’t
make me bleed.

If I gave her
the satisfaction,
if I had been meek enough,
Instead of wanting
to laugh and play
buying comic books
when I got paid;

Maybe if I understood
her rage
I wouldn’t have been
slapped in the face,
had my hair pulled,
Or been hit with the broom
the mop, the dust mop,
the brush, the boot,
the belt, or whatever
she could use.

Maybe, I deserved the bruise,
the welt, the agony,
the isolation.
Maybe, I shouldn’t have been born.

It must have been my fault.
It had to be my fault
or else it doesn’t
make any sense at all.

i don't like myself
the way i look, the way i think
the way i was made,
i don't like it.
i wish i wasn't lazy
so i could make this poem more appealing
i wish i could conjure metaphors
and poetry would come bursting naturally out of me.
i wish i could reach that cupboard
without standing on my toes.
i wish i could be one with my words
and i could write about the way i feel.
i wish i wasn't so dependent
on people's praises
and i wish that statistics wasn't my only form of self-validation.
i'm always waiting for the day
where i'll wake up living the life
i dreamed about last night.
i wish my body was just like theirs
you can say that my body is unique
but i don't care
i don't want unique, i want pretty.
i wish i could pull a poker-face
without being self-conscious of what i look like.
i wish i could walk without
thinking that i was the center of the universe
that all eyes are cameras pointed at me
waiting for me to stumble & fall.
i wish i didn't have to delete
the past attempts of composing this poem again and again.
i wish the voices in my head isn't my lullaby and my alarm clock.
i wish i didn't fear falling down the reject hole
i wish art would radiate outside my skin
i wish i don't beat myself
for every time i restart this poem
and i hope after this last line,
i never have to.

whispers of sea
where the cold storm
gathers in the grey
sky, and the waves
pound the shore
running back
pushing down
arching like
fiery cats,
the ache of the storm
a tearful cloud
the song of
a poem.