I fight for my sisters
The ones whose own voice was ripped away

I fight for my daughters
The little girls who risk their lives for knowledge

I fight for my mothers
The women who gave up everything

I fight for my grandmothers
The ones who fought for me

Brandon Cotter Sep 2017

Just another hovering face amidst the millions
Clammy hands twitch like newborn foe
Instinctive to endless madness within us all
As a single entity, we gaze upon the heavens
Tattered clothes mimic these tattered lives
From which we can now be free
Darkness plummets towards earth and all its wonders
Like the master taming the frail
Silence has no place here
As it is chased down and executed in front of all
Damn you for your feathered beauty
And damn you for keeping the calm
Now our voices will be heard across the land
From deep within our lungs we will scream our last chant
Together, our clatter will crack holes in         time
Our sound will travel forever past this insanity
Further than the rage that is instilled in you
Further than the Gods which you pray upon
We will not answer to you no more as peasant flock
Our time is now to revolt against ALL aspects of your life
May our lives be a sacrifice for those who come next
As a platform to disarm the ugly we face
We have the power!
And we have the grace!
To take back what is ours!

Ninah Dau Aug 2017

graffiti walls
names splurged all over the capital
of a dead city thralled
billboards calling freedom
a marching silence's song
from windows we cry
breathing funerals we've become
of all the dead bodies
every bullet-taken soul

we fear mothers
awaiting their children
to take off their helmets
store locked their powder pieces
because laundry uniform day
becomes a flag of unforgiveness

remember to feed
spirit and soul
bleed if you must
for if someone else's child dies
it was not your own
for if someone else's child dies
it was not your fault

we are what we are
flawed at best
forgiving at last
yet we praise men in flames
yet we praise mothers' losses
cold hearted from one another
beating hearts awaiting darkness

for one cannot live
while the other remains

this is what is left of us
muderers and suvirvors
at a no winning war

For those of you who don't know, Venezuela is going through very critical times and it is so hard to wake up everyday knowing people are being killed in the streets fighting for their rights and military forces who are used as puppets who hold no fault of their own go back to their homes ashamed of a job that brings food to their tables. All of this happens while politicians tweet and rant about how hard it is to live on the best side of town, traveling to Miami and not dying for the people, but oh, have we died for them.
ICN Jul 2017

What happened?
Oh wait I remember
A president was elected
But we didn't get him
Instead we a got a dictatorial regime.

Freedom of speech was the first right to go
Slowly but surely
Prisoners of war
Accumulated in the prisons.

College kids and Activists
Beaten, raped, shot, ridiculed.
They might as well have been tarred and feathered

How sick do you have to be to shoot at a girl
With her eyes closed
Crying for her country?

How sick do you have to be to paralyze a 15 year old boy
With the rest of us
For his future?

And don't get me started on the grandpa
Who was marching
with his grandchildren

Or the violinist
Dedicating a tune to his country

All trying
To escape from this country
Plagued by insecurity, inflation, and corruption.

The only thing we have left
Is a small scrap of hope.

i don't usually write about Venezuela, because it is a very touchy subject for me but i couldn't help it after yesterday
Brianna Apr 2017

For the first time in a long time i didn't see your face or think of you when i kissed someone else. It felt good. The longing for it to be you didn't wash over me in a wave of guilt and annoyance.

Part 3 of 12. By the end of march i still couldn't finish this. I don't seem to care enough anymore. (Written - 7/03/2017)
Mason Mar 2017

yesterday with you in
March, the cherry
blossoms - please
don't miss the little
flowers in your
search for a more
giving thing because
sweet darling love,
there is none. only
the children know
this, but I think
we are all children
after the rain.

Danielle L Cook Mar 2017

happy birthday to me
and everyone else who took their first breathe today
we're the chosen ones

officially in my twenties
Stefania S Mar 2017

the grass is greening
and voices begin to rise
i wander further
the distance between the tall oaks
and my bare feet
merely a few steps

the front door
not always left ajar
often thrown off its hinges
anger an anvil of weight
a battering ram

the moon rises and night falls
withering cries
cardinals fly west
and venus readies herself
for a second showing

an exchange
invaluable its rate
but just the same
someone's coming
or going

R Saba Mar 2017

february ended without warning
and lent began, sharply unwelcome
as if time was forced to hurry itself into march
as if more than just a month was ending

something unnatural began
long, blurry days and painful nights
aching, stabbing belief in a future
that no longer existed

i do what i can to tell myself it still can
as i ride the bus, my bag occupying the space beside me
filling the empty air i drag with me
staying out as long as i can
just to avoid using the word ‘home’

something is missing
when i breathe in, my lungs are not filled
when i close my eyes, you are there
but as if far away, back turned

march drags on, the days grow longer
and i avoid the river

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