#neveragain
Never again
Never will I love Again
Never!If I don't feel your warmth Again
Never will I love Again
Never again
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 9:41 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
Tila namanhid na ang babahaang landas
walang patid ang agos ng luha, habang walang habas
ang malupit na lilik-panggamas -
patuloy ang tila nag-aamok na pagwasiwas.
Kahit mura pa ang uhay
ng nagbubuntis na palay
Namúti na ang katiwala ng mga bunso't panganay:
Walang sinanto ang pakay
ng aninong sumalakay.
Sinimot pati ipa. Ang imbakang burnay
tuyung-tuyô, tila balóng patáy.
Ubos na ang mga ninuno sa Purok
Ang mga inanak at inapo, tila mga but-o ng kapok
nangalat na sa malalayong pook
Hindi na tumalab ang mga erihiyang tampok
Ang lamping ibinalot, balót na ng usok.
Ang binalot na kapirasong pusod, bakas na lamang ng balok.
Karipas na ang binatilyong habol ang mutyang pailaya.
May baon pang pagkain, pagsasaluhan pag nagkita
Ngunit mabilis na napawi ang tanawing kasiya-siya
Ang natapong lomi, natabunan na ng aspalto’t palitada
kasama ng mga bakas nina Utoy at mga kabarkada
sa ilang dekadang araw-araw na pagbagtas, nakasipit at gura
mula sa Baryo Balintawak hanggang Lumang Baraka sa Lipa -
Di na makilala. Wangis ay mistisong pilipit. Ay! Pilpinas pala!
Sep 21, 2024
Sep 21, 2024 at 7:41 AM UTC
Now that they're more threatened by the cries of the youth, they will do everything to dismiss your voices, discredit your efforts, belittle your advocacies.
Do not forget what we've started. Go back to the communities and continue the service as we should. Go back to the streets and keep the fight, if we must.
They will mock everything you do as if it is not for the country. They will laugh at you for being educated, woke, angry, and liberated, as if it is wrong to demand for a future that is ours.
God forbid that unwanted things happen, but do not be afraid to shed. Shed light to those who live in the shadows as the enemy's weapons are ignorance, fear, and dissonance. Shed tears for the injustices, for the abuse, for the abused. Shed blood for our freedom, if we must.
They will doubt you until they make you doubt yourselves. They will tag you red, the history they will try to bend.
But do not be bent.
No matter how many pages they burn, your heart will burn brighter because you are the book being written. You are the history as you uphold history, justice, and freedom.
There is no future if there is no history and there is no future without you. You are the clamors in the streets, you are the bars that will imprison the greedy, you are the stories before the ink writes history.
May 11, 2022
May 11, 2022 at 8:34 AM UTC
Pilit hinahabol ng gunting-pamugot
ang tanging dugsong na duguang pusod,
huminto’t tumigil, piniringang may-takot
ang pangalan ng saksi sa mga sagot -
pusod, di-makita, hila ng sanggol na supót,
nag-anyong kabayo, takbo nang takbo
ngunit di abutan, kawatang kangkarot,
akmang tatakas sa malupit na bangungot
mabuti’t nag-iwan ng aklat, Gat Patnugot,
at tila ebanghelyong liwanag ang dulot -
kapag namulat ka’y mahahawi ang ulap at ulop
Kay sarap lumayang tila tsokolateng malambot.
Sep 26, 2021
Sep 26, 2021 at 7:50 AM UTC
Grant me witnessing all ‘round I go
Let me be uncomfortable
In my sadness
In my spite
In my veins our ancestors’ strife
Their oppression chiseled in depths
Of my subconscious—mayn’t I forget
In my every privileged sigh
In every nightmare’s death
And all of my trivial achievement
That their blood inks this gazette
That my soul echoes their last breath
For justice—mayn’t I
Move idly and yield
To transient relief
To false gods
To defeatism
That my heart numbs
To the cries of my people
To the destruction of our homes
To the monarchy of traitors
Let me hear it everywhere I go
Let me be uncomfortable
Sep 22, 2021
Sep 22, 2021 at 10:06 PM UTC
You think I am a happy person...
I know I dont trust you enough
To show you my pain.
--
She wears a smile
And shares her warmth,
She wipes her tears
And hides her scars;
You see the rainbow she exudes,
Because she doesn't trust you--
With her festering darkness
And the thunderstorm she survived.
She hides her demons
Behind masks of her strength,
And iron will--
While they devour her from within;
You will never get to see it,
She will never let you in...
No one will have the power
To hurt her - never again.
Jul 26, 2021
Jul 26, 2021 at 3:05 PM UTC
It's a dance.
A beautiful and deadly dance.
The kind where you put on your best makeup,
best shoes,
best dress,
only to fall apart at midnight.
The kind where you stay close,
pull away,
fingertips graze,
come together again.
Except sometimes,
they never return.
The fingertips never find each other.
They find a new partner to dance with.
They never come back to you.
Apr 19, 2021
Apr 19, 2021 at 10:13 AM UTC
if you tell me I'm wrong,
I won't try to change your mind.
I have better things
To do with my time.
And if you think you can find someone
Better for you than me,
Then go. Be free.
I won't try to change your mind.
Because I love with eyes wide open.
Never blind.
Never again.
Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 8:46 PM UTC
Hey. It's Charlotte. I miss you like crazy.
Every day I think about you. I finished writing that song we started. It hurt, a lot. We had huge plans, Carmen. Now you'll never get older. We thought we had time but yours ran out. I'm never going to forget you. You're at peace and I'm in pain. I'm growing up and you never got that chance. I was planning a surprise 17th birthday party with Julie for you. She held you as you died. I assume you were in shock but Julie didn't let go of you until the very end. She didn't want to let you go.
You sent me a birthday text that morning. 2:30am my time, 1pm yours. I saw it and went back to sleep. I didn't reply. Little did I know that you'd be gone an hour and a half later. I didn't even get to say goodbye. I like to think that you know how hard it was for me. It's as if I'm frozen in time. So many things remind me of you. I just can't believe you're gone.
What if I'd responded to that text. What if I'd called you and you were outside. What if you'd ditched 7th period. There are so many 'what ifs' but none of them can change what happened and that hurts me. As you know, I try to fix or help other people and their problems, but this one is permanent. This one cannot be fixed.
If only I had just a single moment with you again. Just to say goodbye. And to thank you for all the amazing memories we had together. But now you're gone. Forever.
I'm starting to cry, Carmen. You always knew what to say to cheer me up. Or anybody. You would always be there.
You had such big dreams to help people and to change the world. Now you'll never achieve them. Because you're dead. That's the first time I've called you 'dead' since you were gone. I didn't let myself say it.
I miss you so much. I never got the chance to say it, so here.
Goodbye, Carmen.
I love you.
Charlotte
May 26, 2020
May 26, 2020 at 8:57 PM UTC
The rain dances across
the windows
Hair in face,
unknowing what will
happen
As you look out,
the window
fogs up
Hold your breath
I remember where
you sat
When I awoke
I was walking in a field
holding only a piece of
paper
On it, it said,
“Will you miss me?”
7-21-19
Feb 1, 2020
Feb 1, 2020 at 12:43 AM UTC
Do this
Do that
Never for me
Always for you
Always putting me down
You too dark
Too fat
Too short
This that
Words often said
Complaint
Grumble
Annoyance
Anger
That’s all I get
But today I rise
Never again
I promise myself
Never again
I have become more
Each day I become
Never again
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 3:46 PM UTC
A friend,
a night.
Some food,
a smoke.
Invitation --
a couple drinks.
A couple more,
making friends.
Pass the phone
a couple times.
One mistake
a promise & a crash.
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 11:56 PM UTC
let them be heard from beyond the grave,
let them tell the stories of everyone
ravished and burned
buried alongside the evils the ignorant and privileged
threw six feet below this blood-soiled land
while the fool who granted himself
the glory, the honor, the memory that will never be rightfully his,
lies peacefully in a sacred place
do not silence them if they shake the streets with rage
do not shame them if they burn the metro with blinding fury
this is the least we can do, we cannot simply contain the memory
of every homes extinguished into grey smoke,
of every dungeons that turned into homes,
of every child that only had hunger and violence
for teachers rather than their parents,
of every girl that was marked against her will,
of every iron fist that instilled fear,
of every every bullet fired onwards from that day
of the humanity that ceased to be
let the people fight for the yesteryears,
let it be known that the deeds of the devil will never be forgotten
let it be heard that for as long as we draw breath,
he will be condemned back to hell,he will pay for his crimes
and along with him are those that do not speak their minds,
that choose to remain foolishly blind,
that do not sympathise,
let them all be reminded:
history cannot be changed, only remembered
and if bound to be repeated, will be fought like hell because the Filipino may fall but never bend, may falter but never break, may stand in front of the edge, but with crimson-soaked cheeks and wounded fists,
we will take with us to the death, our oath: never forget. --W
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 3:38 AM UTC
Panic.
The final sound of the door being locked from outside.
Mothers crying for children. Children crying for Mothers.
Hundreds of people shoving you into corners trying to reach loved ones.
A young boy falls to the floor, the mother watches him being trampled, unable to move, unable to breathe.
My lungs are screaming for air.
Where? Why?
Fear.
Stumbling into an unknown darkness.
The fear of falling asleep and never waking up.
Contemplating whether death is better than this.
The terrifying crack of a shotgun.
A silence howling with anxiety.
The beating of the engine counting down minutes perfectly synchronised with my heart.
The lady next to me has her eyes closed, I shake her, silently praying for her to be asleep, she doesn’t stir.
Despair.
I’ve lost track of time, two days, three days, a never ending eternity?
Death surrounds me, trying to pull me in to envelop me, it’s so hard to fight, so easy to welcome.
I am surrounded by people, but have never felt so alone.
We are running on animal instincts, whatever food we have we don’t share.
On this train, good morals ****
Agony.
The heat, the stifling heat. It is dizzying, nauseating.
The air is too thick to breathe, to live.
There is an overpowering stench, caused by the heat, the absence of a toilet and death.
There is not much space, but what space there is, is filled by a suffocating heat, a choking smell and burning grief.
Pain is soaring through my veins, a toxic predator pouncing on every fibre of hope in my exhausted body.
Embarrassment.
They have reduced us to animals.
I am embarrassed, embarrassed of my hygiene, embarrassed of my inability to do anything, embarrassed of my selfishness.
Embarrassment is no worse than ****** as when a person is embarrassed they wish to be dead.
It is emotional homicide.
Exhaustion.
I am so tired.
My body is crumpled, being held up by others, some dead, some wishing to be dead.
At first I was focused on surviving, my body was fighting, but now I’m too tired to fight.
My hunger is now just a numb aching, but my thirst seems to be pounding every cell in my body, a constant beating.
I am tired of crying, tired of praying, tired of hearing other people’s cries, tired of hearing other people’s prayers.
Hope.
I hear a voice, singing.
A mother to her child.
The sweet sound of her voice seems to dissolve the clouds of pain and misery hanging over us.
Another voice joins in, a man’s voice.
Two more people join in; gradually the whole carriage starts to sing, united.
I join in grasping for the shreds of energy I didn’t think I had.
We sing louder and louder, our voices drown out the protesting orders to stop.
The train slows to a stop, and the doors slide open.
I breathe, and for the first time in too long, my lungs are satisfied with the oxygen that reaches them.
As our bodies rush out of the carriage, still singing, I am filled with a new sense of hope that whatever is coming next couldn’t possibly be worse than what I’d just been through.
Could it?
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 7:03 PM UTC
Santa Fe, Texas
May 18, 2018
welcome to America.
where there had been 11 school shootings before
the end of january of 2018.
welcome to America
where the mentality of the attacker
is the problem,
and not the system.
welcome to America
where a 17 year old Pakistani girl was killed in her school
among 9 other beautiful souls.
welcome to America, Sabika
which was greeted to you nearly six months ago
where you arrived in the "land of hopes and dreams"
to learn and grow and achieve.
welcome to America
the country that showed promise from the looming Taliban threats in Karachi, your hometown.
welcome to America
the country that you were going to help save Pakistan
by building stronger US - Pakistan relationships
and showing women empowerment by being
(possibly) the second female prime minister of Pakistan.
never again would you watch fireworks explode in the sky on August 14
never again would you count up your money on Eid
never again would you eat your mom's biryani on a hot summer day.
welcome to America, Sabika Sheikh
your hopes and dreams were alive and floating
in the land you gave your heart to
and the land that would take it away.
- a.g.
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 10:56 PM UTC
You do not
****** me,
high as hell,
give me a bunk apology,
and six months later
turn around and change the facts.
Cause they're ******* facts!
I was there,
with your unwelcomed touch.
He walked in to my rescue,
while you dry ******
fantasies
on my couch. (burn it)
You
are
dead
to
me.
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 5:57 PM UTC
This whole country is a crime seen,
3rd Eye’s blurry need some Visine,
driving home with one headlight,
can’t see straight hit the high beams,
feeling like a Wallflower that’s lost all power,
praying for peace while they continue fighting,
and I know I can’t stop all the violence,
but that won’t stop me from trying,
can’t get through to the new school,
try memes,
can’t get the truth through to these dudes,
they keep denying,
I mean what does it mean,
when a black kid’s not even safe in his own yard,
assassinated in his grandmother’s backyard,
story retold by the grandma of Stephon Clark,
trained killers hunted him down and ****** him,
maybe he would’ve survived if his skin was a little less dark,
maybe to see the light first we need a spark,
trying to keep it together even though things seem to be falling apart,
the use of deadly force is often excessive,
but penalties on the killers are rarely enforced,
as if a police officer’s badge is a license to ****
it’s not any less savage because they’re in uniform,
what does that say of our society,
when boys getting killed my men is the norm,
and us kids are sick of it more than a little bit,
school shootings cop shooting what’s going on,
and where are our leaders at times like this,
I mean shout out to Emma Gonzalez,
I respect her heart and congratulate her courage,
but why do adults have to learn from kids,
where are our role models,
where is the love,
global warming it’s heating up,
still kids get killed in cold blood,
this is not a front,
I’m not fronting,
I’m not faking,
I’m whole foods,
they’re all bacon,
fat no protein,
facts no smoke dreams,
fact is these pros need practice,
because this whole country’s a crime scene,
every day another cover up,
got cameras on every block,
still when a kid gets shot,
it seems like the body cams are always covered up,
how can it be 2018,
where we’re constantly under surveillance,
yet we never see the footage of cops,
when they shoot civilians,
and I’m trying to stay patient,
but I’m running out a patience,
and it’s not just cops killing kids,
kids are killing kids too,
but most people don’t even want to hear about it,
let alone actually get up and move,
wanna know how many people have been killed by guns,
millions and millions in the United States alone,
and no one is safe not even a 22 year old kid,
siting in the backyard of his grandmother’s home,
this whole place is a Danger Zone,
this whole country is a crime seen,
3rd Eye’s blurry need some Visine,
driving home with one headlight,
can’t see straight hit the high beams,
feeling like a Wallflower that’s lost all power,
praying for peace while they continue fighting,
and I know I can’t stop all the violence,
but that won’t stop me from trying…
∆ Aaron La Lux ∆
New Book FREE Here: www.scribd.com/document/367036005
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 6:39 PM UTC
Heard all the news
Read all the sites
Talking heads views
Little sound bites
I just don't care
I really don't
Cause I got you
Cause I got you.
Trump's up in Flames
Our world is too
No one to blame
It's all boo-hoo
I just don't care
I really don't
Cause I got you
Cause I got you.
Children got fear
Adults got guns
The NRA cheers
We're all undone
I just don't care
I really don't
Cause I got you
Cause I got you.
Black man at home
Waving brand new phone
Cops shoot him dead
20 shots center mass
I just don't care
I really don't
Cause I got you
Cause I got you.
© Zane Safrit, 2018 All rights reserved.
Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 4:37 PM UTC
i never learn how to say the truth to my friends, unless they're good things
i'm not big on sugarcoating, but neither on being brutally and truthfully honest
most especially to you
i can never describe the fear and the anxiety of disappointing you
of just spitting the words i really wanted to say but always always too afraid or stricken to speak because you might just not get it and i might just end up hurting you instead of simply laying down my opinions
opinions
i have tons of them inside my head and they just stay there, waiting to be used on the day i'll finally find the courage to say that you're too much and the pain is sometimes unbearable and can you please stop or just pause because
because my heart is too heavy from all your accusations
my lungs too tight from this choked up feeling, for always letting you win without batting an eyelash and just opening your lips to let your own harsh words out
my soul, dear friend, is bruised too much
i can hardly recognized it because of the many stitches i sew on it every night so that it'll look like it's ready yet again for another war with you
you see
my mind is not that strong to block all your scary glares and your always present annoyed voice everytime i attempt to say what i want you to hear
i can't seem to dodge your blows as i try to turn my back on you because that will only give you more reason to think that here i am again, leaving you after all the time you picked me up and stayed with me
how can you not see that i am so. **** tired.
of putting up with your *****
of your careless throwing of disguised-as-honest-but-really-are-just-hurtful words?
how?
this is the reason i left you before
and only by a circumstance i first thought was a blessing but is really just another opportunity for you to break me way worse than before
did we meet
and if there's something i learned from that
it's that i won't let you do that to me ever again
i'm one of them
as Cassie would say
the bent, but the unbroken
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 1:43 AM UTC
i never learn how to say the truth to my friends, unless they're good things
i'm not big on sugarcoating, but neither on being brutally and truthfully honest
most especially to you
i can never describe the fear and the anxiety of disappointing you
of just spitting the words i really wanted to say but always always too afraid or stricken to speak because you might just not get it and i might just end up hurting you instead of simply laying down my opinions
opinions
i have tons of them inside my head and they just stay there, waiting to be used on the day i'll finally find the courage to say that you're too much and the pain is sometimes unbearable and can you please stop or just pause because
because my heart is too heavy from all your accusations
my lungs too tight from this choked up feeling, for always letting you win without batting an eyelash and just opening your lips to let your own harsh words out
my soul, dear friend, is bruised too much
i can hardly recognized it because of the many stitches i sew on it every night so that it'll look like it's ready yet again for another war with you
you see
my mind is not that strong to block all your scary glares and your always present annoyed voice everytime i attempt to say what i want you to hear
i can't seem to dodge your blows as i try to turn my back on you because that will only give you more reason to think that here i am again, leaving you after all the time you picked me up and stayed with me
how can you not see that i am so. **** tired.
of putting up with your *****
of your careless throwing of disguised-as-honest-but-really-are-just-hurtful words?
how?
this is the reason i left you before
and only by a circumstance i first thought was a blessing but is really just another opportunity for you to break me way worse than before
did we meet
and if there's something i learned from that
it's that i won't let you do that to me ever again
i'm one of them
as Cassie would say
the bent, but the unbroken
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 1:40 AM UTC
why should I have to worry about my school
becoming the next shooting range?
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 10:11 AM UTC