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honestly it feels like to me kids nowadays are being killed by words, perceptions, appearances, by a war being fought in the streets based on these things. we've pitted ourselves against each other because of these intangible yet malleable things and it's hard for me not to wonder when these feelings began. was it in our ancestors during the ice age, fighting for survival. survival. wow. survival
          - r.i.p to all the brothers who have lost their life because of modern day mankind's perception of- survival
Nicole H Oct 1
it’s almost as if i can see through you at times, it seems,
your translucent, slender torso leaning on a rim
with a **** of your head, you look at me through the eye of

a dripping jungle, a tropical storm gargling
a homely beating, a nostalgic scene brewing
a solitary pension, a forlorn siren searing

“it is i,” you say as we pass by the lips

yet it’s almost as if i can see through you no more, it seems,
your opaque, flimsy torso bending on a rim
with a sleight of my teeth, you look at me through the eye of
the shreds of a battered bond; nothing more.
Frank DeRose Sep 28
Crawl on, soldier.

Crawl in the name of liberty,
Justice for all.

March on, sister.
With your shoulders slumped and spirit downtrodden,
March for your life.

Drain the swamp, fellow sewage workers of the republic.

Flee to the ballots,
To that last bastion,
The last remaining bulwark of our republic. 

Cast your votes.

Cast them in steel and forge them in hot coals
Let your anger rage,  
Break, blow, burn,
And make us new.

Run through the dogs,
Through the fire hoses,
And tear gas. 

Cry, and salt the America of old.
Run through the deniers,
And **** sympathizers
Cast and cut them down

With your voices,
Loud and clear.

Let the peal of truth ring out,
Let freedom ring! 

Invite Langston Hughes to the table,
As company,
For he, too, is America.

Choose the ballot or the bullet,
In the words of Malcolm X
Who, too, is America.

Just as surely as #MeToo
Is American
As American as apple pie,
As American as you or I.

March to the ballots,
March for your America.

Despite the words of our current senators,
And those who would question your experiences,
And deny you were *****,
Deny you were shot down,
By lawmakers and police and agents of oppression—

Despite all their yelling and bravado,
They are scared of you.

Because, you, too, are America.

So march on, brother, sister, countrywoman—

March to the ballot.
Maya Jul 30
hollow shells.
am I talking about

trust no one

helicopters give them panic attacks.
am I talking about
war veterans?

is there a difference these days?

this blood spatter on the walls
will keep getting painted over

when we speak of courage,
we talk of those long dead.
the heroes
the martyrs
the saints.

but I've seen courage.
it's in the fight.
it's in the picket signs at marches
held up like pleas to the heavens.

it's in the kids who threw themselves in front of a gun
and lived.
dying bravely means

fight until your lungs give out.
fight until your knuckles are ******.
fight until your knees are trembling.
and then,
keep fighting.
survivor's guilt.
Amanda Jun 24
March is drawing to a close
Snow is starting to melt
Wish I could say the same
About the warm feelings felt

I am the one who walked away
Why am I in so much pain?
Sunshine heats my cheeks
While tears fall from eyes like rain

Icy stare turns my heart cold
Used to be filled with love
Your glacier eyes painful to look at
So I train sights above
Written 3-25-18
Hamsters on parade
they don't disappear or fade
a constant attack, or a raid
across my floor they sashay

Wisps of fur flying
not living, not dying
and yes, multiplying
under sofa and chair
they still play

One day, not yet here
I'll walk without fear
and no longer shed tears
my Hamsters no longer
dog made
I'm sitting here watching my dog's furry reminders, it's time to sweep, vacuum, and mop the floors, Arrrrgh!
Do not worry about our march to freedom,
with two steps forward and one step back,
do not worry about the pace that we lack.
Do not be disappointed by the hurdles we face,
as we jump one, another’s put in place.
For we will get there come what may.

Do not be angry about the words that are said,
as we dispel one lie, another is brought,
do not be angry about the myths that are taught.
Do not be daunted by the struggles that lie ahead,
as one fire is dowsed, another is fed.
For we will get there I’m sure some day.

Do not be disheartened by the mountain to climb,
as we climb higher and turn the tide,
do not be disheartened if we slip and slide.
Do not be weary of the journey still to go,
As we walk fast, they walk slow.
For we will get there come what may.
JR Rhine May 18
There is a bullet in a box of crayons with really strange names like Parkland Perrywinkle, Sandy Hook Sanguine, and Great Mills Green in a place where children play Russian Roulette with their school supplies when they reach in to grab one and they’ve been learning about probability this week Forrest Gump will tell them you never know if you’re going to finish the lesson or turn into a statistic my sister likes to create mosaics by putting a hairdryer to crayons melting cascades of wax down a blank page sometimes she reaches in and it’s the one lead crayon at the top of the page and it’s only one color that seeps down into the crevices of the cafeteria’s tile floor that proceeds to wash away the Proud Honor Roll Parent stickers washes away the Proud Honor Roll Parent stickers I see another child reach into the box and I write another word problem I write another word problem: “Zoey reaches into a box of crayons. What is the likelihood she will not get to hang her drawing up on her kitchen refrigerator? What is the likelihood her funeral photo will hang there instead?” Draw students’ attention to the key word “likelihood.” Tell students This word shows that the question is asking whether or not you will live to tell your parents how your day at school was. and I wonder when school desks will take the shape of caskets in a place where both screams of laughter and screams of terror
are permitted
TRIGGER WARNING: My Fiance and I were just talking last night about how this poem, written at the time of March for our Lives, seemed a little passe. And here we are, another school shooting in Texas. On average, there has been a school shooting every week in 2018. Most kids are worrying about whether shrimp poppers is on the menu this week, whether it's an A or B week. They shouldn't have to worry about getting shot at. Never again.
Come and join the parade
Make no mistake
We march for heartache
For when it all comes down to fade
So take each step in the state
Where there is no fate
To follow along
So come and join our song
Trust me this is what you need
As long as you stay here
You'll never disappear
That is certainly garunteed
On this march tonight
Trust me your host
As our song burns each face alight
So come on down
Let's make a toast
To the town
Of no faith
Where we will bless
Them out of this mess
Trust me the wraith
Who marches with no shame
In the parade
That made
No name
But try to stay
Before it hits five
On this very day
Trust me
And trust in what you can see
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