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babe stirs
safety a wild call
lost to night

blood ties shunned
explosions blurring
lines

diesel spillage
corrosive
chill

breaking walls
of sleeping
child

carnivorous plants
insects torn to
shreds

by those lost
removed from
breath

passing pause
brisk breeze
grants space

as dawn
stirs
sentience
organized abuse
of every kind
impacts generations
of innocent
children
until dawn
of awareness
arises
and one
manages
to break
free
highly recommended, highly nutritional, highly idealized, highly regarded, highly aware that my skin should be as tender as Jesus, a concoction of milkweed and baby's breathe, highly worthy of a man, high volume, high capacity, highly considering the recipes from God's kitchen, the smell of ***** and peppermint, highly bronzed and beautifully sick.
Whisper Yes Apr 5
She sits on a stool in the kitchen
The last of the evening sun caressing her face

She spent the last 2 hours dancing
Her body being moved by the music
Freedom flowing through her veins

She couldn't talk that day
All she could do was allow her body its voice
Trusting it to show her the way

She lit 4 candles
One for each of them
Her mother
Her sister
Her grandmother
And her

Her body moving
Freeing each of them as she moved
Past present and future dancing
Secrets whispered and revealed through her body
Dan McGowan Nov 2018
The pull from the tree
That has poison fruit
Drags me in
Makes me eat
Against my will
Until I see
My feet walking
My hand picking
My mouth eating
That fruit again
What is the draw
This gravity tree
Why can’t I think
This animal pull
That drives me
To this fruit
I could ask Eve
I’m sure she knows
Unlike the man
Who just blames
Is that snake a rope
That binds my free will
Or are they fruits
From my labor
The magnetic pull
Of the dark
All that I know
Is please find a way
That takes me away
From the shadow
Of this tree
sometimes i write in first person even if it's not me, sometimes it's me.
ollie May 2018
I remember a man who told me I was going to lead the revolution
The conversation was really quite one sided
He was talking to himself, really, addressing our class
Saying he would remember our names if he ran into us, laughing
And I said, rather quietly, “We’ll see about that”
And I don’t understand how a man can turn to a child which such certainty like that
With a voice and demeanor like mine
And simply say, “Please, how could I forget you? I’ll turn on my TV one night and your name will be there with the caption ‘Leads 110,000 on march to D.C.’ You’ll head the revolution.”
And it makes no sense
As if he knows what’s been consuming my thoughts lately
I’m scared to grow up
Not in this way where I don’t want to lose my childhood
Let’s be honest I made myself grow out of childhood a while back
But to grow up and watch my generation do nothing to fight back
Like we saw the generation before us do
Would I lead a revolution?
If I had enough to fight with me
But I’m scared we’ll let them rule us
Day after day
And we’ll be in agony
But I want to move years forward and tell them that such a life is not living
And I’m scared
So how did a man know something that frequents my thoughts at this daring hour
Or maybe he can see the future
And knows precisely what I plan to do with my intelligence and intuition
He must know I don’t have much
Teachers are strange about those things
That’s why I want to be one
But to the man, I hope you’re right
Because I have a group of peers I don’t want to see fall to an enemy they’re ignoring
It’s an elephant in the room, but if it’s up to me my peers will be riding them out of the room and through the House
So thank you for believing me, sir
You’ll see about what I can do
yeah, a teacher actually said that to me, and i’m really confused. because lately that’s the only thing i think about: the revolution and when it’s coming.
Greco Mar 2018
Youth is only accepted when the cameras are ready.
Pose for a picture by reason of Getty.
Gone are the days of sticks and stones and spilled milk.
We live in a melting *** that has been dropped and spilt.
This is not an adults swim only.
We will all jump into the pool.
This is not a land of first come, first serve.
I speak cause I’ve got nerve.
Our age is not a reflection of our IQ.
Our age is the tape that covers our mouths.
Our age is not a representation of our wisdom.
We won’t be seen and not heard.
Because our voices are the anthem of a rebellion.
I wrote this because so many adults in my life have tried to keep me from expressing my feelings.
Raquie Nov 2017
Back at it
Like
A crack addict

White *****.

**** that ****'s morbid.
These stereotypes, I ain't for em
& honestly I'm getting sick of talm bout race

Cause I know I'm the fastest
But you rigged it babe

acting like you down for me

Saying, that ****** is a clown for me

Modern
Day
Slavery

My libido is not your entertainment
But it is
& that's all I am to you

*** appeal
Strong broad shoulders
Smooth brown skin
Reflecting the sun
You just wanna soak it in
This 12 inch sacred ****

       *               *               *

Energy Theif
Preying on the weak
-POST-
-TRAUMATIC -
-SLAVE-
-DISORDER-
He's at war with himself
-WILLIE LYNCH-
Vulnerable cause he don't know his lineage
Generational discombobulation
Instilling addiction, rage, & unhappiness

Self Sabotage
Your people made us this way
SAVAGE?
Like Chitown Drilla Music
That's just what we'll be
Coming for you & all you got
Materialistically
Freewrite on perspectives of white women dating black men & some of the unsaid truths & opinions.
Rachel Apr 2017
you are needed back home.




we are watching

your pixels

move and breathe

but life lacks through this screen.




the connection is gone.




still, this day

it mimics the old.




your batteries run flat.
Zero Nine Apr 2017
This is how we go
how it goes where
it goes, why, though?
Why, though?

Could be any reason.
Smoke all day.
Could be, could be.
**** keeps thought
coming open on it
honest in a beautiful
way. Could be any
reason. Then what of
the stressed breath
exhalation, my others?
What of the imprint
apathy? I alone live in
fear, with so many
fearful near. It must be
most of us but if it's only
some, then where's the
map to you, lonely? Puff
and cough and deliver
words we want in ear at
the close of any day. I
could picture myself dying
every night, go from dance
to stand to sit, to bone from
clay to sand from grasping
in embrace with you.

This is how we go
how it goes where
it goes, why, though?
Why, though?

Could be any reason.
Could be, could be.
...
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