Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
The water's blue
The sand's brown
As long as I'm with you
I won't feel down

The waves says, ssshhh!
I thought you'd stay
The wind blows, wooosh!
The end of my day
Trump ******* us all
but did he really?

The South followed suit on its promise
Yet the heartland had a change

We would like to say:
“He doesn’t represent America.”
But doesn’t he?

Profit above all is the capitalist credo

Racism: to divide the people and keep them disorganized
Sexism: to divide the people and keep them disorganized
Xenophobia: to divide the people and keep them disorganized

Hasn’t that always been the American way
Keep the neighbors distracted with one another
Keep the neighbors fighting one another
While you rob them blind
And their children
And their children’s children
And . . .

Trump speaks
For those that see government only as a tool for furthering business

Trump speaks
For those that were born into a position of privilege
For those that find it offensive when their privilege is pointed out
For those that can construct legalese so their privilege can never be denied

Trump speaks
For those that believe something determined by genetic or socio/politico/economico construction
Not effort of their own
Imbues them with divine right
Imbues them with heaven’s mantel
Imbues them with a destiny that is their burden to make manifest

Trump ******* us all
Trump doesn’t speak for America

Historically
Morally

Doesn’t he?

© Christopher F. Brown 2017
Crimsyy Dec 2016
"Who would love such a
toxic conundrum?"
I whispered in the early
hours of my existence,
starting as a lukewarm
substance,
gazing into my pristine heart,
my empty core.

Then the fate of life saw to it;
to stain my skin and give
my emptiness a name;
Hurt,
no.
Ignition, match,
or maybe their hands.

I can't tell when those things
had a distinct identity
and didn't just seem to be
my heart twisting and
my core splitting,
soaked in chemicals,
all mixing.

There are cigarette lighters
everywhere you turn,
they look like brown eyes,
rough hands and vinyl collectors.
But I realize I am something
to be inhaled;
choose dying over pleasure,
give me your utmost devotion,
touch me as I burn.
I'm baaack!!! All future poems including this one will be from my new book, Burn.
The only thing they are worried about is their reflection
Who cares if they're dead or dying inside

ab shot for the gram
*** shot for the snap chat
**** pic for the dm’s

Some of them
have gotten to the place where
Their selfie
is their self

The only thing they are worried about is their reflection
Who cares if they're dead or dying inside

I could be hypocritical and say im not there
but then
how would I know it exists
You find your way
The way does not find you

*** shots on the Time Line
full nudes on tumblr
live shows on connectpal

The only thing they are worried about is their reflection
Who cares if they're dead or dying inside


© Christopher F. Brown 2016
Shouting
In places where people try to force them
Not to hear

Quiet
In places where people try to force them
Not to listen

**** them
Set them free
Watch them fly wild

They are indigo, X, and Y
They are naturally Tech savvy and more intune with all that is natural
They are everything but what they know they want to be

**** them
Set them free
Watch them fly wild

Love

Love has never been one of their considerations
They have never bothered with the fantasy
They were born knowing
Grew tall and mighty watching

No one ever loves a genius child

**** them
Set them free
Watch them fly wild.


© Christopher F. Brown 2016
if you were to rise
against the lashes
your spine bears
witness to.i know you
could burn the cities -
echoing enslaved
cries of your mother. or,
the cities tainted in
red, with the blood
of your father.

but, you don't.

for you know what it's like to lose
what you love.




(such is your love for a city that turned into rubble everything you
ever loved)
Devin Ortiz Nov 2016
White skin
Black blood
Devil's curls
Eyes that pierce

You couldn't pick me from the crowd
And say that I was black
But I'll be **** sure, you're aware of that

I've got a chip on my shoulder
With a furrowed brow
And vendettas whispered from the graves

Silence was compliance
Now I'm screaming loud
Sarah Michelle Oct 2016
An iris brown and
blue, a personality
beat down but still new
Next page