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Blood from a thousand crimson fighters
Floods the dusty streets, staining tank wheels,
Mixed in with the spit of the militia.
We press the "sign petiton" button,
Sharing and ordering others to "look, feel"
For those people whose brains are scattered
In a nation they keep attempting to heal.

Over there, a mother watches her baby's fingertips
Turn from deep, flushed rose to the chillest blue.
So our profile pictures change that way too,
While we mutter "Jesus, what a shame" and scroll on.
How we contribute to their salvation!
Thirty seconds, and thoughts and prayers are gone.

And when, morosely, they flash the white flag
Of bitter, tear-caked, heavy-borne surrender
As will certainly happen (optimism can't counteract child ****)
We will pick up our phones and idly say,
"Hey, this other country's got a crisis too."
And act as though their torture is over-
But for now let's #PaintSudanBlue.
I'm not saying it isn't important to put pressure on the UN to investigate the crisis going on and of course donating to a petition is incredible of  people to do and we cannot expect miracles from everyone who reads about this. But the notion that changing your profile picture "For Sudan's sake" will change anything is a ridiculous one. I hate the idea of anybody feeling better about themselves or the crisis because they made three clicks to alter their instagram icon. We should be sobbing for these people, lobbying the UN, the government, and other authorities to act now. A petition is a good start but it isn't anywhere near enough. I really wish we weren't all so helpless over here; personally, I can't even donate because I'm not of age. The response just seems a little pathetic and I'm so, so angry at the injustice happening over there (which is why this poem isn't amazing, I didn't have time to craft rage thoughts into something pretty). Sorry for the rant.
c Apr 2018
Dear Fearless Writers--Fighters,

Never in my life
Have I felt such an
By those both
Like-minded &

I've written more since
Joining you all
Than I ever have before
I hope to publish
My works in time
Thanks to you

Thank you to Eliot &
To the rest as well,

Happy to be here. You are all so supportive and inspiring. I'm beyond excited for this app to come out. <3
Corrie Jan 2018
I am a third generation of ****** assault victims.
A third generation.
My mother before me had experienced assault time and time again.
I don’t believe I even know all the stories.
She experienced men who thought that because they can push your head where they wanted meant that she would not, could not, fight back.
Man, were they surprised when they felt the sharp ridges of her teeth sink into their shaft.
My mother is a fighter.
Her mother before her experienced a man who hid behind a medical license
He said if she wanted to be cleared to go back to work, she simply had to pull down her pants.
She was there to check on her shoulder.
She told him that there was no way and he could tell the company whatever he wanted but she was not going to be taking off her pants.
They later arrested this man for molesting dozens of patients.
A ******* under the guise of a medic.
My grandmother was a fighter.
And don’t you dare think that for some reason growing older gets you a pass.
At 72, she moved into a new apartment building with people of all ages and backgrounds.
One day, walking home, a man decided to press his naked body against a window while she walked by.
He gyrated his hips and touched himself as she ran by.
Sometimes I worry if he’ll step out from behind the glass.
Me though? I do not know if I am a fighter.
Maybe its because my assault took a different form, one they rarely talk about.
When my older cousin asked me to play a game I was thrilled to be a part of her world.
It took me years to realize that where she kissed and what she touched and the game we played was actually how women have ***.
Years later I had a boyfriend, and for some reason when my lips said no, he heard ask again.
Ask again and again until she feels worn down. Ask again until she gives in.
Because that’s your boyfriend, aren’t you supposed to fulfill his needs?
How dare you be *****, or sick or not in the mood.
Men have needs, and can’t you see when they commit to just you, that’s your role.
When I was 21 I naively thought that I could make friends with a boy.
I told him before we ever met that I was not looking for love, nor ***, just a friend.
However, he reached for the check. However, he reached for my neck.
He kissed me, big whoop, I can live with that.
But then he put my hand on his lap to feel his hardness and asked me to **** it.
I lied and said not tonight, knowing I would never see him again, and left.
Maybe I am a fighter.
Maybe every woman I know is a fighter.
When my mother, my friends, my sisters, my roommates, my cousins, and the stranger on the street has a story like mine, don’t you think that it’s time?
Time to teach men that women, we are fighters.
I am a third generation of fighter.
Lure Pot Nov 2017
Hey young fighter
why are you stubborn?
Look, an inequitable society
has destroyed everything
Who will save the world?

You are the combatant
In the middle of the war
in the morning
and the evening
Why do you surrender?

Hey young militant
what's up with you?
why are you silent?
You are the hero?

Hey young soldier
why are you asleep
rise your head up
Build up the camp.
Simon Soane Oct 2016
Perplexed in glorious rush
of telling you
thank you,
for the days,
and seconds
of this.
Sharde' Fultz Mar 2016
The infamous "C" word
I'm actually ambivalent about hearing Cancer referred to in that way
Cause yes its ****, yes, its terrible
But its something we need to say
We need people to hear that word
And feel the fear, the sadness, the Disgust.  the anger
Let that word settle in the mind and every letter metastisize until it creates a giant mass in this culture
Let it grow so large that it can't be avoided
Let it push aside all the worlds organs and make room for itself until The pain is unbearable!
Let our communities cough cough cough
COUGH it out
And cough it up
Until pharmacies and hospitals run out of tissues
Until its reached the hearts of politicians
Go on. Don't be afraid to say cancer...
And while you're at it don't forget me.
I don't care about my name
But don't forget the faces you DONT see
That's the adolescent and young adult cancer bunch, I know you probably haven't heard much about us.
But what a pleasure it would be!
To awake one morning and have left it all behind.
To not have it's lingering aches and pains
Forever Burdening my body and my mind?

See it doesn't make sense when WE hurt.
So I'm a part of yet another minority.
One with faaar less research...
And far MORE misdiagnosis
We're young and healthy
So a sudden cough
is eeeasily tuberculosis

Or the flu,
Or a headache,
So OUR cancers goes unnoticed.

But even later down the line
When we've found it in our lungs.
Or spine. Or bones because we young adults are KNOWN to get the RAREST kind.

Post-having found it in our blood
Or lurking throughout our tissues
We're once again faced with another haughty list of damning issues.

don't get me wrong cancer is the worst no matter what your age may be.
To see our grandparents have to suffer?
Or an innocent baby with this disease?!
it's never easy on the eyes and even harder on the heart
But THIS poem...
This poem. just for once.
is for a special part.
For this club no one wants to be part of.
This group coalesced with every color and faith but all sharing the same needs...donning the same scars...
Facing questions without answers
Don't you dare have the audacity to be afraid to say, "Cancer"
I say these words for some of my dearest friends,
The Living and the MANY deceased-
have shaaared in my unique. griefs!
THEY have encountered these micro. organic. thieves.
That steal our TIME!
Precious, formative, years of our lives.
That we can never get back!
Babies don't have to worry about that.
Our grandparents and elders don't either, these are just the facts, people.
We have fragments of our fragile lives that surgeries can't suture
Time that should be spent in school.
Or pursuing our dreams.
But instead forcing us to think 15 years into our future
Wondering how we'll tell our husband's and wives that we can't have children
that we can biologically call "mine"
It's a time where we haven't even
thought about those things.
just getting to know who we are as individuals, beings.
And finally coming to grips with being in our own skin!
Are you kiddin'?!
Pun intended.
But seriously, there's nothing "punny" about feeling as though your life has ended.

Like a semi truck hit you at full speed and your entire world is left scattered across life's highway.
You're trying to pick up the shards of you left scattered acrros the pavement
As your friends drive by with degrees and families And you're still going through Chemo treatment.
And or -radiation
And or- a bone marrow transplant
or -reconstructive surgery because your ******* were removed.
About a handful of med students were among the first to see my *****.
So don't be afraid to say cancer.
And don't even let me begin on the financial grievances that will follow us, my friend.
Because we're the least likely to have insurance for this thing going in.
And when your universe is in a tailspin and its chemotherapy or die you aren't thinking about the quadruple digits that will soon be applied.
Because unfortunately, you later realize American medicine and pharmacies just as all other industries, thrives off demand and supply.
cancer diagnosis is like being tossed in the land of oz but the yellow brick road is paved with bills.
I prayed to God over my heart like tin man
So I could still show compassion for a friend
Like lion I sought courage because day by day cancer made me feel so small, defenseless and helpless
The depression I faced regularly wreaked havoc on my mind
And if  scarecrow only knew about Chemo brain!;
--his memory's probably better than mine.

But like Dorothy,
all I wanted was  HOME.
More accurately all I wanted was what I once knew as normal.
Before I lost all my hair.
Before the steroids changed my face.
Before a couple weeks in the hospital destroyed 15 years of barre work and master classes
I wanted so desperately for the old me back.
But I later learned that that girl was just a memory
I'm a different person now
And during this experience I've grown from girl to woman
And have adopted this new normal
That embraces EVERY moment
That experiences time outside of the conditions conditioned by this world
And the parameters of the classic, outdated, Irrational American Dream.
And what seems to be this incessant, false, idealistic, actualization of what it means
I mean
They ask you what you want to be
Before you can even read!
So we're so bent on the future that when our plans are sent off track we beat ourselves until will bleed

Having watered, nurtured, and cultivated.the white picket  seed
And forgetting
There's no template set in place to affirm whether you have achieved.

So don't be afraid to say cancer
Cause it reminds me of what I've learned
I've witnessed miracles first-hand that a scalpel could never know
I love!
And I love hard
And from a place of deep, sincere, empathy
For my fellow man no matter how great or small his burdens be
After what I've gone through my faith outweighs my fear
In fact, I'm fearless!
I'm indestructible
I'm a pro at sweat and tears!
And It didn't take cancer to make me realize these things
I certainly would have been perfectly fine. without it
This wasn't given to me as a punishment.
But allowed to happen as a testament
And now I stand here before you
With a raggedy lung
And A quarter of my intestines

For Dawn, for Jordan, for Lili, Bill, for Merideth, for Carly, for Taylor, Delaney, for Meghan...
For Katy, for Beth, for Eugenio
And for Jen...
I stand here today for the 72000 Adolescents and young adults diagnosed with cancer year on end.

To give a voice to those of us that are too scarred to speak
A voice to those of us that are no longer here to speak.
and a voice to those of us that are  so happy that they can finally start to see a life after cancer that they don't ever want to speak of it again.

I'm here for all the silent warriors
All those that have *****-stained chain mail, cancer cells dripping from the tips of their swords.
With chemo pumping though their veins and radiation burning through their breast plates--whose shields don ribbons and middle fingers, and crosses and curse words!
and I'm begging YOU,
OOOH you lucky few that have not the pleasure to take on this heavy, honorable, garb.
That when you're raising money.
When you're saying your prayers.
When you're deciding how you're going to make some sort of difference in this insane and tragic world.
Don't be afraid to say cancer.
Don't forget about us.
The Willow Dec 2015
How can you be
consumed with love
but not in it?
He and I
are speckled with fireflies
all around us
within us

we are the liar fighters
marching on a high wire of vulnerability and despair
and on the other side is the neighborhood of the souls of our friends
they are alive
but they are not well

we grab hands on this tight rope
and sometimes he carries me
because he knows how I'm afraid of heights.

But I'm trying.

We slept under stars barricaded by clouds
but we didn't mind,
We were blinded by the stars burning in our bottom left ribs
where we keep our empathy.

We held hands
but it wasn't planned
it was only necessary

so quiet
my mind was so quiet
it should never be this silent in a situation such as this

"I should be worried about what I look like
What I'm saying
If I'm desirable.

So they don't leave.
So I have more control. "

I am out of control
I can't force him to stay
but for the first time in a year
I might have found a home.

How can I not take the chance?

How can I not stay?
Dedicated to the Lion Man.
Michael-Angelo Aug 2015
Oceans couldn't keep me away from you, distances aren't reachable, I'll swim to you, love, street-fight or die trying, the stars and the infinite galaxies won't keep me from your love, it's the same old story, guy meets girl, but I am a fighter and a lover, I'll fight Bulls with no sword, I won't cheat, I'll use my hands, I'll run and ride wild horses to be by your side, I'll swim with sharks with no cage, fearless heart made with fiery stone, our love is deep, and I'll stop at nothing to die by your side, the same old story ... This story is endless, I'll conquer kingdoms, **** them with love to make you mine, till I crawl bare-***** ****** ravished to hold your hand and make you mine...
Just a little love poem for my current crush, hehe...!! ;)
Ignatius Hosiana Jun 2015
Their voices echo along the threads of time
I read their works on tattered pages
They say their words did but rhyme
Their's were for inspiration,not wages
They told stories like real witnesses
Of agonizing times and sicknesses
The soldiers of their sweet narrations
They say rode on horses of generations
Triumphant over the trend, glorious
Shooting arrows past lineages,like warriors
They fought against pride and Prejudice
Across boundaries, winged like Pegasus
They flew to bring merit of words and lines
And stood the test of time like wild pines  
They used sharp words instead of swords
Only received rejection ,sometimes nods
Walked long distances,endured perspiration
Sleepless ,so to cultivate some inspiration
They were young but with mature souls
Their relentless effort vividly like Moles
Burrowed through even hardened hearts
And with needles of kindness stitched cuts
Finely weaved justice on paper like Mats
And spread it for the world,across all parts
When speech was hated and persecuted
They stood strong and instead recruited
The course of changes threatened to slay
Erosion corroded letters worse than clay
Their beautiful hearts where kindness lay
Were battered and butchered causing hope to decay
A season came when all was but a lost cause
And were tales of how once upon a time it was
Yet again like a phoenix someday they rose
From the ashes of history, how? Nobody knows
They were stronger and mightier than mortals
And travelled through un fathomed portals
They built a very powerful mental kingdom
Above the prestigious tower of wisdom
Where they reigned like the fires on doom at Mordor
Freed so many prisoners of their situations
Across the entire universe and her nations
Gave them keys so they unlock more doors
Stanzas crawled like maggots across all avenues
With mixed feelings the world received the news
Though were skewed to embracing the return
Because for once they saw a flame of peace burn
Their tears were wiped by every piece they read
Poets let them realize war wasn't only in their head
Reason flowed like waters in fountains and streams
Readers believed once again in their dreams
And like poetry and poets they didn't sit back and cry
Every poem they read,sad or not told them to get up and try
And when they finally got victory over their inner strife
Not even once did they forget poems changed their life
Don't know why I wrote this one, just bumped in my head
Serge Belinsky May 2015
Cruel times, cruel hearts of fighters
Going to death under the orders of the fathers,
For the blood that binds them,
Both the brothers who fell and friends still alive,

Brutal century, cruel eyes of the war,
Staring with soulless of Satan on the human world,
Yeah heard journalists huskiness news,
Yes does not relieve a state of alarm of the soldiers ' mothers,
What are waiting for years for news of the children.

Is it possible the war to stop?
All sufferers to give a lot?
Blow out fires, bridges to restore?

But the smell of blood strong for the sharks,
Give no rest, so sweet it is.
When the war starts,
no one of the soldiers do not want ****.

But when the enemy kills a friend, who is close to, then comes the feeling of revenge, and the soldiers start killing out of revenge.
They are taking revenge for the bloodshed.

All the soldiers who honestly had fought for their homeland, is dedicated this poem.
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