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O, you are a success.
You are a living success.
You are a success,
that have unearthed
the chaos and unrest
in the minds of a generation
from baby boomers to millenials
from the east to the west.

O, you are a success.
You are a living success.
you left a lasting memory
and unshaken legacy
filled with utter hypocrisy
and bureaucracy
shrouded with the cry
of everlasting demand
and accomplishment.

O, you are a success.
why should you be worried.
You are a living success.
Listening to jazz,
in a blue haze of smoke,
each note like a lounge lizard
along the wall looking for shade,
and you,
so sultry in that dress,
winding your way
down the boulevard
like a princess without a crown,
can't you see this music
is a trombone filled with glitter,
and music men
only love you when they're high?
Keith W Fletcher Apr 2018
All along that grey draped zig-zagging shoreline
The men sat or stood in resolute silence
Each trying to reach back into minds
Scrambled like eggs by the fear of impending violence

Soon the hard faced men will open the gates
As the race will start as hearts will change pace
Then by push and twist they load like cattle
Into great grey hulking hearse's barely floating
Plunging through grey roiling seas toward thunder
Echoing across the channel quotation marks of the battle

That rages ,engages not turning ÷ripping out pages of history
When the water turns red punctuated by the floating dead....
........The question marks and periods
Exclamation marks in the book thats still being written ... what end?
That is what makes any plot a vagrant thought
With a premise being an unresolved mystery
Such are .....
The vagaries of the ever repeating chapters of human history!
It never fails.
All hail Generation Tongue In Mouth.
Let them go.
For they don't want you now.
It's a shame,
A weak man's game.
Let them go.
Don't you know Generation Tongue In Mouth?
Go ahead,
Break connection now.
That's just how it goes sometimes,
Don't take it personal.
That's just how it goes sometimes, don't take it personal.
No sacred book,
Or talisman,
No prayer,
Or synagogue
Or mosque,
Can ever change this truth,
Ancient and antiquated:
When two are in love,
No matter the gender,
Or identity,
The earth moves in wonder;
The mountains bow down in awe.
ollie Dec 2018
I wasn’t joking when I said we ran along the train tracks
The muscles in our legs contracting
Turning into something entirely new
It’s like waiting for a punchline that never comes
Though so many of us wish we could pack a punch
Boys cry
More than we’re comfortable admitting
We’re born being taught to cry like little girls
But when you’re painting your face in blue, pink, and white you may as well let the tears streak through
What did they do to you
Sticking needles in your body to get the right hormones
What did they do to you
Getting cut into yourself or binding your chest
This isn’t a trend
This isn’t a trick
This is cold hard wearing six layers in summer hot as dry ice
Shopping in the boy’s section as a 20 year old ‘cause you can’t fit in men’s sizes poetry
And it’s all some of us know how to write
It isn’t easy being someone who’s going to get their rights taken away
This is our voice
This is our announcement of some kind of triumph
The day they said my brothers couldn’t fight in the military I knew it hit someone
I knew it hit him
He turns bullets into butterflies
I turn ADHD million mile an hour burden of a brain into poetry
We’ll fight whether they like it or not
Words or weapons
We are the boys who cry
And don’t you ever forget it
It’s a nail biter
It’s taking nail clippers so close they’re cutting your skin so nobody sees your very hands as female
Oversized clothes and I haven’t swam around people since I was nine
We are the boys who cry
Who weave our suffering into blankets for our brothers and sisters
Who turn laments into luxuries
Because for the first time we are fighting back
So cry into your ******* liquid paradise
Because if you’re my brother
You’re the boy for it
sara May 2014
You cover yourself in a thousand tattoos
and then claim you're afraid of commitment
but they're there to stay, they're not going away
and you see the word 'love' as no different

once it's been said there's no taking it back
so you must be completely certain
that you'll feel the same way, the day after today
when you can't hide behind bedroom curtains

you ask to go slow
and say you'll let her know
when you're ready to for this to progress
you don't want any labels
just to someone to cradle
as you both quickly begin to undress

drinking and smoking to take off the edge
moaning and groaning whilst lost in the bed
your breathing is heavy, your back is all scratched
this is the life of *"no strings attached"
Justyn Huang Dec 2018
my Father planted
the seed, yet
The flower.

What kind of
shall we sow?
Family generation cultures
ollie Nov 2018
I am running out of time
To figure out what it is I want
I get chills listening to the line
Because I write like I’m running out of time
I’m running out of time
I need to to survive
I am writing every second I’m alive
Shakespeare contributed over two thousand words to the English language
So far I’ve contributed nothing
And I don’t think I ever will
But I’d like to believe history is mine for the rewriting
I want to take a boy wearing shiners to the deli
And teach him to shine his shoes
Youth is supposed to be an individual history
We are turning it into a world history
He will shine his shoes and give the world black eyes on his own
We are a generation built on marching and a reputation for trouble
We are the generation blowing off our homework to plan first walkouts and then our suicides in strokes of pen
The marching is a slow ache
And a channeling of our voices
We are determined to fight back
I was told teenagers are too young to understand true love
A definition still debated
But do you want to know what I think
True love radiates throughout us
It is a fight for our voices to be pushed through
And an affirmative nod
Of all different kinds
True love turns into war in the next ******
The love of my generation is both
It is joining hands with strangers
Because it's still the same cause
I would consider myself an introvert
But there’s a unity in every throat raw from screaming
Every foot sore from marching
Every knuckle white from making a fist
And if you think this is getting old
So are the people making the laws we fight against
We’ll get better at our cursing with time
But our youth brings ethics and creativity
So good luck getting yours back
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