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Hope Apr 2019
why
school teachers
parents
adults
most people
they tell us to be ourselves
but then
they discriminate against all of us

if two best friends
of the same *** embrace
children and teens
will say
“that’s gay”
and what if it is?

I thought we were supposed to be ourselves

if someone does something weird
crazy
stupid
it’s
“*******”
do you know how rude this is
to people
who can’t help that they were born
with extra needs?

if someone has tattoos
they may not get a job
because something important to them
has been etched into their skin permanently
and you don’t have the capacity to understand it

if someone is kind or talented or smart
you are immediately intimidated
because you can’t handle it if someone
is better than you
well let me tell you this:
there will ALWAYS
be someone better
than
you

if a woman is strong
divorced
or making it on her own
you make up rumors about them
to bring them down
because you think they need a man
to support them

if a young girl is confident
defiant
persevering
you squash her spirit
so she won’t make it
so she can’t say no

if she is curvy
you tell her to lose weight
but if she’s skinny
she needs to fill out

if they’re dark
they can’t be trusted
and will be judged
just because of
the color of their skin



This is all
Bull
****

these people are no different than you
and yet you push them down

and all the while
you’ve been telling the population
to be themselves.
Pretty self explanatory
Connor Anon Mar 2019
It ignites inside them; it does boil and swell,
Another emotion man attempts to quell.
But this vapour of hatred and these bubbles of wrath,
Seem determined to scorch those that dare cross their path.
Flames stoked by abhorrence, froth stirred by malice,
"How dare the heathens encroach into our palace?"
This typhoon of sentiment, this eruption of conviction,
I find it to be the source of many an affliction.
Man stands idly by, gawking in shock,
The opportunity passes with the hands of the clock.
The lid though of iron can't contain this hot steam,
The sensation that boasts it would tear at the seam.
Guilt simmers; hope evaporates in shame,
One more missed prevention, yet no one to blame.
Man exclaims rather loudly, "Next time I will help!"
As the downtrodden perish, with a suppressed yelp.
Hatred kills.
Marsha Feb 2019
What have you, that I not have
To claim superiority (over me)
When you and I both bleed the same red?
Underneath the skin, we're all the same.
sian Feb 2019
do you know how it feels?
to have to look a certain way?
to act a certain way?

do you know how it feels?
to fight against a backwards mentality?
to be sexually objectified?
to keep quiet to appease fragile egos?

do you know how it feels?
to be treated as though you are replaceable?
to be treated as though you are incapable of possessing your own entity?

do you know how it feels?
to be treated as though the best thing you have to offer is between your legs, rather than what circulates within your mind?

do you know how it feels... to be a woman?
Utkarsh Gupta Feb 2019
Fumes of valor,
Sins weighing all the hopes lost,
Demeanor of power,
Craving for success whatever's the cost,
Deftness of a prodigy,
It carries it all,
It carries everything you believe it does,
It carries nothing!

Judged, divided, shamed upon,
It just gushes unaware of any anomalies.
Its expeditious flow defines us all,
The sudden spout through the veins,
A constant reminder of human transience.

Often sworn to promises which are never kept,
It's limitless power put to a constant test.
Wasted in this worldly chaos, celebrated by a victory,
A mere symbol it remains,
Taken for granted,
Life's elixir unglorified.
jack Jan 2019
their hearts bleed for us while bleeding us dry;
yet they turn their heads to the other side
when our blood is spilled on ***** sidewalks late at night,
when the sun’s on the other side of the world,
when justice is asleep
and the facts are on their side in courts
which our blood, which our loved,
are too poor, bled dry and white,
to keep up with,
or to speak up about the jury’s prejudice.

their hearts bleed for us while they watch us bleed to death
from the wounds they’ve inflected upon our bodies;
yet they turn their eyes towards the sky
and act like they’re blind and scream,
“we all bleed red,”
as if we don’t know that,
as if we haven’t seen our own blood on the sidewalks,
as if they have seen their own blood spilled before,
as if their fake sympathy isn’t a side of the metallic,
copper-tasting irony.

( but our wounds will heal and we will rise;
we won’t bleed again but when we inevitably do,
our blood won’t be red — it’ll be golden and holy,
and our stories, and our bodies,
they won’t be pushed aside.
our martyrs will light up the night sky,
for they are stars and their names will immortalised.
for we are gods and gods don’t bleed nor cry. )
Sketcher Jan 2019
Condolences,
Today is the day,
Dangerous circumstances,
Are soon on their way.

From the brains in your head,
To the feet in your shoes,
You are soon to be beat,
And you're soon to be bruised.

You'll have blood on your head, crusted into your hair,
No wounds will ever heal, not the cuts or the tears,
With your head leaking brains and red stained white cleats,
The athletes will beat you while you're out on the street.

They'll touch all of your ups,
And they'll touch all of your downs,
From the back to the front,
From the tip to the crown.

They'll open you there,
Wide open and bare.

Outside things will happen,
They will continue to do,
Things that mess with your head,
Because you are a Jew.

And when things will happen,
Don't worry, don't stew,
Just go along with,
Whatever happens to you.

OH!
THE ****'S YOU'LL MEET!

You'll be up on your way,
To see some pretty sights,
Then a **** will show up,
And knock out your lights.

You'll lag behind, because you don't have the speed,
The whole gang will jump you, they'll do it, indeed,
Wherever you go, you'll fight the best of the best,
They'll use their fist to rip your heart out your chest.

Except when they don't,
Because sometimes they won't.

They will be high or drunk or maybe just blue,
They'll be so sad and depressed, they'll do nothing to you.

They will either hang themselves,
or pray in the church,
They will put down their weapons,
and stop the search.

Upon leaving the church,
You'll surely feel a thump,
And chances are then,
That you've just been ******.

A special kind of ****,
That will leave you stunned,
While it's up in the ****,
You'll scream, "This isn't fun!",

You'll feel the reaming of Muhammad and Mark,
One is a light skin, and the other, rather dark,
They'll tear through your **** like it isn't a sin,
Then they'll turn you around and take you for a spin,
And a slurp, and a choke, until the stuff drips down your chin.

When they finish, will you have the strength to fight,
Or will you barely be able to tell left from right,
You'll be so dizzy that you think you might be blind,
It must have been too much ramming from behind,
After they're done, they'll keep you in prison confined.

You will get so confused,
While they're booming the bass,
Riding you faster, at such a neck-breaking pace,
Riding the throat then spilling all over the face,
Then they leave you in shock, in this dark humid place,
Dark... humid... place...

...just waiting and waiting,
As the seasons come and go,
And cars will come and go,
And people come and go,
Some people ask, "Are you okay?",
and you say, "No.",
You continue to just wait.

Wishing that you were just white,
Instead of a Jew that gives off a fright,
To every non-Jew and hater despite,
Religion or if they're dead or awake,
So you still lay there in anguish and ache,
You'll soon get the nerve to pull up your pants,
And then you'll walk south until you reach France,
Every step is a throbbing pain in your ***.

NO!
YOU WILL NOT GIVE UP!

Somehow you'll escape,
The praying then spraying,
Removing all hope,
Whatever was remaining.

As you leave Germany,
you will say goodbye,
But you were too loud,
And you were stopped by a guy.

The man screams out, "HAULT!", as you begin to run,
And now you realize that the great chase has begun,
As you are running away, you trip and you fall,
Still wanting to flee, away you sluggishly crawl,
You feel the mans hands grab so you beg and you plea,
You loosen the grip, stand, then pinned against a tree.

Rammed into the wood,
Knocked out, this is no good.

I'm afraid you'll be caught,
And chopped up in a stew,
This is bound to happen,
No matter what you do.

Very Dead!
Whether you like it or not,
Dead will be something,
You'll be in the ***.

And when you are dead, there's a very good chance,
That a necrophiliac will find romance,
He'll steal your body with his swiftness and brawn,
You'll make him say, "I do want life to go on!".

On he will go,
With his moaning and growls,
On he will go,
Stretching right towards your bowels,
On he will go,
Like a wolf he will howl,
He will awkwardly peck,
With his mouth like a beak,
Upon the great hole,
In which he took a leak.

On and on he'll strike,
Until all the white tar,
Comes out of his *******,
Dirtying his new car.

He doesn't own a horse,
But a car you can blow,
Because there are thirty *****,
Hanging off the window,
And the wheels are some *****,
That are hardened and cracked,
This is a normal car,
This car isn't abstract,
This car doesn't run on gas so it's quite the heft,
When it's pushed up hills with hands of the deft.

So... will you bleed?
Will you beg and plead?
(This Is Actually Zero Percent Guaranteed)

JEW! YOU ARE IN CHARGE!

This is your life, your way,
You're able to seize the day,
You can go to all places,
You can choose to leave or stay,
So please do what you wish,
And your life will be great.
Parody of Oh, the Places You'll Go. I'm not really sure where I was going with this. It's very random...
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