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Luna Lynn Jul 2015
get off of your ***
and stand up for what is right
STOP speaking silence!
(C) Maxwell
We are dancers of the soul,
Fencing with lauguage
To exorcise our truth,
Our passion,
Our pain.

We are bent over
Retching words from the darkest corners of our souls,
We are laying on cold concrete,
Cheeks pressed to old news print as our truth bleeds out,
Rages out!
Spews forth with the bile of
Words never spoken, not honored or even fully felt,
Yet there
in truth
buried!

Until...
Contained no longer,
They burst through
And like a mob unseating a dynasty,
They chant and sweat and rage and dance
Until their cause is heard and seen.
Until the News at Ten reports
That "the world is NOT AT ******* PEACE!"
That our own kingdoms will not tolerate suppression
And that our souls will be held down no longer.
That we WILL be heard!
We will no longer sit and do as dictated through years and decades and lifetimes of docile abdication.
We will NOT BE SILENT
But with our spines straight
We will rise up and
be heard,
Counted.
And fight with our poetry,
With our ink or keyboard
For the goal of freeing what we know in the depths of our hearts to be...
Our truth

Bless us!
Or is that just me? Ha ha, no really, this piece is a homage to Hellopoetry and the brave souls who bare their truths to the internet.
Brent Kincaid Jun 2015
Do you know people
That hate people
For what they are?
Don’t invite those people
Into your car.

Do you know people
That hang with people
That steal from the poor?
Do not vote for such a boor.

Do you know people
That insist other people
Have to worship like them.
Their minds are dim.

Do you have friends
That like to steal?
Show them all
The back of your heels.
Because one thing
Will prove to be true;
They will steal from you.

Do you know folks
Who gossip madly?
Ignore them or
Treat them badly.
Then maybe some day
They will just go away.

Do you know some
Who ignore their kids;
Neglect them every day?
Tell those people off
Somehow, some way.
And if that doesn’t work,
Call the cops on the ****.

Do you know some politicians
Behave like ****** patricians?
Don’t suffer and protect them.
Don’t elect them.
Ostracize them as rotten louts
Then, quickly vote them out!

Do you think you can’t
Make a change that counts?
Find these fools and pounce.
Let them know your mind.
Don’t just sit there blind.
Get mad as hell.
Then rebel!
Selena Jance Jan 2015
We know which sacrifices what we believe in brings
So we will sit together amongst the trees to celebrate, the destruction and the fluster of
All this released creativity. So we know that only with standing together
We can own the future that comes to us, something we fought tooth and nail
To stand for, to gather for and burn our empires.

On the pyres of our ruined privilege we cry. Our holy times,
They have come and gone. In the emptiness we find our souls again and
Reclaim the soil that was born from all our forbearers together. And we know that
We own whatever will comes fleeting toward us.

In our clenched fists we hold hope and crush
The remains of past empires and privileges.


© 24 November 2013
Empire, not as the ruling classes work together but that one category of people we need to abolish for all of us to be truly free.
Shaun Meehan Jan 2015
men espousing creation,
the creator,
perfect love infinite mercy
a proclamation—vowing to
adhere to the likeness
in which they were fashioned.
so much faith–so much
cruelty.
creatures wearing blindfolds of scripture
justify deeds so appalling in nature,
contradict the wisdom they
promised to preach;
hypocrisy absent its recognizing.

affirming a dusty word’s preserve,
the honesty,
only the deceit of men do they serve,
failing in discerning
the message of spirit secured
in the hearts of those who seek knowing—
impervious to them who
hound to be dominating.

perpetual fear taught by
people with piety painted inner sight shutters,
their words—
plumes of smoke to obscure their own
heart’s flutter.
a terror of
free thought and consideration,
freedom from labels, dogma and doctrine—
the circumvention
of thumbs meant to pin men
to the curse of subjection.

the deduction of right,
appearing an impossible task amidst
an endless sea of polluted virtue.
by the exam of everything so diligent,
the multitudes of faith and
them gripping absence,
might symbiosis prove true—a
mosaic of liquefaction's perfection
in a world where everything is permissible
but not everything beneficial.
The premise for this work felt good in its early stages but its development became a struggle not long after. I'm not really a fan of this piece, but have invested an amount of time into it that would see me rather share it than just toss it on the no-go stack. I'm really glad that I can finally turn the page on this one and a little proud that I stuck it out and finished it as opposed to just abandoning it altogether.
Shaun Meehan Jan 2015
the seven his assertion
of inspired transgression
over a world wrought with weakness.

by binary adjustment an
image to
program vanity’s conformity.
youth poisoned,
a child’s self-worth corrupted,
advertisement’s teaching destructive.

a conglomerate’s ambition—its
fruition; *******,
giving birth to
a blanket of poverty—
a blanket of
laced infection to
stave the cold of squalor’s tribulation,
while old money
flaunts its fanciful garment of dust.

the ******* of human nature
guiding the hands of men.
women, children—
the victims made slaves to
the flesh of another,
living as shades of potential,
suffering the abuse of
disgusting existential.

pounds of grain
producing pound of cattle.
stores of meat kept spilling to waste,
a carnivorous diets’ diversity
an obese symbol of currency.
ingestion a hobby,
an identity, meanwhile
the faceless scavenge;
suffering sustenance scarcity.

an abuse of a system—
its purpose to
help those in catastrophism.
a righteous gift
bled dry by those capable,
them unwilling to provide;
tarnishing validity of
those deserving of
goodness’ generosity.
a cause for uncertainty and
a deflated right hand economy.

cruel acts
rarely noble in purpose,
the darkest notions of man in
revenge do surface.
chilling reminders of
what used to be—
but has never changed
since this dawn’s reign.
reminders of man’s gruesome nature,
painting battered cities
crimson, stained memories provoking
perpetual cruelty.

an age deemed—
enlightenment,
in a world unchanged.
by arrogance of the aforementioned,
our heads
buried in the sands of self-deception.
a falsified claim to reign–
this race,
creation’s self appointed kings;
demand to see but
refuse to witness our own
hideous reflection.

by them his assertion
of inspired transgression
over a world wrought with weakness;
the seven—his market list.
humanity,
long since infant breath,
something to deplore;
leaving no shortage of souls
in the devil’s department store.
I apologize for the inconvenience of length, but feel this work required it to a degree. Another digital cookie offered if the subject of this piece is identified, and another if the "right hand economy" reference is understood.
Shaun Meehan Jan 2015
a sword to cut though
not to bite, but—
divide.
with blade-like tongue a
message to bear,
an anthem of peace sung;
yet war to ensnare
the sons of man.

“I come not to send peace,
but a sword.”
a prophet once said.
Him, called a liar,
though more true speech
never spoken.
a war of change explained but
misunderstood by ears untrained.

words of tolerance
love and understanding,
empathy, hope, and
acceptance by a
merciful hand extended.
yet in difference witness,
its message forgotten—
hope forsaken,
hatred chosen.
David Moss Dec 2014
'Education' these days

Is about 'pure' information

And by information

I mean presenting facts verbatim

And by pure i mean it's taken

As truth with no contemplation


That behind all this initiation

Is nothing  more than total indoctrination

Into cookie-cutter patriotic nations



I mean even the word information

Is unsettling with reiteration

Think of it

like this

Information
In-formation

IN. FORMATION.

Conspiracy? Could be.

Though that is another story.

For now lets call it coincidental consideration.

To keep in mind what's lacking

In a cold calculated system of education



I ask you and i beg

Where's the social validation

That everyone is different

In the way they treat a situation

That people are so vast and varied when it comes to inspiration

And still we wonder why kids in school

Get bullied, beaten and mistaken

Treated by their peers as some kind of social retardation

By other young minds bored and rampart with frustration

From a system failing day by day

Generation by generation

I mean is it no surprise from a society with a hellebent  fixation

Upon competition

Survival of fittest

And human exploitation?


Of mantra screaming profit, selfishness, and lack of real cooperation


Nature over nurture and people under nations


That leave us standing divided and alone amongst as sea of potential collaboration?


And yet we're told to sing our anthems of patriotic proclamations

That we live in lands of freedom, justice, love and consideration.

So please believe me when i see

Your sense of self worth and participation

As something lacking emergent notions

When it's simply in-formation

What we need is real change via total non-cooperation

And to rest assured that our minds, and our childrens mind, and future generations

Are part of real solutions

And also full of inspiration


To take hold of our own thoughts

And redefine the importance

Of something we've all lost

Called self education

So please don't simply repeat after me

Don't seek my words as your savior or salvation

Just find your version of what it means to simply be

And forget what others see

As being in-formation
Shaun Meehan Dec 2014
today
for the first day in a span
far too long since last occurring,
a son’s gaze to meet without hesitation.
before him, standing as—
a man,
deserving the title—
a father,
but never deserving, forever
aspiring.

a choice made,
though
for the man, not the best,
yet,
the choice—
a just decision.
its wake
waves of consequence—
each proving impotence.

to drown impossible when
offered the outstretched hand
of a child.
I struggled with writing a brief notation regarding the meaning of this poem, if only for the sake of clarity. I've failed several times now to communicate it effectively, and in light of that I will simply state that sometimes, regardless of the consequences, a "just decision" must be made. Though society, employers, friends, etcetera, might not understand, the innocence of a child and their perception of that decision has a certain power to make a mere man feel as though he stands as a giant.
The mainstream media feeds us lies.
Our food companies feed us chemicals.
Schools conform to the government.
The government is run by corporations.
We are taught to obey, work and consume.
Are we free?
No.

Can we do something about it?
YES!

Question EVERYTHING.
If you don't know something
look it up because
knowledge is **power.
I have recently been awakened, thus I must search endlessly for the truth.
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