Marium Iqbal Nov 2014
"We teach children not to use violence. Yet we raise them in a world where violence is the only way to get things done."
AJ Sep 2014
He's down
Bang! Bang!
He's not getting up
Bang! Bang! Bang!
He's dead
Just to be sure
Violence against Blacks is not a new thing. Institutionaled violence against Black people is a problem. Always has been. I personally know people gunned down by the very people who vowed to protect us for petty reasons yet it was justified and no one was held accountable. When will it end?
Sourodeep Jun 2015
When just a simple smile is enough
why do you always pull out a gun
and make things more rough
to keep it in your pocket is deterrence
but for a hot headed like you
the easy option is violence
Lets condemn war and make this world a peaceful place to live.
One swing
another swing
you fall to the ground
lifeless you lay
not making a sound
as I wipe the blood from my face
I think
why did things turn out like this
and what have I done
Ronni McIntosh Jul 2014
Despite your self-assured sense
of retribution,
violence begetting violence
is no solution.
It's true, though satisfying
violence may yet be,
joy in crying and dying
is awful, you see.
Try understanding the cause
of bad behavior,
their reasons will give you pause;
teaching you'll favor.
Cameron Crew Jul 2014
Nothing is as beautiful and as disgusting

To see MEN and WOMEN strike and grapple on UFC is wonderful
leaving everything they have out there with respect
only their technique and skill to speak for them
in the name of martial arts

To see "men" and "women" scrap and stomp on worldstar is sickening
leaving no downed alone,no honor nor respect
only their cowardice and anger speak for them
in the name of Violence.
Gul e Dawoodi Feb 2015
Bombs and guns are just toys,
The signs of bravery for boys
Immature brains with violence fed to them,
Make them all completely numb
But what about the country men?
You see them crying now and then
Does that make you immune to violence?
Well, that just describes your height of ignorance.
We are so mean.
And that's what kills the strength of a nation.
Graff1980 Jan 2015
I beat my feet against the floor
Thud thud thud
Till the dark red blood
Spews from my new nubs

I bang my head into the wall
Thud thud thud
Till the crimson drips
Drop silently into the mud

I punch the glass window
Thud clash crash
The glass shatters and my fist
Fly’s past the panes

Again and again with no end
In sight
I rage against the night
Violence incarnate
Fury in human form
Flesh and blood storm
No sanity for this mad refugee
Just blood and gore
Marge Redelicia Jul 2015
naririnig mo ba?
ang bell ni manong na nagtitinda ng ice cream.
ang mga huni ng iba't ibang klase ng ibon.
ang mga harurot ng mga ikot jeep.
naririnig mo ba?
ang mga tawanan ng mga magkakaibigan
mga kuwentuhan, mga tanong at makabuluhang talakayan.
naririnig mo ba?
ang mga lapis at bolpen ng mga estudyante
na kumakayod sa mga papel:
sa bawat ukit.
naririnig mo ba?
ang mga yapak ng mga iba't ibang klase ng Pilipino at talino
sa kalyeng binudburan ng mga dahong acacia
sa bawat apak at kumpas ng kamay,
sa bawat hinga.

naririnig mo ba?
ang mga salitang mapanlinlang, mapang-alipusta
ang mga sigaw sa sakit,
hiyaw sa hapdi, dahil sa
mga hampas at palo
ang mga tama ng mga kamao
naririnig mo ba?
ang mga iyak
ang mga hikbi ng mga kaibigan
para sa mga kapatid nilang nasaktan.
ang mga hagulgol ng mga magulang
na nawalan ng anak:
mga puso, mga pamilyang
hindi na buo.
nasira na.

naririnig mo ba?
ang mga boses na nananawagan na
"tama na"
"utang na loob, itigil niyo na"
hanggang kailan pa
tutugtog ang ng paulit-ulit-ulit
ang sirang plaka ng karahasan
na patuloy na naririnig sa panahong ito
mula pa sa mga nagdaang dekada?

nakakalungkot, hindi, nakakasuklam
ang mga mapaminsalang kaganapan na nangyayari
sa ating mahal na pamantasan.
ang tawag sa atin ay mga
iskolar ng bayan,
para sa
pero paano tayo mabubuhay nang para sa iba
kung paminsan hindi nga makita ang
pagmamahal at respeto sa atin mismo,
mga kapwang magkaeskwela.

hahayaan na lang ba natin ang ating mga sarili
na magpadala sa indak ng
karumaldumal na kanta ng kalupitan?
hahayaan na lang ba ang mga isipan na matulog.
hahayaan na lang ba ang mga puso na magmanhid.
kailan pa?
tama na!
nabibingi na ang ating mga tenga.
nandiri. nagsasawa.
oras na para itigil ang pagtugtog ng mga nota.
oras na para tapusin ang karahasan.
oras na para talunin ang apatya at walang pagkabahala.
oras na para sa hustisya.
oras na para sa ating lahat,
estudyante man o hindi, may organisasyon man o wala
na tumayo, makilahok at umaksyon
para pahilumin ang sakit,
para itama ang mali.
oras na para sindihan ang liwanag dito sa diliman.
oras na para mabuhay ang pag-asa ng bayan.
a spoken word poem against fraternity-related violence
Mike Essig Apr 2015
~ short ode to PTSD

Though capable of rage,
I am harmless enough
except when cornered.

If you decide
to visit my life,
just be sure
we always sit
in a circle.
   - mce
Barton D Smock Jul 2012

had brought the well outta ground the muscled men and she came upon them when they had split into teams and were rolling it and had not yet become competitive. the hands of her gone infant came back to her to see these men heave back and forth a vanishing. of her many fathers one had said ‘the deep train went even deeper and I could not wake’. he had said it to excuse his one day feat of linking unadorned toilet paper rolls to stretch a rat’s mile. her stomach had yet to go down and she was comforted by such literal remnants as thinking of the last place you had it.


two white boys come outta shack each with a wrist one left one right being sucked at the mouth. their laughing I wouldn’t say manic but still not righted. like certain bible stories seem to tumble outta that book it’s the same with their eyes and ears. their heads each one shrunk so as to be united. I want to say here at least a retard knows what it’s mocking. I only know one of’em and only as far as this thing being passed and told that he ain’t a foster but he was born in a pan and taken from the offices of the parent company his father got laid from. you think that’s the joke but had I not said white you’d have thought they were anyway. here come two girls grisly with month and I never seen two boys so quick to put down the shack they come from.


I like it best when my girl is pregnant because I get the sympathies. on her hand, she likes me drunk. at any one time, I can remember seven of our eight kids. this means of course one gets left home but also that not a one gets left grocery. I’d tell you their names but then I’d have to split this saying into parts. but I can tell you seven are boys. now and again they’ll slip on sister’s dress to fuck up my math. a good joke I start with is that they take after their mother and if they take after me it’s with sticks. I change the batteries in the alarms for fire and carbon monoxide every two weeks mostly outta fear that I’ll lose them all and have to recount them to some fireman I went to school with. I don’t know if batteries are cheap or not, I don’t know anything about them, but I know I spend a healthy chunk of my portion to have. wife and I are keeping the ninth at bay the ways we know how. she don’t ask me and I don’t her. one kid a week goes with her to church and it’s up to me to remember who in my charge caught a fish the week previous. but I’m not wrong with god; no book is the bible, I believe that. at cemetery by which I am lack whelmed: I wish I had his memory.


wonder they ever told him grown, that black foster, how he'd been at three years dropped manger while crying for the congregates. straw in everything. back a throat, bottom a shoe. pop said he just about caught himself afire at work, straw sticking out his pocket. pop unable to split work clothes from churched. some wanted to resurrect a fuss about color; don’t go resurrecting a fuss and waved his hand he did that pastor ingénue. heard then I the word negress and after its saying the sayers looked about as if she would appear. this was our town after god and many were still making their own. this answers how the black foster needn’t audition. the gold I brought was soft on my thumbs and the flakes stayed in my nails weeks after. pop could tell for that time what I’d been touching so I’d cover when I could. we were quite a pair in our fooleries what with his straw and my gold. he stopped going on about the blacks and I was able to skip school with your sister the virgin mary. the town was never up for nightmares or for dreaming so I kept your share to myself until now how you seen mary fingered by a man with seven. heard him saying it's okay baby, this one's asleep.

holy ghost!

I will cut myself, Horror Film. will fidget my nethers a last time. maybe make the snow an angel with a third leg. which means I have gone outside. maybe my father will happen by you and put his beers together. but I will be gone. into the woods dragging my feet so some will think it took two to take me. I will whip branches about me and generally scuffle so the some will better convince the left. my poverty will be confirmed by your presence on videocassette. my father will hold you aloft and your tongue will droop above the depths of his hair. my father will claim a vengeance he owes on and the some and the left will follow him over the states of my angel and into the woods. when they find me I will say I had an in body experience; that the two men nearby sleep and it’s what we’re walking in.


little he knows that in holding them hoppers until they spit and before they go wing he is making hitch the upcome carriage of his prick. his future nudes are backtracking and the gravity of this has been diagnosed as your emphysema. he is your, nothing more, son. he will rub your back and worry his thumbs orphan. oh thumb; toe six. the way you deeply stand arms folded he sometimes thinks you have been replaced by a statue of his mother. it is then he remembers the fence his father built and the collective plank his father carried under his arm. you want life to be good again; your son’s low hand and the pups it could feed.

verbal abuse*

she has brought with her a shoplifted teddy bear. on a good night her age is seventeen. two days ago the voices in her head moved to her mouth. she has seven teeth that remain quiet. she fears so much how this third day will go. she has been told, and she believes, I am only in her mind. but there she is, at the sitting rock where we met, the rock I told her I could see things in. unprepared for her faith, I am unclothed. I am glad she has the bear and glad for my part in her having it.


we got some kind of plague in our toilets mama.*  that’s my dad calling her mama, my mom. that’s him declaring another plague. week don’t stop until a plague has been pieced together by this man so named Paff Snull on the subscription stubs of any number of unread magazines mom uses to swat dramatically at imaginary flies and wasps and locusts depending on the week. this time though I’m goddamned because when dad cracks his knees and balls himself to fetch mama from silence, I look in the toilet up and it’s true and in the toilet down and it’s more. spiders grey and black and off white. with our low water pressure, spiders having a ball. mom and dad they get tents and tell me twice to get inside mine once it’s on the front lawn. I get told things twice because I was born thick and I haven’t the heart to tell them that after the first saying the saying of it is diminished. I mumble to myself in corners, sure, but it’s the same mumbling. our dog gets a separate tent and I sneak into it when dog allows. seven nights so far outta three weeks I haven’t. mom says it’s because of my acne dog don’t recognize me sometimes. fuckass bit the meatsy of my right hand a month ago and my handwriting got so neat I was sent from school for cheating. it’s most of my summer and the house is still spidery. the dog has gone to the river to drink and seems okay with it. mom, dad, and I shit in the backyard in shifts. mom ain’t swatting anything, she doesn’t have to on account of the spiders. when right now I mess up my shift I find myself next to dad and he’s just some guy telling me them glass-full people got the joke on them because the water is contaminated. he’s so happy it makes me think I’m the devil to be grinning so big. long wasn’t the reign of Paff Snull.
Graff1980 Jun 2015
The bitter bruises
That mark my bare flesh

Bring me closer to enlightenment

The harsh words of enemies,
Family, and friends

Bring me closer to enlightenment

The cruel human suffering
And daily acts of violence

Bring me closer to enlightenment

The shit I see on my computer screens
The darkness of our society

Bring me closer to enlightenment

You know what
I don’t need to be that enlightened
Laura Mankowski May 2014
But more sad songs and poems
Are written every day.
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