#humanrights
Freedom of expression does not exist;
every permitted utterance
fits their narrative in part of the program.
Where there are exceptions;
where we're confined by terms & conditions;
where there are private rules;
where there are limitations
he who believes he is free
is hopelessly enslaved.
If what we say may not entail hate
then those who hate the truth
will make us live their lie.
If what we say may not include misinformation
then those who tell tales will call it faith.
If what we say may not entail threats of violence
then those who ambush will flourish.
Now I've recognized my enemies.
You're debating semantics as you censor me.
You're a thief.
I'm unfazed by your toxic sensitivity.
I don't spare time to feel grief.
We're long due for resistance.
You need people like me;
rebels change the world.
I yearn for the day
we won't contaminate
every moment with words,
rather simply, we'll nod.
Apr 28
Apr 28, 2026 at 7:48 PM UTC
He stood up there, on the stage.
Mic in his hand, he looked at us.
"I usually write the jokes for myself—
but today, I won't.
I heard about this funny book,
with some extravagant fictitious stories,
and I will read to you some."
Nobody said anything.
All of us thought:
"What a bad comedian,
he won't even write his jokes"
Then, he started reading.
"Chapter I:
All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights.
They are endowed with reason and conscience
and should act towards one another
in a spirit of brotherhood."
He paused.
"Not even one page through,
and it is already hilarious, right?"
Some nervous laughs
made their way through.
But nobody was actually amused.
"Well, the chapters are short.
I don't quite like the second one,
so here goes the third one:
Everyone has the right to life,
liberty and the security of person."
Some people did start laughing—
but their neighbours' looks,
penetrating stares that seemed to say
"Stop. Now.",
made them stop.
"This next one is so funny—
such a good satire.
Chapter IV:
No one shall be held in slavery or servitude;
slavery and the slave trade
shall be prohibited in all their forms."
At this point, I remember
that I walked away
and almost had exited
when I heard him saying:
"Well, today's performance so far
has been so unsuccessful that
I might as well stop here.
I'll see you at my next performance
in my world tour.
Thanks for coming"
Apr 21
Apr 21, 2026 at 10:01 AM UTC
They are humans just like us. You do not know them, so you cannot make fun of them.
They walk through the world carrying their truth, their love, their hearts on display.
Gays who hold hands with pride, smiling in streets that sometimes stare.
Lesbians who kiss freely, daring to love in a world that questions them.
Trans people who fight every day to be recognized, to be seen, to be called by the name that fits their soul.
Furries who wear their joy and creativity openly, showing the world that imagination is freedom.
They laugh, they cry, they dream, they hurt, they hope.
They are not a joke. They are not entertainment.
They are not “wrong” because they are different.
They are humans just like us, and every moment they exist is a testament to courage.
So stop mocking. Stop whispering. Stop pointing and laughing at what you do not understand.
Let them love. Let them live. Let them exist in peace.
Because being different is not a crime, being themselves is not a sin.
They deserve the same respect, the same kindness, the same humanity that you want for yourself.
Open your eyes. Open your heart. See them. Hear them. Respect them.
Just let them live.
— Itz_All_True ✍🏽🔥
Mar 12
Mar 12, 2026 at 10:12 AM UTC
people look at their hands
like skin is a summary,
like color can explain
what they refuse to learn.
they read bodies
the way they read headlines,
quick, lazy,
already decided.
they look at me
and see what you have made,
not what my ancestors cried for,
bled for,
died for.
they don’t see the sacrifice buried in my bones,
only the lies and wrongs
history dressed up as “progress.”
all that pain
for a future that promised change
and delivered repetition.
maybe that story is a cover
for how you feel.
maybe it’s easier
to blame the present
than face the truth.
but it’s not real.
it was never real.
they see a tan and invent a threat.
see brown and rewrite the rules.
see Black and clutch their fear
like a family heirloom.
see pale and call it neutral,
call it normal,
call it default.
people shout labels
like shields in a war of comfort:
I’m Hispanic, I’m Black, I’m white, I’m Asian—
but beneath the noise,
nobody asks about the soul
trying to breathe under the weight.
what about I?
what about me?
what about the heartbeat
that survived centuries
of being misunderstood on purpose?
difference isn’t dangerous.
ignorance is.
they push people away,
call them insane,
call them dramatic,
call them too much—
when really,
they’re just afraid
of learning something
that would require change.
no badge means pride
when it’s used like a blade.
no heritage stays holy
when it’s weaponized
against another body.
it was never how we walked.
never how we talked.
it was skin.
it was history.
it was truth
they didn’t want reflected back.
people race to be right
but never slow down
to see the human race
is made of the same fragile miracles:
hearts that break,
lungs that fight for air,
brains that ache with memory,
tongues that still try to speak.
we laugh.
we grieve.
we endure.
we rebuild
with shaking hands
because that’s what being human costs.
so why push us away
when you could stay?
why choose comfort
over conscience?
look at your hands.
look at your skin.
say it honestly:
this is not the whole story.
the body is only the cover.
the art lives underneath.
don’t judge race.
judge heart.
judge what survives.
judge what loves anyway.
we are not labels.
we are not mistakes.
we are not your history’s excuse.
we are human art,
and refusing to see it
doesn’t make us invisible.
it just exposes
who you decided not to become.
Jan 29
Jan 29, 2026 at 8:44 PM UTC
They executed him.
[Used up all of their ***** ***** magazines;
Used up ammunition.]
Him: The “American agitator”,
Turned “American suicide bomber”,
Going in there,
Knowing the possibility of death—
But did he get paid enough?
We all have sympathy for the excommunicated,
But, as for the execution—No—rights are rights.
©2026Ellen Finn
Jan 29
Jan 29, 2026 at 4:37 PM UTC
She is pro-drugs,
[for everyone else]
But she is not.
She is pro-life,
[for herself]
But she is not.
[“My body; my right(s).”]
She is pro-NRA,
[“hugs, not guns”]
But she is not.
©2026Ellen Finn
Jan 29
Jan 29, 2026 at 2:04 PM UTC
America has no king, no crown
upon the greedy mind;
no single voice whose power grows
through fear to rule mankind.
Yet power hums beneath the ground,
its echoes haunt the clay;
for what was built on others’ bones
still breathes beneath the day.
The treaties turned from word to ash,
their pledges swept away;
The Trail still winds through history's grief,
where countless lives gave way.
The children sent to schools reformed,
young buried 'neath the frames,
and from the bones of stolen ground,
souls rose to speak their names.
In petitions and strikes they raised
their banners proud but torn,
to claim the voice denied so long,
a right long fought and worn.
Though ballots cast were hard to win,
their rights were still restrained;
beyond these gains, new walls would rise,
and many hearts constrained.
From south they came, their rights assured,
yet laws would turn away;
in Depression's gloom, homes were seized,
their children torn astray.
Still to this day, their struggle burns,
their courage beat the drum;
with strength they'd bear the torch ahead,
for battles yet to come.
The freedman’s vote was fiercely won,
yet laws would soon betray;
segregated lives bore rough chains,
their trust was cast away.
Yet voices rose, the marches swelled,
their strength would light the stage;
From color, creed, and gender all—
their fight would crown the age.
For rights of birth, of choice, of breath,
their fight persists today;
they said her body was her own,
then wrote her rights away.
The courts may shift, the laws may bind,
but struggle ever turns;
the voices rise, the fight persists,
and each new life must learn.
America has no king, no crown
upon the greedy mind;
Yet power hums beneath the ground,
the pulse of humankind.
We must uphold the rights hard-won,
defend the truth we knew;
each age must prove those words again,
or watch the crown renew.
Jan 6
Jan 6, 2026 at 1:41 PM UTC
Mama,
they took my degree
'cause they don't want me to see.
They fear a woman thinking
more than any enemy.
Mama,
they measure worth in numbers
that were never made for me.
Then they lock the books behind them
and swear it's "just bureaucracy."
Mama,
they grip their power tightly
and pretend it's done politely.
They trace our steps with doubt
like brilliance in a woman is unlikely.
Mama,
they fold our dreams like laundry,
and claim it's "tradition" and equality.
Then they seal our applications
with our failure written quietly.
Mama,
they can strip away my dignity
the way they broke women in history.
They can even whisper desperate pleas
but Oh, Mama,
they will never take me.
Dec 8, 2025
Dec 8, 2025 at 9:02 AM UTC
A word, a hymn, a whispered curse,
"Harami" entangles before my birth.
No fault of mine, this shadowed name,
Yet I'm the one bearing all the shame.
Born of desire's fleeting flame,
Of secrets kept, of hidden blames.
Born in the dawn , with stifled vagitus,
They silenced tears I still hold close.
Naked I moved, averting people's glare,
"Harami", they hissed, raising social pillar.
My culpable parents roam free,
flaunting Pride and draped in honour
While I'm cast as sin,
an epitome of lust.
Call me not 'bastard',
but a child,
With dreams ambling,
Entangling to conquer.
The guilt is theirs. The shame is theirs.
The story is mine- to fly high above sky.
Oct 16, 2025
Oct 16, 2025 at 4:44 AM UTC
Alien.
That’s all it takes.
Say it enough times—
with enough pride,
with enough certainty,
say it like it’s harmless—
and you start to believe it.
You convince yourself some people
don’t belong here.
That some lives weigh less.
That some suffering is acceptable.
And soon,
you forget they were ever people to begin with.
This is where it begins.
Not with camps.
Not with walls.
With words—
small, familiar, deadly.
Words that divide.
Words that erase.
Words that strip humanity away
layer by layer,
until you look at a person
and only see a problem.
And what happens next?
We dress it up.
We call it safety.
We call it policy.
We call it normal.
But let’s not pretend.
Alligator Alcatraz is not a policy.
It’s not a technicality.
It’s not safety.
It’s a concentration camp.
Built by people who learned nothing
from the blood their ancestors drowned in.
And I am from Germany.
I know this pattern.
I know how fast words become walls.
How quickly division becomes destruction.
How easily neighbors become strangers,
become threats,
become numbers.
We screamed it into history books—
Never again.
We tattooed it across generations.
We carved it into memorials.
We taught it in classrooms.
We promised.
But promises mean nothing
if we look away now.
It never starts with gas chambers.
It starts with small lines—
borders,
walls,
categories.
It starts with us and them.
When fear speaks louder.
When division feels safer than empathy.
When language poisons the foundation
before anyone notices.
It starts
when people feel so distant,
so different,
that hurting them feels justified.
And I’ll say it plainly—
You cannot be neutral while this happens.
You either fight—
or you help them build the fences.
Because it always ends the same way—
with camps,
with cages,
with bodies counted in hindsight,
and the world pretending
no one saw it coming.
But we do see it coming.
We see it now.
And if we refuse to speak,
if we refuse to fight—
history isn’t repeating itself.
We are repeating it.
Jul 4, 2025
Jul 4, 2025 at 7:50 PM UTC
The matter of the fact happens to be, I've ****** my way to ascension and I know how my shackles broke.
I wasn't rambling about nonsense but the **** I was spewing wasn't venom but love. I was sharing information about the future and that brought me to find the right help because at one point I realized I was everyone's safe space but I forgot who mine were.
I've been in every possible timeline. I know Claire, I know the real bubblegum baddies. I just thought I was tripped through all of that though.
Maybe change is uncomfortable in the way people with body dysmorphia feel, changing clothes in front of a mirror with shearing blind lights.
Maybe it wasn't me that was crazy. I just asked the right questions.
I was apolitical for a reason, but then I realized politics is your fundamental human right and if I don't fight for my human rights, who will?
If I don't claw and scream my way out, who will?
I've always been nice but I've always also been just out of reach from happiness.
So maybe it wasn't me.
Maybe, maybe isn't even the word.
The words ought to be in the present tense because change can't be seen until it's all done.
Mar 18, 2025
Mar 18, 2025 at 10:36 AM UTC
I came on silver wings,
drifting past dying stars,
hoping to find a world soft enough
to call my own.
I saw blue first,
a planet breathing,
wrapped in mist and promise.
I thought, maybe here—
maybe here I could stay.
But then—
the silence of women swallowed whole,
voices drowned in laws not their own.
Skin held as a currency,
love twisted into a crime.
The ones in power, chosen by fear,
speak with empty mouths
and call it truth.
I watched men sharpen their edges
on the backs of women,
their laughter carving scars,
their hands taking without asking.
The food—
not food at all, but ghosts of what once was,
pumped with things that do not belong.
The trees fall,
not from time,
but from greed’s impatient hands.
And I wonder,
do they not see the world turning brittle?
Do they not hear the earth gasping?
I do not understand your wars,
your hunger for more,
the way you cage each other
and call it freedom.
I only feel it—
the ache of something wrong,
an unraveling, a sickness,
a grief I do not have a name for.
I did not come to be a witness
to a planet choosing its own end.
I came looking for home,
but this—
this is not a place to stay.
So I turn away,
silver wings catching starlight,
searching for a world
that remembers how to be kind.
Feb 22, 2025
Feb 22, 2025 at 12:52 AM UTC
If THEY cannot rebuild this country with love, empathy, and compassion—
If THEY only destroy communities, tear apart families, sow distrust, mislead, interrogate, gaslight, condemn, and grow fat off OUR fellow humans—
If WE cannot trust OUR representatives, those in power, OUR system of law, OUR doctors, OUR teachers, and the people who hold OUR lives and those of OUR loved ones in THEIR hands—
Then what kind of world do THEY seek to create?
THOSE MEN, draped in their wolfskin suits, armored in dollar bills, wearing false masks of humanity, do not deserve the power they wield.
If this is the system THEY choose to uphold, one that thrives on exploitation, suffering, and deceit, then let it crumble. Let it burn.
And from the ashes of this failed system and flawed government, WE will rise. WE will rebuild—not with greed or oppression, but with unity, justice, and the courage to do what is right.
This is OUR country, OUR problems, OUR responsibility to make it right.
WE will not bow. WE will not be broken. WE will not stand idly by as THEY feast on the labors and suffering of OUR people. The time for change is now, and it belongs to all of US.
Jan 24, 2025
Jan 24, 2025 at 1:01 AM UTC
The building is breaking,
the cameras aren’t recording,
and I’m supposed to do my job effectively?
The world is dying,
the economy collapsing,
the people falling in the street,
and I’m supposed to find a way to be happy?
The bills are unpaid,
the lights won’t turn on,
the water is brown and smells of syrup,
and I’m supposed to care about your new skin line?
Our minds are poisoned
with deception and false information,
kept distracted by flashing lights and one-liners once funny.
Our youth is gone before its start.
Our elders work until their final breath.
The children are crying, screaming, pleading for peace,
yet they know too that it’s too late.
And we’re supposed to count the blessings gone unseen?
I am alive,
but what does that even mean?
All I can do is breath,
and hope the smoke doesn’t destroy me.
I have a safe home,
if you ignore the lead and asbestos.
I have a good partner,
if you ignore all of the screaming.
I looked to my neighbour,
and saw their lawn had no grass either.
We looked across the street together, hoping for new sights.
But aside from the blood and the bullet holes
the people there had the same troubles.
We broke down in tears.
We heard the cries for help,
but were too busy fighting ourselves.
Another life gone,
unprevented by healthcare that doesn’t care.
The news lady spoke of another shooting today.
They showed the children hitting the windows
and asked one fleeing to speak of his dead friend.
They mentioned the staff member killed
while calling the police.
A parent was arrested trying to rush in.
They could have been saved,
but better to ‘keep the public calm’.
919 dead overall.
But still,
they want us to smile
and pretend to be happy
in what is supposedly the ‘greatest country’;
kept alive solely by those willing to give their lives
for what they consider to be a good fight.
We’re meant to never complain
for the sake of modesty and good names.
Meanwhile, 80-year-old men are arguing
over who gets to decide our fate.
God bless America,
and all the dead people living in it.
Prayers for those permanently lost to it.
Oct 25, 2024
Oct 25, 2024 at 10:00 PM UTC
I pledge allegiance to the flag
of the United States of America
and to the Republic for which it stands,
one nation, under God, indivisible,
with Liberty and Justice for all.
Justice for all our black neighbours
who have the honour of being murdered
should they make the mistake of looking
at a police officer the wrong way;
officers meant to unhold the meaning of justice.
Justice for the gays who’ve spent decades fighting
for their right to publicly exist,
even accepting torture as punishment
for the sake of the greater good;
only for those rights to be put back in a box.
Justice for the women bleeding in alleyways
at the hand of a man who knows
that even if he’s caught,
he’ll still get away with it.
He just has to blame it on her skirt.
Justice for the brothers and sisters
dying at the hands of their cruel parents
and a crueler system that would care more
if only they still existed in the womb.
A life being lived is a life not important, I suppose.
Justice for the mentally impaired
who were perceived as burdens
and God’s punishment for mankind to bear;
who are still fighting for their right
to work, own, and love as others do.
Justice for the felons who got the label
in a state of teenage recklessness,
who have not the right to vote
or have themselves a good career,
but get to watch another run for president.
Justice for the Natives who often go missing
and reappear mysteriously deceased,
but are rarely ever looked for
or never given any protections.
Who are still fighting for their right to keep their land.
Justice for the children
who have to practice lockdowns
in case their school is the next one attacked.
The fear of not going home heavy on their hearts;
thoughts and prayers the only thing sent if they die.
Justice for the non-Christians whose lives are threatened
and temples are frequently attacked
because they don’t fit under the allegiance,
for the don’t follow the ‘right’ God
or practice the ‘right’ way.
Justice for all of the lonely Americans
who have to watch their liberties
be put on the stand and questioned again.
The ones fighting one more time for the right to live.
To love. To be safe. To be a person.
Justice for the ones watching
The arrogant applaud their loss of freedoms
for the sake of their own personal gain.
Justice for the ones listening to their loved ones
tell them that it doesn’t matter.
I guess we just don’t matter.
To Liberty and Justice for all.
Sep 15, 2024
Sep 15, 2024 at 5:26 PM UTC
Between star and night,
between black skin and white skin --
our fire is burning.
Jan 29, 2024
Jan 29, 2024 at 4:22 AM UTC
In this world of capitalism,
we're driven by consumerism.
We act out of a sense of entitlement.
At times, we order others like a servant.
We think we deserve our rights,
and just for that we'll fight.
Just so that we can win,
We'll raise our voice and create a scene.
In our competitive society,
There is so much emphasis on productivity.
We end up becoming exploitative.
Can the outcome really be positive?
We need to think carefully,
if we can live with ourselves comfortably,
when most of our gain,
is built on another's pain.
Perhaps we should really see,
that we're not much different.
You and Me.
There's so much more that we could be.
Be the change that you want to see.
To others, they might be somebody:
A daughter, a sister, a lover, a wife.
Please give some honour to their life.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 12:23 PM UTC
When not even
salt rain can escape the claws
of it's cousin
When fighting seems
pointless
That's the cue
to fight harder
Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 5:33 AM UTC
All the constant protests
And with world also burning
All i could see how the tables were turning
The police continued brutality
They started using sticks
Also started throwing bricks
The state was in a state of chaos
People had to step up the game
All got included with the ones with fame
Amazing results were shown
The state was progressing at all time
With the decrease in number of crime
Jun 9, 2020
Jun 9, 2020 at 4:48 PM UTC
George pleaded for his life,
begged to breathe, requested
the continuity of his own existence
before the lynch, with a knee
on the commemoration day
of many lives that have burned in vain —
violent resistance in detention,
a fabrication out of desperation,
when all they had was the sick joy
of seeing an innocent in pain,
fell silent and motionless
once and for all,
and he too has burned in vain.
Do not let that be a fact.
Eric waits, and now
George too.
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 7:21 PM UTC
Let’s make a world,
Where at the end of a long day of work
I could hold your hand to your car outside
And give you a chaste kiss
Just a simple thing,
That a new couple does
Because they will miss each other
Because you are working late
And flying home the next day.
Let’s make a world
Where one day, if we were married
We could be out at work,
And I could give you a chaste kiss when your start your day and I go to my ward
And you to yours.
And when we fly to your home country
We could look after your parents together.
And when they die I could hold your hand at their funeral
And swing my arm around you.
And take you home.
Just a simple thing a couple does
Because they love each other.
Let’s make that world.
Jan 23, 2020
Jan 23, 2020 at 6:23 AM UTC
Hong Kong China crunch
clash of ideologies—
iron mixed with clay
Dec 4, 2019
Dec 4, 2019 at 4:32 PM UTC