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Mathilda Boe Sep 2014
I didn't do my homework
But you can say
That I tried
Tomorrow they will notice
My latest rebellious behavior

It annoys me a lot
Because no one ever asks why
Why did our straight A girl didn't succeed
Not this time?

I wish they would ask
Then they would see
That I am no rebellion

I'm actually just being me.
I don't know what it means to be normal.
Does society control what is really formal?
Combed hair, and church goers,
anything less, is your bar lower?
I want piercings and tattoos,
I like punk music and rap too.
Ripped jeans and Vans Shoes,
is my style still taboo?
Look at the kids being themselves.
When society locks them in a jail cell and says look,
"You are abnormal and your weird,
if this world was a painting, you're a smear. You're not one of us, so we'll look at you funny and then maybe you'll become one of us one day, sunny!"
But no, it can't be like this
since when do we take what's not ours and throw it in the abyss?
I'm confident in who I am
and I'm proud of who I've become.
I'd rather be me everyday, over what you prefer the outcome.
-n.s.
Rebellion (n.): looking at society and saying, "I see who you want me to be, but I'll show you who I actually am."
Don't Exist Jun 2014
It's structure, but not as coherent as it seems

It has paragraphs.
setting the stage of life.
          It has indentions to help you clarify your life

It has a intro stating when you was born...
body paragraphs to explain your growth development
and a conclusion that ends your life...
or hints our next lifetime.

People constantly check for grmmar in their essays
looking for errors in ther lives.
not knowing that there will alway be errors

Others dressed their paragraphs in fancy letters
not knowing that no amount of sophistication
will make them more smart
nor beautiful
nor even interesting in some cases


Other people liked strong arguments
and EVIDENCE
not knowing that no matter how STRONG  they are
A LITTLE LETTER LIKE A "z"  WILL BREAK IT ALL APART

An essay was created for people to read, understand
and judge
tis is neither bad nor good
as people can critique such essays
manipulating and defining the lives of others with no restrictions

and after all that hard work
the physical object that the essay was etched on
will eventually dissolve away
and all that will be left
is the energy that a soul put into it.
not knowing that the best essay
will be just being themselves.
A simple poem
punk rock hippy Aug 2014
I think everyone has a little bit of schizophrenia.
Maybe it’s just the demons trying to whisper you out of your secrets.
There’s always a reason for the voices.
There’s always reason for the reasons.
The voices talk when my eyes go blood shot. Reality left as soon as I did.
I left when my compassion did.
I keep leaving, its called rebellion.
Can you see it?
I scream it.
I wear it.
I sing it to myself as a prayer.

My rotten prayer.

Join me?
Raise Hell with me?
Lets find my lost compassion while we’re creating yours.
I think we could find the answer to everything if we don’t question anything.

I’ll find the answers, I promise.
This is old
steven Jul 2014
If hating the both of you is a sin,
I’m already in hell.
Been living in hell since the day
you came with Kit in your stomach
and me in the backs of your ***** Vietnamese minds.

First, you think gay people are
nasty, *****—wrong.
Second, you saw that Facebook photo of me
at the pride parade and now you think
that I’m gay,
that I’m nasty, *****, wrong.

And third, you showed him that picture
and now he doesn’t even want to call me his son.

I’m not sure of what I am, but I am sure of one thing—
that I don’t want to be your son if it means
living up to your standards, beliefs, misconceptions and predispositions
that are as ugly and low as the Communist oppression
you think you left behind.

                                                               ­      I only live up to America.

Toss my number on the stovetop and burn it—
Burn it like a ******.
Burn it like Chinese incense.
Burn it like your millionth cigarette bud.

**I’ll burn like the Fourth of July.
Originally a monologue I wrote for my Theatre class at Berkeley. Ta da, it's now a poem!
Hannah Jeffery Jul 2014
I stare, intently.  He glances momentarily.
With its big calf eyes,
the skin peeling away from its lids
and its hides.
They float by, I gaze quickly at their popped peepers
which are skinned like white grapes,
and they go about their day.
I love them, them and their color palate,
their unique selection.
Bloated and baggy, bubbling up,
it looks so goofy that I cannot stand it.
My mouth gapes at the dazzling gold bands,
the alternating tan lines, the glow-in-the-dark marks,
the cool blues and the light blues alike.

They seem startled and pouty.  But what to do about the ****?
They cannot leap the glass and twirl with us,
dance with me, fly past the current ripping by.
Poor things…how they wish they were wild,
undomesticated and free.  They want to be near us.
I see it in the gestures of their prehensile *****
that smear the glass as they press in,
trying to chart our turbulent patterns.

I wonder in my head how they breathe so easily,
flopping about their blue-tinted box,
drinking deep the LOx
fed in through a tube somewhere
as the world morphs and vibrates between us.
It is full of grey energy.  Like a cloud in a lightning storm.  Ever changing.
Christian Ek Jul 2014
The band starts playing at a ***** and crowded backyard.
Rebellious youth gather to cast their vote with the stomping of their doc martin boots.
Beer cans everywhere, everyone's trying to let loose the raw stranglehold their society has produced.
The guitars go off and the ritual begins.
First they assemble in the heart of the pit.
In the center individual tragedies bring fourth the wrath of a God's army.
Anarchy you call it, Ha! I call it reassurance, reassurance that this anger is surely communal.

I never saw it more clearer, the youth's power to resist: If the government wont hear us, we will create our own sound even under the batons of fascism, we spit on your rule, your control of our art.

We wont bow down to a law with our names written all over it, while another politician walks free from corruption.
While another officer guns down an un armed child and calls it self-defense.
While suspicious mass shootings continue to occur and mass cameras grow in recording.
While you send more people off to war for another countries resources.
These thoughts explode out of me into shoves, screams, ****** cuts, reckless behavior, and then finally release. Pure psychiatric release.
MST Jun 2014
Save us they say,
they have stolen our hearts,
they have chopped us up,
and sold our body parts.
Save us they say,
they have taken our rights,
and these rights are ours,
we gained them through our fights.
Save us they say,
as they look for others,
we are dying here,
protects our sisters, mothers and brothers.
Save us they say,
as they cower in fear,
unable to go on,
only steering clear.
Save us they say,
as they lie down and die,
I blame only you,
as I have lived a lie.
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