Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Filomena Apr 20
I won't bite the hand that feeds me,
But I'll fight the man that bleeds me
Though the fear of him may sieze me
I won't let the terror freeze me

If we have a rightful reason
To commit an act of treason
Then I see no better season
To do more than put our pleas in

And so what if someone sees it?
Don't be quiet to appease it
To the system you don't matter
So be heard over the chatter

Can't you hear the summon pealing?
From the body comes the healing
Till the time of our releasing
Our resistance be increasing!
selina Dec 2021
they say it's a god-given right
a necessity, meant to be
a part of the American life

but tell me, do you know what it's like
to have to the cold steel of a barrel
pressed between your innocent eyes?
note: i am not completely againsts the second amendment. i am against the fact that our government allows businesses to hand out guns to people the way people give free candy on halloween— to practically anyone and everyone, even if they don't deserve it or need it.
Betty Jun 2021
My name is Martha and I'm very tired
my patience as such has long expired
so you don't want my brown skin next to your white
well madam I'm tired so I'm sitting tight
it's hot and I waited my turn in the queue
and I paid, just like him, just like her, just like you
you can carp, you can moan, you can cause all kinds of fuss
but lady I'm keeping my seat on this bus
because I'm tired
Written as a tribute to Martha White who has died aged 99. Martha made a bus protest 2 years before Rosa Parks made her historic stand. An unsung woman.
Josie Stewart Jun 2021
The world is a dark and complicated morass,
Wherein countless lost children pass
In and out of the shadows and greet each other with a smile or a nod.

Isolated, lonely little hearts playing
With complex emotions in a word staying
Abreast of all the troubling events for better or worse.

Light and laughter dwells but a moment
In tender unions just before fears foment
A cascade of ****** worries filling up the eternal halls.

Then a single flame at first finds another
Huddling in the dark over scraps Mother
Left for kindling a fire in the depths of destitution.

At first the two but soon three and more
Shelter the faltering fire taking hold for
Reviving communion among the distanced souls.

As more join a bonfire starts and talking
Not just of pleasantries you hear while walking,
But of sincere connection between scared children discovering they can conquer the dark.

Some children still pass in the dark hall,
Knowing not the darkness nor how small
They really are in the scope of the full extent of the world.

But every once in a while, more often as it grows,
A child stops and really sees what the others chose
In banding about a fire fueled by the scraps of a difficult time.
Written June 10, 2020
Edmundo Mar 2021
Are there any eyes that won’t burn
When it comes their turn
To be watchful throughout the sea of lies
To watch over a child that cries

Crying for the father that never returned
Or that rejected any stone turned
Will this children’s eyes burn
Because of the tears, or because it’s now their turn

Their turn to watch smoke paint the sky
Turn to watch the seas rise
Their time to watch their kind’s demise
Burn from watching other tearing eyes

Will the eyes of the wise be blinded?
When he has no more wisdom and has to be reminded
Will the eyes of mothers turn to ashes in the air
When they see the world they left is only more despair

Will a white dove cry
When it can’t see the sky
And its kin have turned grey
And there’s nothing we could say
To make them stay
So it’s now the turn to our eyes to burn and cry
For there are no doves in the sky
Sara Kellie Mar 2021
Wear your muzzle
and do not protest!
Attendance with others
will end in arrest.
So, keep your mouth shut
and toe our line,
Failure to do so will end
in a fine.

Your freedom is gone
for you're just a pawn.
In this game we play,
human rights are withdrawn.

Predictively programmed
your mind now is ours.
You entered a ballot,
relinquished your powers.

When all said and done
this is your own fault.
Industrial complex,
I dare you revolt.

Kaydee.
Welcome to your dystopian future.
Simon Piesse Mar 2021
The ***-bellied Mercedes squealed
As Meursault withdrew and
Marvelled at the flames
Licking
The air
Like marigolds on Ritilin.
'Raymond would have no reason not to admire this act.'
He stopped by a shimmering sea of Ubers.
The scrape and drawl of siren made no impression on him.
Leaking smoke reminded him of
Snow White’s Cottage
Where he had taken Marie when Lucie was born:
The place where he would go out at dawn to chop wood.
He liked the way her roses played
With the restlessness of children.
Then he thought: 'if only mother could see me now.'
Inspired by Camus' searing sense of injustice in The Stranger, which I'm studying with my class at the moment and by the riots in Bristol, UK
Man Mar 2021
how many protests have you watched now?
how many devolving into riots?
via violent actors, on either side
what was gained, for those we lost?
was it in vain?
did the pay outweigh the cost?
or was our venture defunct?
would civil disobedience had been better sought?
or a more brutal insurrection,
to rival those we've been taught?
just do like they'd wish
and lay down and die
Can Morning forget the violence of the Night?

For gentle dew to replace emboldened strikes
that a bird's song answers echoed screams
and glittering haze overtakes peppered smoke

Does Night whisper through the day
found in streams of pressure
empty gallons
torn paper
discarded masks
shattered glass

That Night's ***** fingers
grasping
clawing
scratching the surface of a past
carefully hidden
bleeds through pristine learned pages
to words unspoken

bandages wrapped
milk poured
least the wound bring feared change

the silvered light, a true new Morning
true dawn bursting forth in honest reconciliation
not forgetting
not forgiving

but forward

Morning and Night
pushing

but can Morning  further meaning of Night
michael Feb 2021
Nothing happened
See no evil

Its not our fight
Hear no evil

What can we do?
Speak no evil

History will judge
Our inaction
Xinjiang
Next page