White whispers represent chains
Preventing change.
The action of
Inaction,
Perpetuating that which we
Deny.
The sun of sin shining
Dimly through
The smog of society
Seen
By the few,
Not nearly enough.
“All lives matter”
Conveniently,
Fictitious feelings for a ‘flag’
Feigning support for
Social inequalities.
Politically correct where it
Counts –
Beyond the front door,
Not behind.
News headlines turn
Silent dissenting into
Violent lamenting.
Willful ignorance is
Deliberate destruction.
The true tragedy,
Behind.
Closed.
Doors.

Step up to the mic and strike first with a smile of one liners, with observations or tales that beguile them.
For a smile will disable them while your lines slide in behind them, almost whispering, selecting the sharp-soft phrases that will best penetrate those guarded places. Looking with innocence into their faces, turning minds stage by stages, persuading with insights, with stories of real life, with familiar tales of familiar strife. Then when you follow through and strike with the punch line they have no defence and have no time to decline the good sense found in this food for thought, laughing to a sudden realised stop, looking again at their lives, with a furtive smile of dawning delight at the shed light on shared lives found in your soft amplified lines.
- Do it right when you step up to the mic and you just might change lives.

I haven’t slept in 2 years. I haven’t eaten in 5, I’m not lying.

People lie everyday. “Little white lies” we call them. They mean nothing at all. It won’t hurt anybody. What could possibly happen if I told a lie?

Some people are bad liars, and some lies are just bad.

I’m not a bad liar. But people just don’t believe me when I say anything. Everything I say becomes a lie in another person’s ears, they won’t listen.

So if I tell bad lies on purpose will anybody notice? I’ll mix up the truth with bad lies and see if people can tell the difference.

I’ve never broken a bone, I’ve never been drunk, I’ve never forgotten a birthday. Do you know which statement is true? And which one was the lie?

I’ve been sick for 10 years, my IV is made of tears, my cereal tastes like regret, I’m not lying.

I’ve forgotten my own name, I forgot where I came from, I left my consciousness on the bus. I’m not lying.

It’s very easy to ignore an obvious lie, when you know the truth. But I’m not lying…

My heart is broken, my dignity stolen, and my future is no more. I’m not lying.

My friends are gone, along with my dad and mom, my sibling disappeared. I’m not lying.

My chest hurts, my ribs are shattered, and as for me. Well, there’s not a lot of me left. I’m not lying.

I can’t stop myself from constantly running away from the truth, lies are just so much easier to tell.

They say the truth sets you free…
Ok… Let’s try again.

The poem is filled with lies, some of them easier to say than others. But I want to start telling the truth now.

I want to start this poem over. I want to be better than this. I know I’m better than this… And maybe you can hear it in my voice. But I promise. I’m not lying…

Here's an ode to the
Oh- that feeling in my stomach
when you turn it
upside down
inside out
through my mouth came words
and now suffer under your sea of humility

I know it's hard to see me,
It's getting harder to speak
when they don't have the time to
hear my cries,
to wait for my mistakes-
No.
I take it back.
No.
I never said a thing.

When they saw her sliced up arms and thighs
Because they couldn't believe
Someone with such a childish
Angelic face could really do that to herself
And no one thought to say anything
When she silently screamed out for help
So off she went with some rope
And no hope left
To the bathroom
In the shower
Where she hanged herself
By kicking a stool out from under her feet
After all she was short and tiny
Which leads us to today
An entire year later
Where she could've been an entire year older
An entire year happier
If someone had said something
Thankfully she found her God
But that doesn't justify an 11 year old girl's
Suicide