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Talia Jan 27
To you, their rights
are a minority priority

You're entitled, spoon fed
Gorged with greed
a coralling disease

Dormancy
a fence that protects you,

but a barbed wire noose
                           wrapped
                           round their throats.

You're just another ring
in the chains of oppression
just needed to be said really. saddened by the inaction of humankind.
tried to play around a bit with formatting.
Yachika Sharma Oct 2020
I think nobody understands the pain,
of living with constant fear.
I am tired of seeing women oppressed,
being hit, only bruises to show.
It is not okay to seal her lips then question,
why she took time to come out.
I will lose it if someone says that home
is where I'll be safe, oh I am not.
She is not, She is not, Oh she is not,
she is not, she is not, Oh I am not.
Chad Young Sep 2020
O noble light, o noble lights!
The babe has learned to crawl,
and the virtues which we possess
call continually to the poor and
oppressed among us. I don't know
when this cry may ease, but
the Bugle tells us to buttress the hearts of
these oppressed folk.

We are not to stay still upon our light, rather
we are to make it burn brighter in our hearts.
This is the day to make our character known in the
hearts of the oppressed.
Standing in line at Wal-Mart
Grey Jun 2020
WE CAN’T BREATHE
WHEN YOU COVER OUR MOUTHS.
6/5/2020
Donate. Vote. Raise awareness. Sign petitions. Protest. Educate yourself and others. Email authorities and those who can make concrete change. Use your voice. Advocate for equal rights. Share ways others can help. Let’s end this madness Now.
Coleen Mzarriz Apr 2020
Memoirs can be abandoned —
her empty heart
is what drives her strong
just like what she covers,
in her face.

Ghosts of their shadows
spelled out in her grip — call upon them
like a spirit
that desires to be summoned.

She was standing amid the ghost town — there she was closing her eyes — stomach churning,
when she recognized him.

They were glaring at each other
who will triumph?
It was that vie —
of whom should move first — “I still love you.”

He spoke with a smirk — her thoughts are like the battleground
“Should I trust him?”
She called for her shadow — only the beeping noise
of the cricket's songs
can be drawn in the area — she grappled to resist
the cracks,
frightened, it will shower.

He threw that stifle laugh
a natural one — she couldn't ignore;
He attempted to contain
the rushing vessels
that forced them to be one.

They tried to settle in the present — left the Ghost Town
of their oppressed minds
imprisoned
the aged allure,
at the back of their heads.

Maybe — this way
will work,
and they don't have to fight anymore.
Ghost Town of oppressed memories.
Nolan Willett Jun 2019
In ancient unenlightened days,
There came a man whose triumph would’ve laid
Foundations for a better world,
Our inner compassions unfurled.
For we thought we found a holy seer,
To rid our lives of all our fear,
To tell us what to say and what to think
What to do and what to drink.
He did his best,
I can attest,
To warn us of that one,
Who would see all our progress undone.
Indeed, many in our history have been
Told what constitutes sin,
Left with a hurtful scar,
By one who never wandered very far.
And our true messiah saw
This prophet for a gaping maw,
Another of the tempter’s tricks,
A man whose touch could heal the sick.
For he loved God more than most
But found him in the cosmos,
Our divine provenance,
Rooted in collective consciousness,
Not an oath to take or die
Or a being to mollify,
Nor any kind of credo,
But an universal ego.
Heeding logic over gullibility
He recognized the liability,
One who would see them die for naught,
And stray them from the insight they sought.
But in trying to break the cycle
He heralded its arrival,
Enshrining the sun,
Of the cursed three-in-one.
He made a martyr
And thus followed generational slaughter.
Promising sacred haven,
Causing war and famine.
For deceivers are known to appear as savior,
For them there is no pleasure greater,
In casting down the righteous,
And rendering them mindless.
And so millennia could have been spared
From some cruelty our kind have shared-
So long and so onerous, never ending-
And our pity’s rending.
The earth’s inhabitants coalesced,
No longer their souls oppressed,
Saved from prejudice,
Alas, poor Judas.
Sorry I published this a couple times I had to fix some things and I like it so
Clay Face Mar 2019
Through my own tyrannical enforcement
I spew insipid scripted statements
I do not support nor enjoy.
Afraid to be aberrant
Oppressed I am pushed to lecture repugnant contradictions against my own disposition.
Turgid loathing of the fear of dropping the expected facade
Supported by ego and enforced by group-think to mold a homogenous majority.
I hate self pity.
Here marinating in my own self indulgent sorrow.
I am a hypocrite.
Another one of my enemies.
But weakened by forcing myself to state the opposite of what I value,
I open myself to further self destruction.
Through this introspection I might be able to reclaim my social autonomy.
Possibly at the cost of diminution of social impression.
That is held at such divine standards today.
I might become a social martyr.
But at least I’d die complete and confident in my own voice.
It would open me to ridicule.
But I’d rather understand myself and be subjected to hate than to live objectively in a self confined contrived reality.
Mary Mar 2019
You’re loud and you’re rude
   and you embarrass me
I quietly put up with it

You demean me and you
   hurt my feelings
Yet I quietly put up with it

You raise your fists
   in anger at me
And I withdraw in fear

And pray for the day
   when I will have the strength
to stop being so quiet
Eloise Rose Mar 2019
We are supposed to express whatever lies deep with In this chest
But as soon as it get too much
It’s end is abrupt
And it is hushed
And it is shoved
Back into the recess of depression
Of which it was born
Of which oppression
Will finally adorn
Us who’ve been silenced
Us who mourn
Charlie's Web Feb 2019
An open letter to my mothers boyfriend,

When you blame millennials for the current state of our nation, you are disregarding the environment we've learn to survive in. Cookies hanging over our heads, blindly following the sound of people celebrating empty dreams. Dreams recited by our fathers.  I am not trying to place blame on you, as I know you too have been infected by these unspoken rules. You too had a cookie hanging over your head. But I want you to know that our cookies just look different. As time passes recipes’ recalibrate and cookies transform. And I feel for you, maybe you’re still chasing the cookie, maybe it’s getting harder to chase, or maybe you ate the cookie and still felt hungry. But if we really want to have this conversation, about the current state of our nation, I’m gonna need for you to stop talking about cell phones and 20 something year olds and start talking about where these cookies came from!
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