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All diamonds
Blood Diamonds
Rich ladies
Not so rich ladies
It looks nice
You flaunt
Diamond jewellery
You're good humans
No denying
It's ignorance
I surmise
Diamonds saturated
With human blood
Poor men extracting
Or insurgency
Bloodshed
Blood diamonds they're
Shun buying
Improve workers condition
**** out
Shady traders
Funding insurgency
Buy only
Highly reliable
Certified diamonds
You're good human
we fight until there is no in between
until homes are reduced
to wastelands
until we feel incomplete without
a gun in our hand
and still the children go hungry
still the mothers are weary
still the fathers die early

Esther Krenzin
seldom Apr 1
the fact that
man
man created weapons
with the capability to **** man
and the intention
to **** man
is truly shocking
is we existed
without weaponry
so many brutal wars
could have been avoided
and many deaths
could have been
postponed
brutality and cruelty
would not
cease to exist
but
it would
exist less
i wrote this in the middle of class on a sticky note a month ago, so
Nyx Lilith Nov 2019
the ocean is red
red for the war,
red for the rage,
red for the passion,
red for the bloodshed, killing and death that comes with the conflict.

the trees are yellow
yellow for the decay,
yellow for greed,
yellow for sickness,
yellow for the colour of the metal found in the earth with worth more than anything else.

the sky is gray
gray for the smoke,
gray for the dullness,
gray for the restlessness,
gray for the colour of the snow that falls from the sky, riddled with toxic chemicals.
this is part two of a three-part poem, following the past and preceding the future.
Merope Angel Oct 2019
She left me no where else to go, I found her body in the cold. The feet were bound, her hands were tied, I thought for sure this child died.

I released her gently from her pain, I picked her up and carried her away. I brought her to my Father, who with a steady hand, motioned I place her back upon the land.

I shook my head, for I didn't understand. This child has died, is this not the plan?

From behind me shook a teetering flutter
For in the room there was another

Identical to the one in my arms
But without cuts, blood, and scars.

She smiled at me, as if not to alarm.
And turned to my Father, who stuck out his hand.

She took it in stride, like light fading away.
Into the night sky I saw her soul slip away.

The body in my hands, stupid-alive.
It wreathed and screamed out,
As if not knowing why.

Father finally saying,
"She cannot die."
neha yamba May 2019
I look at the maps hanging up on my wall
admiring the world for the best it got
yet i see
Poverty swell and trivial refugees struggle
and there are cardinal power wars
destitute crave for food shelter and cloths

O' why lord ?
"Its the beginning of the horror flick, my son
there are copious others , yet unaddressed and unresolved "

However i reckon
how simple it is to conquer despair hanging up on my wall
For today mighty fighter  
stop and sleep a lil more,
cuddle your love and hold her a lil long
refashion your battle cry  to cry of love
Shed tears its no harm
miracle will happen as you kiss her once more .

You are the puppet fighter, no doubt you are strong
they know your strength , they are foxy back stabbers brother
they'll aflame your soul ,
Don't forget you have love back home ...
zee Mar 2019
Blood spilled
Tears streamed
But no matter how much you beg on your knees
That’s what war can be

The child cried as his mother’s body lied
With the building burning to ashes
Ashes to the ground, as you hear the child plea
But alas that’s what war can be

The man strangled out cries
As his dying breaths suffocated
Underneath the collapsed building, trying to flee
But alas that’s what war can be

Remember the father who starved himself so his children could eat?
Who had been stripped from his luxury?
His happiness, his love? Who wanted to be free?
Is that what war can be?

What about the brother?
Who lost his leg, saving his sister from a shooter?
What about the sister?
Who died so that her brother could survive his gun inflicted blister?

What about the children?
Who think the parents went to the store?
Only to have the parents in a Ranger’s view
Lying on the ground, blood seeping through

What about the men and women?
Lined up, not knowing their final words
Tears prickling, not being able to see
Is that what you want your people to see?

But that’s all fine
Get the victims in a line
For it’s all for honor
For it’s all for power

What do you think
Goes through the people’s heads?
Oh how great is our country,
For being torn to shreds?

Or oh it’s fine your son died,
Even if you had cried
All this bloodshed is just insignificant clatter
to such an elite matter

What about the bloodshed?
The dead families?
The orphans?
The starvation?
The pain, the agony?
The tears?
The lost homes?
The children living in fear?
The bonds broken?
Is it all worth ego?
While you bet the lives like a gambling casino?

Imagine suffocating slowly and painfully, still having so much to do
Imagine watching your mother die, right after she attended the stew
Imagine holding your child, trying hard to erase all doubt
Imagine living a life, where nothing goes right and about
Imagine seeing your school friends cry
While blood trickles from your thigh

So go on with your slaughter
But remember the mother
Every eye you made shed salty water

The sister
The brother
The father
The farmer
The doctor
The peasant
The teacher
The student

So hold your ****** weapons up high
But remember
That once blood is on the hands
it never fades or becomes dry
Dimitri Ali Nov 2018
I weep for my country,
Once amazing now fallen,
The twin islands of T&T.
Don't sin or you'd go to hell,
This we've been preached so we know,
How is it a third world country where people can afford super cars,
Still have kids starving in the ghetto?

To me this is hell,
They say you'd burn in fire for all eternity,
I'm not afraid because they burn people in trunks of cars in my country.
The rob the rich or the moderately well off even in their homes,
What do the authorities do ?
They deploy a special task force to find a politician's son's phone.

We once held pride in the fact that we were united!
Indian African Chinese and all in between.
Now my people stand segregated,
I hate it I hate it all, all that I've seen.

Politicians steeling money,
No big surprise there,
But a prime minister who for his people doesn't have a care.
Since he ascended to power,
He's been everywhere else except T&T,
Never a word in times of tragedy.

They say it loudly and proudly we are trinis!
There once was a strong pride attached to that statement,
Now for me it breaks my heart because it fills me with resentment.

There's nothing to be proud of,
Guns drugs and ****** paint our national flag,
As the just as guilty politicians pretend to blind and think they're above,
You could find it all in Trinidad and Tobago except love.

Political parties slew the names of one another,
Separating us by race,
While there is continuoust cold hearted murders,
The police claim to be doing all they can and lieing to your face.

They hide the criminals they promote injustice,
The big bad wolves in blue,
Yet arrest students of a university protesting against **** on their campus, they are here doing something, which is more than what can be said about all of you.

You can't trust politics,
What else is new,
Neither the police,
Who do you turn too?
While they battle for money, for power for votes,
We are out in the floods with nothing, not even a rain coat.
We see the bloodshed the hardship and the tears,
while you're cuddled up in your mansions we live with the fear.

My country was once amazing,
Bright full of culture and life,
The steel pan, calypso music and a bond that binds the blood.
Instead of fear and death there was a flood,
A flood of undieing passion it was once amazing,
To me now Trinidad isn't even worth seeing.
Luna Nov 2018
One shot fired into open air—

As heavy curtains
Draw dark corners
Into our house,
We turn away and run .

Two shots fired into open air—

The empty walls
Resonate
As we lay under
A new, foreign sky.

Three shots fired into open air—

We try to forget-
What is now history
We walk down the streets
With a name in an unfamiliar
Tongue
And our heads bent

Last shot fired into open air—

Our necks forced down,
One of us is wailing;
Two of us in silence-
Nothing avails.

Because
We are a shade darker
than their soils
And there’s a cloth on our heads-
Screaming.
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