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Elena Mustafa Sep 30
The place in
Runned by Americans
Is the next
Most haunted place
On earth
As there was horrific acts
Done there
Second to the great wall
This place
Guantanamo Bay
A portal to hell
Saga Sep 24
The echo of footsteps in a concrete tunnel.
At the end there’s a yellow light.
Flies swarming to the yellow light, bright.

But in here it’s dark, dark and humid.
The humidity of her breath forming clouds over her head.
In the end of the tunnel you can see the clouds with your eyes but in here all she can see are eyes.
Eyes watching, she’s watching them.

In the end of the tunnel there’s only a smile.
A smile piercing and cutting.
There are others there but they are blind.
Blinded zombies staring at the concrete wall.

They’re alone in the crowd, her and the smile.
She turns back through the concrete tunnel.
We muslims
Are people too
We muslims have the same anatomy
The same emotions
The same desires
The same needs
And the potential for heartbreak
It hurts me to
You thinks of us as all the same
And literate ******* and *******
When really we are the same as you

نحن المسلمين
هم الناس أيضا
نحن المسلمين لدينا نفس التشريح
نفس المشاعر
نفس الرغبات
نفس الاحتياجات
وإمكانية حدوث حسرة
أنت تعتقد أننا جميعا نفس الشيء
والكلاب والأوغاد المتعلمين
عندما نكون حقاً مثلك
I don’t get why people torture
Or political reasons
Grow the * up you
On serial killers
Hurt others
Thou shalt not torture
Thou shalt not ****

‎لا أفهم لماذا يعذب الناس
‎ الآخرين
‎ للحمض النووي
‎ دين
‎ أو لأسباب سياسية
‎ تنمو *
‎ السيكوباتيين
‎ على القتلة المتسلسلين
‎ جرح الآخرين
‎ لا تعذب
‎ لا تقتل
Andy Chunn Sep 6
Go to sleep now. . . .

And when you awake you will find
A new world, with new desires
New feelings, new beliefs and new joys.
You will experience a sense of total satisfaction,
Acceptance, and sureness of yourself.
No more pain and need and disappointment,
Only gentle bliss.

But that makes me less.
That steals away my humanity, my comparisons,
My decisions;  even my mistakes.
You don’t have the right to deny me my suffering.
Who makes these decisions anyway?
Let me up -- I must go,
**** these straps and your stone-faced grin!
Let me up -- My tears spew with hatred,
Rage seething as my blood and snot and weeping mix.

Go to sleep now. . . .
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.
Kashish Aug 27
I am a woman. I can be all by myself
I am equal to a ‘man’
I don’t need anybody to look after me
I need no man to hold my hand.
I am a woman. I am tender, not fragile
I can indulge in all life has to offer and intensely feel all the emotions
I have strength tenfold. I can fight for my freedoms and rights
Nothing can restrict me from fulfilling my dreams and aspirations.  
I am a woman. I bleed red
Grievous cramps drag me closer to death, and still, I put up a smile
It is pride, no shame. I bleed to create the world.
Even if I am tagged ‘impure’, I am not going to smother behind the veil
I am a woman. I deserve to be treated with respect
I will never settle for less, in equality I believe
I am neither born to satisfy a man’s hunger nor to be a victim of dominance
Instead, I am born to be a woman of my choice.
Bard Aug 6
Freedom of speech is only ever true
If no one is listening to you
Watch what you say you can disappear too
Vaniexe Kafka Jul 25
Under the haze of reality
"You're lazy"
Echoes in your ears
When everyday
You're worse for wear
Toiling the lands
With your coarse hands,
The callouses so thick
Still you remain meek
Against the landlords
With their noose
Around your neck
Until you can't breathe
Gasping for air

The blood, the sweat
The tears as your eyes wet
They can't see
The struggle
How you juggle
Taking care of the lands
And of the family you left home

When will it be your turn
To be taken care of
By the mother you love so
By the brothers in the capital
Saying we're all equals
As they fool people
With their jargon
With their orders and sections
Rules and regulations
Disguising their intentions
Schemes so evil
People end in peril

When will they give you
Time to rest
Time to voice your distress
Time to stand up for your rights
And finally see the light
Of day
The day you become equal
Not only in mere words
Or campaign spiels
Or posters and flyers
Decaying as they hold power
For years and years
As if you're just a stone
They've stepped on

Dear child, it's time
Time to say enough
Time to call out their bluff
Time to not be afraid
Time to stand up and fight
Dear child, fight for your rights.
Shayloves Jul 15
This right is sacred
Marking this ballot is my rite...
a passageway to true freedom.
I feel the blood of ancestors coursing...
I hear the haunting cries of arrested dreams...
Stolen hopes for my enslaved great, great grandparents...
persecuted & denied rights, beaten for daring to read & write.
I do this for them...
I feel the heartbeats of my children and my descendants ... this is my legacy...
I do this for them.
Oh yes! This right is sacred...
This is my justice... righting these wrongs...
These stickers symbolize the spoils...Prominently displayed
And these collective voices will be heard...battle cries of suffrage
this rite is ours...
it belongs to us...
it always has...
this is our ancestors’ hope,
our legacy...
This is our right...
This is our voice...
This is our vote...
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