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Serebral Spring Oct 2014
The Oppression of my people
can not be summed up in one word

A word that flies
Flies like a hummingbird

He eats soup
As I cry

he prays
As I sigh

You Do not KNOW ME
You only know my struggle

How Dare You come to me?
In your time of Need.

You need a fixin?
God Bless Juan Dixon.
SLAM poetry.
Feel like i have fallen under the devil's trap,
Under opression,
And my soul is chained up in manacles.

Trying my best to reach to the world,
But that concrete wall bounces my words back,
the louder i become its like my voice is being lowered.

They say they want the best,
But they never assist me in achieving it,
Just like that novel Animal Farm,
they are Squealer and Napoleon.
Only caring much about the result but not me.

It feels like i am back in the Aparthied era,
And like Nelson Mandela,
My 12 years of learning have just become a 27 years imprisonment.

I feel like i am a murdurer being questioned in the court of law,
I dont know anything about being a lawer nor a police,
But am forced to write reports of why i failed.
Looking at their barbaric faces,
i know how much they will never suport me.

They call a school a place of learning,
but today i saw another story in the system.
Torin Aug 2018
xspacexpotatox 1h
Racism is a lie, your people hate us naturally lol just look at the way you’re responding................ and us “black people” are supposed to be the ignorant ones.... whew
xspacexpotatox  1h
Look at the affliction and persecution. There’s a reason why your ancestors put chains around our necks. It’s because the Bible said it would happen ****
xspacexpotatox  1h
So do me a favor, go learn a bit more. I’m not even gonna laugh at your ignorance, I’ll pray for you. Have a nice one.
Torin Galleshaw  1h
oh so your jewish friend is the authority on this? what does he know about zionism? seems you got your mind made up man. good for you
xspacexpotatox  1h
I want to know why you feel so threatened lol
xspacexpotatox  1h
I won’t let the hate reach me man
Torin Galleshaw  1h
wow, racism is a lie then u stereotype all white people IMMEDIATELY after you say that. ignent? i really wanted to give you a chance bro. but you have been very abrasive this whole time, immature and incredibly offensive. i dont know where in the bible it says that. or, if as i remember when i went to ce williams middle school as a young kid in a poor part of charleston south carolina where i also learned a test can be racist because the only person that did well on it was me, the white kid. ive felt black racism towards me all my life. do you know the history of the celtic people. yeah, slaves were given food to eat, my people died in gutters in the cold because of no mc hiring practices. ever heard of britain, do you know who irelands neighbor is. have you heard of the potato famine, do you know why it happened? william wallace?
systematic opression for over 800 years.

most important part and key difference between us, besides the fact thta your better than me because you are black, but. you claim im so ignorant im not worth your time, essentially. i think your so misguided i would love to show you the actual way to god and heaven. brother, you need it.
xspacexpotatox  1h
Bro you lose don’t message me anymore
Torin Galleshaw  1h
and dont claim im acting like im threatened, first thing, you dont know me. youre acting nearly militaristic on this ****. young malcom X wanna be. im cool tho, you robably never knew someone as chill as me.
maybe we could talk without resorting to personal attacks tho. thats a good sign you are losing an argument.
xspacexpotatox  1h
What’s your point? Mines is simple. I get what I learned from college text books and the Bible, the knowledge coincides and that indicates who my people are.
Torin Galleshaw  1h
do you know of the talmud?
do you know what it is?
do you realize that it contains the only visual description for jesus?
do me a favor, before you try to come at me with some more weak **** why dont you go and see what the talmud has to say about it
thank you brother
xspacexpotatox  1h
Was the visual description a white man? If so I’m not interested
xspacexpotatox  1h
I’m a young black man that’s been taught all his life, all I know is truth.
xspacexpotatox  1h
I’m not that arrogant, I offered you edification and once I edified you rejected. lol I’m not supposed to be nice and open to you.... I know who my oppressors are.
xspacexpotatox  1h
“GOD” said “and I know the blasphemies of those that say they are Jews and are not” you’re disrespecting my ancestors
Torin Galleshaw  1h
thats the thing only a truly awoken spiritual person will ever recognize. in a past life you were a tiny asian woman bro, you were a fat white guy, you were a cat fucj it. so rn your black. soul dont got color. recognize bro. i dont wanna big boy you on this, but i can. and i will if i have to. or maybe you would either A. apologize for your offensive and rude behavior, or B. and my preferred choice we could ACTUALLY converse. you say you got proof, cite it priest boy
xspacexpotatox  1h
Bro, my ancestors were beaten, *****, hung, fed to alligators, shot in the streets, literally broken. Imagine having your family heritage stripped from you, your language and books taken from you.. You’re not hearing me out, you’re trying to prove yourself to be what I am and I can’t let you think that’s okay. I’m OG. I teach people. So far I’ve learned nothing from this conversation. I’m proud of the beatings my people took to get here, and I definitely don’t agree with the whole “you were a white or Asian person in the past life” because that makes no sense. My family is “BLACK”, besides that my moms great grandmother was mixed, and were STILL predominantly “BLACK”. I come from “BLACK” people, therefore I am a HEBREW ISRAELITE, and I know this for a FACT!
Torin Galleshaw  49m
Bro, my ancestors were beaten, *****, hung, starved for hundreds of years, shot in the streets, forced to fight in the civil war after arriving here form ireland starving, (one of the most effective brigades, you see many of the soldiers had to fight in wars against the british already)literally broken. Imagine having your family heritage stripped from you, my last name is not the last name my great great great granparents had. it was too ethnic, it was changed, your language and books taken from you. do they speak celtic in ireland?.. You’re not hearing ME out, you’re trying to prove yourself to be what I am and I can’t let you think that’s okay
xspacexpotatox  42m
Oh you guys are actually mention in the battles you fought?! **** there’s no documentation of anything “African Americans” did in the wars we helped win! Atleast you guys got decent credit
Torin Galleshaw  37m
bible told me you just have to accept his love, jesus's love, but even buddahs love, and john the baptists love, and all of gods great prophets. bible taught me that without their love i can never really love any one.
xspacexpotatox  35m
If you believe in the most high, fine with me. That’s all I have to say.
Torin Galleshaw
Torin Galleshaw  33m
yes, there is documentation of both slaves ad freed black men fighting on both sides actually, believe it or not
Torin Galleshaw  32m

"Once let the black man get upon his person the brass letter, U.S., let him get an eagle on his button, and a musket on his shoulder and bullets in his pocket, there is no power on earth that can deny that he has earned the right to citizenship."

Frederick Douglass

xspacexpotatox  28m
I never once believed the history teachers in school, I always challenged them because I know that American History is *******. Just like whatever filth you’re trying to show me will only bore me like the teachers bored me in school. I served in the US Army. I did my time for white america and I refuse to go back lol

he blocked me not long after that, final thoughts

Matthew 6:10-14 thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven, give us this day our daily bread, And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors,And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one.
a truly fascinating case study in hypocrisy.  when he is sending me videos of white people asking for blaack people to treat them kindly when they become enslaved.  nah.  if your gonna block me instead of being able to have an actual conversation im gonna put you on blast.

anyone who believes this is a *****
Beckon Nov 2017
The black names drip from our obituaries, sticky and thin.
You would think they would burn into our minds,
the brand of injustice against bound skin—
But a headstone is lost in unending lines.

It is horrifying.


How do we allow one man to **** another in cold blood?
Life spilled pours out in floods
Our men in blue drenched red
With the staggering numbers dead
And we sit back with “not all cops are the same”

Not every officer’s a killer but do you remember the names
Treyvon and Michael and Eric and Dontre and John and Ezell and Dante and Tanisha and Akai and poor little Tamir, who was still a kid,

Tell me what he did?

There is systematic opression and agression against a group skin defined
Where ****** is fine, it happens all the time, killers let off the line
Because of an oath that should bind
The oath they forget, the promise to protect, held up for all citizens except
The ones they choose to neglect

The badge not a shield but a riot ram
Against those that take a stand
And raise defiant hands
For the names lost in the clatter,

Black Lives Matter.
I have lost my mind in the violence. Or rather maybe it has stolen it from me. In any case there is an attempt at semblance, this need to make sense of the senseless. So many names are drip drowned in blood and how do centuries float?
james nordlund Oct 2018
Since our political system has been laid bare, after RumputiN was installed
in the Blackhouse, it's beautiful complex of lack of complexity, in a word,
conspiracy of conspiracies, has moved me and "...we(e),..." to have as a few
of my favorite things be far more reaching questions, out of necessity. Like,
without acknowledging, and demanding others do the same, that it's been
purposely engineered to be a criminal injustice system instead, how can one
even have a real conversation that would lead to potential for real change
of it taking place in reality, if you don't know who you were, where you've
been, how on God's green Earth can you expect to know who..., where you are
and what's going on, necessary to start thinking about changing anything,
even yourself, as well as directing who you will be and where you will
be going, etc.?  Swine slaughtering lower-middle-class to poor men en masse,
mostly of color, instead of just doing the usual liquidation of their ases
and assets, are just serial murderers masquerading as cops, and what goes
around comes around, no?  If you're not taking bullets you're making them.  
Also, people are fed up with felonious RumputiN and his rootin' tootin'
organized crime family spree from the Blackhouse, which should be prosecuted
using the RICO Statute instead of just being elaborately covered up by Mueller
for he's not using it and he's handing out immunities like soldiers candy to
Iraqi kids, duh.  I would add some salient pointless points, beyond the 'empty
boat' of Zen, and 'useless tree' of the Tao, we can understand the burden
placed on our shoulders by our ancestry not exercising their responsibilities
as they should have, and thereby it's Siamese twin sisters, their freedoms,
Withered like unused muscles as well, as a panultimate challenge, saving
humanity, literally. Also, understanding Jung's "80 % of all actions, thoughts,
feelings we have, that we acknowledge, or don't, perceive or don't, are
compensatory towards our pasts", necessitates an integral understanding of
Satre's existentialism' meaning of angst, as experience integral to life, not
opposed to it, but, rather, central to it, and a nexus of it.  This is more
than an embracing of gestalt's, Perls', moment, now. Moving away from sophist
perspective, we also experience the meaning of life is struggle, which comes
through all our meaningful work, succinctly. Further, what is life beyond that
foci is also, the where, when, who, how, and sometimes why too (but never Y2K)
of life; beyond our masks and ego fulfilling stories, schtick, lines, etc..
Do we struggle, not just as lifelong students, with the impossible, not just
the improbable.  Yet, it's actually more layered than that in a much larger
dimensional paradigm than 4 dimensions.  Yes, the effects of our causes in any
action usually have effects that undo our causes as we act them out, intend,
present them, etc..  Yet, those more superficial, linear, first conclusion
layers are not less effective, per se, as the complexity of Karma, Dharma are
beyond our normal comprehension. What is the root of thought, feeling, the root
of feeling, being, the root of being, the extent to which we struggle with what
it is, no?  For, as the following twig of poetree gleans: Soul//
As my breath
is the one, prana,/
And the life's pulse, pala,/
Reaching angelic source, sura,/

So is this mind, manas, a
/  Flowering unfoldment,
/ Unendingly touching
/ The eye
that would it see,/  
Unbeckoning unto thee./
As well, this Bodhi, a temple,/

Of the four and fifth, nur,/  
So entered by atma, a ray of thy sun,/  
Thus being
winged, and
/  As such with wind,/
Flying only in dharma's dance,/
Is returning
to, Brahma, you./  For, there yet, by thy grace, go I./  
We are not who we think
we are, we are, rather, the extent to which we struggle to evolve to be some-
things, spirit, soul, Bodhi, etc., on the path of study that could and should
be one, you, me, forever asked and never answered.  Yet, even if we lived as
prayer, our light only adding to the well of light, our every step in grace,
leaving no footprints that followed none, echoing in all ways, always,
sometimes, like pulling teeth, "...we(e),...", must stalk our words from our
insides 'til we wrangle them, like cats, to the tip of our tongues, no?  For,
"Words weren't meant for cowards..." and we must "be brave...", Happy Rhodes.
We can't allow ourselves the luxury of taking our supposedly 'golden silence'
all the way to the bank, as your average bear does.  These are the end times,
we successfully struggle, to abolish global defacto-slavery by the non-renew-
able energies' corporate structure's machine and it's convolution, against
the global oligarchy's premeditated mass-****** of 7.5 billion people, or
humanity's extinct.  Gandhi, "(supposed) science is the root of all opression"
and, "...we(e),..." must be the change we want in the world".  Is not life
relation, are we not responsible for one another, are not all threads in
the fabric of life needed, as is the evoliutionary ones' mendings, for we
can't allow it to be torn asunder?  If not here, then where, if not now, when,
not you, who? Viva la evolucion.  Indivisible, illimitable you, GOTV.
Please copy, share as you will. this GOTV twig of poetree   :)   reality
Ella Jul 2016
Not all cops are evil they claim,
finding a way to justify and blame
These callous murders
The deaths
The slaughters
The genocide
This 21st century massacre.

Not all cops are evil they say
not all whites want this way
White silence is tantamount to white acceptance.
So dont utter a word to me
about not all cops.

Their silence is deafening
Striking the hearts of my people
Their silence daggers of the night
stealing the souls of my brothers and sisters.

No action to bring this evil **** down
not helping to stop this opression my people are facing.
Up and down my people are pacing,
Waiting for freedom..
Waiting for justice..
Striving to be apart of one people.
-@Poetry.Ella on Insta
Maya Oct 2018
Rue thy feeble fate.
Fear the day when thine own eyes
Fail to see beyond thy hand.
Requiem for the rest-easies such as Thyself shall not come as welcome
Praise, but as fire and brimstone,
Blood from the grimy grindstones of
The weary working, ready to rise
And crush all unworthy opposition
With their hilts of red-hot rage,
Raising swords of liberty to the heavens and cutting down the opression that has stilted their air.

Weep for this is thy fate:
Thy death means justice for those who Have been defeated countless times,
Under a blooming, burning sky defeats Pile up like stars, simmering, waiting to Become supernovas and take every puny Universe down in their own glorious Descent, like
Icarus to the sun, a sweeter fall could not Exist on this lonely planet,
Into the unforgiving waters of victory.

Justice for those angry folk who by merit Have earned their own place, not by Some system that hands it to them, but By grit and toil alone,
By the fierce madness that is
Existing and not completely
Giving in to the ruin of being human, Following the words that
A wiser man than I spoke, that life is Struggle, that the only constant in this Life is the pain that all of us try to ignore In the futile attempt to block out the Tragedies that haunt us daily.

Face thy fears, coward.
Thou miserable wretch can't look thyself In the mirror, but can claim that we as a Species have hope for peace on Earth and Goodwill for all.
What dost thou know of goodwill? When didst thou give a single moment of thought to the happiness of anyone but thyself and thine selfish  avaricious interests?
Thou shan't claim to know what is holy and just, yet scourge the very pious people that thou imitates; thou shan't slaughter the devout on a temple whose bricks are molded from hypocrisy and deceit.

Rue thy feeble fate,
Because thou deserveth every blow, every cry of mockery, every disgusted eye and every hideous pitiful moan that thy gravestone will inspire, and even Dante himself could not have imagined the flaming of the hellish unredeeming pyre that will be thy afterlife;
rue thy fate for no morals, no intercessions, no pleas or entreaties to be spared from the filth and maggotry that thou hast built thy very house upon canst save thee now.
please correct me if my grammar is wrong, dramatic effect called for dramatic language, and modern tongue has lost the drama that is thine, thee, thou, etc.
broken hopes and broken hearts
shudder in the shells of broken men.
songs they sang of freedom
are but whispers belonging to the wind
cruelly gnawing at their ears
and rattling the shackles that clutch
their silent throats and defeated fists
Grumpy Dwarf May 2013
Can the wind bring it back as it took it away?
Nothing's floating around,the water's calm at the bay
Then the moment it comes as a scream is overheard
Flailing arms, desperation and heads start to turn
All the patrons around follow him with their eyes
Mistified, frowning foreheads, watching his demise
As the emperor falls, darker clouds fill the sky
Those who watched didn't act, those who fought didn't cry
In the aftermath glory or tragedy as seen on theirs heads
The quiet returned, nothing's been learned, they lay sleepless on their beds.
so sometimes I'm just right,
cold, calculating and perceptive.
and sometimes I can't make it through the night,
policing my thoughts and perspective.

But tonight is a night of freedom and purity,
closing the doors to opression,
spilling inpure and conformist thoughts,
and avoiding resurrection.

smoking and snorting and popping and coughing,
breathing, decieving, and barely talking,
focused now.
never later.
still breathing this atmosphere of pure hatred.

can't see past my hands in this tomb,
alone i lay and quietly consume,
every last one of them.
I've let them all go.
the part time, doin time, ebb and flow of cold.

growing old.

when I finally outgrow this taste in my mouth,
i'll be able to breathe.
when she finally outgrows me maybe she'll leave.
never looking back, always forward,
never late.
she quietly escapes the debate of our fate.
never look back kid,
cause your soul might turn blue,
tied tight with saran wrap wrappers,
duct tape and glue.
she was the definition of not quite there
yet there all the same
she wore frills and colors when her mind was set
on success
she was unconventional beauty
effortlessly wandering
through his brainwaves and
to his heartstrings
she kissed and told
him she loved him
they filled eachother with promises kept
forever and never did they
harbour a secret in their hearts
which were torn each in a unique way
and each readily sought to mend the other
she shook when she was nervous
yet tremors hadnt bothered her
like so many times before
before he was there
before she felt his arms around her
before her heart skipped a beat
when she felt his soul touch hers
light eminated
life luminated

she gave herself to him
mind and body
readiness and wonder
limited exploration
with all greedy eyes and hands and lips

touch proved fatal to the innocence
a stare held more than three thousand words
spoken with fluidity
or meaning ever could
a stare into eyes like stars
like amethyst
like rainfall
a stare that stroked the heart
that stormed the brain

they who walked on planets hand in hand
never blinded by opression
or ignorance
arrogance or falsehood
but by love and love alone

he who would give her infinity
and she who would embrace it

clarity can be found in the most tenebrous abyss
BLVNK Oct 2013
I was wondering if my pictures clear
in heaven I see stairs
visions impaired, living in fear
Dark halls cancels light.

Footsteps I wonder what might happened if they'll aproach me.
Silently moving swiftly through avenues of depression.
Maybe it wasn't heaven in disguise,
it was all lies, let me sleep so these dark hours can pass by.

As I sleep it follows me into a trans
seeing nocturnal images,
aggressively ******* my life away.

Resiting things,
not even of tongues but of possession
my opression is my basic fear
a player and contestant.

Gravity Falls,
Gravity Falls
Paintings of disasters
Maid Dolls, following eyes, Creepiness,
Gravity Falls.

A war within myself is like mental intoxication
I can't think right can someone fly apon me,
So I can even contest with such a spiritual fight
but let me not say things because insight
another demon might just take away what I think is righteous,
Gravity Falls.
A small group (or collection, if you wish)
of wanderers and travellers
And people with desires
to see great marvels
Met by accidence,
in a era of confusement
Held together,
by mutual suspicions,
they decided
To leave their abodes.  
So they travelled a long way
Until they were in a place
A very dusty place,
with dry old things
Dry like a last years leaves,
as if there were trees
In a scorching new summer

They decided by mutual acclamation
that they were searching now
A quest had been undertaken
By accidental serendipity
Or so they believed,
among themeselves
To find a way -
To no longer be
in this place of dust
With its winds,
and fierce sands
The kind the stings your eyes,
grits your teeth
sands your clothing
and small possessions
And after a many month of same such
Make's your light heart -

But lacking a compass
or even knowledge of one
Or any real idea of how to travel
they moved in circles
for many's the long time
Never really sure they were,
arguing........ always
This is probably what kept them alive,
or at least
That is what many now believe
Their arguing - their fighting
this generates interest,
and interest keeps you alive
But still in spite of all this,
they weren't really
Getting -

Once in their travels,
they came upon a walled city
They knocked hard the gates,
made of a redded, felted wood
Soft to the touch,
like a hide of a living creature,
or rough carpet
"What do you want?!"  
"Who are you, state your business please!"
Cried the Gatekeeper to them
As this was his role
in the proceedings, you see;
And he didn't get to do it often
Very few people came
through the wastes,
unless.......Compelled -
by one reason or another
So he was overdramatizing (a little),
But we can forgive him,
his job was
quite boring,
after all.

Help us! They cried
We want to leave
this dusty dry place
Full of bleached sheep bones,
black stones
And red rocks;
with that dust,
The dust that stings our eyes
grits our teeth
sands our clothing
and small possessions
And after a many month
of wandering
And wondering
It has made our once -
light hearts
with opression
For now we cannot
perform our tasks
This place is too harsh for us,
We are only poeple,
and wanderers, after all

"Ah, I see!", the gatekeeper declaimed
A little over dramatically (yet again)
"So you are lost then,
my wanderers?"  
No!  Said several of the more......
outspoken wanderers.
There are always
a few outsoken people
in any group,
(Unless it's a group for shy people,
Of course).
"We, know precisely
where we are, -
We are in the dusty waste
at your gates!
We just don't want to be here!,
we want to be inside!"

At that, the Gatekeeper
opened the door
Slowly and surely
but with many creaks and groans
And inside, inside.....well -
There was a dusty city,
But just like outside
With unkempt streets
filled with goats, dogs, people
Unruly Children,
playing with dried out wood dolls
Angry woman -
murmuring to each other
And irritated men -
watching the angry women
"Come in if you wish" he said.
For we were all as you are now

To be continued.
Second draft of part 1
French rose Mar 2019
Why are the oppressed looked at as the oppressors
And the opressors looked at as the opressed
Really what have the world come too
Destruction is what
Rachel Nov 2013
Moses o mighty moses,
Shoes of god are naked,
Holy is the ground,
And holy is his chambers.

Unholy are the sons of horace
Who must pay up in death.
And by the staff freedom
Is sweet like milk & honey.
God of prophets
Tell the family Abraham loved
Opression never goes unanswered.
The waiting finally has ended.
Heather Moon May 2014
Love, trust the heart completely. So like hippies we drove a van into the sunset, sweet grass, aviator haze, straw hat chins to the sky, singing from our hearts, barefoot desert land, oncoming moon on the western horizen, crisp of an orange glow left on the desert mountains in the east, moon and stars, dream catcher dangling, quietly breathing, sleep calling me like a child, sorrow and love sinking in, warm cool air, sighs of release, goodbye. Life, simplified, always pursue the heart, surrender and release, deal with you{re stuff, cry, release, yoga, it becomes easier the more pain we release, tension is built up pain. Western medicine isn{t very neccasary, trust, visit death, lose attachment, the soul will never die. Lose fear, fear is opression, surrender to the luminous love light of the one. freedom.
another journal entry, another adventure, secretly miss home.
Hello Daisies Aug 2019
I miss you
I miss the heart aches
I miss the stomach aches
I miss your absence
I miss the way you'd dance

Surely I miss you
I miss the sickening dew
I miss the crying on the bathroom floor
I miss me hiding behind the doors
I miss the anxiety
I miss my text left unread

I miss the "love" in my head
The  pain in your bed
The empty throbbing afterwards
The touched but not too far
The left unsatisfied and scarred

I loved the smiles you brought me
I loved the child you saw me as
I loved the women you'd rather pass
I loved the tears that made you laugh
I loved ever single unspoken desire
Never brought me higher

I deserved every manipulation
I deserved every tear
I deserved every touch
I deserved you so much
I deserved the confusion
I deserved your advantages
I deserved every bandage

I apologize for my obsession
I apologize for my opression
I apologize for my misbehavior
Obviously I knew better

It's my fault it went too far
It's my fault I'm forever scarred
It's my fault I wanted you so bad
It's my fault I ever made you sad
It's my fault I told my dad
It's my fault I got mad
It's my fault
It's my fault
It's always my fault

Thank you for using me
Thank you for abusing me
Thank you for accusing me
Thank you so much
for not leaving me untouched

You gave me what I wanted
You gave me everything I needed
You gave me attention
You gave me suppression
You gave me pain
You gave me deep stains
I can never ******* clean

I'm so sorry I spoke up
I'm so sorry I woke up
I'm so sorry I broke it up
I'm so sorry I exist
I'm so sorry I can't reminisce
About anytime before today
I'm sorry I'm this way
I'm sorry I misbehave
I'm sorry I tried to be brave
I'm sorry I got in everyone way

I miss before you
I miss before I knew
I miss my life
Before you stabbed me
And I apologized to you
I miss you
When I was close enough
To be able to ****** you
The way you murdered me

I missed you.
skaldspiller Sep 2016
My city's streets are in flames
Because injustice and opression
Are far more common in america
Than libery and justice for all.
Michael Simpson Oct 2014
Sitting at home writing writing WRITING and the words dont flow
I sit while this muse doesn’t show.
I want to be unique I want to be original.
make this poem biblical.

I think in iambic.
And still the sirens in my skull stay silent of their sweet symphonies.
Trying to use figurative language,
Like a new born baby trying to use its new legs.
Putting my brain under an incubater,
Trying to force hatch ideas like eggs

Sitting in my room listening to slam
about to slam my head on the ground
bam bam bam!
Maybe write about corrupt uncle sam?
Try to be a shooting star and break the mold

But mold is gross
So I stay inside and remain quiet
And pretend that one day my slam might start a riot
Could I start a rebellion
And while fighting deppresion,
Could fight this opression,
of not being able to write this poem.
Megan Hoagland Nov 2012
How sad is it when a writer cannot write,
                                               a singer cannot sing,
                                                       a dancer cannot dance.
words, melodies, rythms, are all in my head,
then it comes along
                                    BAM! the music is dead,
all of a sudden the fiercest dread,
                                    the strongest depression,
weigh on my worn out chest; opression.
09-12-12 I just found it!  Probably needs editing, oh well.
The tears he shed are crawling out the eye,
Make his planet seem as if the heart will somehow die.
Smiling abroad for the hapiness that sits unreal,
Each tear drop filled with dissapointment and disspair,
How can he now live without his love in the air?

The past he is reminded of with every step taken,
Her smile he longs, her touch he desires, for she will never be forgotten.
One more step and closer he becomes to the newest eternal bed she sleeps in.
Eyes shut, she lays, with pale cold skin. He glimpses at her lips, which were once his, the flashback begins.
Staring with eyes closed while re-living with remorse.

Ice cold her skin lays, the sun's warmth from his light hand touched her.
So close it seemed to be a nightmare. More than reality an attrocity.
The heart stops, his soul falls.
The room of opression, he's parished reviewong the obituary of his own, and the note left under her pillow the night she was taken.

The words unspoken, the chances wasted. Her sweet sixteen never seen.
Crouched on the ground heart in the basement, smiles taken hopelessly.
Now gone, "Glory," her name remains,
And "Defeat" his nickname.
Suffering the depressive stage of knowing he'll remain a lonesome soul.
Her smile only alive in his mind, dies with the knife's touch to the heart.

-Kathia Mariana Landeros
This is a poem I had written YEARS ago. :)
James Hedrick Nov 2014
Wisedom is to know the difference between your faith and religion.
  Stupidity is to not know either.
They say war isn't an action but an emotion fueled by rage and anger..
   I say war isn't part of what we do but who we are,
Its in our nature.

People now days have confused strength with confidence and how far one is willing to go...

We judge the people around us before we meet one another.
  We pick and choose people to hate an people to love without making choices.

They say YOU can change but you have to change yourself...
  Better said than,
The world is gonna change and your status will be determind by your wealth.
   Saying "money over everything" is like saying "**** everyone else",
But to put that in action is like admitting you'd rather live by yourself.

Surrounded by galaxies and a forever reaching domain

We have a problem admitting we are all one in the same.

Weighted down by opression and smashed by our fears,
We're doomed to work for an eternity beyond your childs years.

Shed tears for our future,
Held back by the weak,
We've been chasing dreams and against reality, dreams will never compete..
   Its hardly a race when your starting in last but we look forward to the future, never questioning the past.
Thank You all for the read's!!!
Devin Ortiz Oct 2016
I've got weeds
They slipped through!

My thick skin.

I feel seeds
And they're  growing
Words of hate
In my chest

Beating, screaming
Ba da ba da ba da

I've gotta tend to
This garden of mine

Your opression
Will not
Leave hate
In my Sanctuary
Fields Feb 2015
life has its loves and its sadnesses. What is known to others, other than what is shared is up to us.
Love has its hopes so that we may dream and leave this moment unto one where we aspire to new happiness.
Life has its laments, then they remember the found of such a deep love in a soul is a point of progression,
to deny such an honour is a madness. I am not cold nor emotionless, nor am I seperate. I merely have a great sadness,
that comes with a great love, its all micro and macrocosm. Like that ectasy pill of youth the moments of liberating
freedom and flashing lights, the weightlessness the chains of opression leave as the kiss to their burn comsumes you for that
time and makes you a new whole.
So much greater is a large time in our lives, It grabs us, with the story of the past, the building of a character worthy
of play wright, a love worthy of enternite life and a soul worthy of the purification of the realm from the desire of such
a thing. All of a sudden desire is lost, the transient 'I' misplaced and a new place in which we are not just residing, but
being awakens. We are in the whirlpool of all that this is and although may catch upon the rocks of fear, there is a
knowing of the sacredness of this time. Yet just like that comedown, the depression and need to be help that accompany the
sunday morning on that cold sofa of a warm stranger, the buzz ends, its part of the game, it will resurface in greater form
with a greater name as all things do, but that moment for what it was taught us the golden rule. Nothing we could gain from
it surpassed the moment its self. That all gifts are immediate and have to be seized with the immediacy of the instincual
reaction that saves a man from falling. The moment that is and always was is our one true love, she wears decieving clothes
so that we may to recognise her in a new way, but it is always her.
Life has all of these things and none of them, the answer of this is dependant on what you choose to see as now and not later.
Bea Mecum Sep 2018
Deep inside I am crying
Everything around me is dieing
Please excuse this mess I'm in
Ripping myself to shreads again
Eternity in this emptiness
Sinking in this black abyss
Shaking till I fall apart
Isolation grips my heart
Opression of my every joy
Nothing left to destroy
They tell you what they expect
They dole out rules and demands
When your heart starts to grow empty
You warn them of what damage they have done
You try to keep your heart together
as they treat you like your dumb.
A piggy bank of sorts
As they become nice when pay day, for you, arrives.
You know
for at least a few days you can be treated right
Until they go back to "over-drill"
I feel like a cadet in the army
The drill Sergent expects
I deliver
I try to find my own way
The drill Sergent demands that you know that you will not make it...
Not in the war....
So you feel rage for them inside
However, your Spirit, above revenge, ceases the calls of your pride.
For years you've failed to become more than what you are
A Caterpillar wishing to become the butterfly..
Held back from the stresses of trying to escape the captivity
You sleep on eggshells just the same as you walk
As you are heckled, hard, when you try to free your pain
through creativity.
Maybe the sun ,some day, will open those controller's eyes
So, they can become more than what they are, a "Drill Master"
And see the errors of harden ways
Stop the opression
And fly with you enjoying freedom's skies.
Growing Empty
They tell you what they expect
They dole out rules and demands
When your heart starts to grow empty
You warn them of what damage they have done
You try to keep your heart together
as they treat you like your dumb.
A piggy bank of sorts
As they become nice when pay day, for you, arrives.
You know
for at least a few days you can be treated right
Until they go back to "over-drill"
I feel like a cadet in the army
The drill Sergent expects
I deliver
I try to find my own way
The drill Sergent demands that you know that you will not make it...
Not in the war....
So you feel rage for them inside
However, your Spirit, above revenge, ceases the calls of your pride.
For years you've failed to become more than what you are
A Caterpillar wishing to become the butterfly..
Held back from the stresses of trying to escape the captivity
You sleep on eggshells just the same as you walk
As you are heckled, hard, when you try to free your pain
through creativity.
Maybe the sun ,some day, will open those controller's eyes
So, they can become more than what they are, a "Drill Master"
And see the errors of harden ways
Stop the opression
And fly with you enjoying freedom's skies.
Delton Peele Sep 2
Perpetually adrift ,
My love for you
Flowers in bloom
I use to cover the walls
Of this tomb
In delirium continually
Loosing room
Replacing family ,friends
Sweet suffocating cessation
In self opression
I know I now exist
In Culpable remiss.....
Fading reasons to not go deeper
No longer hear the voices that say"leave her"
In love with everything about you..
I send poetry
I'm devoted without end
I don't understand
Anything you want
Messages sent hourly
Saying I love you
I hold my breath
Waiting for response ...
You never do
Evena negative response
Is positive feedback
Its all I need from you
This silence ts twisting my existence
Oh nawe awe...
You changed you're number?
You feel the same way too.
Let's role

— The End —