Can two people be too broken to know what they have goes further than what's spoken? Can two people be too broken to hold it together despite every knee **** reaction? Can two people be too broken to pick the right fights amidst the amateur crimes of passion? Can two people be too broken? Yes And I think that we might I know the answer but not the solution
What gives cops the right to do whatever they please?!?! Forcefully vacating premises that on a whim they seize Rendering multiple people homeless Innocent or not Not caring if the right perpetrator is caught Deceiving to benefit their colleagues and careers Law-abiding and criminals alike filled with fear Padding pockets with taxpayers money How come the majority can’t see something’s funny? And if their comfy salaries are not enough Slyly shake down any person they cuff Too often dollars are unreported Come up missing after everything is sorted No justice for the public Rich or poor Those poverty-stricken get ****** much more If you can afford bribes you at least have a shot Even then Not every pig can be bought They wear badges so they face no consequences for sin Abuse power again and again And it’s obvious to anyone with eyes to see Citizens powerless in the land of the free If we rise and protest we’ll gain their attention End up in jail if we even dare mention The multitude of ways rights are violated We stay silent while the system is hated Because if you do catch police doing wrong In court hear the same ******* song They work together to keep us from what’s fair Doesn’t matter where you go Corruption is everywhere So do not expect aid from the government or a judge Like law enforcement Their opinion won’t budge Every option offered to help Just another fallacy the media sells They are all in cahoots We’re ******* from the start Look at statistics spread out on a chart So do we rebel when the law’s not on our side? Those sent to protect us only lied My whole life been taught cops are not who to trust Everyone around me is brainwashed they must In vain I hope our country will change Have no clue what it will take to rearrange Til then go on hunkered down and scared Praying by miracle my freedom will be spared I know I am good deep in my soul But know better people who end up on parole For now ******* may have the upper hand America It’s time to finally take a stand We are strong enough To succeed if we unite We can make a difference Push for what’s right No matter who you are Black or white Put our differences aside Give our all and fight
Honestly we probably can’t fix this But there’s a chance we might
I hate cops more and more every day. I have literally lost everything I own for a second time because of them. And I may not be 100 percent guilt free but I know my rights were definitely violated while this happened. *******...
As I ride my bicycle, Its wheel going a dull dum-dum-dum on the veranda tiles. I hearken to the straining of the bicycle chain and screeching o so soft when I turn the steering. I feel as though something is changing in me. A light cool breeze enters my chest, expanding, releasing, expanding, releasing. As I listen to the endless melodies of the stone tile, I feel as though something is changing in me. As I hear the faint yawn of the wheels, I feel cracking, twisting, shedding, and I realize, the work of the bicycle and tile.
Change and wisdom may come from very unexpected places, it is your duty to pay attention, all senses and energies concentrated.
Never be afraid Let go Reinvent yourself how you'd like to show A fresh new image of own design Reborn person fantastic and fine Always encourage creativity Give it acres of room to romp and run free Be mentor to the self within Guide to the surface of your skin Teach to be confident and comfortable Take care to be cautious and stay out of trouble Always reach for stars shining bright Charge ahead bravely with all your might
It may not be in the deepest soil Where light and water abound Yet each tiny seed will strive and toil To grow in their given ground
Some seeds are sown by loving hands All buried quite snug and sound While others fall in rock strewn lands To claim as their given ground
We hear no cries of pain or delight As each seed’s place is found For each one feels their spot is right To thrive in their given ground
Express your life with joy and might And may your efforts be crowned Whether your soil be deep or slight Grow well in your given ground
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What spot of ground were you given in this life? Was it deep nourishing soil, with lots of love from a gardener? Or do you feel you were tossed into scant rocky soil and somehow expected to thrive there? This poem expands on that idea, and is a personal poem for my wife and me.
It stems from a scriptural story about olive trees and a Lord of the Vineyard who transplants different shoots and branches into various spots of the vineyard. Some are planted in good spots, and others in poor spots, but the Lord of the Vineyard has a plan.
Leaf blower suicide. German going in & out. The precious things. Lay on back. Looking up. Doing only what is known. Wondering what isn't. Going side to side. Talking. Talking. Talk the ride home. We only went to Wyoming.