Jasmine Oct 11

Considering;
I was planted amidst the weeds
where feuds fermented
and accumulated
beneath me.

Despite growing;
amongst stronger and taller trees
where time tormented
and admonished
my deeds.

Even though;
the night sky has fallen upon me
burying me deep
in my own soil.

Graceful still grows within me;

like a dancer beckoning the room;

I am a flower in full bloom.

G ROG ROGERS Oct 7

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

My generation was raised
on Hard Rock and Motown.

The younger generations
cannot make up for the lack
of a good education.

-R.

©ASGP
Fatin Oct 2

hembus aku nafas kelelahan
membaca bait cinta yg ditulis para muda
masing-masing melempar rasa
namun siapalah aku
mengatakan tidak pada rasa indah itu?

resah kamu mungkin tenang untuk aku
tatkala dunia goncang berebut harta
aku disini masih keliru tentang rasa
kemudiannya, aku melihat lirik mata anak muda yang sedang bebas teroka dunia
indah dan segar matanya
bersinar umpama harapan cerah sentiasa menanti mereka

sempat aku pesan anak muda,
teruslah berjuang demi rasamu
sematkan cinta kepada setiapnya
agar mudah kita kemudian hari kelak

kerana aku pasti
cinta yang tumbuh itu akan bersemi
dan terus ramai...

hingga satu hari, kan seluruh dunia tersenyum.
maka, teruslah.
teruslah...menulis..


944pm
oct 2nd 17

She smells of the ink that broke grounds anew
His skin, like the paper, passed from me to you
They spoke of that era, intimately gone
These young kids waited for their whims in the sun

Their biggest statues were products of their times
Five years of longing, and two of limelight
They speak of a tongue under deep scrutiny
They wither to write and that simply can’t be

These Paperbound Heroes surrendered their souls
So that which they speak can never be controlled
Each one lingers about in a leaping house
Their structure of thymes, their words of coals

Do not forsake them for long

A dreamer bedridden to some old device
His mind of electricity kept out the lice
They’ll take your deep pockets and show you your heart
What “folly’, what “fool” will bring about a start?

The capes and the crosses, and their simple times
Where one could live free without begging a dime
They can’t save us from the books where they are bound
But it should be enough that these stories resound

These Paperbound Heroes sacrificed their souls
To fill what’s within, the new century’s hole
Each leaps about like a larking mouse
Their stature of crime, their works of tolls

They won’t follow for long

Where are the beat-down, the colleagues with crowns?
The always around, knowing what’s going down
The knowledge-filled lungs in the smoke-filled rooms
An idle guitar, the ideas to groom

The poets and dead-beats that you spit upon
Welded our worlds, those vast vagabonds
Vain as they are, rough as they come
The smallest of pawns are still parts of the sum

These Paperbound Heroes, they silvered their souls
In pure desperation to decry the poll
They lark about in the loneliest house
Their stolen rhymes, their worn-out goals

They are forever strong

The boy in the bed, well he wrote for a while
He was transfixed by the drawn, timeless smiles
So who’ll be the one that will get in his way?
And trivialize every word he will say

The girl with the gun chose to lay her arms down
She chose to cease with such visceral sound
I believe they’re happily married today
It is bittersweet to throw oneself away

These Paperbound Heroes are weary and sold
Their grasps so that they may simply grow old
But if you fret that they belong in their house
In due time, the kids will grow into their soles

Move forward with your song

ella Sep 3

our generation is filled with lies and thieves ,
filled with hate and greed.
we set so many goals but no one achieves
the doors are locked and no one has the keys
& that just makes it hard for anyone to succeed
we go to parties all the time, drink liquor and smoke weed
we try to tell the truth but no one seems to believe.
we follow because we don’t know how to lead.
you can open up to us but all we do is leave.
we cut you open and watch you bleed.

What I Feel Sep 5

Dear Generation X,
Please take a step or fifteen back,
if that is what it takes to make you see
that some of you are thoroughly misjudging me.

Dear Generation X,
Please stop sh-tting on me when you
see me in a low-paid job because you
think that I'm uneducated, when in fact I'm
earning my own money to help fund my education.

Dear Generation X,
Please don't patronise me every
time I raise my voice with an opinion
of my own, prepared to eloquently argue
up against others more than twice my age, restraining my
own temper so that I remain polite, whilst condescendingly
you reply with "you're a little brat" who should "f-ck off and find her manners."

Dear Generation X,
Please refrain from moaning about
how the youth of today's generation
never have anything intelligent to say
when you place gags in our mouths, or that we're all too thick-skulled
and should go back to school, whilst simultaneously shouting at
us all to "get a job" and "buy a house", when many of us are drowning
in student loans, granted for gaining the knowledge needed to bag a "decent job."

Dear Generation X,
Stop trapping me.

Something that has been playing on my mind for a while.
This poem is not aimed at everyone older than me, but those people who act superior and insist on berating me and others from my generation about our lives. I know many awesome people who are classed as 'Generation X', and this poem is not meant to offend you.
In truth, this poem is not meant to offend anybody, but is instead intended to educate a few people about how a lot of young people feel about how they are treated.

Syllables increase by 2 each line.
olivia g Aug 16

Wearing Converse ‘cause we’re All Stars,
leaping rails and busting through the knees of last year’s jeans,

Not sleeping, just dreaming for when it can all start over again.

But without the old, the exes and the oh’s,
how can we say we really knew the new?

Allesha Eman Jul 27

I live amongst the shadows
Lurk in shades of black
Keep my voice echoed
And leave my heart upon my back
Because my heart beats in cages
And yearns to be free
But if it weren't for my ribs
Then I wouldn't have been me
I live amongst the people
The ones with open eyes
They sleep in the shadows
And I bathe in their lies
and when the sun is shining
We hide under the clouds
Because a place so perfect
Is a place we're not allowed
So if you come looking
We would never be found
As we're locked in our cages
And our hearts are unbound

Fathima Jul 18

Look around,
You will find all eyes down;
some expressionless,
some desperate,
and few smiling!

Both tiny and fatty thumbs
yearning for a rest,
after typing those texts.
Some consulting the Doc
for having a smartphone thumb
and some for lacking vitamin D!
Posts wanting more and more likes.
Kilograms of followers on Instagram!
Swapping stories on Whatsapp!
Unopened notebooks
when you have a Facebook!
Television screens consigned to oblivion
when you have a Youtube!
Discovering the veiled world,
missing the real scenes around.

Emoticons spreading fake feelings,
Stupefying infants swiping through the screens,
Kids imploring to their parents-
To drag out the patterns.

What is more satisfying?
Hitting play button on the screen or
Hitting a six on the field?
Carting products online or
Shopping on a girls day out?
Dribbling a basket ball or
Dragging down the newsfeed?
Watching daily soaps without a dish or
Helping your mother out to wash the dish?
Sharing the snaps of poverty and hunger or
Reaching out to them with eager?
A game of candy crush or
Gifting a candy to your crush?
I feel like whooping out to myself
and to people around;
To raise their heads and
Look around!

Purely aiming my generation-the new generation!
LOOK AROUND AND DO SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE PEEPS :)
Happy reading :)

I came from a generation that stuck in between the nostalgia,
The grandeur of aesthetics and hypocrisy in the genitalia
Too many amateurs which they called pretenders
Too many pretenders which they called profounders
Of Artistry in every countries culture.

I am not the most impressive writer just like Shakespeare
Neither close to the modern writers on which they give praise
My age is a few leaps away to the end of my youth,
At twenty, I found words of impulsiveness and courage elicit from my mouth.

I am just someone who embodied the face of my leagues
They call me the soul of their generation as they please
I may write pretentiously, but I speak for the marginalized
I dream for my inked piece would reach them, I hope to get them amazed

I am the soul my generation
A little careless with my actions, telling others I'm brave
A little wild, yet I screamed that nothing bounds me
A little innocent with life's surprises, and so I apologized and called it as a mistake.
I'm a few every people that you've met.
I carry the pieces of the individuals who have touched me
I flow like the river which takes parts of the fallen objects in me.
Vulnerable to anything, Easy to gain what the heart desires
Misunderstood like the innocent criminals,
Goes along with changes
I'm maybe everything they thought I am
I'm maybe someone you never thought I am
Or nothing in with your choices
But one thing's for sure; I'm free.

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