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Stop! Quit talking about revolution, revolutionIt is like winning the unlucky lottery, the electionWhen a true revolution is on the moveNobody, nobody can stop it. A revolution
Ann koupe tout chenn yo Poun ka rive laba a Ann pran tren yo Poun ka rive laba a Nou dwe goumen pou dwa nou
Let’s break all the chains In order to get there Let’s take the trains In order to get there We must fight for our rights
Greed is out,Yes, yes, let’s shout,Again and again:Greed is out.Let’s spout, let’s shout!Realized painAnd unrealized gainAre not taxable.Political contributionsAre not deductible.
So What Does Revolution.... ? In TRUTH... Mean To You... ? Fighting The System Or Being A Villain... Whose Mission Is Fuelled By CASTRO Type Views... ??? Now There Was A Dude Whose Visions Were Viewed...
To know thyself is to self destruct out of luck Crying out in newborn desperation People watch in fascination Called to discrimination Ears filled with litigation One nation
There is only one way to love. We work and work and still we fail Taking our breaks and trying to resolve Only to leave each other and devolve We're cheated and hurt, hoping for someone Different.
Hold your sign Tout your voice Hide your gun Love your choice The only way for change to come Is standing there and doing none while singing fantasies of peace illuding that this all can cease
Gil Scott-Heron Question, Did you ever realize who the biggest kingpin is? They say real eyes realize real lies Well the Revolution will not be televised So, I was sent to open eyes
Does it not hurt to think about the digressions this world goes through? To know that people descend and ascend everyday, and how it could've been you?
the Corners of my life were my home. pushed into the spaces in between—unseen, side by side, shoulder to shoulder beside other shadows of Perfection.
stop taping young people’s mouths shut and telling us where our places are stop screaming over the voices of tomorrow and stop telling us we don’t know what we’re talking about
Dear Artemisia, When you were a teenager, You were raped by your tutor, A friend of your fathers. When you were a young adult, Your father sued your rapist, For destruction of property,
A woman who speaks her mind without hesitation. A woman who follows her own path and dismisses the disapproving voices. A woman who knows her limits and knows that we are lifelong learners.
Excuse me-I don't mean to be a bother-I'll move out of your way-So sorry for the interruption-Please excuse my rudeness-My deepest apologies-I'm so sorry-Please forgive me-I don't mean to intrude-
“O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave” How much of that can we say remains? Everyone scared of scaring the people that need to be saved.
Donald Trump plans on putting "America First." It seems like that could succeed. Depending first, on what "America First" means and exactly what is guaranteed. "America First" would mean supplying our people
America. It's all I've ever known. Except some bordering mexican cities, this is my home. But home isn't always your safe place. Home can mean arguments and separation.
(America Poem) a Quartet of horse-Men/Women/People/Children of Apathetic Apocalypse! and redemption-
part one: IAMIAMIAM, or Is this how you think? I am trying to understand 1.1: the moderate I dressed my baby!*
What do I see in the land of the free and the home of the brave? Fat minds grow restless, fed stories of the hardship and challenge of older days. Pride blooms like a plague in the hearts of the prosperous.
I pledge allegiance to the flag, stitched together only to be sectioned, ripped apart, burnt at the stake for minority sake and for the love of the Divided States of America they march
The man in the orange mask does not know my struggles. He does not know my intentions. Or my dreams. But how could he? For it is a nation that strived on the working class,
Let us deceive the 18th century; turn scrap metal into jewels. Set chicks free until man and cockerel become indistinguishable. Let them run hot headed until mothers’ cries-
"A woman's place is in the revolution!"that is what we will sayas we are marching your way You can't stop uswe are here to stayLady Liberty sent us she yelled "today is the day"
We have nothing to say But we can sure sound cute My generation has got a brand new pair of boots And we're not taking em off
Mamá always lied to herself I used to think she lived covered in a silk of illusion, distancing herself from her thoughts– measuring happiness with grains of rice.
How confident I could be, What I could be, I did not know At first. My future seemed so far, The present so comfortable. Growing up was the plan, But not entirely reality.
What a damn free world we are living in Some came from England for religious freedom And others came to escape their corrupt piece of land Now somehow, we all gather in some place called the freedom land
You expect us to stay docile in the face of oppression To accept the death of our people without exception You wish to see us stay quiet as our children lie wounded and bleeding
The spark of one Became the flame of many Trailing through city to city Clouded eyes, unjust hearts This type of blaze is a painful art One by one the trees burn down
Mortal the word which strikes fear in our bravest and shakes even the most reasonable minds... giving birth to ardency in apostasy but also dogma, hate, and intolerance.
I've reached the point where there's nothing else to say I've written every poem and song thought every deep thought that transcends the common state of mind. over analyzed and dissected every action and memory
Numbers. It’s what we all seem to be. Numbers.
I will slay the king of poverty And slit the throats of segregation For who are we? Who are we? But mice in a rat’s race What are cries? But words to God What are words to God? But words
“Sing a hopeful song!”They said.“A catalyst for revolution!”They cried.“A song for the rebels…”They shouted.
Awake and sober, while in a state of sedation.How can this be? I have no explanation.Bored with digging in this life’s excavation,
I am not a martyr but a revolutionary with my poetry as my weapon i know you all wonder what a few rhyming words can do and to that i say not all poems rhyme...but i digress i am not a hero but a revolutionary with my cloak of knowledge and my ar
Mike Brown, Trayvon Martin, Tamir Rice, Eric Garner Who's next? Me?
Scared screams fill the streets, As they watch their city torn, From the roots of the trees, To the fields of corn. Their small homes fall, And burn to the ground, With flames so tall,
***FLAWLESS BEING*** By Paul J. Pinkett
Black is defined as the very darkest color owing to the complete absence or absorption of light Black is the opposite of white Black is people asking if your hair is a weave and a line of people waiting to touch it
my father is a man of many colors. on the nights when the moon stays asleep, he lotions his palms with pomegranate juice. the sugared blood pools in the creases of his skin and stains it India’s red.
Are we one? It's hopeless I know this devoid of devotion. So tired of the maddness and sick of emotions dividing the classes and poisoning the masses. So I'm strictly devoted.
I'm a very secretive person, I lurk in the shadows. I come and go like some godfather. I hide behind my mask, built off of past experiences.
You captured kings and warriors and now our bloodline fights back You underestimated the mystery and power behind those of us who are black You saw our strength and resilience and said “They’ll be fine to do our work”
How can I cease to be The person that is me For when I look in the mirror,what do I see? I see a girl that society is breaking, I see a girl that society is making. A girl that yearns to stand tall,
I am making mistakes Bumping down the road without a break, Binging on food so that I can be in a bettter mood. I am the rock in the leather jacket, Standing against the gate looking cool
Wake up Ameirca!
Beyond the shadowy, pitch-black night, A new morning's beacon begins to ignite, Now dawns a day in which you will see, The people's will has set them free. For all I want to give this nation,
Pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain She longs to tug on the fabric, to pull it miles away She hides so that her mold matches that of society So that she won’t be seen for her flaws and mistakes
Can you feel it? Can you feel that Change? I can feel it blowing our way. Can you see it? Can you see this new day? I can hear it calling our name. Change is coming down. Change is coming now.
From my youth, I recall thoughts and wishes Of my life being as the wind that swayed the trees. It didn’t hide its true self behind something fictitious It was powerful, beautiful, and noticeable, just as I wanted to be.
One voice speaking out to the world I speak for the youth that are constantly being silenced Freedom to speak confused as violence my words, can be used as a form of protest
Over the years I've lived through a lot of things; Over the years I've been a lot of people, So many that I lost myself. Sometimes I look,
Today is never ending-- the start of a new beginning. A story of characters without a home, A story of passionate love and burning hate, and fighting which always makes us feel great
So sick of freaking war I turned on the television Flipped the channel to watch some CNN For maybe bout an hour or more All I could see was war All the fighting in Washington
its a world hidden behind the appearance of intertwind shinanigans and crime i aplogize i didnt mean to rhyme see its not just fun and games to get their names
What am I?
They say t
Before you try to silence me, judge me Before you treat my story with negativity
The end Of our days
Its these that scare me more than anything its that what's said today
what makes me click the metaphors that you ignore the obvious the actual being of human beings the words my mother spoke and the moment when I would see them surviving thriving
The story of a corrupt society The alcoholic priest preaches about sobriety Religion brainwashing people Children sexually abused in the steeple
Another day another conflict. It's an ongoing fight. Another law passed to strip us of our God given rights. They take away our land. They keep their hands in OUR pockets.
My sweet daughter,
The white sandy beaches crash against the waves as if battling for the territory of land. The birds fly through the air sending signals of impending danger to their nearby relatives.
People are sensative, caring and often kind People are rude, oblivious and even blind People are people and will act as they please No suprise considering all the tempations of this world are just a tease
What would I give today To change the world To see and hear the call of the wild And how she cries out in pain The answer it seems Is that mankind has gone astray
Unhealthy human beings. Everywhere.
This is their place, the place they freely roam; This is their place, the place they call, “Home”.
My pockets have been picked But why mine? They are nearly empty The paper goes as it comes in There must be a hole in there Who would do such a thing?
Some things in this world give me hopeWhen I hear the clash of voices speak outI am surprised by the peoples empathy
My raging heart was tortured by my demented flesh Temptations tried to eat my soul for evil I was trapped in sin with no more rest
It’s when autumn in its final throes surrenders and one morning you draw in a peculiar breath thick with frigid air that you realize the winter’s made its presence.
Resolution to never be a part of any institution to cleanse my heart of this pollution In Christ alone my absolution because mankind won't provide solutions
I am the one the leaders should answer to, I am the one that began a nation, I am the one who fights, the one who dies, I am the one you depend on. I am the people!
Money vs Survival
Money vs Survival Another worry versus another worry Seeking money to survive veruses just survivng Slaving away versus Living away Tears of hardship versus Tears of real life.
A close to oppression , A ending to subjugation, A conclusion to despotism, A death to darkness, Finishing of the copious tears, The people have acted, Tyranny is of the past.
How do you define revolution? It's simple, but this is my way. It means to be different than everybody else, that's how we are suppose to be. We stand out from other crowds, The ones who have a great passion
We are all human, yet we kill one another/Willing to hurt anyone, our sister or our brother/Living in a world filled with greed and hate/The earth is dying, is it too late?/
Track records are damning, They slip into the folds of your skin like bar codes of your past.So that the technology of our future generations may simply blink to download them. Tracks records are the tattoos of prostitution to a prior cause.
I am an African, an African taken from my homeland and brought into a place where I am known as being "inferior" Why was this happening? Do I not shed blood and cry as any other
Into antique graffitiYou slam me;Books filled with the company ofEnemies and falsehoodsMold me,And them,And usInto mechanized monsters,Unable to breathe,With disparities for
In the world you live, there are villains, There are villains who call themselves heroes, they're given your rejection, attempting to eclipse the shining truth with deception,
after the trayvon verdict there were vibrancy of disbelief as if they were watching a horror flick it was frightening how a young black male was killed and the killer walked
It has been engraved into my brain,carved onto the tips of my nails,sewn into the seams of the clothes that I wearthat I am the future and I crave for change because I am the heart of a revolution.
I lived to walk among the scenes Of people walking by. I lived to hear the mother's scream And hear the baby's cry. I lived to lend my helping hand Until one day I saw The thing I could not understand
Color’d Shadows They hate us They love us We were created by them, society If we talk to them, they’ll hate us If we help them, they’ll hate us
Everyone growsThe more we learn the more me fearThe unknown casts a shadowWhere do we go from here?
This is a monotone spectrum, waving in and about our minds, releasing emotions and making us feel. I fear we are the same, each and every day.
in eighth grade, we had a test on the baltimore bank riot i got ten points where it asked why it started and zero when asked why it ended
Fragment No. 1 …I keep my mouth closed I don’t try to speak But I can feel my bones Rebelling My blood is screaming, “REVOLUTION! REVOLUTION!! LIBERTA! LIBERTA!!” My bones are howling,
It is time to get up;I hear the pounding on the door.He yells-because it is what I deserve
Kids cryin’ and dyin’ Whites and colors never getting along How did everything go wrong? Have you ever seen a troubled Mexican girl walking alone? Or a little boy behind a glass on the phone? You see, I have
Little girls growing up. Limited in their visions. Little boys growing up. Limited in their prosperity. Who are we? We the people. We are supposed to be free. Who are we? We the people. We are meant for simplicity.
Revolution is A mindset only found in the Blood of the angry.
Land of the freeLand of the apatheticLand of the dreamersLand of the broken Home of the braveHome of the hopefulHome of the better tomorrowHome of the bitter
As we complain about things being unfair, there are families in the US without health care. You may not have gotten what you wanted for your birthday, there are people in Haiti trying to survive after an earthquake.
I step out of the plane Baggage on my right hand A bag of toys on the other. One foot touches the concrete. The hard surface onto the soft soles of my feet.
If today were the last day to live, would you call your enemies and forgive? or would you go to the shelter to give? something simple can express so much our hands together is a simple touch
Abnormal, poor, weird words I hear daily Growing up poor wasn’t a choice; wishing it was a choice Each day I struggle looking over my should, hearing them laugh, Avoiding the landlord, rents overdue.
This is a narrative. It begins and it doesn't exactly end yet - there's no end of an era here yet. The Nineties Kids are growing up, coming into our own
these hands, subjacent to my heart, brush tears from eyes, push water through space, teach children to swim, feed hungry lost souls, faith, make art, heal wounds, and open doors... for you.
Life is like dominoes, each one has an effect, wherever the first one falls has an influence on the next.
-Revolutionary in Uniform-
I need answers I need prayers I need sympathy In this dying misery I need affection I need hope I need this wind to tell me which way to go So come with me now
In some ways we were journeymen on another mission We were all apprentices searching for some new edition Of our lives. In some ways we were just chicks being pushed from a nest
If the heroes of old learned how we kept this place They would rise from the grave and they would spit in our faces The land and the sea is soaked with blood and their tears Maintaining our freedom for hundreds of years
We are the majority who are limited. We hear the pockets of the privileged rattle with their riches, While we with no money, pay the King and the Churches.
Women. The evolution has changed drastically. First there were role models, then there were icons But now a red sole defines one as her majesty. From the likes of Sojourner to Rosa
Blindly, we follow and nod our heads to the beat. Lyrics are nonsense when music is an industry. Nobody wants to think. Nobody wants to learn. We defer to the media to dictate our concerns.
BOOM! Goes the sound of a bus backfiring As it leaves a stop with no passengers Once again The bus driver silently laments to himself And hopes the boycott will be over.
Through midnight gates at Nivky Station run teenage revolutionaries, raising Kyiv to the ground with snare drum steps, violin tremolos shout, They cannot stop us! - Sliding, gliding on aluminum bannisters,
Beware of Artists for they mix with all classes of society and are therefore the most dangerous. They study and socialize with any and all people. They are unafraid of what is different, strange, or new.
My conclusion, revolution, only solution Government pollution, prostitution, no given restiution Conisistent years of slavery, soliders die from bravery Veterans don't get the respect for what they get paid to see
Im about to get to writing Tired of the wars and the fighting I’m ready to make a change Underage, strike like some lightening Tired of dividing They just wanna conquor More interested in Jersey Shore
The road is marked with sorrow, My undeserving hollow Heart waits for every morning, When it wakes refreshed from its mourning
What a shame, how we all were treated before, False accusations, people judged the color of skin. Our potential, needs, and feelings were forgotten, ignored, Our worn and torn shoes, no one has thought to step in.
The roots of my hair come from the roots of my background. Though I am my culture, I am not only my hair, my roots, I’m free. If anything, my hair is me. Golden paths, chocolate delights,
Timid resentment underneath it all Power hungry leaders notice nothing What is the cut off before the last call? Injustice and violence lead to something Last match is lit it ignites the people