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you just
dont know
what to
your mind
will just be blank.
your words
will just fade.
your heart
will just tighten.

but even then
you will be

《ignore tags》
“choose your hugs wisely...(the hug has to spark joy.)”

the pandemical advice columns arrive
mostly repetitive, causing/repairing minor league
but stumbled on the advice above, dumbstruck,
and yes, by god, even that poet’s favorite,

thinking wow, great advice,

for the entirety of our remaining days!

You sparked a fire in me, it's true,
that burned every feeling but a few,
pleasure at first, and then the pain,
damage done, before it could even rain
And now, I can't find a way to put it out
The leaves dance
But there's no one to adore 'em
Cause they are busy watching the naked shows
The flowers blossom with haughtiness
But there's no one to adore 'em
Cause they are busy adoring the cute girls on the pavement
The birds sing with the melody of the wind
But there's no one to dance to the rhythm
Cause they are busy singing  the obscene
The tide brings in the treasure of love and luck
But there's no one to steal it
Cause they are busy stealing the soulless money
the meadows are waiting to be embraced
But there's no one to caress it
Cause they are busy making masked love on sheets of silk
They can't adore the nature
cause it's too busy for them...............
a father to a son
riding bikes by

the river

correcting his son
that it is not an


it is just
a river

and I wonder
if this will

reduce the son’s
wonder at this

important body
of water

will he think it
less important

rather than not
as large or not

as deep

as the father
probably meant it
True story - I overheard walking by the river today

If for whatever reason it is not evident from the poem, I firmly believe and stand for the Black Lives Matter Movement.
I am the shadow of trayvon martin
Lying on the ground just as he did
I'm black just as he was
I wasn't planning to die that day either
I wasn't threatning nobody either
that day
The gunshots echoed
just as loud
when I was shot down as Mike Brown
yet his name echoes through the streets years later still
mine followed me to the grave
They don't care about me it seems
If I cried "what about me"
Who would ever see?
because my hashtag has even been drowned so deep in the depths of R.I.P's that I can't barely breathe anymore
When we think black brutality
Why do the names of trayvon
Rush to our heads just as fast as blood once rushed to theirs?
Does my black life, too, matter?
I can't blame you
That there have been so many deaths due to oppression and police brutality that they all seem to sound the same
No matter how loud we scream Black lives matter
We will never be seen as the living
But the potentially dead
We cry for justice to a system that's no longer built to accept us
A president that tries to forget us
A black voice will always be too loud to a world who never intended on listening
Who am I?
Besides a hashtag and a t-shirt with my face on it?
A black lives matter sign and a melanin fist?
A statistic?
I am black excellence
Regardless of how much sin you may see in my kin
A piece from the perspective of Black oppression victims unheard
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