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D Awanis Dec 2018
Come closer,

What do you see?

Look deeper,
There's more of her than what meets the eye
She might spell queen on her tongue
She might blind people with her glance
But don't believe anything you see

Explore further,
There's more to her soul than the physical shape
She might wear fire on her skin
She might imply strong on her wrist
But don't believe anything you touch
she's more than her beauty, and she knows it well
Scarlet McCall Feb 2017
They came for us with tanks and guns.
We stood our ground—the old and young.
All our troops had mustered round
our Capital--Sacramento town.
A New Republic, we’d declared,
and its defense,
among all would be shared.
With the Bear Flag flying high
we all came to fight and die.
Young men in their combat boots
repelled the dictator’s first wave of troops.
Civilians came from South and North
to resist the fascist ruler’s force.
From Frisco and from San Jose,
from San Diego and L.A.,
from Calistoga and Marin,
thousands had come pouring in.
Then US bombers burned the city,
for the orange Fuhrer had no pity.
They won the battle, but we all know
from history, how these things go.
An occupation cannot last
against a people whose strength holds fast.
The tyrant’s troops will tire, while we
will fight on, until we’re free.
It's inevitable. We aren't all the same country anymore. A country of 300 million cannot be a democracy. California has more than 30 million people and can grow its own food. Why would they stay?
karin naude Jan 2014
thank god, above all
me, born in age of female equality evolution
in any other age
me, a slave
confined by financial, educational and social inequality
fueled by power deluded women-peons
leaving mountains and dungeons in passing
tears of blood
shed by disillusioned soul
instinctively knowing,
i can create my own destiny
life time spend achieving
smoothing the road for future daughters
BUT
satans has intervened once more
present daughters do not value
their priceless inheritance
many squander it, willingly
but few remain
with noble footing
instinctively calling out, to higher power
uneducated, still knowing
god exist, he is watching
and my inner strength comes from my creator
who created for a purpose
hail the king of kings
Lazhar Bouazzi Jun 2016
As the shape all sun
tore up the curtain
of blood and ululation,
everything in Tunisia,
as stricken by a wand,
came to a standstill,
and slipped away
from the senses -
Even rivers stopped.

Medjerda* froze
halfway
through the descent
to his destination,
as he realized
he’d been making a fatal error:
pouring forth all his passion
into the ocean.

So he stopped,
retracted his course,
re-collected himself,
and started flowing backward,
toward
the source
in the Atlas
that had bidden him
farewell.

In his spear head
there was a design:
start a new chaos
in the valley,
in which there would be
a sweet-water lake
and sailors drunk
with sunbeams, sweat
and pleasure.
Butterflies would flutter
around the scent of mint
and bluegreen rosemary.
Sweet Moon to Sweet Lake
would come, unannounced,
In the rays of the nightlight
of the fluttering night
to watch her self
shoot
the scene
of representation.

The river, now swimming
in his own water,  
carried the sky on his shoulder,
while an ant and a grasshopper,
holding a basket together,
watched the new scene.

As the figure all sun appeared ,
reason melted;
imagination
her hazel eyes opened.

*Medjerda is the most important river in Tunisia. Length, 460 km; basin area, 22,000 sq km. It flows out of the Atlas mountains into the Gulf of Tunis.
© LazharBouazzi, June 16, 2016
*Medjerda is the most important river in Tunisia. Length, 460 km; basin area, 22,000 sq km. It flows out of the Atlas mountains into the Gulf of Tunis.
Karisa Brown Aug 2018
I want to believe in my
OWN truth
The many times I've come
Through on my own
Did what needed to be done
Without being told how

By using my own intuition
I was brought here with
To forge a place around
my Own tree of life
My surrender
My sovereign
My light

And the best thing is there are others
In my life that show up and stay
From time to time
To wake me up into this
To help me grow
Into the Meet me

First of all those
Who see that best me rise
And to compliment
Not control
Who endure through
Not who back down

Who drown inside themselves
To get to this unconditional love
Which they Know
From lives thousand
Before them

To make this time
Ours to shine in
And do more than
Just march on
But to EVOLVE
To become a
Revolution in their own
G Rog Rogers Oct 2017
Revolution
is a confiding smile
that reaches from
deep within the heart
An outstretched hand
up and out
to give a life forsaken
a new start

To seek and search
far beyond
and glimpse
a brightly shining path
Yet then to look behind
and back again
to be assured that all
will know the way

Rebellion
is a knowing look
a glance from eye to eye
A slight inflection
of radiant joy
in the tenor of a sigh

The quietly warm
and whispered word
with a gentle breeze of hope

Revolution is a beautifully
harmonious triumphant tune
that just won't leave
you alone

-R.

(06)
-TX
Rvsd.

©ASGP
ConnectHook Sep 2015
[Infernal Dialectic of Ongoing Struggle]

Spoke Mao Zedong to Kim Jong Ill:
We languish here in deep red hell –
Let us confer and analyze
What factors revolutionize
The contradictions still.


Replied Lil’ Kim: The running dogs
Beguiled by class and capital
Have overdrawn and overspent.
They bank on debt, and make lament
And flounder in their fogs…


Kim chee does stink, but tastes so good
Do have some more, oh comrade Mao.
Fermented cabbage goes so well
With Hennessey and blondes (in hell)
when
Juche’s in da hood!

The Fearless Leader (now a shade)
Responded thus: Just give them time.
Our doctrines spread, their God is dead
Their sons shall sing ‘The East is Red’
Our party’s got it made.


Ill Kim displayed a wicked grin:
Our rocket-launches make them fear
They scold and cluck, and then they duck
While Hillary tries to pass the buck
I think we still could win…


The Chairman thought and sipped some fire
in communistic reverie, and feeling very clever, he
Replied to Ill: This place we’ll fill
with dead reactionaries still –
fifth columns to inspire.

Now let the thousand flowers bloom
And let one thousand thoughts contend.
Remember **? Remember ‘Nam?
We triumphed over Uncle Sam –
He’s limping toward his doom.


A wizened ghost now drifted in
Because his name had been proclaimed
A wispy beard (as yet unseared)
Revealed the mastermind once feared:
Old Uncle ** Chi Minh !

** ** – old friend! Draw near! Draw near,
Spoke Mao: In solidarity
We hail your work upon the earth
You showed them what a war is worth
You’re always welcome here.


Ill Kim and I were wondering
How best to make the forward leap –
conspiring ******* their cow
and smoke their duck and drain their sow
while they are buying bling.

** Chi, old warrior, why the frown?
Upon your wisdom now we wait.
The forces red you bravely led
You staked your claim until they bled
And brought their nation down.


Old uncle **, the sage revered,
did smolder with his cigarette.
Viet Cong thought is hard to grasp
It slithers like a jungle asp…
** paused and stroked his beard:

You speak without the people’s light!
I criticize in strongest terms
Your revolutionary thought.
We need to ask our friend Pol ***
How best to steer this fight.

Such gradual change, a halfway measure
stalls the Bourgeoisie’s demise.
Our true Khmer Rouge was not a stooge
of Kapital. His fame was huge
for plundering their treasure.

True, he had to purge his nation
such is revolution, gents…
The traitor classes see the masses,
through reactionary  glasses.
Death or re-education!

We ought to sow his rural seed
for pure agrarian reform.
The bodies in the rice can rot
to fertilize the harvest plot –
the people’s mouths to feed.


When Pol *** heard his tactics lauded
he flew in to join the jabber:
Take a tip from Kampuchea!
Listen well and I will teach ya!

Kim and Mao applauded.

City folk are useless eaters
glasses-wearing foes and cheaters!
let them slave – and always save
their corpses for the fertile grave
Until they love their leaders.

From the barrel power grows –
(I don’t mean kim chee barrel, boys – )
Now learn my way.We’ll have our say
Their weakened states will wither away.

The Red dictator rose.

Prepared to ramble on for hours
(the way Fidel so loves to do)
Pol ***’s harangue now fired the gang
like rockets falling on Da Nang
emitting sparks in showers.

Hell is known for lack of stasis –
Sudden throes of quaking fire;
fitful flares from from Satan’s lairs
and constant similar affairs
the population faces…

Thus Saint Pol ***, still naming names
along with Mao and Kim-Jong Il
while ** Chi screamed, and then blasphemed
were swept en masse, and unredeemed
into the surging flames.

Yet still they plotted in the blaze
with dialectic deviousness.
Philosophizing, strategizing
stinking sulphur brimstone rising;
ghosts in the yellow haze…

        ☭ END ☭
http://tinyurl.com/q6uyx34

Lazhar Bouazzi Feb 2017
As the shape-all-sun
tore up the curtain
of blood and ululation,
everything in Tunisia,
as stricken by a wand,
came to a standstill,
and slipped away
from the senses -
Even rivers stopped.

Medjerda* froze
halfway
through his descent
to his destination,
as he realized
he’d been making a fatal error:
pouring forth all his passion
into the ocean.

So he stopped,
retracted his course,
re-collected himself,
and started flowing backward,
toward
the source
in the Atlas
that had bidden him
farewell.

In his spear head
there was a design:
start a new chaos
in the valley,
in which there would be
a sweet-water lake
and sailors drunk
with sunbeams, sweat
and pleasure.
Butterflies would flutter
around the scent of mint
and bluegreen rosemary.
Through the flutter
of the midnight hour
Sweet Moon to Sweet Lake
would come, unannounced,
to watch her self shooting
the act of representation.

Now swimming
in his own water,
th river
carried the sky on his shoulder,
while an ant and a grasshopper,
holding a basket together,
watched the new scene.

As the figure-all-sun appeared ,
reason melted;
imagination
her hazel eyes opened.

© LazharBouazzi

*Medjerda is the most important river in Tunisia. Length, 460 km; basin area, 22,000 sq km. It flows out of the Atlas mountains into the Gulf of Tunis.
"Are you are reptile,
or a mammal?"

<licks lips and rubs chin>

"Cold-blooded,
warm-hearted?"

<grips knee with left hand>

"When smelling a blooded roast beef...
...do you get hungry and share?"

"Or do you eat the guests first?"

<holding long-blade carving knife>

"You see, I like to think that you're both bugs, that you bug me and neither of you have any power what with my holding this weapon?"

<waves knife around erratically>

"Also, I don't like sharing..."

I only throw
my banana
at Chel-Sea

I only throw
my banana
at Chelsea

I only throw
my banana
at Chel-sea

-Kaitlyn A. Warnken

'I try hard to block myself from sadness but it breaks free and gets to me.
The Bad things are shot at me like bullets and
With Me being the target, the hits make me sink so deep.
Sometimes as to were i don't think i could live to see another day.
While the world keeps revolving, i wish to keep myself from evolving this way.
So No matter what or how hard you say it, we both know things are never going to be okay.'
I DO NOT AUTHORIZE MY WRITINGS, PHOTOGRAPHY, OR ANY OTHER PERSONAL INFORMATION. WILL RESULT IN A NEGATIVE CONSEQUENCE IF TAKING POSSESION OF MY PROPERTY WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. kw --as of Jan. 29th
july hearne Sep 2018
women should not
and do not
have to choose
between literacy rates
and basic human rights

if the sight of any part of a woman's body
is too provocative for you
gouge out your eyes, castrate yourself,
and chop off your subhuman hands.
Hadiy Syakir Nov 2017
Can you see the chaos?

They are not talking to you
they are in you
in each flow
of your blood
in every inch
of your bones

the dissonance! the abstract!
the lack of discipline!

it showers beaut
it radiates power
push your existence
through this
like what it is,
an existence, known as
ever since
the depression
cut the chain
get rid of the tie
embrace your persona
light the candle
and dance to this:

The moment you slowly sink
into a set of perfection is just
The moment you dissolve into
the motion of indefinite silence.
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