Hello Poetry is a poetry community that raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.

If you're into poetry and meeting other poets, join us to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
by Arcassin Burnham

Laced with my ambitions mixed with motivations and a teenage life that was forsaken like a
Frankenstein as a fail creation to the family members I thought would've had  my back though all
The troubles but they are the troubles in a world so potent to mind controlling and self-
Absorbing in breaking a focused Lord that only wants the best for all his children but the system
Says otherwise to prized possessions like peace in America where they spike what you eat and
Make a profit off the weak,
Blacks in America can't be leaders without corruption and greed and every step you take is
Mostly a bullet or on your knees especially desensitizing all the people to the wrong things in life
that'll make you **** just for some bling bringing kids and teens in hospitals to be adopted into
Worse families is the trade where money is the seed amplifying what you need collecting checks
Off of kids you don't need pinching the poor and defenseless to meet all demands thinking why
Is it that *** doesn't take a stand.
©abpoetry2018

https://arcassin.blogspot.com/2018/10/leave-troubles.html
Renhui 3d
I work so hard
So much
That I spit blood
America
Nothing
Ever stops
Nothing
Ever's enough
Alfa 5d
I carve myself out of a cardboard cutout,
I wish I wasn't empty,
stuck between two worlds that do not want me.

I am like the globe,
shattered.

Rushing blood gurgles through my veins to my head, my
words sound like Russian out my hot mouth
"so spicy"
they say it cause I'm foreign to them.
My blood pressure rises,
makes
the tea kettle screams,
on the perfect pictured home oven,
i am fuming.

I look out at the white picket fence,
raised oppressed gates,
overtaxed, overcharged, overfed, rising still.

The fury builds inside me,
I stomp the fence,
break the oven,
crash the globe,
and weep at the **** I was made out of.

we will never win.

but, it doesn't matter if we're the minority or majority,
the darker you are,
the faster you talk,
the farther away from the home land
  ...                                                       ­     

they'll still give you the gun.

           But, they'll blame you for everything that happens after.
A comment on American societies mental illness, health crisis, racial racism/stereotyping, gun laws, my own identity as a first generation american from immigrant parents, and how chaotic, hopeless, and dissociated I feel about my own self. How apart I feel from America's "dream" and what America really is today... thank you for reading.
Alfa 5d
How do you make your rice?
is it in a ***? a pan? steamed? heated? not at all?

mine is in a frying ***.

Yellow, with pollo from the fresh market.
Peas, y frijoles on the side.

Mix it up, eat it, keep it for later.

Burn the bottom so you can get la chemada part.

If you like the chemada part, not everyone does.
A poem about my personal views on American society. How a bunch of different cultures live together which is why I make references to rice, as different types of rice making shows what culture you come from. I say I like mine in a "frying ***" because that's how I see America, a frying *** and not a "melting ***" as they say. Whereas a melting *** mixes cultures well, a frying *** keeps people at the bottom "burnt" like "chemada" (burnt rice at the bottom of the pan).
I don’t really like to play the victim,

But I'm being failed by this system

7 hours, a hostage to cinder block rooms

With nothing to do but let myself be groomed

Into someone's labor source



If I don’t have money, I cannot live

But nobody seems to have a thought to give

To my Life being turned into a commodity

Something to be owned, taxed, a luxury  

That sometimes I’m not able to afford.



So much stock is put into democracy

But we don’t matter to bureaucracy

Unless we use the paychecks earned

From the Liberties we burned

To fill their empty promises



They call us ungrateful and lazy

For recognizing that this life is crazy

And resenting all the thought and time

Spent in the Pursuit of a rich man’s dime

Instead of our own Happiness
Justen Davila Oct 12
humanity assaulted by the sucker punch of the corrupted
drunken from the bottle, anti-venom switched out for more vile
vexation arises from our actions as we are
broken marionettes once admired
a poem to America

The sun arose this morning
Shining among the horizon high
The blue skies is met with a streak of colorful rays of light.
Beyond the sounds of nature bloom
The sounds of industrial hustles and bustles
Being heard like a symphony--
A symphony of nature's glorious sounds that brings about the day.

The sounds of the day begins---
Sounds of workers working,
The rhythm of engines roaring as the city comes alive
And the city's skyscrapers reaches up high to the blue skies
To the heavens high.

While below the busy ant people gathers
To start a working day
Be it poor, rich, middle class or ***
They are busy about their busy day like so
And so are those called Americans.

The sounds of the city is heard as sirens roar
As the city is awaken by the sounds of the day
Trouble stirring  about
In the city that never sleeps.

And when the day is done
The busy people conclude their day
And now the night comes.....
It was a good day.
They voted him in
They voted him in
And I cried
They voted him in
And I cried
They voted him in
And I cried
I screamed
I tore my hair and scratched my skin
I ripped myself to shreds
I wailed to *** or Yaweah or Allah
Or the empty sky
Who swallowed my pain indifferently
And I put myself back together on tear soaked bed sheets
What else can I do
They have all the power
And I’m 17
For gods sake I’m only 17
I’m feeling a little helpless lately
Freedom is a mask.
We don both it and our colors,
oblivious to the snickers of our peers.
Like religion, patriotism separates us further.
How can one believe in a system
so corrupt?
Powerless yet powerful, we must stand,
lest another civil war commence.
Together, hand in hand, we
will create a new life for us all.
James LR Jul 5
Thundering skies
And sparkling lights
Declaring our individual rights
To life and guns and liberty
And doing whatever makes us happy
But fireworks aren't nearly as bright
As the pride for the Stars and Stripes
Happy Treason Day! :-)
Next page