"benetton" poems - Hello Poetry

The nineties sold us unity: bright sitcoms, Benetton colors, commercials where everyone smiled as though inequity had been resolved. But the decade bled on screen— a Black man beaten on asphalt, a truck driver dragged from his cab, bomb dust in Oklahoma, children hunted in a school corridor. Unity was the costume; violence was the stage. Then came a Black president. For a moment, the story looked complete. "Post-racial," they said, as though history had closed. But the mask split. Social media tore out the gatekeepers. The hate that had been muted found its tongue, found its profit, and screamed into the feed. Division pays. Unity does not. Violence is systemic, holistic, from home to street to state. Silence makes it whole. The ethic remains: If it is wrong, you stop it. Otherwise the cycle turns, profitable, endless, calling itself America.

0

Aug 19, 2025

Aug 19, 2025 at 5:45 AM UTC

badwords

The United States of Bananas

The nineties sold us unity: bright sitcoms, Benetton colors, commercials where everyone smiled as though inequity had been resolved. But the decade bled on screen— a Black man beaten on asphalt, a truck driver dragged from his cab, bomb dust in Oklahoma, children hunted in a school corridor. Unity was the costume; violence was the stage. Then came a Black president. For a moment, the story looked complete. "Post-racial," they said, as though history had closed. But the mask split. Social media tore out the gatekeepers. The hate that had been muted found its tongue, found its profit, and screamed into the feed. Division pays. Unity does not. Violence is systemic, holistic, from home to street to state. Silence makes it whole. The ethic remains: If it is wrong, you stop it. Otherwise the cycle turns, profitable, endless, calling itself America.

34

To be in McLaren MTC, That really would be cool, I hope this competition's real, Not an early April fool. A dedicated petrol head, Who's driven an F1 car, A Benetton in Spain last year, Not a Prost, or Jaguar, Would love to see the inside track, See inside a first class team, To sit and sip the atmosphere, Would fulfil a long held dream To be sat there in race control, Just as the race is run, Aside from being a privilege, Would really be such fun. So in picking out a winner, It's very clear to see, You need to look no further, The one to pick is me !

0

Mar 21, 2018

Mar 21, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC

ian-brown

Competition winning poem

To be in McLaren MTC, That really would be cool, I hope this competition's real, Not an early April fool. A dedicated petrol head, Who's driven an F1 car, A Benetton in Spain last year, Not a Prost, or Jaguar, Would love to see the inside track, See inside a first class team, To sit and sip the atmosphere, Would fulfil a long held dream To be sat there in race control, Just as the race is run, Aside from being a privilege, Would really be such fun. So in picking out a winner, It's very clear to see, You need to look no further, The one to pick is me !

20

lines mark boundaries scratched by gunship cannon fire crossed regardless by their smoke . preserved on haze made horizon from concrete ministries bunkering a fissionable peace. avant garde fighters control as shoeless fashionistas brokering fear in a 'retro' style of blades and system spooks. working poor garb in fake labels preferring sim-culottes to any daring protests against themselves. we are all Benetton and on message hating colour or hating the hating of colour.hungry habits of the two tones chimed by the 'we all bleed the same' brigades. shop the same, perhaps. standing in queues behind logos made of corporate programming dependant on the modern gunship smoke territorying our lives. we are all under arms.

0

Aug 6, 2016

Aug 6, 2016 at 7:55 AM UTC

mrquipty

we are all 'armed

lines mark boundaries scratched by gunship cannon fire crossed regardless by their smoke . preserved on haze made horizon from concrete ministries bunkering a fissionable peace. avant garde fighters control as shoeless fashionistas brokering fear in a 'retro' style of blades and system spooks. working poor garb in fake labels preferring sim-culottes to any daring protests against themselves. we are all Benetton and on message hating colour or hating the hating of colour.hungry habits of the two tones chimed by the 'we all bleed the same' brigades. shop the same, perhaps. standing in queues behind logos made of corporate programming dependant on the modern gunship smoke territorying our lives. we are all under arms.

36