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Keiya Tasire Jan 2019
Joy, Fun, Laughter
Learning, Growing,
Discovering & Creating
Support & Community!
We are women!
We stand together
That all of humanity
May stand up too.

We love
We care for
We cradle
We teach and raise
Generations upon Generations
Each man and each women

Yes we stand up for all of Humanity
May man stand with us too!
For yes, are women!
We want peace.
We want kindness.
We want respect.
We value and want to be valued.
We want all to be free to live.
We want all to be free to love
In Peace.
In Harmony.
In Joy.
through the ages women took care of the ancient knowledge for health wellness birthing rearing children and loving each other through challenges then the roles of women were diminished, relinquishing it to powers that were hungry for not only the control over women but men too.  The human family became lost. Now many are waking up and calling for both men and women to stand together  and reclaim human, dignity, freedom, and the strength of family and the strength of community.
marianne Oct 2018
I am
born on the prairie, stark clad
blue sky desert, blacktop desert, canola yellow desert
small in the great space
between us

I am
born of the mountains, wrapped
in forest standing strong-faced and tall, my
companions, rooted
my teachers

I am
born of the quiet
meadowlark prints in bright white snow, the buzz
and thrum of tall grass prairie quiet
measure of my soul

I am
born of bleached fluorescent flicker
drawn into the whirling hurry
longing for rainfall and

I am
born into the faith of my fathers, solemn
like their God, and righteous
holding fast to the book of their fathers

I am
born of the rhythm of my mothers
of life-force and flutter
small hands and steaming pots in a hot kitchen
my church

I am
born of ghosts and tiny monsters
the hollow between their aching past
and tangled present,

I am
born of old world order imposed
on new world freedom—
the image shifts
and I blur

I am
born of memory, my fingers carry secrets
daughter of the many mothers before me, their lives
tell the story
of mine

I am
born of the unknown, a swell in the stream
that spills into the ocean, I am
mother of many daughters
to come

Tell me who you are...
karin naude Mar 2013
generations of being servants
ingrained in my blood
do not feel the bad emotions
treat it like flowing water and keep your sanity
you internalize conflict
smiling cheerfully at the master
inside you ****** him a thousand times
once you speak the word, betrayal
its real
it cant be ignored anymore
the feelings well-up
truth is spoken
the master betrayed me for self gain
Nolan Willett Apr 2019
A resurgent nihilistic philosophy
A second lost generation
Disillusioned with the being of nations
Lost in their own antipathy
Confused by new sensations

A political theorist I am not
I like to wander in hills and clouds
And pick out kindred spirits in crowds
A thousand wasted battles fought
A thousand raggedy burial shrouds

The bohemians revel in their nonsense
Shall I my conceits and imaginations forsake?
Maybe a decent Lawyer I would make?
What is real and what is performance?
Which side of me shall I deem fake?

To which should I my attentions give
My unceasing love for liberty,
or a discontented bourgeoisie?
Material things I need to live
Yet still I am most lifted by poetry
Matt Shaw Aug 2016
i just gotta glitter up my ******* then im going to bed

you're insane and hilarious so I love it

doesnt everyone do that before they go to bed?
for the **** fairy?
thats what eminem's uncle told me to do.....

oh my god it's so funny
you crack me up dude

no someone pls put reid back together
we need to go to cape may tomorrow!!
ill take you to the beach reid : ' )
ill throw ur cracked up shard amongst the waves
but i shall save your sphincter, and wear it around my neck at all times

then you would dismantle me
you're hilarious af bro
you win
Carter Ginter Sep 2017
I never understood the hype about memes
But I search for them now
Just so I can tag you and maybe
Make you smile a little more today
Because your smile is the brightest thing
And it makes my heart sing

I know I make everything complicated
I can't promise that won't keep happening
But I will try to take the sting away from pain
Because you deserve the sun
And I'm only human
Crop fields, once
Today tall grass has taken
Vigil on the hills
Named for old dead boys

Grass aplenty (surely
Two, five, ten winters
Steeped in lead, bloodied,
Washed clean in rain
Could feed a generation)

And then the sun
Always beating, Drumming
Sweat before my eyes
My life—flashing— a lark—

Here in this meadow
Mankind came to slaughter for a train yard
Between the mountain passes and the river
And the Run, once dried, is spilling over

With blood, with clay, for
Sons and daughters of
Virginia, these American tales
(Contested, my chains for soil...)

Pass whispered between
Mothers and little ones, the words
A lineage: Captain to farmer,
Farmer’s granddaughter

I witnessed the passing of our story
From one generation
And I stood by
Sachin Subedi Jan 2019
Generations of people perceiving things
In different levels
The understanding in different horizons
The horizon to the shore
To the infinity

The earth brings out everything new
Adaptability is the key
Acceptance is the key
New perceiving
New beings
New thoughts
New love
New cravings
New addiction
New generation
New adaptability
New addiction
New mistakes
New evolution
New matches
New mismatches
New sun
New moon
New stars
New wrongs
And the new rights
The flow continues beyond understanding
And let it be

Understanding does not matter
In the whole change is inhabitable
Change is real
Also the experience
Perceive the change in the outer world
Bring out the change in the inner world
Have a common path in between
Let it be
Perceive change around
Is the only thing important
The understanding is void
Don't ever complain about what you cant understand
And you cannot in many cases
No worries
Accept it
It is real
It is true

And let go
In a deeper sense of course
Dip into the thought
Feel the new sun
New moon
A new day
Come fresh and tidy
Accept the change in real
From without and within

Keep your arms wide open
Broaden your arms
Chant the prayers to the universe
Surrender to the universe
Universe knows it all
You are the part of the whole
The whole is the universe
Created by the universe
Above and beyond
To the eternity
You are the universe
You are the change
You are the perceptions
You are the feel
You are the agenda
You are the thoughts
You are the eternal soul
And everybody around are
And every things around are
Take a deep breadth and
Function as you should
Function as you are
Function as a change within
Function as the change without
Function as the change around

Different generations
Differences as seen
The around and within
As a rule or the knowns
By themselves upon themselves
The new one
Having a change
Of terms
Of rules
And of surroundings
Different from the generations gone
The new ones for sure
Has a new things to do
Has a new idea
A new rule
New love
New connections
New mistakes
New rights
And the new wrongs
The change is there

Perceiving and generations
Different in emotions
Different in righteousness
Different in fulfillment
Different in atrocities
Different in perceptions
Different in locality
Different in the differences
And similar in a way
They are different
Only thing common
Is the change

Have you the perception
To get into the change
Around, within and without
The change is happening
It is present
It is the thing to feel
To perceive
Try to understand, the less you get it
Feel the change
Percepts of change

Accept the change you must
Teach change if you can
Be a change if you ought to
For the new ones
For the old ones
And for the no ones
Take a deep breadth
Feel the cool breeze of change
Breathe the change
Live the change
Teach the change
Be the change
See differences seem to be similarities
Notion of diversities
Notion of change
Notion of no differences
Notion of similarities

People and generations
Perceiving things
At different levels
Inhabitable is the change
Perceiving change
Is the key
In general
To say the least
Generation of people perceiving things at different levels, change is inhabitable. Perceiving change is the key in general
Tyler Atherton Sep 2018
We live in a society
Where not giving a **** about what others think,
Is actually encouraged.
We live in a society that is completely built on lies.
When did sums become more important,
than knowledge of current wars?
Why is the wage gap wider than my young eyes?
And how is it that a Country that screams freedom,
won't put down their weapons when their own children are bleeding?
Why do I know how to dissect a frog,
ignorant of the fact innocent civilians are slaughtered?
Why do I know the sum of internal angles in a triangle,
Yet I don't know how to read the signs of suicidal friends,
When more than half of those suffering have no access to treatment!!??
Why am I more "worthy" than the child forced out of his own country;
for his religious identity, for being himself!?!
Why are those in power of whole Countries so blind to our demands?
When did being part of a religion become a crime?
Why do we need so badly for someone to love us?
Why should our weight define whether or not we belong?

© Copyright Tyler Atherton
society needs to change, but i'd say, it's already too late, because society is doomed.
Kylee Nov 2019
My spine is made
From the muffled voices
Of the women before me

To them I say
“we will listen”

Finally, they whisper back

-generations of grief
feminism, generations, empowering, women, ancestors, suppression, sexism, misogyny,
H A Vitatoe Mar 2019
Anything, I have written at all.
May never be seen
Will never, be shown.

My words, will go un-spoken,
from generations that are,

But my existence, will be, recorded,
through paintings, on
cave walls.
India Jun 2018
A man I am meant to love told me the amount of skin I show represents my right to consent.
Flesh = Yes
Clothes = No
"Deserving" is a word he used.
A grandfather told his grandchild she deserved to be abused based off the length of her skirt, but this is old news; same story.
Only, I've heard it one time too many and now I'm sick of it.
"Devastated" over my hypothetical ****, he'd said,
as though his feelings mattered more than my right to my body.
Well, **** him.
I'm tired of prioritising people whose opinions are so archaic they can't see the crime in their words.
And his words hurt.
He defended the 'nature of men', claiming its an inbreed instinct,
tried to explain the appeal of women as though I don't already know.  
Jokes on him.
I'm gay.
But I've never been under the illusion it's okay to objectify or intimidate your way into a person's life.
I've never felt entitled to a person I've liked
And there lies the generational divide
Because neither has my brother.
Being "unable to control certain urges" is just another lie they feed you to perpetuate a culture of ****.
I'm seventeen, and yet I know the fear a predatory gaze can cause,
I've been leered at to the extent I honestly thought this is it.
This is the moment I've been warned about.
And then I thought "It's my own fault.
It's dark, it's after nine, I went out running in only a sports bra,
of cause I'm going to find trouble"
because I forgot that I'm not an object.
I'd been fed the same message so frequently it was ingrained into my fight or flight response.
Doesn't that speak for itself?
I'd been conditioned to accept the blame before the finger was even pointed.
So when my grandfather looked me in eye and said he thought girls where asking for it by the way they dressed,
I didn't have the energy to suppress my response.
I asked him if I'd been out drinking with friends wearing a sheer dress and matching bralette, and I was *****, would he consider it my fault.
His answer was met with stunned laughter.
Yes, he'd consider me to blame, and indicated his disappointment should weigh on my conscious.
I am shamed I have the same genetics as such a man.
At least I've learned to drown out his words so they can no longer effect me.
Mikey Kania Dec 2019
have you ever heard somebody saying: "teenagers today are ruder, more violent and so much hornier than we were."

i don't think so. it's not like that. most grown-ups have forgotten over the years what they did and how they acted out.

we surely have a lot of vivid memories about our youth. but our feelings of teenage experience disappeared.

history repeats itself.
Today is a good day.

Youtube: "Hebrew Israeli Music Jewish beautiful songs Hanoi Vietnamese 84"
CarolineSD Jul 2019
How many long years did I spend with you,
Lakota Oyate?
Though Wasicu skinned, wearing the paleness of imperial greed,
The reverberant beating of ceremonial drums
Caused my heart to bleed
Rivers of blood,
Tears that I shed,
Soaking the sagebrush and sorrow-laden plains
Inside the hollows of my bones.

Tiyospaye, you are always.

Pilamaya, always and forever.

Mitakuye Oyasin.

Lakota Oyate, you raised me,
A rootless, tender-hearted girl,
Kicking up the dust on some
Empty reservation road.

Lost, but found
In your kindness.

Tiwahe, when I had none.

I filled my plate at your tables, Wojapi and thickened breads,
The laughter of the wild-hearted children
Ringing through the stars like the songs of rainbow-chested prairie birds.

Little takojas, how you grasped my hands and claimed me.
How clearly I can hear them calling, “auntie, auntie, come play!”

And so, the people of the river, below the plains of Standing Rock,
I love you, thechihila,

My little children will forever walk in kindness and humility
Because of the values you raised in them;
Because you drew them in as if they were your own blood,
Because you sewed vibrant ribbons on their shirts
As if they belonged in their humanness,
In their innocence,
To your great nation.

Lakota Oyate, I can never repay you for the way your heartbeat

Saved me.

Prayed for me.

Pilamaya Wopila,
Always and forever.
Fifteen years on a reservation in South Dakota. I will never forget. The people raised and healed me in so many ways. In so many ways, it is home.

Wasicu - White Man
Oyate - Nation
Tiyospaye - Family/Clan
Pilamaya - Thank you
Tiwahe - Family
Wojapi - Berry soup
Takoja - Grandchild
Thechihila - I love you.
Qualyxian Quest Sep 2019
This is poem 2300
so what do I have to say?

words are all I have
as I wander along the way

if you see her, send my love
silence is how I pray

the moon fineshines tonight
the morning brings newborn day

they see a double red lightsaber
(but I still have faith in mystic Rey!)
Keiya Tasire Jan 2019
On the land of our family
Are the ashes of generations.
Each generation planted with the saplings of the trees  
The Cedar, The Fir, The Larch, and The Mountain Ash
Standing regal in the sun's early light.

It is a new day
Standing under their boughs
Comforted by ancestral arms touching
In a circle of Love and Light.

What is emerging?
Sprouting up from under the Sphagnum  
It's a seed! Raising its head
Peeking up, and stretching towards the sun.

Ever upward it expands
Though nights of rain and clouds.
Through days of heat and seeming drought.

Yet the seedling grows and endures
Bent by the late summer winds
The fiber of wisdom ever increasing within its core.

At the end of Indian Summer
The frost begins to unleash its chill
The young sapling freezes
As the blanket of white thickens across the land.

With the weight upon it's back
In humility the sapling bends low to kiss the earth.
Bravely holding this asana in the coldest of the winter days.

Today by my window
I am basking in the sunlight of a very early spring,
Bright are shimmering reflections of sunlight snow.

Squinting, with eyes half open and eyes half closed
The small rainbows begin to dance
Between each pair of lashes.
A delighted inner child
Chuckling with joy.

I can hear the sound of water running  
And ice falling from the rooftops above.
The snow is finally melting!

The tall cedar boughs dance with the wind.
Up and down, releasing their winter coats
As Ice crystals floating on the air.

Gazing across the white wonder
To the very spot where I last saw our little tree
What of the little seedling?
Is it still alive?
Or broken and crush by the ice and snow?
My musing over the Cedar Sapling
Shifted with a gasping surprise
It sprung up!
Announcing "I am still alive!"
And my inner voice giggled with delight.

Hum, I wonder
Do trees have a heart?
Do they perceive beyond their bark?
Do they remember?
In this very moment the sapling's sudden appearance
During my musing seemed to express, "Yes!"

Is it just a deep enduring feeling
That the elders of this world
Are the 400+ year old Cedars
Keeping their long record of time?

My dear little sapling
may you continue to grow into magnificence.
I will only see your first 100 years.

For your last four hundred
Allow me to lie at your roots
Under the Sphagnum from which you sprung.

And my children will water flowers at your base
That you may grow as the guardian of the ancestor
Who planted your seed and watched you grow.

Yes, the very one who is now delighted that you
Have popped up from under your blanket of snow.
The winter is giving to an early spring here where we live. There is a young sapling outside my kitchen window I have watched for two years now. This is the second season I have watched it pop up out from under the blanket of snow that has covered it thickly each winter. I am amazed at its flexibility, strength, endurance and tenacity. As the years pass I will continue to watch over this little tree with the desire that it will watch over me when I have passed and my body has been laid to rest.
Carter Ginter Sep 2014
Silence surrounds                                                        ­    The sun still shines
but loneliness cannot exist                                               on this perfect day
Not in a place                                                            ­            except, too often,
where time never quits.                                                       no children play.
It's unfortunate                                                      ­                 The empty park
that bit by decaying bit                                                    beyond these walls
our generations keep                                                             cries in memory
losing grip.                                                            ­             of laughs and falls.
It's a terrifying thought that                                                             ­ But wait,
when asked "what time is it?"                      does hope approach at dawn?
it'll seem foreign and insane                               He pauses to finish a text..
to glance at my wrist.                                                    And then he is gone.
The goal of the assignment was to write two sections about two different things and tie them together creatively in the title.
Girard Tournesol Mar 2019
I'd heard about problems with police
hard to hear harder to believe
personally I never had a problem
oh a few well deserved speeding tickets
probably cut a break no definitely
I drove very fast especially in the turns
roll-the-tires fast in the turns
that was me

and the more I heard the faster I turned

as a young kid I applied and was accepted
to six colleges six for six piece of cake
why the stress my SAT score equated
to an I.Q. of 1 above plant life
accepted open arms those WASPs loved me
graduate school one for one
      best in the country
bar none MBA with honors that was easy
they called it the golden passport yes

passports are even faster

I never had problems
   with band-aids
       the bank
the insurance company
      the healthcare system
never turned down
      for a credit card car loan
life insurance policy
      or request for a specialist
experience is the best teacher
      and the more I learned
the less I wanted to know
      and the faster I turned

then I learned
   about certain specifics
      certain policies

with regard to traffic stops
bank loans rental property
heath care voting rights marriage
read the color purple
and then that invaluable government  
       syphilis experiment
that would have been inconceivable
       even to doctor mengele
that the star spangled banner
       has more than one stanza?  
really there were four stanzas?

MY country ‘tis of ME
      and it was making me feel *****

learned that no one
      voluntarily held that flag up
that hellish night
      o’er the ramparts WE watched
as slave and freedmen
              were ordered
      to their near certain death
with the threat of absolute
      certain death

then I watched a cop
       shoot a kid in the back
              in cold blood
near a merry-go-round
on a playground
in baltimore maryland
I liked baltimore
fast very fast he emptied the 10 round clip
of a semi-automatic 9mm Glock 27
into THAT kid's back no hesitation ******

baltimore baltimore baltimore baltimore

I hit the brakes hard
      on those fast decades and decades
generations generations generations
      of turning
I slowed down way way way down
took a deep deep deeper breath
then did what I always did and do best
I turned turned turned I turned around
and as I turned I woke
to kneel
be more than words

> As published in North/South Literary Canon
v V v Oct 2018
Evidently it was meant to be.
Long before I was born my DNA
sat on a shelf in God's laboratory,
a sticky note attached,
name, date of birth, perhaps
a tiny alarm to notify the lab
of inception.

God doesn't lose things
and God doesn’t forget.
It must be for a reason and
it must be meant to be.

A critical piece of who I am.

I should show a little pride because
as they say God don't make no junk(ie)..

But I’m a little late to the party..

The party that celebrates those who choose to be identified
by a gender other than the one they were born with,
but shames anyone who struggles with substance abuse.

I'm having trouble understanding the difference.

If I were to gather my drug addled friends
and march down the street with banners and signs
demanding the right to openly inject mind altering
substances into my veins I would be seen as
a criminal and a derelict even though my constant struggle
came right off the shelf of God’s laboratory where

my sticky noted DNA sat right next to yours.

I guess I shouldn't care what people think..
I know my rights, and I demand to be accepted,
NO, praised for coming out so bravely,
carrying a new flag, flaunting in the streets,
paving the way for future generations of addicts.

I will take my God given DNA out of the dark
and go out into light,

light so bright you'll be forced to accept it.

accept my sickness!
embrace it!
this is in my DNA,
God made me this way
so it must be ok.
I feel better now.
I no longer feel guilty,
or depressed,
or weak,
or wrong,
or immoral,

No longer do I need to contain it.

no longer do I need to be shamed.

I am an addict and I am beautiful.

Just like you.
The stigma of addiction is as strong as ever. I apologize to my LGBTQ friends for any offense taken to this poem. No offense is intended rather food for thought. I have often wondered why society dictates what is politically correct and what is not... and where good old fashioned morals fit in, and how something that at one time was so right can now be so wrong,    and vice versa.
emeraldine087 Jul 2017
In our fast-paced world, many things have become easier:
   communication, information, food preparation, even study.
We have the internet, smart phones, tablets, emails,
   Google, Wikipedia, fast food, and instant coffee.

But have we ever stopped to observe just how
   things being easy make them seem more trivial, too?
For the things we’re after, we no longer know
   how to sweat, sacrifice, aspire, wait, persist, endure…

Maybe it’s made us cease to dream as well
   as everything is merely ****** upon us to take.
We have lost the values that only hard work, toiling
   and fighting through insurmountable odds can make.

And even then we never seem to have enough of what we desire,
   not enough sleep, time, knowledge, money, or power;
We find no contentment in what we already possess
   as our seconds, minutes and days are spent wanting more.

Perhaps we need to re-examine where we’re heading,
   take instruction from the numerous generations past.
That it is only that which we strive for, that which we cherish
   with all our hearts and everything we have, that can last.

*(c) emeraldine087
Steve Page Jul 2016
I believe in one international church.

I believe in an inter-racial and unbiased church of many nations.
I believe in one church of many traditions.
I believe in one church not hemmed in by history or by man-made borders.
I believe in a God for whom his pallet of skin colours reflects his love of diversity.
I believe in God-given racial differences.
I believe in one creator God who made all humankind equal.
I believe in a church that reflects her maker's love of difference.

I do not believe in uniformity.

I believe in the common language of love for one another, for neighbours and for enemies that transcends local dialects.
I believe in one sundry collection of priests who are called to serve one God together, saved by one sacrifice once and for all time.
I believe in the promise of a resurrected church drawn from all generations to meet her bridegroom.
I believe in one eternal wedding feast which features everything from the finest vegetable samosas to the richest steam puddings.
I believe in one extravagant Father who has built one massive mansion with many rooms so all his people can come and dwell together.

I believe in God's Kingdom come.
Inspired by what I see every Sunday at
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