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an idea blows
across a global garden
cities shake like leaves
Em Glass Sep 8
And yet I don’t seem to remember
that anyone wished for District Five
not to have exploded the dam
that lit the Capitol’s lights.
I don’t seem to recall people
buying the tale that the police
were keeping any peace.
We were not given the mirror
to look at ourselves and say
"no, that’s not me."
unironically re-experiencing the Hunger Games trilogy in this the year of our lord 2020
Sonnenblume Sep 1
Because, my sweet child of potential
we could not read the world, the people or ourselves.
We had grown into times where emotions were not taught as an extension of one's self.
The world we entered had become cold and occupied with its own suffering.
The valuable time of our lives was spent listening to those who never quite had our best interest at heart, telling us how insignificant we are and that to become less insignificant, we have to behave inhumane, animalistic and most of all, alone.

Many of us believed these lies, to such an extent that we would treat any manifestation of the opposite, as suspicious and not trustworthy.
That is what is known of the darkness of our past.
Course of history, a human life, a day
Pockets Aug 29
Have you heard
The news
So blue it’s black
So sad its not even tragic
These stories
Theses tales
From Virginia
From a Birmingham jail
This is America
This is right now
This is how it always has been
We just refused to listen
Just another victim
To a broken system
Sure it feels better to be numb
But it doesn't feel good
We all get tired from staying woke
but how can you sleep
With death at your backdoor
Holding a badge and a gun
No warrant
Warrants this kind of response
Where is the revolution
If its not being televised
Egø PrOfETa Aug 27
For I Dream..
of kicking against
these Prícks
Like the martial art of
Kung Fu
or something like
Martin Luther
the King
A Black King
An African..
Best believe
I am Profess'n
All three
of these
But honestly
I could never
have been a
For my mental
Is sorta like
that of
Kunta Kinte
But ain't no half-
with me
For I still have
Two feet
To place
In front of
And that
would be
As I Awake
and Proceed
with no dis-
or Fear in
just to
Lead my

When I think of black lives matter, I have my own way of seeing it
The smell of something putrid
protrudes up through your nostrils
as you walk down these dimply lit streets.
You hear the fire crackling, you see the glow off the side of an abandoned building.

Is this one of those fires you see on the news -
set ablaze by anger and retaliation?

It's the burning wounds along Jacob Blake's back.
It's the marks of oppression -
the scars we "distract" ourselves from.

There's a fire burning in America
and the source is plain to see:
while bodies line up along the streets,
people following along on their TV screens
say a prayer for broken windows.
They mourn items that are looted
as if it wasn't a life that was looted first.

There's a fire burning
and it melts the black skin right off their bones.
A skeleton has no color
yet they blame corpses for their own murders.

There's a fire burning
from Sanford to Staten Island,
from Louisville to Kenosha.
But those very flames were ignited
by the people designated to put them out.

Who watches the watchmen?
Who stands with the people?

The hammer has dropped.
The bullets have left the chamber.
As long as our brothers and sisters
have to fight for their right to live,
Red, White and Blue lives don't matter.
Maria Etre Aug 14
I can't breath

I n        e            e            d  m       y         s       p         a      c       e


e                                             r
hold me
I am sssshhhhaaakkkkiiiinnggggg
with RAGE
here, let me help...
lights match
here's the wick

on the

wipe out the gunk
stomp them under your feet

Maria Etre Aug 11
“In sickness and in health
till death do us part”

She exploded in my heart
threw me off my feet

Across a living room filled
with nights only she can host

I spoke of her to those across the world
who will never experience what it is
to fall for a city
it is beyond patriotism
this ineffable love for a sleepless phenomenon
who homes strangers
shook the world
with shockwaves
that equaled the chemical imbalance
its people have for their city

Under the debris of sparkling glass
she was broken  
there’s so much she can withstand
even when we always stand by her side
shards engrave themselves under thick skin
poking at the body that still believes in love at first breath

At a heart that does not know how to stop
At a will-power that questions its creator about its strength
At a body that homes an identity beyond this world
alien to it

toxicity hovered in lungs

And across skies
blushing clouds
turning them pink

Sunset wasn’t serene

The ocean cradled bodies

on their way to the afterlife

They cried salty tears

Fed up.

Her soil has felt the stomping anger of grieving mothers, fathers, husbands
the last words of suffocating victims who never lost hope till

The angels opened the doors of the sky

To welcome new brave souls into the heavens
to lead by example
their white coffins
wed the earth with the skies
they watch over us

Brooms brushed her face
Hands held others
Homes homed
Revolutionists revolted
Nooses were hung
judgment day is knocking
at our hearts
and mind you, we are known
for our hospitality

She cannot cry

She never did

It never suited her

But she sure knows how to roar
how to devour
parasites feeding at her immortality

I wear your ring around my finger

“In sickness and in health
till nothing does us part”
To Beirut,
To August 4, 2020, 6:10 pm
To its people
To its everything
Val Roy Aug 10
long gone are the days of yore
the world is smaller than never before
but despite our advances in technology
i think we owe mother nature an apology

never have we used so many resources
never have we had this many geniuses
inventing so many of our conveniences
all of it sold handsomely in ‘clearances’

when will the masses rise up
demand clearity instead of all this hub-bub
our leaders embarrass us
the system is betraying us
this can’t go on
our time is 𝒏𝒐𝒘
Gabriel Aug 4
With every resistance,
remember –
how everything was choked
back into your mouth
when you were a baby bird
and the barricades
were not yet burned.

When you,
with aching gaze
watch the Joan of Arc torches
purge their way
up the winding acres
of stolen wood;
call yourself to Dunsinane
and wait there.

***** up your own feathers
and try to fly –
strip yourself of ash;
pretend that your fragility
is a stepping stone
to becoming a phoenix.

Inhale smoke
and watch the revolution
burn beneath your broken body,
your flightless bones
crushed to mothers’ milk,
countless choking coughs
coming up; down again.

drown out the inevitable,
and choke;
with beautiful sounds
of death drawing acid
up your cartilage;
revolutionaries flee
the barricades, the fire,
whilst you beg
for what you have lost
to be choked back into you again.
Something I wrote for a first year university creative writing class.
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