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Akira Chinen Sep 7
The world is a stage and life is a tragedy / and a comedy and a romance gone bad / and a love gone right until it has gotten away from us / and it’s ugly and cruel and its strange and beautiful and it twists and it turns / and we all got something burning inside of us /and we all got something to cry about / and we all got something to regret / and we all got something to smile about / and we all got something to sing about / but we move along like background actors afraid of center stage / afraid to feel all of our lonely rage / afraid of what will the audience think / afraid of stumbling on our lines afraid of tripping over our own heart beats / so afraid of dying in the limelight that we hold our breath and close our eyes and sleep without dreaming / and stay out of the spotlight and stay off in the wings / and what is it we’re living for by not playing the parts of ourselves / nothing but a shadow of who we could be / when will we all realize we can make our hearts into something bigger than a fist / that our heart can do something more than just beat / that we got the whole universe inside of us / and all we got to do is let it spill out / we don’t have to wait for our turn to be heard / we don’t need the permission of the director / we don’t need the applause of the audience / this is our life / this our stage / we got our own light dying to get out of us / we got gasoline running through our veins and we’re ready to burn from the inside out / and keep on burning and keep on burning and keep on burning / and dance along the fires of eternity / we don’t have to hold back who we really are / no matter how awkward or weird we may seem to be / there’s a beauty only found in those who find comfort in being strange / we don’t have to give in to normalcy / we don’t have to be complicit to the script of human cruelty / we don’t have to play soldiers in the war of wealth and greed / we don’t have to play the blind to the homeless and hungry / we don’t have to pretend to not hear the cry’s for help from those stricken with poverty / we don’t have to play the part of the enemies enemy / we can rewrite the script  /we can turn the world around and stand in solidarity and find our way to unity / we can stand center stage arm in arm and let no one move us / we can tear down the facade / and open up the cage our minds have been living in / and fly free and fly too high and kiss the sun as we burn hotter and brighter and not melt into nothingness / and nothing can bring us down when we make our hearts into something bigger than a fist / when we open it and let all this love spill out and let all this love come rushing back in / simply by just opening our hands and reaching out to one another / sister to sister to brother to brother to mother to father to daughter to son to friend / and to stranger / and write everyday with compassion and kindness and empathy / and throw away the old script of human misery / and all take a bow / after we have made our hearts into something bigger than a fist
LexiSully Apr 2016
Do you see me, staring, holding my heart in my outstretched hands?

Do you hear me, whispering, voicing my feelings into your covered ears?

Do you feel me, grazing, brushing my fingertips across your fist?

Do you realize that I'm falling, whirling, tumbling head over heals, or are you immune to love's blindness?
I put myself out there, now just don't leave me hanging.
Jasmine Aug 2017
I am the shadow of trayvon martin
Lying on the ground just as he did
I'm black just as he was
I wasn't planning to die that day either
I wasn't threatning nobody either
that day
The gunshots echoed
just as loud
when I was shot down as Mike Brown
yet his name echoes through the streets years later still
mine followed me to the grave
They don't care about me it seems
If I cried "what about me"
Who would ever see?
because my hashtag has even been drowned so deep in the depths of R.I.P's that I can't barely breathe anymore
When we think black brutality
Why do the names of trayvon
Mike
Tamir
Sandra
Rush to our heads just as fast as blood once rushed to theirs?
Does my black life, too, matter?
I can't blame you
That there have been so many deaths due to oppression and police brutality that they all seem to sound the same
No matter how loud we scream Black lives matter
We will never be seen as the living
But the potentially dead
We cry for justice to a system that's no longer built to accept us
A president that tries to forget us
A black voice will always be too loud to a world who never intended on listening
Who am I?
Besides a hashtag and a t-shirt with my face on it?
A black lives matter sign and a melanin fist?
A statistic?
I am black excellence
Regardless of how much sin you may see in my kin
A piece from the perspective of Black oppression victims unheard
Yeah.

Awake past midnight

An insomniac in a world of sleepers,

Creeps with god-awful

Dreams

Where’re the dreamers?

I see

Empty minds & broken hearts

Carriers of virulent Dark

Our shadows

Gorging on the world

Our souls

Lost in Oz

Praying to a wizard

Who’s a known fraud.

Fracking a

Way to never-was

We who claim to know

Love

Prey

Hand to mouth / hand in glove

The bare-knuckle

Fist

Fights to exist

To matter then still better -yet…

Who in this hell knows?

This place is estranged

Yeah?

Can’t wait to see tomorrow

Now that I’m awake

I Just couldn’t wait…

All I want is

Peace on / for Earth - today!

Oh Gaia - namaste.



So yeah...?
Matt Jursin Jan 2010
Lets stop n slam on somethin' shameful like war and anguish...
'Cause im pretty sure that tremendous termoil and suffering and starvation is the same in all languages...
But something that most of us will never know...
'Cause in this country you tend to grow a fat ass as you grow old.
Give this countries cold dark history a warm embrace, look it in the face!
All this killing, death, distruction, and disease...more war than peace!
Something most of us will never see, much less feel...Because ignoring it is so much easier.
We'd rather be pleasing ourselves than siezing the keys to this country!

Jump in.
Take a sunday drive for freedom.
Sunday football keeps you occupied...
Kicked back in the recliner, while others freeze in the name of the flag.
And your constitution.
And the human condition.
Patriotism is not pretty to the petty.
To...those getting rich, hand over fist...
On your...vacant homes, vacant jobs, and vacant votes.
While they vacate our education with more lousy legislation.

We get lazier and sleezier and sloppier.
We pass judgement on our fellow man...
While we let politicians pass bills that destroy this great land.
Hand over fist, hand over hand...one hand washes the other politicians dick.
These dinosaurs with their special interest agendas make me sick.

Stand up strait.
Look at me when I talk to you.

Dont turn a blind eye to all the bodies that once hung from loops...
Remember where we came from.
Re-write history like the bible.
Re-write war and peace.

We call soldiers "property of uncle sam".
Brainwashed to believe in 'the man' and his plans.
Slavery doesn't segregate anymore.
We're all in on this together.
This time.
We stand in unison.
All in on this together.
Revolution is freedom.
"I love this country...but f this government!"
C X Rutledge Dec 2014
These hands that have held you as a wild child in a dream are the same hands that throb to choke you and muffle your screams.
These hands which guided and guarded you down those stretches of hospital halls are now the hands that push you down to fall.
These hands once caressed the jagged, pink, scar where your heart used to lay become the hands that wish to tear it away.
These hand that made sure you fell asleep through all that pain now are the hands that would cut themselves to beat out your brain.
These hands that used to pray for you like a whore ready to be stoned are clinched in two fist now ready to make the first throw.
These hands that ached for you, fed you,  and tried so fucking hard are just the hands of memories now deep tissue scars.
... These hands.. Would have killed anyone, in dirt and cold blood.. Are now the only hands holding back the rage of my flood.
.. These hands, they still work for you. Even if you're no longer here with me..... These hands, they're still here, waiting... One day.. You'll see.
Saw some one I haven't seen in years..  It just reminded me of how much I gave up for someone in their darkest time in life and how much I mistreated them... Gotta love the holidays :) maybe one day.
So ends the Drama locked into your Bronze
Nike kisses you and shows you her Womb
Who, despite Angry Lads, live Life's Beyond
Now Married are you to Testimony
I guess you will survive the Afterthought
Of Promos and Parcels you will not Resist
The Wheel turns again; And in your Forenaught
Honest Advices refuse to make a Fist
You have this Resume of Deaf-Record,
Partial to Characters you do not Like
Even if they ask Penance for your Accord
Your Self-Righteousness slaps them in-spite.
What's the use? Your Friends will come to your Defense
Even if an Ant like me Stings to make Sense.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
I searched everywhere
In the rain kissed green grasses
of a playground
That lay in bliss underneath the azure skies
In the sea of words
That the books held captive
In the inky trails of a flowing pen
Between the melancholic vibrations of the strings
At the bottom of an inconsolable
bottle
Inside the fury of an angry clenched fist
And inside those eyes that saw Genesis.
Yet I still stand here
bare,unhinged, scared and
Rudderless.
Alex McQuate May 13
Great tragedy suffered,
Impossible circumstances conquered,
The warrior walks upon the field flanked path.

The wanderer's armor tells a tale,
Battle scarred and partially rent asunder,
A face of stoicism that hides the haggardness underneath,
Peeking out beneath the mask of a hardened soldier.

The clouds clap ahead, preceded by flashes of light brightly illuminating the world,
Accompanied shortly after by the rainfall.

A trickle becomes a downpour,
The battered individual trudging along as the road becomes a bog of mud and slop,
The message firmly planted within their mind.

Coming upon the dark outline of the castle ahead the warrior picks up pace,
Reflecting upon what would happen to those that the Warrior helped.

The pace is now fueled by a different kind of urgency.

The rain is cold upon the faces of those that it falls on,
The torn edges of metal digging in at places,
Some already wounded and tender,
As the final hilltop between them is crested.

The gates are closed,
And this loyal soldier is for the moment shut out,
A fist is raised,
The declaration of allegience given,
An angry detailing of the warriors achievements and adventures shouted,
And a challenge of one's path,
Building in anger and fury as the dam finally breaks and gushes forth,
Threatening to shatter the gate and doors to splinters and twisted metal.

A long ago promised gift to be rewarded,
For all the things endured,
Things that could be considered so cruel,
The storm picks up in force until it's akin to that of a hurricane,
As if brought forth by the warrior's grief and pain finally being released,
For the first and only time.

These things ringing out dispite the storms roaring wind,
Gathering force,
Perhaps in affirmation of the warriors words.

After a pause the gate begins to lift,
It's metal screeching,
The doors groaning as they begin to swing outward, and the embattered soldier is bathed in light,
Taking the weight from the warrior's shoulders,
As the threshold is finally crossed.
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