#oppresion
"
The light we dread on the path we tread,
Scorched by the morals we misuse.
Misread the darkness, our hearts distressed,
Mocked by the values we choose,
Led astray by the prophecies of disharmony.
Heralds of the Righteous, deaf to hideous cries,
Sombre pleas linger, unseen in the abyss.
Angels seek refuge in hell from our treachery,
Watching disdainfully the absurdity we create,
While Demons, now praying for salvation,
Witness the tragic fall of humanity.
Instruments of war masquerade as peace,
Tormenting the innocent’s fragile ease.
A nation built on unity’s roar,
Now silenced by the lies of the false majority,
As citizens, evicted by leaders once upheld,
Fall victim to the very mother they served.
The tranquil ocean of individuals,
Swept away by the puddle of atrocities.
The gavel of justice hammers the innocent,
While the illustrious clowns, adorned in lustrous lies, roam free.
As avatars of Themis fall to Eris' tempting kiss,
Our heroes, once righteous, now stab us in the back with monarchic bliss.
While the poor laugh abundantly at their chains,
The rich weep for sovereignty that wanes.
Failure is the epitome of success,
While schools terrify us to death,
Teaching the race between ending a valuable life
And the finish line of a hollow diploma.
Yet in hallowed halls, they preach dismay,
As arguments and debates suffocate the air,
In this world already choked by toxic despair.
The masks of leadership conceal deceit,
As false ideals march beneath victory's flag.
And when the hands that build also destroy,
Philosophy, once pure and guiding,
Now teaches Angels the art of demonology.
"
-Klausyuer: The ****** Poet
Oct 9, 2024
Oct 9, 2024 at 8:41 PM UTC
Hello,
I'm dreaming of stars.
Of love, of money, and fantastic cars.
Of artistic creation, the fame, and success.
Of hope, of longing, and beautiful ***
I'm scared of the future and staying up late.
I've wrapped it all up just to dream it away.
I feel terribly bad but I cant stop the bleeding,
My dream-clotted heart just might keep beating.
But its keeping me down 'cause I'm failing, you see.
I think it might be such an awful disease.
I think I'll combust of this crippling confusion.
I think I might lust for some perfect delusion.
...
I think this has gone on for too long.
I can't find a job 'cause I long for a song.
I can't stop feeling nostalgic, although.
I dream of a house, of my little home.
Just enough to keep on moving forward.
Just enough to live 'til I'm older,
Without too much trouble and enough for my kids.
I dream that maybe I'll finally get rid,
Of the dreaming that's been holding me back for so long,
The one that's made it so terribly hard.
Mar 3, 2020
Mar 3, 2020 at 6:35 AM UTC
All around the world
The day comes of deep colours
To rehearse things
That are really trueful.
I care about cradle of clouds
Above my head
Black beetles to show oppression
Into their words
When I am my everything, my friend.
Celebration of friendship on the road
Happy whether they help or not
As the sky give an reflection as pure
Then I will have a day of everything.
By K-mari ©2016
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 7:21 PM UTC
My bruises are hidden and my mind is a mist
When I feel threatened out comes my fist
My home is a hell; my future so bleak
Cared for I'm not so attention I seek
The smells of this world are damp and so dark
My only palace is the swings in the park
Most avoid me and I wish he would too
I would like to speak out but would it seem true?
I listen for help; from the crack in my wall
But no-one comes; they know nothing at all
I oppress others as a release of my hate
I am alone and there is no escape
Everyone else has a hand to hold
This world is so dark, so sad and so cold
Why do I have to live with anger and strife?
I am a bully and this is my life...
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 8:26 AM UTC
UNDERDOG RAP
We are a population which is
Awaiting loaves and the fishes
And other unfulfilled wishes;
No chance to know what rich is,
While graduates are digging ditches
Immigrant PhDs are doing dishes.
Never quite knowing which is
Snake oil salesmen pitches.
Politicians too big for their britches.
Fools don’t know where the hitch is
Whatever the larcenous pitch is;
Reacting with kneejerk twitches
Due to governmental glitches.
And creeps like that guy Mitch is
Are rapacious sons of *******
Hunting for Democratic witches
In all the freedom fighting niches
With hearts as black as pitch is.
And the rich have a wish list
In which they scratch their itches
Regardless of what our ***** is
By wallowing in stolen riches
Punishing watchdogs snitches.
Politicians too big for their britches.
We are a population which is
Awaiting loaves and the fishes
And other unfulfilled wishes.
No chance to know what rich is.
Brent Kincaid
March 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 6:49 PM UTC
Enemy of the afraid
Terror of the tame
The privileged have you made
Into killers by name
If dying is your game
Too suspicious, skin too dark
your foreign tongue
Has made its mark
Bomb terror, bomb terror
Empathy to maim
Get your guns, weapon bearer
If dying is your game
Weighing lives against each other
Civil fear, where is your mother
If misused power lent you fame
then dying is your game
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 5:56 PM UTC