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There are thousands of words hiding behind my silence,Screaming and Shouting my name,
Accusing and blaming my actions.

There are thousands of words hiding behind my silence,
Crying and Mourning for the days that will never return,
Longing and Waiting for the days to end.

There are thousands of words hiding behind my silence,
Strangling and Choking every breath of mine,
Crushing and Breaking my bones.

There are thousands of words hiding behind my silence,
Cutting and Shredding my soul into pieces,
Burning and Melting my body.

There are thousands of words hiding behind my silence,
I can hold no more,
My broken body and dusted soul has no burden on them anymore,
There is a volcano inside me bursting with a roar...
There are thousands of words Breaking my silence to reach thee.

                                    -Abhishek Sen
Afiqah 4h
we have had today
and my heart admiringly
feels truly charmed
with just that

-a.
If only there was an instrument to measure the sincerity of words,

We wouldn't have to hate
       words
                  love
                  ourselves -
                        .
           for having so many flaws
               Too many scars.
But there isn't, so we'll hate... and die. We just can't trust anymore, we can't love.
The Sun was a no show.
Raindrops begin to bead off the brim of my straw hat.
This beat continues until it slurs into a stream.
The thought to leave never crosses my mind.
Downpours are downright hypnotic, magic made real.
The eye of the heart opens to the rain's musical incantation.
And there it stands, the doorway to infinity.
Inside is surely unknown, but to have the great beyond exist,
within the turning of fingertips is unreality itself.
I suppose the power of this muse lies in its mystery.
Yet still, I forge endlessly onward to annihilate the enigma of it all.
I'm sitting here, in the rain, watching these words turn about.
Akashbeer 16h
Colored men don’t talk,
Like in the history books.
Their job is to work *****,
Expect (less) what they deserve.
Their potential doesn't matter.

Young men don’t talk,
Doesn’t sound right for their age.
Their job is to stay back, observe,
Let someone (egotistic) mature talk.
Their competence doesn't matter.

Emotional men don’t talk,
People hate tears.
Their job is to **** it up,
Have a (stone-cold) strong heart.
Their credibility doesn't matter.

Unless they accept the truth,
That the world we live in is,
(Racist, narcissistic, bland.)
Perfect in every way.
Their words don’t matter.
I don't think this site supports strick through words, so the words in parenthesis are to be considered in strick through format.
What is Justice

What is justice
Does it have a color,
does it have a temperature
The blacker the shooter the louder the news
The tighter the noose
Equality seems to download slower
for those it doesn’t favor
Section 8 flats raise ghetto minded soldiers
Trained to live in prison cells
While leaving empty sits in classrooms
Mothers raising fathers
because their fathers left them,
now live in prisons,
physically, emotionally & mentally
That means when they have their kids they will probably leave them

What Is Justice
Generational curses bless the defenseless
Praising violence because slave masters
Programmed them to hate knowledge
Think less and work more labour after labour
While slave masters stole roots away from their family trees,
then told them to go figure out their identities,
Black Kings and Queens demoralized and carried in shackles, to rebel they now wear more ice than a cold fridge,
painted in movies as villains but have more knowledge than those that run universities, but stuck behind the walls of justice fighting all kinds of adversities,
like starting a race with no legs to run with,
stuck in one place, asking themselves what is justice


What is Justice
Is justice a word we chase in a world imprisoned by the thought of equality?
it doesn’t work if it doesn’t end in a tragedy, wearing hoodies, selling cigarettes, simply driving, could determine the end of you, living everyday under pressure like living through an interview, or facing the end of a loaded barrow,
Yelling please don’t shoot, while the one holding the gun comes to take your tomorrow, these black tears have cried till they have ran dry, social justice tried and still couldn’t change justice
now we challenge the notion of which life matters more, black or blue
This world got no clue
acting like history never took place, in a race of race, forgetting those who sacrificed for us to win the global race
how much more should the dark skinned give to get an ounce of freedom

What is justice
Is justice a word or a curse to the darker skinned, is justice determined based on one’s pigmentations, causing deeply rooted segregation, “all man are created equal” but we forgot about the sequel, in the end it tells us that we are not equal...


So... What is justice?
I can’t believe that this kind of injustice is still relevant in today’s world. We have to do better.
time was talking to me in a bubble of dreams
asked me if i was ready for a new experience
since time doesn't speak to you normally, i stuttered:
ye-yes, i'm ready, bu-but where will it take me?

well, young man, time said, it will take you to
a country that has never been discovered
this country is made of islands, thousands of them
nobody lives there, except orange birds and fish

but forget all the islands, they are lifeless, excluding one:
home to a man who is called golem the violinist
he consists of letters and is mute, he can not speak a word
how will i talk to golem then? i asked inquisitively

time didn't answer my question; it just smiled gently
i blinked and afterwards, i arrived on the island
swarms of orange birds were roaming the air
silver waves were surging against my naked feet

was i really dreaming? i pinched myself and it hurt
i was not dreaming because i could feel the pain
suddenly, i could hear a violin, slowly played
i turned around and saw golem, his eyes closed

golem was huge, athletic and coated in tattoos
the entire body was covered with the alphabet
golem's head was nodding to the melody of the music
puzzled, i asked him which song he was performing

he didn't answer; i had forgotten that he was mute
i asked again, he put the violin aside, devoted mien
golem raised his index finger and placed it on a letter
it was an "s", curiously, i followed his finger, as he continued

i finally read the words "sunshine adagio in d minor"
but at this stage of my life, i was just listening, passively
today, i depend on music to write, on orchestral sounds
"sunshine adagio in d minor" was played by the golem

he presented me the grace and strength of the violin
i could never visit this island again; never in my life
golem enchanted me so heavily, my memory is erased
i can't remember the way to his island anymore

it is not on any map, nowhere, but i kept something:
golem introduced me to breathtaking music, heaven yeah!
and the violin has been inspiring me since then
sunshine, adagio in d minor: i do admire you, song

i thank you golem for your gift and for your time
maybe you'll read this one day and tell me the way back
back to your island, back to the birthplace of muse
i love you brother, you are like kin, all yours, mikey
Today is a good day.

YouTube link to "Sunshine Adagio In D Minor": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MGbC730C4BA
I itch to find the right words,
so as not to come off all messy and absurd
yet a lot of oppositions exist even before a word or two
all these words remain unsaid just as how it used to;
reserve your wit,
reserve your advice,
reserve all your chaos,
because sometimes words come off as swords
when all emotions and thoughts come off unfathomed and cluttered.

IA
I heard your heart pounding at the sound of his voice

Your Knees were shaking it was not your choice

Your hands were sweaty

I'll dry them if you let me

I'll be happy if it works for both of you

And

If you fall do not worry I'll be waiting for your call

Even if it takes a while

I will let your heart smile

At the end the worst part of you

Is telling me I hope to find a guy like you...
I have always been an old fashioned man.Wanting to keep the lessons of old alive.Opening the car door,letting her walk first,remove my jacket and being a hopeless romantic...Dancing under the moonlight,picnic with a self made drive in cinema.... Yet... I always hear the words "I hope to find a guy like you."Like an endless record player in my head. Am I not good enough?Am I not here right now?
faithful eyes are restlessly observing the luminous night
an angeldog is sitting on the debris of a former court house
its silky fur is glowing while it is singing a song of the ancient
long mother tongues are licking up all of the words, greedily

the dog's night is a creature and it is alive, serious and cheerful
nobody will be able to spot it with the glimpse of humans
dogs can easily scent its traces, like foul fruits, grasping
animals can not talk but they sense way more than any human

science, arts, music are simply distractions from our inabilities
we have to assure us daily that we have a selective soul
that we observe and recognize the existing to recreate it
goosebumps are a replacement for our lack of scent

poems come, artists go, dogs are better off in silence
a dog's barking is nothing else but a distraction for us
we think we control pets, they know us better than we do
the dog's night is dark by now, asleep with one eye opened
Today is a good day.
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