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alex c Jan 7
politics ain't for men or women or anyone with a heart still in them
if you wish to remain a sane human being
stay away from this unwinnable game of agendas and addendums
filled with rooms full of janus bifrons
where money talks and bites you in the back like a python

politics ain't for boys or girls or enbys all around the world
hollow promises made with shallow words with triple meanings to secure double winnings
all make me want to hurl
sticks, stones, break their bones
i'll take control on the streets
even if i have to pry it from their hands so cold

politics ain't for the young or the old
or anyone with a soul to hold onto



so tell me



... where do i sign?
Mark Toney Dec 2019
Hong Kong China crunch
clash of ideologies—
iron mixed with clay
12/4/2019 - Poetry form: Senryu - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Fatıma Nov 2019
The city is melting in the screams
In the dead of night,
From thick skins to thin skins, 
So accustomed to fearful, bloodied scenes 

As you walk through or past 
blinking in the putrid smokes rising up like an atom explosion  
compelling you to gouge your eyes out 
or rip the flesh off your bones 
You're knocked out in a floundering hill of carcass 

I was there 
I was scared 

Unidentifiable in the crowd adorned with courage
As my people should be 
They targeted me anyway
Emptying the barrel of a dozen revolvers
Hundreds of black-clad Darth Vaders 
besieged my space once taken to be safe 

Gone are those days entrusting 'law and order'
unmasking itself as a little less human 
cutting innocent lives shorter and shorter 
learning that it's after all a shape-shifting demon 

"When I grow up I want to serve in the plice
Fools, you see what they want you to see 
A provocation or condemnation 
And they give you a taste of merciless damnation 

My people play no part in the conflict 
And yet. The demons in blue and green 
orchestrate and construct minefields to **** 
And yet. We don't plan to forfeit 

I say 'We' on behalf of journalists 
I say 'people' on behalf of journalists 
also happen to be People with Emotions 
Finding middle ground when the earth under your feet 
crumbles. Living in Commotion

Power-hungry bodies are dark voids during a war 
because money buys protection 
because status breeds greed 
Empowered bodies are overcome during a war 
because all they feel is pain and fury 
of measures shaking them to the burning core 

They fired shots after shots 
manhandling our right to exist 
Our weapon of choice is the pen
we'll show them
tyranny is so close to its end
Matthew Roe Aug 2018
Is it discriminatory to hate
the fungus that can spread in the bodies of ants.
Creeping
through the nerves
infecting
until it scrapes through the cerebral nerve
driving them mad
climbing the heights of rainforest giants
which they can’t get back down from.
When it takes their mind,
Are they now the same?

Is it discrimination,
If I **** the select black pages of a book that tumble along the desert winds, their words cursing those
under the God.
For those in letterboxes, I have a message: do you want to be defined by your value as a possession?

Is it discrimination,
To wish us rid of those who will condemn our humour and joy,
for it is a sign of humanity.
On online forums that do not have to except a human flood and a culture crushed to single metal pieces,
Will not except a yellow glutton carnivore
as president,
Will not except the red and blue beams from the sun being darkened by a night-black swarm of red and yellow striped wasps,
the vibrant joy of star fruit now as constructing as imperial gold.

Speak,
Rid your bike,
Shine your light
For Tiananmen is abroad.
Location decided not by a treaty,
But by those who cling to a rising sun,
Not shineless stars.
Inspired by a video I watched about the Chinese governments encroachment on the autonomy of Hong Kong and how a ceremony to remember the victims of the Tiananmen massacre is held in Hong Kong because such demonstrations are banned in China.
‘Winnie the pooh’=the new film being banned in China due to the president being compared to the titular character.
‘Letter box’=the current Boris Johnson controversy, in regards to the Burkha. I disagree with the Burkha because it asserts that women should base their lives around how they appear to men.
‘Single metal’/‘joy’=the EU, how it attempted to ban memes and the failure of the Euro.
‘Red and blue sun beams’=the Tibetan flag.
cher Sep 2017
i'm the third-- the third
kilometer,                 the third wheel;
somehow it feels as if i belong.
i'm different to them, but still   one.

the three of us,      laying facing up
                staring at a night sky         imperfect
and          not         beautiful, not the
post card stars we see still but
       c l o u d s    o f   p o l l u t i o n  
illuminated by the artificial ambers
      of a bustling asian city
dying          below.

we stare at the clouds,    lying in
comfortable
silence, till i break it.   a random fact,
that the clouds we saw as close were
three    kilometres away.

a memory i  
            doubt they remember,
but immortalise in these     words, words
      they'll see.

we were stupid, are still young
  and dumb--
we         splurged not on     poisons
but on jokes,
   ironic water costing limbs.
we splurged not on the
      clubs and       drinks
                    but on snacks in the
   supermarkets below,
sorethroats gone from our worries
          tomorrow.

i was third kilometre, now
three      thousand      kilometres
away from them.    i thank the
orange clouds of pollution and
the plastic      grass we had slept
      on that i'll be the third
kilometer once again,


we wait for october.
part of a collection of poems about going to visit my friends again.
Avery Glows Jul 2014
It's not
like the movies, or shows
the books and the novels.
hollywood's way of
cheesy gimmicks.
It's not
like the Hunger Games!
Where people are injected
with sweet venom of
credulous lies.
Where 2 tributes disappears.
Every year.
Because,
right now, right here,
we have more.

It is 2053.
Promises long gone.
Contracts expired and
conspiracy failed.
Betrayed.
Lied to.
Indoctrinated.
Abandoned.
Hands over heads.
We, at the mercy of
the Red Dragon.
His highness roams.
We, losing our grasps,
collapsing.

I dreamed a home of peace,
safe, with freedom.
But it crumpled into
a million pieces.
No more teases.
When they had won.

Some people fled.
Unbearable of
the roads, tainted red.
They got lucky.
But I'm just a fuming middle aged
worthless powerless whatshername.
Talk about pity.

"I'm young!"
But you'll grow old.
And I tell you of this.
I warn you of this!
Because I see it
so clearly,
so vividly,
in your eyes.
I see no future of us.
Just our minds twisted.
Blood and gore mixed
with all that we witnessed.
Just healthy looking robots.
Patriotic robots.
Who has forgotten
everything.
For,
Hong Kong. And all people there trying to defend it.
It's hard, I know. It's a struggle, with no end. It's getting messier, day by day. But this is our place, our land, our home. And we defend it.
Stay strong hkgers.

— The End —