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SelinaSharday Feb 2018
The world is crying!!

poets where are you, we all need you God has gifted you!

To help hearts of this world make it through..

Where are you?..

The World around us is falling..

Parts of it feeling tragedy feeling disastrous.

feeling help us Lord stand with us.

Poet, Leaders, Teachers, Ministers, come through,

Motivators where are you!

Rain is pouring..

Don't sleep on us hope your not snoring.

We are standing we are fighting, we are protesting.

We don't know what to do, our world is troubling.

Days appearing cloudy, whats our world coming to.

Is the world being punished for its iniquities,

Is this meant to bring us to our knees.

It's hard for many to see eye to eye,

We see a grey cloudy dark sky.

As the world is crying.

Some parts of it are laughing and mocking.

Most are denying, That things are coming apart by its seams.

As the Minority are bleeding. Our World is crying.

Many are denying,,. its the quiet before the storm.

It's the beginning of a tragic alarm.

It's history in the making!

It's very alarming..

The storms are rolling..
Poets speak your volumes..
Speak your views.. Speak in colorful hues.
On the things of today.
Help wipe some tears away.

SelinaSharday aka
heavensRosepoet 1-22-2017 S.A.M ©
In today stressful times with President Trump.. many are protesting.. tragedy the world is digesting.. many different political views..Speakers can help us deal, we need the comedy relief the poetic defense/offense. Poets/Motivators. SPEAK your truths..
Graff1980 Nov 2016
Someone whispers to him “calm your heart,” but the crimson streaked flesh that beats soft wet palpitations hastens his impatience to face what’s coming. He has no armor or weapon only the determination to do what is right.
      Four chambers are thudding like the boots a coming. Men in black garbs marching with fully loaded chambers, clear plastic shields up, and black sticks ready to bludgeon. Their anger is oppositional to their opponent’s fog of fear, fatigue, and determination.

“Breath my child,” a gentle voice says. A sharp pain pierces on the back of his head. A thin line begins to ride down his neck. Someone yells “get down!”
One row of men raise their hands, eyes turned upward. The soft voice in his head says” be strong.”
Billows of grey smoke spew from a black canister. Strangers and familiars choke and gasp, eyes watering. Dreams of a bygone era play out in his mind. A tall thin brown sweaty woman smiles, moving down the road while singing we shall overcome. Dogs snap viscously at her compatriots. A fire pushes her siblings back with skin scraping pressure. A few of them fall, and couple falter in the struggle but most keep marching. Her brother, who is tall slightly bulky but wears the well-earned muscles of a man who labored hard all his life, clenches his fists, preparing to strike. She pulls him back. “Be strong, and gentle baby brother.”

They continue to sing “We shall overcome.”

       In his mind the young man sees his mother smiling, saying “"Be calm, saith my heart. I am a warrior. I have seen far worse than this." He smiles through the pain stands up and chants “Hands up don’t shoot. Hands up don’t shoot.” Another brother rises behind him yelling “Black lives matter. Black lives matter.” A thin nerdy pale white guy cries we shall overcome, not in a singing tone, but it still rings beautifully. The struggle continues.
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.
Katlyn Orthman Nov 2014
Hands up
So maybe they'll see I surrender
Under the foot of The Badge
My hands are up and I beg mercy
That this man doesn't pull the trigger
Don't shoot!

Hands up
So many brothers and sisters lost in this war
A bullet in me is nothing to them but a paid leave
My blood is just another stain
It won't cause this man with the badge any pain
Don't shoot!

Hands up
In the court I'm the sketchy one
But I wasn't the one standing behind the gun
Please God don't shoot!

Hands up
While we stand together in peace
And are accused of violence
Beaten, gassed, punched, harassed
This is war in these streets
Where The Badge and the black man meets
DON'T SHOOT  

Bang

Wheres the peace?
Many people have an opinion on the events in Ferguson. This is mine.

— The End —