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Salma Elaouni Jul 2016
Out of a million language
I've been taught a few
I learned how to put the letters into words, the words into sentences and the sentences into question marks
I've stolen each dot I could find and held it betwen my fingers as if it was mine to hold
Then I hid it,
Underneath my pillow waiting for some sort of fairy to turn it into gold.
I just didn't know
I didn't know that each dot was a seed to a plant holding more needles than it does roses.
I didn't know it could grow so fast that it brings in other creatures into life.
Out of nowhere.
I swear, I can hear monsters grin at the sight of my neck
I can see bees building kingdoms out of my own flesh
I can feel germs crawling under my skin biting their way into my kidney, my liver, up to my heart.
Now I can't put myself to sleep for there's a wilderness on top of my bed waiting to swallow me like the only meal there is.
And God They did
They taught me all about languages but How?
How do I put my insomnia into words?!
How do I communicate my fear?!
Teach my scars to speak the dreadful venom out of them
Teach my nails to rip the chains out of my wrists
Teach my fingers to let go
Let the dots slip
I'm tired,
God
May the moon be my witness
I've told him all about the bed time stories I didn't hear
I've apologized to the sun for its awake is no longer beautiful
For the light it's giving to the world hurts my eyes
for the voices rising throughout the day translate nothing but agony into misspelled poems I could've written
God, do I hate that I can no longer function for the electricity within me is fading away
So Stop
Don't teach me about languages anymore
I've had enough.
R M Jun 2016
You always preached
about burning bridges.
Voice laced with warning.
But here I stand.
A handful of matches
and gasoline.
With my chin held
high.
Ready to reduce you
to ash.
Scarlet McCall Jun 2016
From the patriotic song--verses 4 and 5, followed by three of my own verses:

   * Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame:
    All their attempts to bend thee down,
    Will but arouse thy generous flame;
    But work their woe, and thy renown.

    "Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
    "Britons never will be slaves."

    To thee belongs the rural reign;
    Thy cities shall with commerce shine:
    All thine shall be the subject main,
    And every shore it circles thine.

    "Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
    "Britons never will be slaves." *

When the international banks decree
that commerce belongs to them, not thee,
thou wilt arise and set things straight
and take back thy rightful fate.

When Brussels, and Germany insist
that immigrants from every shore
should find a home inside your door
(despite the people's cry--"No more!)
you quietly vote to resist.

What fire will flame from Britain's spark?
The division has been now made stark:
On one side, the elite's intent--
the other way, the people went.
gabriela Jun 2016
i've been looking for
a thrill lately.
not the roller coaster riding, sneaking out
at two in the morning type of thrill, but
the type of thrill that evokes enough
curiosity to make rebellion
look like nothing.  
i'm talking about
the thrill that makes you want
so much more than what you are given,
so you avidly seek out
the unknown in hopes of
having the taste of adrenaline on your lips.
Devin Ortiz Jun 2016
I am intrigued by dancers
The body in motion
Weaving through whatever
Medium strikes its composer

Something in its freedom
Strikes rebellion within
To bind their liberation
Illustrating instead in phrases

I don't feel guilty
About my compulsions
Paper shackles and bars of ink
Slaves to the labor of expression
Lopz May 2016
No matter how many times we're told to speak truth we don't seem to get it.
So many people more are lying about the smallest things, things that don't even matter.
Well here is my declaration to the world that I will be starting my own rebellion against lies I will now become a fighter for The Truth
Those in favor of joining my rebellion come forth and we shall conquer.
In tired of lying and being lied to do this is my  statement to the world.
Nabs May 2016
angry teens
rebelling agains the streams
trying to find them self
in a world where nothing make sense
Yueshu Aoi May 2016
No
This is the word whose cries echoes in the well of my soul.
A desperate calling in the darkness overcome with hopelessness.
A pleading of defiance against all that has been done un-rightly so.
The last sound of innocence and its unheard scream in the night.
Its last word being rejection of the world's cruelties.

No.
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