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sadgirl Jun 2017
your new york street cat-calls
will never touch me

because i am woman,
and you will ******* hear me

roar, loud enough
to shake the earth

and sky

people always said to me
"you're too young to be a feminist"

but what does that even mean?
are you ever to young to fight?

i swear on the bible

girls with dreams and big ideas
are scarier than monsters

and her eyes are not oceans,
she is not a tsunami

she is beautiful
she is god
she is woke
she is queen

the black girl, the white girl
the brown girl all make

a rainbow
and I want

to savor every ******* moment
joycewrites Mar 2017
I grew up in a Muslim country
Where the culture is different;
Dress codes, cuisines, sceneries, and peaceful people,
Different from your local news' bombing news content.

I met different people at my old school, all of which are my friends;
Of different ethnicities, culture, and religion.
Despite our major differences, we treated each other as one;
We built a bond that is not made for oblivion.

I am lucky to grow up experiencing having a Muslim and a Christian for a friend,
I get invited to holidays like Christmas and Ramadan.
I get to see and feel the best of both worlds,
And respect for each religion is the key to living as one.

I wrote this to serve as an eye-opener
That the terrorists that you see on the news are not my Muslim brothers;
For when terror is claimed in Islam's name,
They disrespect the Islamic belief and teachings when they make that claim.

We need to live in a world where people thinks critically—
A world with no woman with a hijab is stared at disrespectfully;
A world where nobody uses Islam as a sign of terror;
A world with no discriminations, just peace and tranquility.

I hope we also learn cultural sensitivity,
For religion differences aren't something to joke about and be tagged with petty comedy.
Respect is what we need to have a peaceful community,
And if we really want to live in a world free from disquieting thoughts and emotions,
Let this all start with you and me.
(c) Mary Joyce A. Tibajia | 2017
Mario Cervantes Feb 2017
Let's build bridges instead of walls
More knowledge to beat the odds
Start teaching them how to crawl
Teach'em not to out run the law
If you need god give him a call
There's no first class to heaven
No coach seats to hell
No such thing as freedom
Don't ask and don't tell
A life that's uncertain
With dreams that turn stale
Sometimes you need to jump
Before they set you up to fail
Find out if you can fly
See what life has to unveil
Pull the curtain down from sky
You and I will soon prevail
If you fall then try again
Life's a ladder we all scale
Cause gold flows in our veins
While tears wash sins in jail
The reward is worth the pain
At the Heart brake hotel
requiEM Jan 2017
I'm awake, no sleep in sight
5:45am. The cogs keep turning and the fog keeps burning and I find myself
Wide eyed. In love.
I inhale the darkness with every breath, breathing deeper than usual
I inhale this smoke with a vengeance
Fresh air. For once in my ******* life I feel whole
Is it you?
Is it the shade?
Is it the love we made?

Don't make me go to sleep because I know when I wake it will be gone. Let me stay. Let me soak. Keep me woke.
Ines Rose Jan 2017
Before,
I knew how to speak in Spanish
Then, before I knew it,
I almost forgot

Before,
I knew how to give you my love
Then, before I knew it,
That knowledge was lost

Before,
I knew how to laugh at the jokes
Then, before I knew it,
The joke was on me

[2019 edit:
Before,
I knew what the world was about
Then, before I knew it,
It wasn't so easy]
(Spur of the moment)
Analise Quinn Jul 2016
My Country Tis of Thee,
Sweet land of liberty-
Or so we sing.

Land where my fathers died-
But my forefathers died in a battle
Trying to keep their slaves;
My fathers killed your fathers
For trying to run away;
My fathers **** your fathers
Cause it's late at  night, and
He's reaching for his gun-no, wait,
His ID?

Land of the pilgrim's pride-
But so often we leave out of history
How if it weren't for a Native American,
The pilgrims would've died.

From every mountainside-
Like Stone Mountain in Georgia,
Where Rebel Generals are memorialized,
Where the **** was revived-
God, help me, I can't hear freedom's ring;
I can only hear white-washed history.

From every mountainside-
But these days, the mountain is in my chest,
And liberty's ring sounds a lot different,
And a lot of folks don't like it.

Let freedom ring-
And I want to fight for freedom for all-
#BlackLivesMatter-
I want to help-
HANDS UP, DON'T SHOOT!
But-
I
Can't
Breathe.

Let freedom ring!-
But peaceful protests turn into
Bloodbaths as those who have sworn
To serve and protect are sniped down.

Let freedom ring!-
I try to educate myself
On the side of history not taught-
I've always felt that Nat Turner was the bad guy,
But these days I'm questioning it.
I read "The Meaning of Fourth of July for the *****"
by Frederick Douglass
And I read "Bury Me in a Free Land"
by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
and I read "Sympathy"
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
and I read "Letters from Birmingham Jail",
"The Mountaintop Speech", and
"I Have a Dream"  
by Dr. King.

When I was younger,
I'd research Dr. King & his colleagues
For fun.
I'd  wonder, "If I lived in the Civil Rights era,
What would I have done?"

But when I turned seventeen,
I realized, "I live in a Civil Rights era;
What am I going to do?
VC May 2016
Establishment

Society

Not given a choice

Sold a lie

****** in

Constant upward climb

Falling back down

No escape; in too deep

Yearning for freedom

To roam, to express, to create

Suppressing what feels natural

Such a pity

when child-like free-bird souls are caged

This is the real depression
Ana S May 2016
A hand touched my shoulder...
Are you here for the art thing?
What art thing?
You shall see...
Now
I
Would
Like
To
Pause.
When you have no clue what you are doing.
Why you are there.
When you got there.
How you got there.
That is strange.
Now
We
Resume.
This girl touched my shoulder.
We exchanged words.
Then I woke up.
Ryan J Toll Jan 2016
and I woke from a dream
as fading clouds float downstream
and collect like leaves at the mouth
of the sea, children of the spring
monsoons, but today merely a wave
I see all this from my perch
high above the main, rolling to and fro
on Mother's breath, her every sigh
gives us motion, portends danger
leaning her shoulder on rocky cliffs
and I woke from a dream
to a screaming train car
gripping the tracks, gobbling human snacks
and spitting them back out on the streets
passing signs that press for cash
as goblin laughs mock and sneer
from the fleeting recesses, off limits
to civilian souls, just one more stop to go
and I woke from a dream
with bare feet on cool tile
water drops pooling in low spots of grout
and steam collecting in the corners
while dawn peeks through thawed out
windows, a dim promise of the heat of day
shaking the dew from my eyes I see
in the mirror haze, strange reflections,
unfamiliar through a glass roof sky
cursing screaming questions why
and I woke from a dream
and I finally woke free
in your arms, far from dark seas
and subway dreams and prophesies
clawing sleep like an attacker
wrestling sheets and memories
and welcoming the day to ponder
what these visions foretell, left to
wonder the vast expanse of mind
fumbling for a pen to try
and I woke from a dream
three woke this morning

to empty beds
empty sails
and empty days

one woke with certainty
one woke in turmoil
and one woke with tortured hope

...and that may make all the difference.
written April 8, 2015
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