#protesting - Hello Poetry

Why so much violence Why can't we find peace Why are you protesting causing so much destruction is that really better ? Breaking windows spraying hate upon these walls Your destroying people's lives your turning our city into a ugly ****** up mess How does that get your message across ? Grow the **** up and look up protesting see it's meaning are you reading the meaning ? It's about using your voice and standing up Your all acting like brats hurting others acting like bullies that's not protesting your not getting attention Your getting us ****** off I hope you get to feel the damage your causing You belong in a cell Where you can't destroy and steal and throw temper tantrums Where you can't spread your ugliness and we can find peace and find our way ahead It has to stop your not proving anything I know you must be stopped it has to end it's no longer about race or hate It's about adults who are acting like children You need to learn the meaning of protesting You need to build others up and help people see there is a way forward So stop just stop We can handle this You need to be taught a lesson and karma will handle you soon I just hope sooner not later © Jennifer L DeLong 🦏 4/17/2021

0

Apr 17, 2021

Apr 17, 2021 at 9:20 AM UTC

norwegianrhinowitch

Protesting

Why so much violence Why can't we find peace Why are you protesting causing so much destruction is that really better ? Breaking windows spraying hate upon these walls Your destroying people's lives your turning our city into a ugly ****** up mess How does that get your message across ? Grow the **** up and look up protesting see it's meaning are you reading the meaning ? It's about using your voice and standing up Your all acting like brats hurting others acting like bullies that's not protesting your not getting attention Your getting us ****** off I hope you get to feel the damage your causing You belong in a cell Where you can't destroy and steal and throw temper tantrums Where you can't spread your ugliness and we can find peace and find our way ahead It has to stop your not proving anything I know you must be stopped it has to end it's no longer about race or hate It's about adults who are acting like children You need to learn the meaning of protesting You need to build others up and help people see there is a way forward So stop just stop We can handle this You need to be taught a lesson and karma will handle you soon I just hope sooner not later © Jennifer L DeLong 🦏 4/17/2021

57

The world is crying!! poets where are you, we all need you God has gifted you! To help hearts of this world make it through.. Where are you?.. The World around us is falling.. Parts of it feeling tragedy feeling disastrous. feeling help us Lord stand with us. Poet, Leaders, Teachers, Ministers, come through, Motivators where are you! Rain is pouring.. Don't sleep on us hope your not snoring. We are standing we are fighting, we are protesting. We don't know what to do, our world is troubling. Days appearing cloudy, whats our world coming to. Is the world being punished for its iniquities, Is this meant to bring us to our knees. It's hard for many to see eye to eye, We see a grey cloudy dark sky. As the world is crying. Some parts of it are laughing and mocking. Most are denying, That things are coming apart by its seams. As the Minority are bleeding. Our World is crying. Many are denying,,. its the quiet before the storm. It's the beginning of a tragic alarm. It's history in the making! It's very alarming.. The storms are rolling.. Poets speak your volumes.. Speak your views.. Speak in colorful hues. On the things of today. Help wipe some tears away. SelinaSharday aka heavensRosepoet 1-22-2017 S.A.M ©

0

Feb 27, 2018

Feb 27, 2018 at 12:13 PM UTC

SelinaSharday

The world is crying!!

The world is crying!! poets where are you, we all need you God has gifted you! To help hearts of this world make it through.. Where are you?.. The World around us is falling.. Parts of it feeling tragedy feeling disastrous. feeling help us Lord stand with us. Poet, Leaders, Teachers, Ministers, come through, Motivators where are you! Rain is pouring.. Don't sleep on us hope your not snoring. We are standing we are fighting, we are protesting. We don't know what to do, our world is troubling. Days appearing cloudy, whats our world coming to. Is the world being punished for its iniquities, Is this meant to bring us to our knees. It's hard for many to see eye to eye, We see a grey cloudy dark sky. As the world is crying. Some parts of it are laughing and mocking. Most are denying, That things are coming apart by its seams. As the Minority are bleeding. Our World is crying. Many are denying,,. its the quiet before the storm. It's the beginning of a tragic alarm. It's history in the making! It's very alarming.. The storms are rolling.. Poets speak your volumes.. Speak your views.. Speak in colorful hues. On the things of today. Help wipe some tears away. SelinaSharday aka heavensRosepoet 1-22-2017 S.A.M ©

33

Someone whispers to him “calm your heart,” but the crimson streaked flesh that beats soft wet palpitations hastens his impatience to face what’s coming. He has no armor or weapon only the determination to do what is right. Four chambers are thudding like the boots a coming. Men in black garbs marching with fully loaded chambers, clear plastic shields up, and black sticks ready to bludgeon. Their anger is oppositional to their opponent’s fog of fear, fatigue, and determination. “Breath my child,” a gentle voice says. A sharp pain pierces on the back of his head. A thin line begins to ride down his neck. Someone yells “get down!” One row of men raise their hands, eyes turned upward. The soft voice in his head says” be strong.” Billows of grey smoke spew from a black canister. Strangers and familiars choke and gasp, eyes watering. Dreams of a bygone era play out in his mind. A tall thin brown sweaty woman smiles, moving down the road while singing we shall overcome. Dogs snap viscously at her compatriots. A fire pushes her siblings back with skin scraping pressure. A few of them fall, and couple falter in the struggle but most keep marching. Her brother, who is tall slightly bulky but wears the well-earned muscles of a man who labored hard all his life, clenches his fists, preparing to strike. She pulls him back. “Be strong, and gentle baby brother.” They continue to sing “We shall overcome.” In his mind the young man sees his mother smiling, saying “"Be calm, saith my heart. I am a warrior. I have seen far worse than this." He smiles through the pain stands up and chants “Hands up don’t shoot. Hands up don’t shoot.” Another brother rises behind him yelling “Black lives matter. Black lives matter.” A thin nerdy pale white guy cries we shall overcome, not in a singing tone, but it still rings beautifully. The struggle continues.

0

Nov 16, 2016

Nov 16, 2016 at 8:31 AM UTC

graff1980

Untitled

Someone whispers to him “calm your heart,” but the crimson streaked flesh that beats soft wet palpitations hastens his impatience to face what’s coming. He has no armor or weapon only the determination to do what is right. Four chambers are thudding like the boots a coming. Men in black garbs marching with fully loaded chambers, clear plastic shields up, and black sticks ready to bludgeon. Their anger is oppositional to their opponent’s fog of fear, fatigue, and determination. “Breath my child,” a gentle voice says. A sharp pain pierces on the back of his head. A thin line begins to ride down his neck. Someone yells “get down!” One row of men raise their hands, eyes turned upward. The soft voice in his head says” be strong.” Billows of grey smoke spew from a black canister. Strangers and familiars choke and gasp, eyes watering. Dreams of a bygone era play out in his mind. A tall thin brown sweaty woman smiles, moving down the road while singing we shall overcome. Dogs snap viscously at her compatriots. A fire pushes her siblings back with skin scraping pressure. A few of them fall, and couple falter in the struggle but most keep marching. Her brother, who is tall slightly bulky but wears the well-earned muscles of a man who labored hard all his life, clenches his fists, preparing to strike. She pulls him back. “Be strong, and gentle baby brother.” They continue to sing “We shall overcome.” In his mind the young man sees his mother smiling, saying “"Be calm, saith my heart. I am a warrior. I have seen far worse than this." He smiles through the pain stands up and chants “Hands up don’t shoot. Hands up don’t shoot.” Another brother rises behind him yelling “Black lives matter. Black lives matter.” A thin nerdy pale white guy cries we shall overcome, not in a singing tone, but it still rings beautifully. The struggle continues.

7

Bell bottom hip huggers And my Frankenstein shoes That had stack soles and heels That I could only barely use. A crop-top sleeveless tee shirt With a superman emblem on it And diamond ring on my hand. In case I might have to pawn it. Because we were picketing Downtown at the City Hall And at some police stations. It was the seventies after all. Our parents raised us to acquiesce It was their America they protected. And it was just exactly this blindness That we, en masse, all rejected. We failed to understand them The generations that came before That prized prejudice and bias And celebrated sending us to war. We felt there was another way To go about sweeping social change. We saw beating and fire hosing As nefarious and more than strange. We got beaten ourselves and jailed For just pointing injustice out to them And watched our sit-ins and love-ins Turned into scenes of ****** mayhem. We heard them call us all criminals, Long haired ******* was a favored taunt. It seems we were entitled to our opinions As long as we didn’t chose to flaunt. It felt so very much like **** Germany Including storm troopers and jack boots And the local politicians were obviously At least agreeing if not in cahoots With the police in their fear of rebellion And protecting their good paying jobs. So, they beat us and vilified the students Calling them ***** communists, and slobs. And, yes, some of us were getting high Back in our homes and apartments. Sometimes it seemed the only way We could deal with the estrangement Between what our country said it was And what it turned out it really was. It was hard to realize our land wasn’t free And there was no social Santa Claus.

0

Apr 5, 2016

Apr 5, 2016 at 1:00 AM UTC

brent-kincaid

PAISLEY PROTESTORS

Bell bottom hip huggers And my Frankenstein shoes That had stack soles and heels That I could only barely use. A crop-top sleeveless tee shirt With a superman emblem on it And diamond ring on my hand. In case I might have to pawn it. Because we were picketing Downtown at the City Hall And at some police stations. It was the seventies after all. Our parents raised us to acquiesce It was their America they protected. And it was just exactly this blindness That we, en masse, all rejected. We failed to understand them The generations that came before That prized prejudice and bias And celebrated sending us to war. We felt there was another way To go about sweeping social change. We saw beating and fire hosing As nefarious and more than strange. We got beaten ourselves and jailed For just pointing injustice out to them And watched our sit-ins and love-ins Turned into scenes of ****** mayhem. We heard them call us all criminals, Long haired ******* was a favored taunt. It seems we were entitled to our opinions As long as we didn’t chose to flaunt. It felt so very much like **** Germany Including storm troopers and jack boots And the local politicians were obviously At least agreeing if not in cahoots With the police in their fear of rebellion And protecting their good paying jobs. So, they beat us and vilified the students Calling them ***** communists, and slobs. And, yes, some of us were getting high Back in our homes and apartments. Sometimes it seemed the only way We could deal with the estrangement Between what our country said it was And what it turned out it really was. It was hard to realize our land wasn’t free And there was no social Santa Claus.

48

Hands up So maybe they'll see I surrender Under the foot of The Badge My hands are up and I beg mercy That this man doesn't pull the trigger Don't shoot! Hands up So many brothers and sisters lost in this war A bullet in me is nothing to them but a paid leave My blood is just another stain It won't cause this man with the badge any pain Don't shoot! Hands up In the court I'm the sketchy one But I wasn't the one standing behind the gun Please God don't shoot! Hands up While we stand together in peace And are accused of violence Beaten, gassed, punched, harassed This is war in these streets Where The Badge and the black man meets DON'T SHOOT Bang Wheres the peace?

0

Nov 26, 2014

Nov 26, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC

katlyn-orthman

Hands Up Don't Shoot

Hands up So maybe they'll see I surrender Under the foot of The Badge My hands are up and I beg mercy That this man doesn't pull the trigger Don't shoot! Hands up So many brothers and sisters lost in this war A bullet in me is nothing to them but a paid leave My blood is just another stain It won't cause this man with the badge any pain Don't shoot! Hands up In the court I'm the sketchy one But I wasn't the one standing behind the gun Please God don't shoot! Hands up While we stand together in peace And are accused of violence Beaten, gassed, punched, harassed This is war in these streets Where The Badge and the black man meets DON'T SHOOT Bang Wheres the peace?

25