Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Buzz of electricity.
Snow refrozen in the night air.
Laundry veins cooing.
Trees standing without wind.
Clear sky calling to other life.
A chair of safety and the silver spoon.
What would life be like as a Native or a Black, an Hispanic or Asian?
How much more alone would I feel?
How much more understanding would I need to be?
How much would history paint me?
Would prisons call out for me?
Would ghettos know my name?
Would people condescend?
budding thoughts of newer days
on post-its everywhere
each behold a simple life
that should be made to bear

tiny futures made of ink
that whistle under hands
wait until they’re asked to speak
as more the world demands

if every human from the earth
fulfilled their ecstasy
then nothing would be hungered for
and none would cease to be

we’ll search the journals and the notes
if we can do a thing
for those who can’t or those who won’t
to live under a wing

to wish is but to live or die
and you’ve been last to know
the nights are cold and days are dry
so write them as you grow
inspired by “Post-It Dreams”
an article by Dr Tressie M Cottom
By no means is this my work, I’m highlighting this in celebration for Black History Month

Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.

Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to ****,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.

-Abel Meeropol
This gives me chills every time. This references the mass lynchings of African Americans specifically during the early 1900s in the South. Such a beautiful and disturbing poem and I only thought it was fitting to share with all of you so we can appreciate African Americans, as well as poetry.
Lisa Jan 11
I am you, you are me
There is no difference inside to see
The color of your skin, hair or eyes
Does not represent what’s inside.
Physical traits come from the family tree
They give roots, history and a sense of identity
But inside we have the same blood, the same heart
So when does prejudice begin to take part?
Babies are born without preconception
They feel love and comfort from their caregiver’s affection
Their new eyes are blind to ignorance
They see through a clear lense and don’t see difference
As they develop, society gives them glasses,
Their vision gets clouded by the opinions of the masses
The lenses get darker as they grow
They filter the world to see only colors they know
Differences become obstacles, not celebrated.
Leaders tell them who to respect and who should be hated.
These biased views could remain for a lifetime
And then they’re passed down to the next one in line.
Opinions are essential, shared thoughts educate.
But when they’re bigoted and hateful we cannot tolerate.
Take those blinders off, take a look around.
There’s so much joy in diversity to be found
Don’t let the blindfold give such a narrow view
Don’t be complacent and take what is given to you
Rip off the filter, open your eyes
Find connection, common experience, destroy the lies
Revel in these connections, learn from one another
We’re all trying to get through from one day to the other
See through the skin, the hair, the accent
To the core of the HUMAN BEING with love and respect.
Lotus Jan 5
You watch these videos
Of people shouting BLM
Because if your black you are condemned
To them,
Because to them you are not equal
And somehow ****** is legal
But only if your a white cop,
My name is Rayshard Brooks,
I am only 37,
I feel asleep in the cops car,
Resulting in me being restrained and shot because I was believed to be intoxicated,
My Name is Daniel *****,
I am 41,    
I died in 2020,
I died due to strangulation from cops,
They used their body weight to slam me to the ground and strangle me,
I am George Floyd,
I am 46 years old with a child,
A cop sat on my neck for 8 minutes and I died due to strangulation,
I had a kid and a wife,
Their names and lives are more important than your privilege,
SO speak up and speak loud,
Because you are their voice,
You can be the voice of the unheard,
And the misrepresented.
Lily Kesha Gump

Sittin' on the curb of Bronx and Main Street

How I wish I could wrap my arms around you

Sweet little lady, lookin’ grown with a picture of her mama’s stare frozen on her face

Wrists slung through the spaces of her thighs, waiting for a daydream

And she sees me as I’m twirling by in my ruby reds and thigh high leather grace

There you go darlin,

She says to me  

Scoring on my indigo smile

She bites men to sleep

With the crevices of her curves

As her voice weakens wicked

she pulls me out of my gloom

There you go darlin,

She says to me

With a time bomb ticking

On my pain pain pain

And the pen is in my hand

Before she even leaves my sight

I love this city

I love these women

I love their shoes

I love their smiles

Cheeky little laughs  

Someone once recommended

When I was dancing under the shades of a neon lamp  

From Homeless to Harvard

by a woman named Liz or Marie

Or maybe I read the title off of a screen
when I walking with Maryanne on north Peachtree street

And I remember

Lily Kesha Gump

How I wish I could wrap my arms around you

And give you the life some white woman

who doesn’t even know you

Thinks you desire.
Every time they speak
Of injustice in the streets
A silence is born

We watch the cries of widows
And hide beneath our pale skin
a Japanese tanka #BlackLivesMatter #BlueLivesMurder

for peace in solidarity
J Dec 2020
In a class, I'll sit and listen
they'll explain that I have no rights
as a member of the LGBTQ+
they'll say,
with pride of their skin,
black lives DON'T matter-
all lives do.
I'll sit here, OH YES,
I'll sit and listen
they'll talk about girls being ugly
talking about how
there are only two genders
and I'll sit here
relating women to paintings,
weaving them into my poems,
slightly pouting and confused
with my lack of their said gender.
I will sit here and listen
as they repeat the things
I've heard my entire life
and I'll bite my tongue, though not really
a look will pass by, rage seeps through pores
I'll leak liquid anger
until the toxins correct their rotten brains
I know I should say something,
but there are tons of them
and only micro-me.
I'll sit here, and I will listen to them as
we all eagerly await the bell
Save us.
we're far apart, so
my mask is off now,
but when it sounds, when it promises peace
I will stand, turn,
and Black Lives Matter will be almost
as prominent as a tattoo on my face,
the phrase will melt,
it will stick,
it will attach to my mouth
and say
the words that I cannot.
and I'll keep Sydney's hoodie on
as my bulletproof vest,
her chain against my heart
understanding that
Why would I
choose the pain I went through for this?
only to go home,
and hear more from my step-father,
with the victimizing mother actings
as if it never happens
writing in my eighth-period class makes me worried for their eyes.
Kitten Yvad Nov 2020
tell me
am i the only black girl
in your class? Tell me,
have you ever asked how
I am?

Funny you're teaching someone maybe
but guiding us?
in what?

Funny you're teaching
to us, just a mass
of black Zoom boxes
Your class is presented,
but self taught,
I'm teaching myself
this yeh and
it seems to be enough..

its BGM again

So tell me your purpose here
really what you're here for.
is it to invalidate my experiences so I have to
explain my life to you?

Even though you don't want
to hear more? No .
Step down.

Back up.
Take the assignments and grade them, that's enough.
(Is that enough?)
It is and seems less and less
necessary every day.

Yes I respect you.
But are you anti-rascist in
or are you just here
again to Gatekeep
White Male Heterosexual STEM for yet another day?


I knooow you don't want
to hear more . No.
Step down.

Back up.
Listen for a second.
I hear you through conduct.
That's enough.

take my work
grade it.
you'll live to
maybe deconstruct
racist STEM
on some other day.

I* am NOT here to teach you.
not here to know all
the ills of STEM
tell you all the solutions
and help you name it
Next page