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Protect your neck minstrel man while you still have a chance. Protect your neck minstrel man be more than a song and dance.
Tar Baby we don’t need no glue Tar Baby feathers stick to you Tar Baby we don’t need no glue Tar Baby feathers stick to you
i think i was 11 when a stranger first asked where i hid my money it was a cold winter day you could see your breath sway and stay as the snow flew your way i glanced back at his face
deadbeat. dead weight. static on the screen channel change- buy your happiness for three easy payments of $19.99
I am an American citizen Born and raised a southwestern Virginian A member of the USA's dominion Yet people are still of the opinion
The air was cool that morning, Matching the sky’s lavender and peachy hues. Vehicular white noise And the wind’s quiet whispers Lulled the peaceful baby to sleep.
We met when we were eleven. We had a group of friends, but they all fell away one-by-one. We were the only two that stayed. We spent our nights baking cakes together
the clock is ticking and i am very afraid afraid to live in a world where i probably won't see my old age
the clock is ticking and i am very afraid afraid to live in a world where i probably won't see my old age
Dear adults, This is a call to action, Every kid is looking for their passion, It is time that we take action But we are splitting kids up into factions Making the world composed of common core
07/20/1945 I could not see the sun setting over the sea as my windowless cage of armor raced over Bornean sands, but I knew as I loaded my Colt’s magazine with bullets and counted down the miles to the jungle
She was beautiful like Zoe Saldana Pretty face, healthy body and Latina But she also shamelessly swore like a sailor With that I knew I was going to like her. She didn’t hide from us, she was herself
Growing up, I believed that being pretty meant being white So I disowned my language and refused to speak Tagalog I told my mom that I hated her cooking, even though my favorite dish is Sinigang
I’ve always liked the idea of slam poetry; The passion that translates through the poets hands, As they excitedly emphasize each word with a new gesture.
frequently you ask me what i’m thinking about you didn’t ask when i was with you if you did i would ask how about you?
Dear Gabi, Last night I had a dream that you were alive That you had tried to jump out of your window, maybe to fly And I sat by your side because you didn’t die.
To: My Heartbreaker I've had a lot on my mind, and if I hold it in any more,I think I'm going to burst.You don't know this but
Love. A crazy little thing. It sets our hearts aflame, makes us brighter, radiating stars in the crowded galaxy of existence.
If I had more time To unwind rewind the fast forwarded Crime in the brain salted lightly Not everything is flighty Alrighty Every morning the dawn before the sun As clocks tick life to dust
It was March. As always, I got home late. But this time, this time, my head was sore, hair pulled prodded yanked, as a handle for my apparently convenient mouth. I reeked of Kingsport.
Free Push her to the ground, watch her fall.See how strong you are?She cries from the pain and you just listen to her screams.Over and over again, In her mind, she dies.
Summer is coming I'm going to wear my off the shoulder dress today since it so hot but don't let your bra strap be seen cause apparently boys still get aroused by a strap that connects to the comfy pads that supports my chest.
By, Zac Simons Blushing his mind was suddenly buzzing With a rushing kind of thrumming thundering
By, Zac Simons She bottled the impossible With silent gestures she kept audible
My Love By: Anthony Kirk Taxation without true representation, used to pay
We can’t get along Our country The peace Where’d it go When did it stop Was there ever a time where we could really say we had world peace It all started with
We've heard it from various women and men In the year of 2016 "Make America Great Again" Was the slogan so commonly seen The implications of that slogan Are not commonly thought about
1.The smell before the rain. 2. Long walks at night. 3. Songs that make me cry. 4. Big sweaters in the winter, warm and comfortable. 5. The taste of blood surfacing when giving hickeys
Whispers and shadows were all around As someone knocking the door But no one was there Illusion No, not at all Than what it was It was love That never came to me The shadows chased me
Sliding, sliding, sliding down the yellow slide Back to when I was only five Back to the sandbox, wooden swing set and towers so high. Moments fill my head when I was a kid, playing imaginary games with my brother.
I sit here in the darkness and I write these rhymes Calmin’ down my sanity turn it to a clarity I don’t do it for the fame, I just wanna focus and survive
these two situations are not ideal in combination: being thirteen, and realizing that gay is a synonym for your name. but that was my summer before eighth grade.
I believe in winning I believe in crafting words to spit fire, breathe venom I believe in the acceleration of heartbeats the iambic pentameter of a
ONE. We meet.A while later, we start talking.Later still, we discover that the term "soul-mates" doesn't just apply to the romantically inclined.
I remember when I first talked to him. He was awkward, he was polite, he was grammatically correct. I didn’t think we’d have that click. He’s the one I go to when I feel alone, when everything is caving in and making it hard for me to breathe.
her words struck me like lightning. passion and strength erupted from her booming voice. it was beautiful and terrifying all at once.
I was told that my friends were no good. Single parent home, shattered family values, This was no Leave It To Beaver production. I was told that my friends were no good,
Ambition, my drive My mission is ride all of these waves until the day that I survive, with my mind, body, and soul.
It was a discordant ray of praises and worship songs of joy and glory But the most glaring person present was the one I never wanted in my present A bright yellow shirt, how fitting?
Ah, the...”age old” question. If you suddenly became Tom Hanks in one of the movies that he surely has pasted onto his résumé by now, but you got to take one thing with you, what personal item would you take?
Smoke fills my nose.The sweet scent tempting, calling me closer. But no! Stay away, your mom and your dad are finally proud of you."We're glad you didn't end up like your brother."
LISTEN, who told you that God could not be a woman?I am almost 6 feet under my own fearsand I have no holy power to turn tothat is a reflection of me.Who shoved their generationally skewed
Writing by the light of a door cracked open is the most honest one can get with oneself. Especially when that door leads to the hallway of a psychiatric hospital.
Intangible and addicting Each day I see it, each day I use itYet when without it I'm restlessWithout it seems nothing will fit
It’s lonely out here lonely and blue blue blue As long as the tears that have grew Small and sandy This desolate landscape, The breeze and the palms;
Does bullying solve anything? It doesn't when it takes a toll on someone's pride and self-esteem, You spew words like poison which makes their blood steam. But who cares right? It makes you feel better.
You know,I hate when you treat me like a troubled child I mean I ain't got the best of sense but I'm not out here doing something without your consent Like okay uh l lied a couple times but was never slick with it
Slam The doors crash shutThe lights flicker ofThe flesh escapes. Slam The tears roll downThe face turns redThe heat boils up. Slam
My chest is caving in, But there's nothing besides the weight of a t-shirt Against my skin, Yet my chest is heavy. And I must have been impaled with a bullet Because there's blood draining from my heart,
hypocrites! If you look up the definition you'll find "A person who indulges in hypocrisy" Okay, well thank you, Google. So if you look up the definition of "hypocrisy," you find it is
Wind breaks my chest as you continuously blow me away. There’s something inside of me seeping through the gashes of your comfort, Telling me that the cracks within your embrace
October 27, 2015, 9:36 pm
So it was winter break and we decided that we would go to her parents house since she would always come to mine on holidays and occasions.
The thing about anxiety is I may look fine from the outside, but On the inside I am erupting like a volcano. Except I do not get the privilege To explode in public. I am forced to hide the bubbling emotions
Will it take for me to become a martyr words for you understand my craft? To die before my time; leaving behind a casket lined with the pages of my life The explanation of my sacrifice
The mirror only knows how to say "You're unique," in the worst way, The fairy tale bodies of crinkled magazine covers always implied a happy ending, But this, is
I am me I am the child that God has created I am a human being with dreams
On a night in the summer, I can remember Large thumping boxes swapping waves of thrilling pulses to overtake the silence. Joyous and primal, I move through the drapes of large tents
As if "getting better" makes up for the amount of time spent deciding if this constant allusion to her future is even worth the present
There is a light behind my eyes
I wonder, where are we going? We’ve sat here for years, Reading and noting, Learning but never knowing. What it is that lies ahead: Is it joy, is it dread?
I remember when I was little and I had this perfect family. I remember having 4 sisters, a mom and a dad.
Go to pre-k to socialize Go to kindergarten to alphabetize Finish grade school to add, read, and write Start junior high to divide, swallow history, and accept the map
The rain ever so forgetful had left small mirrors on the runway after she had gone,
A video in support of education and teachers, made to show solidarity with the BC Teachers during their strike in 2014.
I need to post an insta pic for today! Do you have an instagram? Oh, post that on instagram! Wait, not yet. I need to wait until 9 PM. That way, I'll get more likes. What hashtags should I use?
There is a reason slam poetry
I pledge allegiance To the flag I remember the day My best friend said “I think I might be gay”
Instead of playing house I used to play home.From the age of four I never questioned the perfectionof the woman in white that hung near my bed
Please take some time & check out this poetry video "Poetic Aids" & LIKE for her to win a trip to the 2014 National Poetry Slam! https://m.fac...
I walk in the room, and all fifty-something of the people are staring at me instantly. Well, not really.
Towers of Infinite DNA Small and gleaming Compounds Just waiting to be discovered Reasons waiting to be found Measurements of life realized In the soil under our feet In the simple air we breath
As she lays her head down at night All her sadness comes to sight. For through all the pain she hears, Comes the slow and steady tears. Drip, drip, drip
Even though you don't love me, the smoke you left behind is choking me. I'm blinded by the gray. Maybe the worst part is that you left all kinds of scars I couldn't understand.
You are a slam poet, your a poet of speech. You stand there allowing your words to expose your vulnerabilty. You stand there allowing yours words to display every stitch of youself - and all your sensitivity.
I have these scars from you. And I don't mean just you I mean everyone including you. I'm too big. I have an eating disorder. I ache from depression and battle anxiety.
I am a woman. That means, I can do whatever I please with my body. Decorate it. Show off as much skin as I want. Do whomever I please.
So ladies and gentlemen!!Get ready for a no-chance SUMO WRESTLING fightIntroducing the contestants....on the blue side,is the all time professional BIG SUMO BROTHER.And on the red side,
What am I to you? Don't I cry and hurt like you? Don't I feel like you? Aren't I someone who aspires? Or Am I just what you own? Am I what you disregard?
you don’t ever notice her, but she’s there, the smiling woman with her home in the corner of the screen, spilling a foreign tongue from her fingertips, touching them gently to her lips,
"Just hanging out with a friend, Honey” he said, with his back turned to us as he spoke lovingly to his wife who sat miles away, on that set of islands we call our Motherland, on the other end of the phone line.
Outcast. Victim of amassed judgment, Everything defining you is blunted. Hunted. In the triple homicide of mind, body, and soul, Words were the weapon of choice, Words nitrogen cold.
You tell me I should talk to you That I should feel comfortable telling you things But I don’t Because every part of me every part of my gender every part of my being Isn’t safe here