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In the midst of the rise of the Asian bullying during the COVID 19 pandemic,
Let us show them our sympathy.
Advocate against Asian hate.
Stand with their cause.
Give them warm greetings.
Treat them with more kindness and humanity.

Hussein Dekmak
Scrapping by without a lending hand
The rent raised, they’d never understand

Streets to wander with hearts heavy laden
A carefree spirit, hopes to have made it

While piles stack up with unpaid bills
They wish for freedom, to run to a hill

Without the trivialities and endless payments
To be well-off enough, not even famous

Toiling work and nights unslept
A bucket of savings slowly kept

And the climb and perseverance away from being poor
Gained them the freedom out of the door

Of sleepless nights and unfed stomachs
Their pitiful despair gave way to a plummet
All the forgotten lawns, and far apart, and monsters in the darks.
The cross country farms, some kids are playing on.
Thus, our liberation falls, a soldier dies, a family cries.
See dropping blood! Oh Hallelujah! Oh Jesus Christ!
All waters are iced, and the bread smells of rot. And ghosts knocking at the door, right? For its the wicked king's payments time!
Truth is where I found you

In the cusp high over ultraviolet waves

Between your time as a slave and mine

Fighting off the results of *******.

You were a woman who accepted no

Excuses for the lack of rights

For our mothers and daughters,

Demanded more for those who followed.

I am a woman who accepts that most

White men are fixed on one idea

As to how the world should be,

And it is on me to change their minds

Through words, or actions, but never

Through guns or swords, white bonnet

Wrapped on my head as I push

Away racial insults and profanity.

You never forgot to say who a woman

Could be, what a Black woman could do

When we eschewed weakness and misogyny.

No one helped you. You just carved the trail.

No one helps me either. That’s what I learned

It means to be a Black woman.

To be strong, to plough, to plant, to raise barns.

That’s what you did. I do that metaphorically.

Now, I raise children, plough through journals

With my pen. I always remember to never

Pin my tongue for fear of other’s thoughts

This is the way you walked.

I try to get my half measure full,

But I think it is a little less

Difficult for me as it was

For you. Thank you for the

Quarter you earned.

It took us a long way, but

Today, the world is still

Turned upside down

And we are working

Hand by hand to

Flip it

Right side up
This poem is an excerpt from Katerina Canyon's new poetry book Surviving Home. Surviving Home is a reflection on African American heritage and up-bringing, racism, and abuse. It will be released in December 2021, published by Kelsay Books.
Julia Jan 11
Once upon a time
Before the whites stormed our prairies
Like it was theirs from
The beginning
We roamed as we pleased
No cares but our own
Life was simple
We were
They came like a wolf in sheep's clothing
Only wanting peace and a
Fair chance
We comply
We make space
Yet they are not
They take our outstretched hand
But pull a thread of our clothes
From behind our backs
with the other
Turning and running
till we are left naked
And we wonder
When they will be
We’re driven to places
That are not our home
They claim they have Providence
On their side
They will do as they please
Until their goal is
So here we live
Where they say we can
In the way they allow
And though it has been
Hundreds of years
We will not be silent for
Our killed brothers and sisters
Our stolen land, our stolen lives
We will not be silent
We are not
I am not Native American, this was for a history final where we tried to look from a different perspective.
Kristin Jan 8
I did errands today
and I was confused

Something was wrong, astray
I mused

I settled into the evening quiet
And my disquieted soul shouted

"The flags were not at half staff"
As the West Wing staff and Cabinet was trimmed by half

Yesterday, Congress was sieged by riff-raff
45 egged them on

Congress counted the Electoral votes
but our troubles are not all gone

Today, I needed to see that flag half-mast
My grief begged for a symbol against the bombast

And yet the flag waved, full staff, as if nothing and no one mattered
And no one has said a word
Tyler Matthew Dec 2020
"America I've given you all and now I'm nothing."

An empty chair in town hall.
A piano with no white keys.
An asterisk in the legislation, if I'm lucky.
I ate your bread,
attended your circuses,
burned my bridges for promises you made.
I remember I saved four-thousand dollars
after college and believed I had foresight.
You burned it all before me
and then pierced my eye with your sword of justice,
placed me on the scales and found that
all your wealth weighs more than I do.
The American Dream!
Yet, how am I to dream if I cannot see?
And do you feel heavy?
No, I don't believe you do.
You have your patriots to prop you up when you begin to slouch.
And good on them for being more blind than I am,
or good on them for otherwise.
But that is not the American dream, is it?
I think not, but then again, who am I?
After "America" by Allen Ginsberg.
Man Dec 2020
in america, you are free
free to suffer
free to die
cold, hungry, alone, and disinherited
you are free to be what you want
so long as you produce
and work
so long as you don't disturb
our norm
and the vast social constructs
that couple us to these woes

you are free to fly
with wing duly clipped
singing songs of silence
Rayma Nov 2020
when we first came to this land,
blood was shed for our entitlement.
when we first came to this land,
we took the things that were never ours
and trampled its native growth.
when we first came to this land,
we instilled in it a sickness that may never be cured;
we tarnished sacred lands with greed we call virtue,
and when we did so, we stood on the throat of humanity.

there are some people who are doomed to repeat history.
there are some people who will trample native growth,
spread sickness,
and stand on the throats of our people.
with the heavy weight of six centuries upon our shoulders
we stand,
a hobbled nation no longer able to stride,
heads held high,
through this sea of blood without meeting challenge.

with six centuries passed, we commit genocide anew.
it is not the native growth that suffers,
but the very peddlers of greed who are infected
by the sickness of consequence.
but they alone will not suffer.
as we march through this new iteration of history
wearing death masks instead of cloth,
thousands of innocents lose their lives
in a battle of which they were never a part.

the single day that we dedicate to gratitude,
the one day of the year some remember
to give thanks in between passing heavy dishes,
is not a commemoration of discovery.
it is a commemoration of consequence and greed.
and six centuries later,
it is our own people whom we will massacre with the cry of freedom.
This year, I'm celebrating Indigenous Peoples' Day by staying home and staying masked. America's history is a ****** one, but there's no reason why we can't stop history in its tracks. With Covid-19 cases continuing to rise and falling further from our control, please rethink your plans if you're gathering with people outside your home this Thanksgiving. Anyone can get the virus, and your need to gather with family while others remain stuck in isolation could **** your parents, your grandparents, your nieces/nephews, and even you. Holidays happen every year, there's no reason why you can't miss just this one. Please stay safe and celebrate responsibly. Wishing everyone out there lots of love and healing, and a quick recovery to those infected/effected by the pandemic ❤
Man Nov 2020
were it easy, we would be so lucky
but, alas instead, here we're found
where our ground is scaffold
its tarrish glue fractured
the brown boards we walk, cracked
the whole thing creaking under its own weight
poised for collapse
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