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NickBlockOneLove Dec 2017
Listen to my words
the kids they going crazy
Getting locked up
All they can clutch,
Miranda rights
at the same time
alright
Miranda writes
Our thoughts put to paper
Play it out on the stage
Never know the difference
Its a turn of the page

Some use their bullets
some wield a knife
Others preach the dollar
Is How they take our lives
Grab you by the collar
And break you down with lies
Don't matter what your searching
Only what you find
This is our misfortune
Blinded by distortion
Someday we might wake up
As we struggle to align

You cannot be free
all that blood in your eyes
Round and round in circles
A place I call my home
Just a lonely misfit
With the strength of a stone
Wonder round these valleys
While you sit upon your throne
Sometimes it's hard to admit
The scale of this dismay
Indeed we are alone

Some use their writing
The bullet is a pen
I killed oppression
Does that mean
That I'm insane
I killed oppression
What's left to be?
waiting in vain
I killed oppression
a fury made of fire
Brought down all the people
We were never equal
I killed oppression
Standing on the sun
The flames
You can keep em
They killed oppression
Shot it right between the eyes
Third, you may see
Lead you to your destiny
They killed oppression
Look at the world
Crumble let it be
No one really cares
About the people
No one really cares
About the people
They killed oppression
The wars about a dollar
Corporate oversight
Disguise pain with laughter
Gotta feed the horde
Seduction is their nature
They killed oppression
Read between the lines
They. Have drawn for you, as
We **** oppression
preservationman Jan 2016
A tug of war
It is the past experience and what was saw and felt
A word in keeping a person in line
A restriction of one’s thoughts and actions
A procedure in holding one back
******* being a form beyond one’s accord
Thank God there is a Lord
There is a chance to survive
More than a thought being a strive
I dream but all I see is a nightmare
I see effort, but when will there be preserver?
Its like a road block with detour
A method of turn back
I feel as if I am trapped in bonds
Maybe I am still sleep and need to wake up from my yond
Perhaps it’s nothing more than a dream
It’s my thinking I am in a movie stream
But its truly tough being rough
A different slavery oppression of the past with a theory of the present
A overseer continuing in present oppression
A silenced voice having no expression
The downward bound with no mountain reach
It’s time for a rebellion approach
Oppression is real and not a joke
It’s like an open wound with having a stinging poke
Oppression is alive and attempting to do well
Yet the world has a message in tell
‘OPPRESS AND OVERCOME, ITS ABOUT NO MOVEMENT AND BEING NUMB. IT TAKES MULTITUDES IN SUPPLYING THE STRENGTH, BUT ALL MUST GO THE MILES NO MATTER WHAT THE LENGTH”
Survival is how you chose to live
Its not a verb but is subjective
The voice must always be objective
Oppression cannot continue in terms in having its way
The sunrise has risen and it’s a tomorrow being a new day
These are the times to move forward and be strong
It’s a matter of all personalities of creeds in knowing how to get along
So shake whatever chains you feel you have on
Stand up and be counted where you belong
Don’t let any form of oppression hold you back
You have grasped the concept of understanding in the theory of thinking sharp being the detailed tack
Just give oppression one big smack
Listen America it’s the various cultures that stack
Oppression stand back as you have been defeated being a pack.
Emanuel Martinez Jul 2013
500 years of conquest
500 years of oppression
500 years of struggle
500 years of resistance

500 years of globalization
500 years of plundering
500 years of capitalism

I am a child, of the children, of the masses
Rising from Latin America
Of the and in alliance with...the oppressed of the world
White brothers and sisters haven't you seen your chains, too?
Because us colored children have long forgotten ours

But I'm tired of the chains...searching...where's my liberation gone?


Afro-Caribbean
Afro-Latino
African American
African
Indigenous
Asian
Middle Eastern
My people of color
Why can't we come together

Because we continue to be lied to
We continue to be denied
We continue to be subjugated
To the fact that we are subordinate
To something that is not us

That we are devoid
That we are empty
That we are workers and masters
With no mind or soul

We are the people without license
No legitimate place, in the periphery
Outside the margins
A threat to the safety of societies

Always the other, never part of we within discourses

We are the black slaves
In your blood and heritage Caribbean children
Your negation of us has been your ploy to secure your servitude to white supremacy in exchange for your economic stability.

We are the indigenous
That harvested and nurtured these beautiful Americas
Pests of conquest, you exploited our black brethren because we were not suitable for your exploitation. Instead you massacred us. Ever since confusing us with your mestizaje fodder.

We are the peasants, the servants, the broken families, the broken communities, the displaced peoples, we are the casualties, we are the unmitigated collateral damage:
Of revolutions, of wars, of conquests, of western civilization, of capitalism, of profit, of misanthropy

We are Trayvon  Martin, we are the 25 million families affected by Texas decision on abortion, we are the masses being left out by the recent reversal of the Voting Rights Act of 1965, we are the LGBT binational couples fighting for our rights, we are the undocumented community in solidarity asking TO BRING THEM HOME, we are the Brazilians demanding to be heard over the government's preoccupation with the preparations for the world cup, we are the everyday poor and homeless

From our peripheral places we are the ones that resist because otherwise we will die.

We are the ones that cannot afford to oppress anyone, because we are the most oppressed
Living in a system that pushes even those who are the most oppressed to mimic the system's usage of oppression
When there's no one else to oppress, still being aware of ourselves, we try

My Latin American brethren don't tell me that Haiti's silenced past does not pertain to you
They fought for the universal rights of everyone, doesn't that include you?
And because of that its revolutionary past has been dismantled within history discourses
So that other colored children of the world like you would not dream to resist their own oppression

My Latin American and Caribbean brethren stop negating your blood, culture, history...Don't you see it has been deliberately silenced so that you cannot understand yourself? Because to understand yourself, is to love yourself, is to realize the potential of you, is to resist anything that doesn't allow you to be you

African, and indigenous historical actors laid down their lives so that you could exist
The puddle that formed out of the rivers of indigenous and black blood is all red. Isn't that enough for you to understand that our oppression is tied, that we must defend each other.

Our tool against oppression is not money or guns.
The greatest fortress of the oppressed is our mind.
History is our weapon.

Our histories are powerful
Granting us consciousness
Giving us bravery
Dispelling lies and shattering the silencing of our power.

Let us nurture our colored children to love their histories
That they may understand the common experience of oppression of the masses the world over
That they will be ready and able and accountable
To the continued act of resistance of the oppression of any human being.

We are the ones that cannot afford to rely on ourselves, we are the vulnerable ones, we are the ones with targets on our backs, we are the ones in constant threat, we are the beautiful middle eastern peoples being targeted as terrorists and extremists, we are the poor with undiagnosed PTSD, we are the undocumented parents and adults with lost dreams, we are the inner city kids who have been lost to drugs, crime, and STDS, we are the ones that let others decide our rights

We are ones that must form alliances with each other, we are the ones that find strength in numbers, we are the ones that need allies in positions of privilege, we are the ones that must create the revolution through the power of our minds, not the wars, tool of the oppressors.

We are the hopes and the dreams that have faded from our parents, and grandparents, we are the revolutions that never came for the slaves, the servants, and the peasants of our heritage

We are the most dangerous obstacle to oppression.
Dormant in us is the promise of the liberation I've lost.
July 27, 2013
Andrew Parker Jan 2014
Oppression Ownership Poem
1/26/2014

Why do we lead our hearts by the hand
into our lovers' volatile elements
quicksand mixed with fire
Why do we blame it on desire
say the heart wants what it wants,
but mine doesn't want this at all
Stop.

Alleviating your hearts of guilt and shame
because they're doing it perfectly.
to fall in love and be willing to take set backs
Stop.

Let's take a step back.
Give our hearts back their guilt and ownership
over the oppression of a heart beat you can control
but actually choose not to.
Stop.

Hear that?
It is the sound of a heart beating,
barely breathing
but
Stop.

Now we've fixed it
the problem we couldn't solve
but don't absolve
yourself of sin yet
We've got another oppression needing to be handed over
false ownership we play pretend.
rather than play in a playground with each other.
we blame another for our heart's oppression

but right now in this room
I am the only one holding a broom
trying to tell you that you can't sweep it out
out of your mind
or cover it up with doubt.

I'm not saying don't blame society for creating social constructs of love.
I'm not saying that we don't live in a world that is filled with a sickness
a sickness in some to say that like this we can't keep on living,
because
stop.

We can
and we have
and we cannot and have not
given up on each other, just on ourselves
with every breath we use to utter
that famous druther
that our hearts are victims.
needing to be fixed.
that the world wants to see us suffer
that we can't own our emotions they are far too mixed
with envy and rage and the deepest sorrow anyone could never know.
but I do know,
that
stop.

I do know
that stop

that
stop

stop.

I do know
no I don't.
I don't know but that's for you
to figure out
How to feel your heart's oppression
but don't keep it under ownership
instead let it out.
squeeze it out through your soul
before it gets to take its toll

you have too much to do on this planet
or even on mars, somewhere far up when you reach the stars
because you shine brighter than bullets baby.
when they get shot and hit something leaving a lasting impact.
you pierce through the hull of a steel ship
with that wicked bite of your lip
when your silver tongue speaks golden beauties.
to my wicker ears eager to be burned
with the splendid delight of your brilliant vocalizations
shouting, screaming, taming, keeping an eye opening message.

that you do not own your heart's oppression
and thus it does not own you neither.
because you lived it but it is not your life
like your heart
when you felt it
but did not control it
not because it was out of your control,
but because you chose to set it free,
and so too,
you should be,
rise above your society.
therapy and resistance

how is it that therapy becomes the excess of class war or the oppression thereof?

When the struggle of the individual is made to seem self induced when it is easily and clearly directly a result of the failures and complacence afforded by the majority of the group.

When in a therapeutic environment it is important to distinguish the opportunities of resistance from the experience of trauma.

there has always been individuals who establish groups that are in a realm of desperation.

Understanding how this process has unfolded institutionally is just as valid as treating the individual.

This gives the individual the choice and resources needed to heal.

The healing could look like resistance rather than assuming aspects of class war or oppressive culture to be normal.

Otherwise therapy is nothing but the means to normalize the process of oppression.

The traumatic state needs to be able to decipher its organic existence from that of organized oppression and its institutional cooperation.

the neglect of deciphering or distinguishing these differences causes individuals to make a competition out of trauma. This minimizes certain trauma of individuals and causes the group to have less of an opportunity to resist organized oppression of the institution.

Those that are in the realm of desperation or traumatic state are given no choice but to repress in order to continue being social or a member of the group.

in excess the hierarchies of gender, race and class are reinforced to an almost superhuman level.

To the desperate or traumatic state…

what needs reinforcement is that there are humans just like us who have resisted oppression and caused the normalcy of the group to be more inclusive and aware of the processes associated with organized oppression.
Jon Moss Apr 2020
The ****** handed, directors of war, surgical precision fascist bone saws
They set up the stage , put up the walls, sold us a story subjugate the poor
If you deviate from the script, they say its depression, go and swallow the pill from the medical profession
Lobotomised the nation, repression of expression, robots playing parts in the theater of oppression
The theater of oppression is a great deception, using smoke and mirrors, classic misdirection
If you don't want to play that game organize protection, to stop you falling into systems of oppression
You don't have to follow a lead, you could improvise,
sharing skills with others, improve all our lives
A carnival of connections where everyone can thrive, why stay chained on the ground when together we could rise
So to the misfits, rebels and the freaks do not be scared to get out there and greet,
Perform the oppression to people that you meet, as any journey starts by standing on our feet
And do not be scared of ridicule, don't you let people put you down
We are living in a circus, so bring on the ******* clowns.
Jeremy D Scholz Sep 2014
I walk in this world not quite a part of it.
I see events around me unfold.
They nether change me or define me.
I muse at their hollowness.
They do not exist on my plane.
But, they are stones to tread on.
I watch as oppression flexes its strength.
I smile to myself
My world, my life.
I exist above oppression and violence.
My mind, my intelligence is free.
Take my land, loved ones, treasures of this world.
They wait for me in the dawn of eternal round.
You have no power over me.
Jeremy Scholz 2005
Yenson May 2019
They call it a 'Class War"
They call it a "War of Liberation"
whilst its just another instance of white oppression

Childish, immature, mean and nasty underachievers
like the kid on the beach who kicks over others sandcastle
because they are better than the ******* castle he made

Like that that uncool dumb teen who scatters the board game
because he's now seen that he is losing and cannot win at all

like those ugly pimpled friends who would play gooseberry
and ****-blockers because  they can't get nice dates of their own

like that bitter mad one who will spill ink over your white top
or new Trainers because he or she has old and ***** ones

They are all from the world of the sicko psychos and damaged
talent-less mean, envious, sad pathetic people going nowhere
If I can't make it, why should others do and be winners

They all graduate to the divisive politics of the ****** losers
Power is stopping progress and advancement because they are down
Power is bringing achievers and enterprise down they can's gain
Power is sabotaging all that is good because they are bad in all

Measly fetid minds they plot and conspire in gangrenous network
dolts, scums, unwashed losers and rejects of society, bottom feeders
Come join the Party, our specialty is chaos and disruption of winners

The pathetic jokes of the white West, losers in their own backyards
picks on an African who came from disadvantages to better them
better educated, more intelligent, cool and stylish in every way
pack full of potential, going places they can never go or reach

Our sick, mean spirited under-achievers, expert losers and scums
crawled on the war-path, riddled with envy, sick with jealousy
ruin his progress, oppose and disrupt a black man who doubles
efforts to achieve, what if losers try is given to them on a plate

What here is done for the greater good, what here is honorable
celebrated victories for psychos, racist underachievers I think not
peoples power? more sick, tormented, jealous n envious chicanery
anarchy jealousy, anarchy shame, anarchy racists, anarchy liars

One Single Black achiever demonstrates the inherent strength
and grace of our all our Ancestors against sick, persistent white oppression. That's the story here.
If its a fair war, why hide and go underground, why fight *****!
The rain-Gods should
Give this greenhorn a reason
To why pain could
Appear this green-corn season,

Which baboon will make a sound
If the rich moon cannot be found?
Sometimes we play all day
Making sure that the clay
Does not decay,

But now our rock had bend
And who will lock and mend,
Ah, send the Gods a plea,
And it will end the cods a sea,

For the fear of might is oppression
Whiles the tear of night of derision
But nothing inside will look so strong
If something outside looks so wrong

Is this ice of life so conscious?
Maybe the price of life is so precious,
Men of Kush!
Have a pen for push

And never harm the Gods arm,
For their charm grows your farm,
The debtors have broken the palm-vine
Causing the ancestors to drink the palmwine
Indeed, what life sees as pain,
Must be given to death to explain.


© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: nanaspeaks@gmail.com
Scarlet McCall Jun 2017
An abstract of an academic paper written by a doctoral student: "In this semimanifesto, I approach how understandings of quantum physics and cyborgian bodies can (or always already do) ally with feminist anti-oppression practices long in use. The idea of the body (whether biological, social, or of work) is not stagnant, and new materialist feminisms help to recognize how multiple phenomena work together to behave in what can become legible at any given moment as a body. By utilizing the materiality of conceptions about connectivity often thought to be merely theoretical, by taking a critical look at the noncentralized and multiple movements of quantum physics, and by dehierarchizing the necessity of linear bodies through time, it becomes possible to reconfigure structures of value, longevity, and subjectivity in ways explicitly aligned with anti-oppression practices and identity politics. Combining intersectionality and quantum physics can provide for differing perspectives on organizing practices long used by marginalized people, for enabling apparatuses that allow for new possibilities of safer spaces, and for practices of accountability."--an abstract of a paper by doctoral student Whitney Stark

Atomic particles, how can it be so
that your purpose is not just to flow
in and out of existence, building reality--
the stars, cosmic gas and galaxies--
but to “ally” with groups of humans fighting “hierarchies”
and demanding “safe spaces”
(even though their entire race is
at the top of their planet’s food chain).

In this mysterious universe there is no safety,
accountability or identity,
only elements, and energy.
Brief combinations make life
legible for a nanosecond in cosmic time, and doomed to strife.
Biology does not know oppression,
only generation, reproduction,
until our growth chokes us and we fall
like so many of our ancestors, who lived and died
on this blue-green ball.
And one day the sun will explode and blow
even our atoms, which have endured (despite oppression),
and the particles will go far until maybe they sow
new life, in bodies unfamiliar, on planets unknown.
In fairness to Whitney Stark, right-wing groups mislabeled her paper as an attack on Isaac Newton. She was ridiculed as anti-science and a dogmatic feminist.  In fact Stark is referencing quantum physics, which may contradict Newtonian physics to some extent. I really wanted to read what she wrote as a playful attempt to draw a parallel between quantum physics and non-hierarchical organizing, but her jarring repetition of politically correct catchphrases and slogans shows this is only an attempt to submit to the current academic authoritarianism that has taken over women's studies and many other fields--perhaps even universities as a whole--so that professors merely recite a dogma of oppression rather than questioning and exploring.
where do old people go to find ***? their sagging wrinkling barnacled skin easily torn or bruised thinning wispy hair dry tongues raspy voices gray teeth wobbly legs malformed brittle spines rickety stance shaky hands misshapen arthritic fingers foul stale odors itchy scratchy orifices ***** stained underwear where do old people go to find ***? their vanishing generation locked away in reclusive lonely dusty rooms creaky dim apartments when i was young i thought old people were unburdened of lust no longer bound by libido urges somehow grown free of base desires needs this constant horniness i suffer where do old people go to find *** is it wrong to politely ask or beg a younger person indecent to plead for a little charity where do old people go to find ***?

there is a wooded area outside Paris where some couples drive and park man behind the wheel woman in passenger seat her window down clothed anonymous men approach with exposed penises in hand staring at woman’s fingers massaging between her thighs spread as she watches the men stroke themselves sometimes she kisses licks even ***** these strangers' erections the driver sits composed empowered sharing his companion amused aroused admiring her lasciviousness oh the French they are so ****** with their stinky cheeses pate de foie gras rich sauces refined wines briny scented ***** tresses seductive lingerie licentious literature DeSade Zola Rimbaud Foucault Derrida Deleuze Deneuve Belmondo Goddard Truffaut Depardieu

the oppression of money in every gulp of air we breathe all the secret arrangements sick crooked associations complicated deceitful ***** deals the great divide between gated community and ghetto slum how can we feel proud knowing our insatiable self-absorbed hunger greed oil carried in ocean channels spreading evaporating into atmosphere air rain groundwater rivers lakes vegetation animals us poisoning killing off everything the oppression of money i hang my head

the oppression of time memory longing for that which we once knew felt i remember running into a very **** pretty girl whom i had not seen in a year carrying bag of groceries in her arms on street asking why didn’t i call her back she repeated why didn’t you call me back wide smile tempting eyes ***** blond hair dark roots enticing bush exquisite floppy lips lanky cowgirl physique narrow hips i did not know what to say said nothing simply stood there looking with sad eyes at her i remember several different girls hinting to take them more seriously i thought to reveal i am too weird tainted ****** up do not want to ruin your life each one of you with my wounded heart troubled thoughts twisted feelings searching stumbling soul my uncertainty do not know what to say said nothing just stood there looking in stupid silence the oppression of time memory longing for that which we once knew felt where do old people go to find ***?

dance with me lift your spirit listen to your heartbeat rhythm of your breath lift arms roll shoulders flutter fingers loosen hips wag **** bend knees tap toes make animal sounds pretend we are young with time to waste whirl around until you feel dizzy forget gravity imagine bliss dance with me

— The End —