#woke poems on Hello Poetry

Qweyku Oct 2018

in sleep i saw something
beautiful in your eyes

no doubt you have regenerated
my awakening

© Qwey.ku

Sometimes I write what I see within the night
risen

#woke #awakening

Grace Oct 2018

'Woke'?
What does it even mean?
Is it exploding on social media over that viral video showing a racist incident?
Is it challenging the status quo in your everyday life?
Or is it being oversensitive and angry all the time?

It's more than all of that.

It's constantly seeing racism, patriarchy and capitalists flourish,
while you can hardly keep you and yours nourished.
It's constantly wanting to speak out but realising you're just a number
whose voice won't disrupt the masses' slumber.

I'm tired of being woke.

I want to think a lot less,
Be more reckless,
And learn to be happy with a lot less.

#woke #tired #learnedhappiness #ignoranceisbliss

Madison Jul 2018

The Saddest Word

We almost made it.
It was almost enough.
I was almost enough.
She almost lived.
He almost woke up.
They almost did it.
But it wasn't enough,
Only almost.

#almost #break #lived #dailypoem #enough #mad #we #woke

Sam H Jul 2018

lowkey

People often forget
to write about their happiness
It's only when they're upset
that they clamor of their madness
because they know
pity comes to the loud,
and ignorance to the mellow

I am happy right now

#happiness #poem #joy #woke #socialmedia #rant #write #whocares #independent

C-Nova Jun 2018

I Hate Dreaming

Do we belong together?
I don’t know.
As the days go on,
I can’t seem-
to let you go.
I think about you all the time,
Do you ever think of me?
I’ll sometimes forget you in reality-
Only to wind up finding you
In my Dreams.

#lucid #dreams #love #woke

Ron Gavalik May 2018

Dead Wisdom

Calling out dead poets
as sexists or rapists or users
is the opposite of woke enlightenment.
The poet’s job is not to censor
his experiences or his madness
for sanitized comforts.
The poet’s truth is his gift
of insight, a naked wisdom
of hard love and difficult choices.
Narrow fools so often absorb
this sweat and blood poured onto the page.
After their souls are satisfied,
that’s when the fools unsheath
the long sword of ignorance
and ****** the blade square
in the poet’s back.