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#ferguson
☺☻╬☻ Finish the crackers --- grab a smoke . . . of Ferguson my muse will sing. A call to arms --- God’s fires to stoke; let Truth and Freedom ring! Take to the streets; avenge this wrong and hasten the end of racist rule. Justice, though it may tarry long will find its target in the duel. Young Michael Brown, like all true saints found himself craving Swisher Sweets. He robbed a store, whose camera paints impartial portrait. In the streets the thief refused to be detained and so threw off police restraint. Though sin escaped, the Law remained and made a martyr of this saint. The agitators did their thing: inflaming thugs to smash and loot, while racists baited hooks, to string the press. Officials followed suit. Angels, although not always kind, do not display this attitude – aware of how the police mind responds to such ingratitude. We ought to thank the police force for showing mercy under stress. The culprit chose a foolish course and made a God-awful mess. Prince Michael met ignoble fate (that ghetto-Christ, that righteous youth) His sacrifice in vain --- though great, could not impede the march of Truth. Ferguson, our eyes turn towards you . . . are you now able to admit while reality rewards you that looting and lying ain’t ****
0
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC
Hands Up, Ferguson
they cannot contain nonconformity, they already have my soul locked up in a cellar, a speechless being with incitement and spark, removed from the body: but as the transition approaches, so does my representation in society I MATTER I MATTER I MATTER a lifting of faith and aspiring traits, moving the crowds of martyrs amongst the claimed saints opinionated with my provoked past, and ripped from my own voice, i regained a spirit indescribable, far more powerful than anger: but instead, harmony and composure I MATTER I MATTER (my voice counts, giving quirk and spark to the souls in awe) YOU MATTER YOU MATTER black lives matter, as in the same sense /all lives matter/
0
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 8:10 AM UTC
i a m f e r g u s o n
The human being is an inherently contentious creature. Seven billion rock-wall eyes; Eyes staring belligerently down seven billion sharp noses; Noses affixed to seven billion faces; Faces covered in creases and scars, Framed in unruly hair And outlined in stark exactness By the flames cowering in bipedal shadows. Into the human heart is chiseled "inexorable". We are an incongruence: We row up the rapids, Scale the waterfall And taunt the oily heavens from atop Devil's Tower. We will always get what we want, Whether it involves killing the albatross Or playing Gondorff's chess. Whether we wrest it from Gaia's grasp Or that of our more miserly peers. Robert C. crystalised our resolve. The riot gear-clad Blue and Green with timers in their throats Stand abreast. Chanting "Listen to Mother. Mother knows best.", They begin the forward press. When an impish grenade leaps our way, We fling it back between mouthfuls of chips. The barricades erected By Mother and ourselves alike Are many and implacable and incessant, But they will be broken and overtaken. They will be broken and overtaken by us, The humans, Because we are.
0
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 8:05 AM UTC
The Protest
Isn't about the hatred of another person Isn't about screaming opinions at the top of your lungs Isn't about attacking others Social Justice Is about standing in the middle of a crowded room and shouting what's right as they shout what's wrong Words flowing Blood pumping Screaming about Baltimore and Ferguson White people crying wolf while blacks cry fear Social Justice Is the construct that is refused because it's right And we know it's right But refuse to believe it in all of its glory
0
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC
Social Justice
Ok, I didn't want to do this but there's rules that you must know Etiquette to be followed A line that you must toe Listen very closely now I think you all should try it The things that you will now learn About a protest and a riot Firstly, have a purpose Just random shouting, that's persay If you do not have a topic Then all the new folks go away Throwing bricks at coppers Breaking windows on the street Is this a sign of protest Or is it idiots in heat No signage, and no speakers Just random yelling for a cause This isn't a good protest Just breaking random laws A protest has a purpose It presents a point of view A riot is an ugly thing Which one is right for you MLK could run a protest Make a point and get things done All without a mob forcing A cop to use his gun The rules really are simple Keep the young ones all at home For people in glass houses Should really not throw stones A peaceful resolution From a protest is the goal But a riot is just aimless It puts the city in a hole Victims of a riot Are not the ones who are to blame They're just owners of the business' Who get caught up in the game Next time that you protest Protest rioting instead It will turn out for the better And nobody will end up dead
0
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 11:36 PM UTC
Protest or Riot
6"4 Vs 6"4. Arms Vs Hands. Stole cigarettes. Being Black was his crime. Justice was colorblind. The color of a White bruise appeared redder than the blood of a Black body. Dear Humans, what color did you see?
0
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
Black Vs White
I'm drowning In the American Dream. Everything here Is not what it seems. Is it your dream To be shot on the street? Is it your dream To not be able to breathe? This is what we are. This is where we are. This is some American Dream. So stand with me, Raise our hands. "Don't shoot." We say. But what does that do? As long as the guilty walk free, And the innocent can't be, We are stuck in this American Dream. Please get me out. Take me away. This is a nightmare. Hold your breath, And raise up your hands, And pray to God That man won't shoot. Is this all we can do? m.c.c.
0
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 1:18 PM UTC
The American Dream
the air feels like fire. it’s cold but there’s something lingering in it and it burns enough to make you warm. it envelops you in hundreds of smells, wet pavement, fresh paint, gasoline, salt, the smells of a city alive at night. heads and ears pulsating and ringing as the hundreds of voices surrounding you dance. it’s been nine days since a boy was shot in cold blood by an unpunished officer. "protect and serve" there are hundreds of sweating and shaking bodies surrounding your own in a protestor’s dance. on a crisp night like this, nobody is a singled. we are one, screaming, angry, and trembling mass. a man walks by. usually you would take into account his presence. you would notice that he was tall, towering over you, or the scar that ran through his thick eyebrow like lightning. usually you’d be gripped by an unintentional fear by his overpowering existence, but tonight it doesn’t matter. maybe take into attention the tiny pale woman who’s body was shoved into yours, and how her bones jut out like they’re trying to escape. tonight is not that night. tonight is the night where the streets of portland, maine, and hundreds of other cities around the world run with sweat and tears. tonight is the night in which humanity falls like dropping a feather in the wind. tonight is passion like boiling water from a teapot long ignored.
0
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 8:41 AM UTC
to protect and serve
the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right in the supposedly post-racial united states of america the only thing this society seems to be is post humanity. black americans are routinely treated with barely a shred of human decency. stripped of our agency under the iron fist of white supremacy post the cold blooded murders of Tamir Rice, Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin, Ezell Ford, Eric Garner, Kimane Gray, John Crawford, and countless others- these are the strange fruits that hang from our nation’s poplar trees. the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. or is it nineteen sixty four? many a time I have opened the morning paper to see headlines that would not be out of place in that era of bloodshed. more care given to a cotton cloth flag than to the black bodies that lie battered and broken in the streets. "think of the businesses!" they scream, mouths afroth. but won't anyone think of the black children murdered for carrying BB Guns? won't anyone think of the fathers? the mothers? the sons and daughters whose lives are cut short by those who are supposed to 'protect and serve?' I will stop "making this about race" when the police stop giving me reason to fear for my life simply for existing. it is not enough to be peaceful and innocent anymore. does this conversation upset you? can you not cope with these atrocities that go on every day in your precious land of the free? In a sick way it almost makes sense that in a nation built from nothing upon the backs of the enslaved that it would take a bit longer than a hundred and fifty years to stop feeling the pain. the whips and chains that once bound us were not broken, but merely transformed. our shackles are now student loans; plantations were exchanged for privatized prisons and lynch mobs now wear blue uniforms. the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. maybe it’s got something to do with the way that all people seem to care about nowadays is iggy azalea’s new hit single but not the way that white rappers want to be black so badly up until it’s time to fight for us. to march with us. to die with us. miley cyrus can prance around onstage fetishizing black bodies like modern day hottentot venuses but when black bodies are being violated by the police she’s strangely silent. the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. but there is a light that shines through this darkness. that light is within me, and you, and within the hearts of every single man and woman of all colors and creeds who raises their fists and says "No more."   our fight is not over. the road will be long. it is very possible that more will die along the way.  but their deaths will not be in vain. the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. but it will not be this way forever. and and fourteen and something isn't right in the supposedly post-racial united states of america the only thing this society seems to be is post humanity. black americans are routinely treated with barely a shred of human decency. stripped of our agency under the iron fist of white supremacy post the cold blooded murders of Tamir Rice, Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin, Ezell Ford, Eric Garner, Kimane Gray, John Crawford, and countless others- these are the strange fruits that hang from our nation’s poplar trees. the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. or is it nineteen sixty four? many a time I have opened the morning paper to see headlines that would not be out of place in that era of bloodshed. more care given to a cotton cloth flag than to the black bodies that lie battered and broken in the streets. "think of the businesses!" they scream, mouths afroth. but won't anyone think of the black children murdered for carrying BB Guns? won't anyone think of the fathers? the mothers? the sons and daughters whose lives are cut short by those who are supposed to 'protect and serve?' I will stop "making this about race" when the police stop giving me reason to fear for my life simply for existing. it is not enough to be peaceful and innocent anymore. does this conversation upset you? can you not cope with these atrocities that go on every day in your precious land of the free? In a sick way it almost makes sense that in a nation built from nothing upon the backs of the enslaved that it would take a bit longer than a hundred and fifty years to stop feeling the pain. the whips and chains that once bound us were not broken, but merely transformed. our shackles are now student loans; plantations were exchanged for privatized prisons and lynch mobs now wear blue uniforms. the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. maybe it’s got something to do with the way that all people seem to care about nowadays is iggy azalea’s new hit single but not the way that white rappers want to be black so badly up until it’s time to fight for us. to march with us. to die with us. miley cyrus can prance around onstage fetishizing black bodies like modern day hottentot venuses but when black bodies are being violated by the police she’s strangely silent. the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. but there is a light that shines through this darkness. that light is within me, and you, and within the hearts of every single man and woman of all colors and creeds who raises their fists and says "No more."   our fight is not over. the road will be long. it is very possible that more will die along the way.  but their deaths will not be in vain. the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. but it will not be this way forever.
0
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
State of the Union Address Pt. 2
the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right in the supposedly post-racial united states of america the only thing this society seems to be is post humanity. black americans are routinely treated with barely a shred of human decency. stripped of our agency under the iron fist of white supremacy post the cold blooded murders of Tamir Rice, Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin, Ezell Ford, Eric Garner, Kimane Gray, John Crawford, and countless others- these are the strange fruits that hang from our nation’s poplar trees. the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. or is it nineteen sixty four? many a time I have opened the morning paper to see headlines that would not be out of place in that era of bloodshed. more care given to a cotton cloth flag than to the black bodies that lie battered and broken in the streets. "think of the businesses!" they scream, mouths afroth. but won't anyone think of the black children murdered for carrying BB Guns? won't anyone think of the fathers? the mothers? the sons and daughters whose lives are cut short by those who are supposed to 'protect and serve?' I will stop "making this about race" when the police stop giving me reason to fear for my life simply for existing. it is not enough to be peaceful and innocent anymore. does this conversation upset you? can you not cope with these atrocities that go on every day in your precious land of the free? In a sick way it almost makes sense that in a nation built from nothing upon the backs of the enslaved that it would take a bit longer than a hundred and fifty years to stop feeling the pain. the whips and chains that once bound us were not broken, but merely transformed. our shackles are now student loans; plantations were exchanged for privatized prisons and lynch mobs now wear blue uniforms. the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. maybe it’s got something to do with the way that all people seem to care about nowadays is iggy azalea’s new hit single but not the way that white rappers want to be black so badly up until it’s time to fight for us. to march with us. to die with us. miley cyrus can prance around onstage fetishizing black bodies like modern day hottentot venuses but when black bodies are being violated by the police she’s strangely silent. the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. but there is a light that shines through this darkness. that light is within me, and you, and within the hearts of every single man and woman of all colors and creeds who raises their fists and says "No more."   our fight is not over. the road will be long. it is very possible that more will die along the way.  but their deaths will not be in vain. the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. but it will not be this way forever. and and fourteen and something isn't right in the supposedly post-racial united states of america the only thing this society seems to be is post humanity. black americans are routinely treated with barely a shred of human decency. stripped of our agency under the iron fist of white supremacy post the cold blooded murders of Tamir Rice, Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin, Ezell Ford, Eric Garner, Kimane Gray, John Crawford, and countless others- these are the strange fruits that hang from our nation’s poplar trees. the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. or is it nineteen sixty four? many a time I have opened the morning paper to see headlines that would not be out of place in that era of bloodshed. more care given to a cotton cloth flag than to the black bodies that lie battered and broken in the streets. "think of the businesses!" they scream, mouths afroth. but won't anyone think of the black children murdered for carrying BB Guns? won't anyone think of the fathers? the mothers? the sons and daughters whose lives are cut short by those who are supposed to 'protect and serve?' I will stop "making this about race" when the police stop giving me reason to fear for my life simply for existing. it is not enough to be peaceful and innocent anymore. does this conversation upset you? can you not cope with these atrocities that go on every day in your precious land of the free? In a sick way it almost makes sense that in a nation built from nothing upon the backs of the enslaved that it would take a bit longer than a hundred and fifty years to stop feeling the pain. the whips and chains that once bound us were not broken, but merely transformed. our shackles are now student loans; plantations were exchanged for privatized prisons and lynch mobs now wear blue uniforms. the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. maybe it’s got something to do with the way that all people seem to care about nowadays is iggy azalea’s new hit single but not the way that white rappers want to be black so badly up until it’s time to fight for us. to march with us. to die with us. miley cyrus can prance around onstage fetishizing black bodies like modern day hottentot venuses but when black bodies are being violated by the police she’s strangely silent. the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. but there is a light that shines through this darkness. that light is within me, and you, and within the hearts of every single man and woman of all colors and creeds who raises their fists and says "No more."   our fight is not over. the road will be long. it is very possible that more will die along the way.  but their deaths will not be in vain. the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. but it will not be this way forever.
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52
the year opened on two kinds of olympics: Sochi and selfie. we spent months looking for one missing plane 276 missing girls, and 43 missing students. from Ukraine to Mexico, Palestine to Venezuela, to Ferguson, the front of the battle lines were crammed full. their stories captivated us, their movements motivated us. we snapchatted, we vined and instagrammed, we remembered their names. Malala Yousafzai to Mike Brown. Eric Garner to Ebola. we made some friends and some enemies. and I think, when I look back, years from now, at the year 2014, the first thing to come to mind will be, "I was there."
0
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC
2014
Revolution is nearing faster by the second Justice is gone and never to be found Darkness and madness is beginning to spread They say the government is corrupted and I do think it's true.. We've been blinded by the lies they fed us through news. Most of us think the insane are clueless and completely unaware but they know more than those of us who appear to be "sane". It's time to change the world even if it leads us to revolution because a world filled with darkness is going to ruin our evolution. The end is approaching but don't be afraid the ones who know justice are proved to be saved. We're known as outcasts if we're a different race, religion or sexuality. What a load of absurdity! In the eyes of the government we are nothing but pawns on a game board made to be toyed with like dolls. But it's time to start acting like soilders and fight for a cause so put on those masks, raise up those signs, the march for true freedom beings at dawn.
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Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
Change
id write a poem about my wrath toward our justice system, but the only thing my voice can screech, is oh my god, enough will never be enough i pray justice for antonio martin
0
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 8:21 PM UTC
oh my god
no butterflies in my stomach I have hands in my chest grabbing my heart squeezing it without rest Crushing me I'm helpless at best Tears welling up salty pieces of soul filling my eyes down they roll You can't ever fully escape heartbreak Tears my broken self spilling out seeping through my skin Can't hold it all together forever Maybe I'm grateful for those hands crushing my chest Don't have to feel all the pain desperately trying to find rest But my soul won't stop crying heart bleeding salty tears down my cheeks This heartbreak doesn't heal you just learn to live with the pain
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Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 9:43 PM UTC
You Title This
When white men spit hatred through spiteful lips, what will you do? Will you raise your fists? When a white man kills a black teen without blinking, will you turn from protests to riots without even thinking. You want to prove something? Prove that there is nothing a white man could do to break the black community. Show that you will never fight fire with fire. Keep MLK alive, let him live in your city. Beat hatred unconscious with love, and drown it in peaceful protest. For, Mike Brown's death was only a test.
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Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 9:04 AM UTC
Dear Ferguson,
Our Guardians "Stand tall" Our Guardians reach out to "Break our fall" Our Guardians are here to "Protect" Our Guardians deserve our "Respect" But somewhere along, we've gone astray And it seems, the life of minorities we pay. We no longer look up at out Guardians, who we once adored They look down upon us, creating those feelings we abhor. Instead of reaching out, and breaking our fall They bring down the baton, and our rights stall. Our Guardians were chosen, their duty to protect But it seems a majority is experiencing neglect. "Respect your Guardians", says a whisper in our ear But in the Guardians, we have begun to fear. Our Guardians are now, creating massive harm Regardless of whether or not we bear arms. A man was choked to death in New York But we must remain calm, we cannot raise the pitch fork. We must follow the words, of our wonderful King From hill to hill, let freedom ring Our Guardian's freedoms, we must respect And urge in return, ours they protect. To end racism, and bring on equal rights We must use our voices, it is pointless to fight. Looting and rioting, we will see no achievement We must peacefully protest, change will come, believe it. Equality is near, I feel it in the air Our voices tremble not, I feel no despair. We are on the verge of righting our wrongs We look to the Gospel and, in song, We unite our voices, and bring forth change, Equality for all, the idea is not strange. Continue the journey, my brothers and sisters, Raise your voices, fall not to whispers.
0
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 7:50 PM UTC
Our Guardians
Our Guardians "Stand tall" Our Guardians reach out to "Break our fall" Our Guardians are here to "Protect" Our Guardians deserve our "Respect" But somewhere along, we've gone astray And it seems, the life of minorities we pay. We no longer look up at out Guardians, who we once adored They look down upon us, creating those feelings we abhor. Instead of reaching out, and breaking our fall They bring down the baton, and our rights stall. Our Guardians were chosen, their duty to protect But it seems a majority is experiencing neglect. "Respect your Guardians", says a whisper in our ear But in the Guardians, we have begun to fear. Our Guardians are now, creating massive harm Regardless of whether or not we bear arms. A man was choked to death in New York But we must remain calm, we cannot raise the pitch fork. We must follow the words, of our wonderful King From hill to hill, let freedom ring Our Guardian's freedoms, we must respect And urge in return, ours they protect. To end racism, and bring on equal rights We must use our voices, it is pointless to fight. Looting and rioting, we will see no achievement We must peacefully protest, change will come, believe it. Equality is near, I feel it in the air Our voices tremble not, I feel no despair. We are on the verge of righting our wrongs We look to the Gospel and, in song, We unite our voices, and bring forth change, Equality for all, the idea is not strange. Continue the journey, my brothers and sisters, Raise your voices, fall not to whispers.
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34
But Love hung on a tree Bruised body blood flowed Love died for my shame Love didn't look at skin or color Love didn't look at nationality, legality Love look at souls and said we're brothers Blood flowed for every nation, tribe and tongue But we've forgotten. And now the prophets of the streets crying like Pentecostal priests Beating chests and stomping feet Begging those choosing blindness to see See our pain Feel our fury Our righteous anger rages against injustices you pretend can remain unseen You were born with this freedom to close your eyes We were born into a world stabbing us from behind So don't bring your Bibles, shove your tracts drag us down aisles You weren't here from the beginning Fighting to break chains and set captives free "We have nothing to lose but our chains" Our battle cry is freedom justice, equality for all Jew and Gentile Slave and free Now the verses can read Black and white Upper class and lower College educated, GED You know, He's crying with us shouting, marching Beating chest and stomping feet Don't think you're bringing Jesus to us He's already here, on the streets Prophecy of protests Righteous rage against iniquity Jesus, the revolutionary God with us On the ground with us Love doesn't look at skin or color And love hung from a tree It is our duty to fight for our freedom Love has already won the day And we have nothing to lose but our chains We will fight to lose our chains
0
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
The Prophecy of Protests
This isn't a poem this is a protest This isn't equality, it's injustice. America the brave America the free, Where were you, When he said, "I can't breathe? How are we the leading examples so rooted with prejudice, it's time to turn tables. How does one be such a threat, at one hundred and thirty five feet that they must be shot, Six times, It a miraculous feat. Since when did murderers get off without trial, I mean even Republicans won't give denial America the brave America my foot, where were you, "Hands up, don't shoot" Its not all lives matter, we know the white ones already do, it's about giving others what they're due. Black lives matter, Martin Luther King gave his speech fifty years ago, yet we're still fighting. Have you heard the policemen, they have no remorse, the literal demonization, and its going to get worse. unless we can stop it, and I'm hoping we can Mike wasn't a thief, this god forsaken land. How are we so quick to judge, Russia, Korea, China and more, yet we **** innocent people, and racism soars. You want change, you're blaming Obama? Change it yourself, Family means ohana Yeah that's A children's movie, but wait a moment yet we could learn a lot from children I bet. They don't have biases, they're only three in their small minds everyone's free. But thats not the truth It's cold and hard, just the bodies of a bright future, Mike Brown of a boy with a hoodie Trayvon Martin of a Twelve year-old boy Tamir Rice of a husband and father of six children Eric Garner You won't be forgotten, as long as this world I'm living in as long as it goes on, you'll always be thought of and what might've been.
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Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 12:31 AM UTC
Untitled
This isn't a poem this is a protest This isn't equality, it's injustice. America the brave America the free, Where were you, When he said, "I can't breathe? How are we the leading examples so rooted with prejudice, it's time to turn tables. How does one be such a threat, at one hundred and thirty five feet that they must be shot, Six times, It a miraculous feat. Since when did murderers get off without trial, I mean even Republicans won't give denial America the brave America my foot, where were you, "Hands up, don't shoot" Its not all lives matter, we know the white ones already do, it's about giving others what they're due. Black lives matter, Martin Luther King gave his speech fifty years ago, yet we're still fighting. Have you heard the policemen, they have no remorse, the literal demonization, and its going to get worse. unless we can stop it, and I'm hoping we can Mike wasn't a thief, this god forsaken land. How are we so quick to judge, Russia, Korea, China and more, yet we **** innocent people, and racism soars. You want change, you're blaming Obama? Change it yourself, Family means ohana Yeah that's A children's movie, but wait a moment yet we could learn a lot from children I bet. They don't have biases, they're only three in their small minds everyone's free. But thats not the truth It's cold and hard, just the bodies of a bright future, Mike Brown of a boy with a hoodie Trayvon Martin of a Twelve year-old boy Tamir Rice of a husband and father of six children Eric Garner You won't be forgotten, as long as this world I'm living in as long as it goes on, you'll always be thought of and what might've been.
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72
Last Night I found myself stuck I kept opening my eyes But I couldn't wake up. Guess I'm just stuck In a world, in real-time where; Every secret is another risk. Promises are just a remnant of a myth Trust was a lie. And honestly was abolished, so True Love couldn't really exist. People better at using words as fist -- than using them as a gift. Children getting schooled like fish, school programs turned to projects to nature the statistics; so if the shoes fits they are too dump to notice; Police enforcing politics, while social media enforce justice, young heart-broken mothers seethe, with protesters cause, because they wouldn't let son breathe. People shooting in black on white, so its hard to see, it killing you and me.
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Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 11:21 AM UTC
Nightmare
Time's clock ticking, drops infinity into the rust of bedside tables. In Bed-Stuy, in D.C, dear Baltimore. And you too, Ferguson. East Coast warriors raise high heavy heads. Break loose shackles, blushing muscles. Veins of ancients pump through us. Now we cry for peace. Resilience and time *********** out from present pleasures. T.V screens. Longing hours contemplating forgotten dreams. Nightmares, trickle blood out of nosebleed section patrons. An operatic multitude of greed and insanity. Corrupt millionaires spit down on struggling, stuttering lost and alone actors, poets the good politician. The neighborhood bully weeps after swatting a fly, and immortality feigns existence. Be here now death, let them know the coming of peace, spiraling black holes of emotion and pride and dead boys. Broken time continuous, and hearts. 9-11, 2001 rocked a nation, what rocked you?
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Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 9:49 PM UTC
civil age
Can you hear the sound of change. All around us it flows like blood. Young boys being killed by justice Stolen from the ones who love them. Why do they die and I live? What makes us any different? The color of skin shouldn't matter. But we all know it does. Why do murderers walk around free. And innocents mowed down like grass When will the change grow to a roar? When will life be fair? When will we not have injustice? Change is almost here. But only we can make it reality. Will you sing its song with me? Or will you stay silent, dead silent. Like Mike Brown? You feel very pressured? Well then, are you breathing?
0
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
Untitled
Why the hell ... do they do it … ??? They run blacks like ... " Fluid " ... !!!    Well ... THE TRUTH is ... Most Coppers ... Keep Proving ...    ... They're ... STUPID ... !!!!!    Harassment ... INDEED ... !!!! is why ... some of them ... BLEED ... !!!!!    But ... Let me ... Proceed ... cos' ... I will ... NOT Concede ... !!!!! that ... ANY ... Police Force ... is .... " RACISM FREE " ... !!!!!!!!!    " This Morn' " ... It was ... ME ... who they wanted ... " To be " ...    ANOTHER ... Young Black ... in .... " Police Custody " ....    “Excuse me sir, your car is registered, to a national bank ?” “THAT’S BECAUSE THE CAR’S LEASED, I’M PAYING A FEE, SO THE CAR IS THE BANKS …. IT DON’T, BELONG TO ME … !!!…” “Okay Okay !!! but, can we have, your name please ?” “LET’S GO TO MY WORKPLACE, IT’S OVER THERE, SEE !”    See ..... That's when ... their faces ... Disguised their ... TRUE HATRED ... !!!!!    of ... seeing a black ... Who Ain't ... " Selling Crack " ... !!!!!    The car that I drive ... is ... " LEGIT " ...    That's a .... FACT .... !!!!!    While ... RACIST OLD BILL ... NEVER SEEM ... to get ... " SACKED " … !?! …    When ... " Their Nature's " ... EXPOSED ... !!!!!    They Quickly ... ” DECOMPOSE ” ... !!! and then ... just .... RESORT ... to ... ******* ... Up Their Nose ... !!!    Which ... Just goes to ... SHOW ...    It's NOT ... " Only Blacks " ... who take drugs ... when they're low ...    It's ... White People ... TOO ... !!!!! who shove ... Coc' ... Up Their Nose ...    But whose ... " Cashing In " ... ??? is what ... I want to ... KNOW ... !!!!!!!    because i'm ... Getting Sick ... of ...... " ALL TELL " ...... and ... " NO SHOW " ... !!!!!    They ... KEEP ON HARASSING ... !!! Then ... KEEP ON SUGGESTING ...    "Blacks being mis-treated, is NOT a Race Thing !"    But …. ???? ….    These ... "hidden-cam" ... shows Now Show ... how things' go ...    It's ... NOT JUST ... undercovers' ... Who ... " Sniff Out " ... THE TRUTH ... !!!    Now ... Journalists too ... have ... " Suddenly Learned " ... !?!    That ..... " White Men " ... under cover ... Show Racism's ... TRUE ... !!!!!!!!!!    NOT ... A figment in ... Black peoples' ... ****** …. Brain Tool ... !!!?!!! …    Now ... Those are not words ... I believe to be ... True ... !!!    I’m just ... " THE BLACK ” ...    .... Sherlock Holmes .... !!!! ....    Giving people ... " Some Clues " ... as to ... WHY ... " Some " ... Black Men ... feel the way that ... I DO ... !!!    Harassment ... is ... REAL ... !!!    But ... Here is ... THE DEAL ... !!!    " Some " ... Black people STEAL ... and DO ... move in ... "The Dark' ... Like ... "Covert" ... Navy Seals ... !!!!!    But ...... THIS ... Does Not mean ... that ... EVERY ... Black Person ... is into ... " THAT SCENE " ... !!!!!!!!    and that ... Money they've made ... Really NEEDS ... A Good Clean ... in a .... " Laundry Machine " .... ?!?    It's Policemen ... to me ... who work in ... " ***** TEAMS " ...    and then in ... " Their Dreams " ... Make ... Black People ... SCREAM ... !!!!!!    Just check through ... THE NEWS ...    You'll SEE ... what I mean ...    Well .....    My day's getting ... better .... now i've ... " Typed " ... These few ... " Letters " ...    But it's ..... Time to ... STOP TAPPING ...    cos' this poem i've written ... has allowed me to ... VENT ... !!!    My View ... On These ... PIGS ... !!!!!    Who ...... THRIVE ON ...... ……… ” HARASSMENT ” ………. !!! ? !!!
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Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 5:49 PM UTC
"Harassment" ... A Poem written by Big Virge 21/01/2005
Why the hell ... do they do it … ??? They run blacks like ... " Fluid " ... !!!    Well ... THE TRUTH is ... Most Coppers ... Keep Proving ...    ... They're ... STUPID ... !!!!!    Harassment ... INDEED ... !!!! is why ... some of them ... BLEED ... !!!!!    But ... Let me ... Proceed ... cos' ... I will ... NOT Concede ... !!!!! that ... ANY ... Police Force ... is .... " RACISM FREE " ... !!!!!!!!!    " This Morn' " ... It was ... ME ... who they wanted ... " To be " ...    ANOTHER ... Young Black ... in .... " Police Custody " ....    “Excuse me sir, your car is registered, to a national bank ?” “THAT’S BECAUSE THE CAR’S LEASED, I’M PAYING A FEE, SO THE CAR IS THE BANKS …. IT DON’T, BELONG TO ME … !!!…” “Okay Okay !!! but, can we have, your name please ?” “LET’S GO TO MY WORKPLACE, IT’S OVER THERE, SEE !”    See ..... That's when ... their faces ... Disguised their ... TRUE HATRED ... !!!!!    of ... seeing a black ... Who Ain't ... " Selling Crack " ... !!!!!    The car that I drive ... is ... " LEGIT " ...    That's a .... FACT .... !!!!!    While ... RACIST OLD BILL ... NEVER SEEM ... to get ... " SACKED " … !?! …    When ... " Their Nature's " ... EXPOSED ... !!!!!    They Quickly ... ” DECOMPOSE ” ... !!! and then ... just .... RESORT ... to ... ******* ... Up Their Nose ... !!!    Which ... Just goes to ... SHOW ...    It's NOT ... " Only Blacks " ... who take drugs ... when they're low ...    It's ... White People ... TOO ... !!!!! who shove ... Coc' ... Up Their Nose ...    But whose ... " Cashing In " ... ??? is what ... I want to ... KNOW ... !!!!!!!    because i'm ... Getting Sick ... of ...... " ALL TELL " ...... and ... " NO SHOW " ... !!!!!    They ... KEEP ON HARASSING ... !!! Then ... KEEP ON SUGGESTING ...    "Blacks being mis-treated, is NOT a Race Thing !"    But …. ???? ….    These ... "hidden-cam" ... shows Now Show ... how things' go ...    It's ... NOT JUST ... undercovers' ... Who ... " Sniff Out " ... THE TRUTH ... !!!    Now ... Journalists too ... have ... " Suddenly Learned " ... !?!    That ..... " White Men " ... under cover ... Show Racism's ... TRUE ... !!!!!!!!!!    NOT ... A figment in ... Black peoples' ... ****** …. Brain Tool ... !!!?!!! …    Now ... Those are not words ... I believe to be ... True ... !!!    I’m just ... " THE BLACK ” ...    .... Sherlock Holmes .... !!!! ....    Giving people ... " Some Clues " ... as to ... WHY ... " Some " ... Black Men ... feel the way that ... I DO ... !!!    Harassment ... is ... REAL ... !!!    But ... Here is ... THE DEAL ... !!!    " Some " ... Black people STEAL ... and DO ... move in ... "The Dark' ... Like ... "Covert" ... Navy Seals ... !!!!!    But ...... THIS ... Does Not mean ... that ... EVERY ... Black Person ... is into ... " THAT SCENE " ... !!!!!!!!    and that ... Money they've made ... Really NEEDS ... A Good Clean ... in a .... " Laundry Machine " .... ?!?    It's Policemen ... to me ... who work in ... " ***** TEAMS " ...    and then in ... " Their Dreams " ... Make ... Black People ... SCREAM ... !!!!!!    Just check through ... THE NEWS ...    You'll SEE ... what I mean ...    Well .....    My day's getting ... better .... now i've ... " Typed " ... These few ... " Letters " ...    But it's ..... Time to ... STOP TAPPING ...    cos' this poem i've written ... has allowed me to ... VENT ... !!!    My View ... On These ... PIGS ... !!!!!    Who ...... THRIVE ON ...... ……… ” HARASSMENT ” ………. !!! ? !!!
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another name added to the list, another life taken by hands that forget to look before they forget to stop. "he was a monster" you say. "he was a **** you say, as if you've known him for years and years instead of seconds, as if you've spent more moments with him than the time between you aiming the blow and his heart stopping. everyone knows you can take away a life with a gun and your hands but no one talks about how you've already killed a human being when you treat them less than human.
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Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 9:42 PM UTC
let me breathe
Don't shoot! Can't you see my white palms Not the black end of my black hands Guilty until proven innocent That's the predicament I was raised in When I walk onto the subway, privilege holds for dear life the bag her daddy gave her, and yes by privilege I mean white. Because based on my skin I'm automatically framed as a thief that lives too cheap to afford the Kors bag that she has. Don't shoot! I just found out my dog passed and decided I'd run fast and hold her tight before her last gasp. But since I'm black and I'm running, the pigs start coming after me as if I created a catastrophe since the mask of me is black. They corrupt the laws, use excessive force and pin me down to the ground when I was just trying to get to my hound. Don't shoot! Yes my windows are tinted and my skin is a shade the same but when you pull me over I'm not to blame for the drug ring that has your people suffering. I sweat in fear for my life as I see red and blue lights wondering if I will live to see tomorrow's sunlight. Because based on my tints and my rims and my skin I must be some criminal uncaught. So as privilege approaches my door I must place my white palms on the wheel and plead to retrieve my license from the passengers seat. Don't shoot! Because if I was white I wouldn't need to fight for my right to life. And I wouldn't have to fear the man that society told me would pull my hand if I raised it in a plea for help and welp, That just isn't the case so based on my race I must remain on thin ice for the rest of my black life, yelling Don't shoot!
0
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 6:59 PM UTC
Ferguson... Home
Don't shoot! Can't you see my white palms Not the black end of my black hands Guilty until proven innocent That's the predicament I was raised in When I walk onto the subway, privilege holds for dear life the bag her daddy gave her, and yes by privilege I mean white. Because based on my skin I'm automatically framed as a thief that lives too cheap to afford the Kors bag that she has. Don't shoot! I just found out my dog passed and decided I'd run fast and hold her tight before her last gasp. But since I'm black and I'm running, the pigs start coming after me as if I created a catastrophe since the mask of me is black. They corrupt the laws, use excessive force and pin me down to the ground when I was just trying to get to my hound. Don't shoot! Yes my windows are tinted and my skin is a shade the same but when you pull me over I'm not to blame for the drug ring that has your people suffering. I sweat in fear for my life as I see red and blue lights wondering if I will live to see tomorrow's sunlight. Because based on my tints and my rims and my skin I must be some criminal uncaught. So as privilege approaches my door I must place my white palms on the wheel and plead to retrieve my license from the passengers seat. Don't shoot! Because if I was white I wouldn't need to fight for my right to life. And I wouldn't have to fear the man that society told me would pull my hand if I raised it in a plea for help and welp, That just isn't the case so based on my race I must remain on thin ice for the rest of my black life, yelling Don't shoot!
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