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Brent Kincaid Apr 2016
The land of the free
The huddled masses
Salute the flag and
Raise your glasses.
Just going along fine;
You never had a hunch
And then America gives
A sneaky sucker punch.

With malice toward none
The land of equality
Everyone the same
Just like you and me,
Unless he is black
Or some other non-white.
Then, not really equal.
No, sorry. Not quite.

The rules are laid out,
Not in the constitution.
To be okay in the USA
Is an ironclad institution.
You don’t make waves,
Or rise above your station.
A handpicked few white men
Are in charge of this nation.

The land of the free
The huddled masses
Salute the flag and
Raise your glasses.
Just going along fine;
You never had a hunch
And then America gives
A sneaky sucker punch.

So, don’t start whining
About equal opportunity.
That really isn’t for you
Only for the likes of me.
I’m a rich white man, you see
I control most of what there is
Which is almost everything.
Tell you when to take a whizz.

There are haves and have-nots
And you know which you are.
If you’re lucky you get to own
A TV and inexpensive car.
But other than voting for
The two parties we allow
You just pay taxes, that’s it.
Nothing else, not ever, not now.

The land of the free
The huddled masses
Salute the flag and
Raise your glasses.
Just going along fine;
You never had a hunch
And then America gives
A sneaky sucker punch.
Cat Fiske Apr 2016
To those whom this may concern,

I am 17 years old,
I am a junior,
and I wish to be treated,
with the same respect,
I have given out,
to all faculty,
no matter the location,
I understand that in life,
not everything,
can go your way,
and people,
make mistakes,
it's part of being,
human.
I myself,
have made tons,

the difference between,
my mistakes,
and that of the regions,
is how I know to,
admit my wrong doings.
I have not once,
lied about anything,
I have done wrong,
I have been taught,
to say,
that I made a mistake,
or messed up,
but our region,
has taught me,
that when,
you mess up,
you should lie,
to save your face,
rather then admit,
to your shortcomings,

With that said,
The respect,
that I have,
given to the faculty,
has been nothing but,
respectful,
It's shocking to see,
how this region,
can not return,
that respect back,
to me and,
other students,

However,
I cannot speak,
for other students,
and I will not,
but in my own,
experience,
in the region,
it hurts me to know,
that several faculty members,
think that it's respectful,
to lie through their teeth,
about matters of where on,
the regions side,
the mistakes were made,

It's hard to perceive,
that people are lying,
when you have heard,
more variations,
of incidences and reasoning,
then you can count,
on your hands and feet,
The story you tell,
should be similar,
day to day,
week to week,
but it never is,
and the reasoning behind it,
always places the blame,
on someone else,
As I have learned,
the region likes to push blame,
onto others,
until the blame,
has been moved around,
so much the faculty,
no long know,
the lies or truths,
they have told,

I have tried,
to forget and forgive,
and when I do,
things that still,
do not work out,
or fix themselves,
like I have been promised,

I have sat though classes,
where the faculty,
egg on my classmates,
to throw the same insults,
they say, towards me,
Eventually these classmates do,
because they learn to,
from the educators in the room.

How do you punish kids,
picking on you,
saying things that only,
the faculty members,
in the confidential meetings,
are suppose to know,
When things in,
your confidential meetings,
are shared by participants,
in the meeting,
in an un-confidential setting,
as they ask you questions like,
"why can't you do this",
"why do you need more time?
Everyone else has finished,
stop being slow and get it done,
like everyone else,"
"why can't you do this,
why don't you at lest try,
come on its not that hard,
everyone else can but you,"
this would make you feel bad,
about yourself,
And the faculty,
makes the students,
think it's okay,
to say these thing to me,
like they have done,
many times before.

This is not old news,
because these are things,
that have failed to be addressed.
This is one source of trauma,
I have to keep living though.
I am tired of being,
scared and fearful,
every morning when I try,
to come to school,
because I am hoping,
nothing  bad will happen,
today or the day after,
I am stuck,
in a constant fear,
because of my un-addressed past.
Most days I can not,
ignore these fears,
and I'm lucky,
that its is not as bad,
as it used to be,
but none the less,
it's still a constant struggle.

The fact that I feel,
I can no longer trust,
some of the faculty,
in the building,
because they push me away,
during my times of struggle,
But I would hope,
at a high school level,
they wouldn't try to play me,
for a foolish little kid,
like they used to,

I'm not okay,
with people trying to,
pin me and my mother,
against each other,
The region has made me,
and my mother,
lose our relationship,
for almost a decade,
We finally have started,
to get close again,
but once again,
I see the region,
ripping my family,
to little pieces,

It reminds me,
of my third grade self,
Who didn't understand,
what was wrong with her,
and why she was treated,
so differently,
who was getting yelled at,
in school,
and then got punished,
at home,
because teachers couldn't see,
some things were hard for her,
She would pull her teeth out,
to leave the class,
and if her teeth were not loose,
she pulled her hair out,

I've been scared of school,
since I got there,
I used to *** my pants,
if someone came near me,
and said hello,
I was confused and scared,
of everything,

Yet everyone told me,
how I was stupid, and different,
and then they told me,
I was fine at the same time,
None of this,
makes much sense to me,
but would it make sense,
if it was done to you,
or if you were in my shoes,
No school system,
should tear apart,
someone's family,
and make a child,
traumatized by trying,
to learn,
like everyone else,

I'm getting tired,
of being nice and respectful,
to people who lie to me,
to cover up their own mistakes,
and I've mostly dealt with it,
with a fake smile,
across my face,
But I can no longer,
let people walk all over me,
like I'm dirt,
on the side of the road,
I will not walk away,
until I am treat and granted,
the same respect,
of that of an adult,
I'm old enough,
to know,
I have to respect the faculty,
at the school,
but they seem to have forgotten,
how to do so,

I can only change,
myself and I can not,
change anyone else,
but what I have learned,
from elementary,
through high school,
is that you have to,
cause a problem,
to get anything done,

So if I must,
throw a tantrum,
and scream and yell,
and be disrespectful,
against my own nature,
to get my point across,
so be it,
But I'd rather,
be myself,
and talk to the faculty,
at the school,
person to person,
adult to adult,
It's harder and harder,
to see who I can trust,
when the faculty,
doesn't trust me enough,
to tell me the truth,

I am 17 years old,
and a Junior in high school,
I have never been held back,
so don't treat me,
like a sophomore,
or try to hold my hand,
like I'm five years old,
I have learned to use my voice,
and speak up for myself,
This is why I'm stating,
how I feel,
I'm mature enough,
to see what really works for me,
I know better then any of you,
what works and what doesn't,
You are nothing close to me,
because I am nothing close to you,
The only thing,
that you can do for me,
is truly just treat me how,
I treat you,
so let me use my own voice,
and ask for help,
when its needed,

Please stop assuming,
you know all the answers,
to my problems,
Maybe then,
I will be less anxious,
about being in school,
Or maybe what has been done,
cannot be erased,
and I have to learn,
to deal with it,
on my own.

If that's true,
so be it,
but I'd love it if everyone
could stop trying,
to provoke my anxiety,
It would make me feel happier,
then I have in years,
All I ask of the faculty,
is for the same respect,
I give to you,
Respect is a two way road,
I've given it to you,
now it's your turn.
I sent this in email form and letter form not poem form to my school. they told me "cat if your having a problem, please stop by my office and make an appointment. Have a good weekend"
B Irwin Apr 2016
In society,
Women are always told they are too much.
Too angry, too calm
Too quiet, too loud
Too big, too small
And we are all of these things
We are angry.
Angry about the internalized oppression that still flows on a day to day basis. We are angry about our predefined roles of what girl is, what girl should be.
And we are too calm.
Calm about the man that called you a name in the street and all you wanted to do was cry
Or the teacher that told you you couldn't do what you wanted because it was a mans place, not a woman's
You should have yelled, but you didn't. Because we are too calm.
We are too quiet.
We are silenced.
Our opinions are ranked of worthiness by our physical features, our body types. Our intelligence is last to our ****** appeal. We can not be heard through the babble of social media judging and critiquing and pointing out our flaws. So we are quiet.
And we are loud.
We have the ability to speak for the world. To weave the revolution out of the words of women. We have the voice to speak to our sisters globally, teach women that we are loud. We can drown out prejudice with the power of voice and bring down the barrier of how a girl should be.
We are small.
Told that our personalities are preset by the gender normalities that the patriarchy has placed, we are shrunk to fit our predefined roles. They cut us into shapes so we can not realize that we are so much bigger.
Because we are big.
We are huge. We have global impact. While we are cut down, I would like to see us glue each other back together. I want to see women take back our voices. I want to hear women all over the world speak how they feel, bust through the barriers of what the patriarchy has told them. Fight back against their rapists, abusers, silencers. When someone tells you that you are being too much, say "I am. And I am becoming so much more."
Jack McShea Apr 2016
When you have an idea
They say “That won’t work”
When you try to be cool
They say “You’re a failure”
When you try harder
They say “You’re not good enough”
But
You can overcome
Overpower
Become more
And they will say
“You win”
Brent Kincaid Apr 2016
Bell bottom hip huggers
And my Frankenstein shoes
That had stack soles and heels
That I could only barely use.
A crop-top sleeveless tee shirt
With a superman emblem on it
And diamond ring on my hand.
In case I might have to pawn it.

Because we were picketing
Downtown at the City Hall
And at some police stations.
It was the seventies after all.
Our parents raised us to acquiesce
It was their America they protected.
And it was just exactly this blindness
That we, en masse, all rejected.

We failed to understand them
The generations that came before
That prized prejudice and bias
And celebrated sending us to war.
We felt there was another way
To go about sweeping social change.
We saw beating and fire hosing
As nefarious and more than strange.

We got beaten ourselves and jailed
For just pointing injustice out to them
And watched our sit-ins and love-ins
Turned into scenes of ****** mayhem.
We heard them call us all criminals,
Long haired ******* was a favored taunt.
It seems we were entitled to our opinions
As long as we didn’t chose to flaunt.

It felt so very much like **** Germany
Including storm troopers and jack boots
And the local politicians were obviously
At least agreeing if not in cahoots
With the police in their fear of rebellion
And protecting their good paying jobs.
So, they beat us and vilified the students
Calling them ***** communists, and slobs.

And, yes, some of us were getting high
Back in our homes and apartments.
Sometimes it seemed the only way
We could deal with the estrangement
Between what our country said it was
And what it turned out it really was.
It was hard to realize our land wasn’t free
And there was no social Santa Claus.
Hida Abbad Mar 2016
There is a storm
That is turning hearts into story tellers
And Wise elders chanting an ode to sadness
Hoping its fists could claw a way out
Of their sullen eyes and stretch just far enough
To polish the clouded thoughts of quiescent beings

A storm of gray splatters on otherwise perfectly blue skies
Filled with reflections of first school days, and Makeshift street stadiums
A storm of children turned into ghosts
Haunting the mausoleums that these streets have become
As the gray splatters slowly turned into ****** ones
And the trust of men was put into guns
Instead of other humans
As though cold lifeless metal
Could compete with a beating heart
As though men who happen to be white
Are most appropriate to decide who wins the battle
No body wins the battle, No body wins in war
There are only rubbles, and catacombs
For the comfortable ones, who convinced themselves
That they were bestowing favors on the dying


Fleeing death is apparently not a good enough reason
To be deserving of a land that was never even ours
And mourning little boys found on shores
is only good until the hashtag is out of season

so you tell me, does sadness reside in the pity
of a heart seeking reassurance of its goodness
or does it surrender when it meets the resilience
of children who made their roofs out of starry nights
for every oppressed spirit <3
synchronize debt
and
unfortunate occasion

apply a pinch of poverty
and
unreachable secession

integrate inconsistent economy
and
lack of intuition

and then you'll be america
and
it's financial oppresion
rough draft poem in science class xD
Quisha Feb 2016
The Head is dead
Not much to be said.
We jump and wave,
Jump and wave.

The Head is dead
No tears be shed.
We jump and wave,
Jump and wave.

My only love disposed of by
your mindless hate.
Now.. If the Head be dead..
No mo' fear led.
We jump and wave,
Jump and wave.

Like when ****** dead
We rest easy in our beds,
Then jump and wave,
Jump and wave.
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