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J J 3d
Trying to catch a slice of thought process;
Like capturing lightening in a jar
            Only to smell it's exhumes.

It's a blessed freedom, to release
  an experience; an imitation of the world,
or an imitation of how others wrote and expressed
    the world, and at constant conflict to lose it's voice.

It can be enjoyably difficult (the best hobbies
    usually are) or flow smooth as blood thru vein.
   Pulling blood from a stone and unexpectedly
    heaving rainbowy rainwater can be it's own virtue--

    An idea caught half undeveloped
Only to shed cocoon to join the white blankness
And forever tarnish it's history--

As is existence,although we're too modest to admit it.

Writing is a piece of you and you belong to the human race,
and doubleedged a sword as that certitude is,
Writing is a piece of you left to the world.
Writing is forever
Amaris 7d
My hair is black and yours is yellow
But they never call it that;
Blonde, or like spun gold
Stunning, precious, unattainable.
But you have it,
Like I’ll never have you.
My hair is black but my skin
Is yellow
They call it that
“Slant-eyed”, “foreign”, “unnatural”
At eighteen, I broke black locks with bleach
(I’ve always wanted to be blonde)
And it didn’t look natural at all
I will never be blonde, I will always be
Yellow.
They ask: What are you?
“American, like you”
But they roll their eyes
They tell me to forget my native language
And I don’t know how to tell them I already am
Black and yellow
I think of me then think of bees, and recall
Being stung in the first grade, and how
Ever since, I’m paralyzed at the thought
Of black, and yellow
Black and yellow
Save the bees! on shirts and posters
But no one is saving me.
madameber Oct 3
I am an insult to the concept of race,
A thought experiment that didn’t get far
Enough to be included in the mix,
A lack of imagination in their
classifications and categorisations,
I was unwritten, a source of confusion
For later generations convinced of
The natural division between nations,
I was a glitch in the system,
The number two where just one
Should have been, the result of somebody's
Irresponsible coding, I was an omission,
An improbability made impossible to be.

I am a danger to the concept of race,
Because I cannot be defined within
The limited scope of what it means
To be other, because I’ve danced
Across the lines meant to divide
Two sides, and played the roles assigned
To two supposedly different kinds
Of people, my flexibility confuses
The boundaries and disrupts
So-called realities, my existence exposes
The fault lines beneath the stories
We trusted to explain our selves to us.

I am a challenge to the concept of race,
Unable to exist on either side
I occupy the space between the lines,
And I am not alone in my defiance,
Not the only one tired of defeat and
Compliance, of being reduced into
Someone else’s truth, of talking politely
And making excuses so they can continue
Their ruthless manoeuvres to swallow
Us back inside the machine, dictate
Our personalities and wipe our minds clean,
But we've tasted freedom and we're not
Going back, we’ll reclaim our identities,
Invalidate the categories that divided
Us in the first place, the bitter performance
We called race.
it's a working title.
B D Caissie Sep 24
My dearest love why did you run from me, when my heart only raced for you.

©
Haylin Sep 24
We have many ideas,
but we do not seem to have idealists anymore.

We have droves of problem solvers,
but we do not seem to have solutions anymore.

We have endless media discourse,
but we do not seem to have dialogue anymore.

We have unrestrained capitalism,
but we do not seem to have money anymore.

We have innumerable drugs,
but we do not seem to have treatment anymore.

We have scores of Baby Boomers,
but we do not seem to have elders anymore.

We have unlimited vacation days,
but we do not seem to have days off anymore.

We have incalculable amounts of information,
but we do not seem to have facts anymore.

We have regular, established elections,
but we do not seem to have elected officials anymore.

We have America,
but we do not seem to have a nation anymore
Quinn Adaire Sep 16
We got the same heart
Beating the same blood
Into the same veins.

We got the same dreams
The same goals
And the same feelings.

We got the same anger
And the same sadness
All from the same fear.

What’s the difference
Between you and me?
Color of skin?
Sexuality?
What does that mean to you?
It means absolutely nothing to me.
An old draft.
The only thing I want
The only thing I want is for all the tears to stop
The only thing I want is for everyone to smile
The only thing I want is for people to love each other
No matter race
No matter gender
No matter size
Because at the end of the day we are all born and we all die
Might as well make life the best of it
Lets smile
While we still can
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