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And to think how easily I could have become another " darling of the academy." One of those poets anthologized, applauded and admired, for speaking so eloquently of the poor-
Imagine you live in a land devoid of freedom and that human rights are merely a dream. Imagine too, that you could be taken into custody without reason
Her cracked fingernails Are now covered in a fresh varnish That shimmers Like a clouded jewel freshly polished. Her bloodied lips
A country once united now stands divided Red; the color of the black mans blood that stains the streets White; supremacy controls a country known for equal opportunity and the free will to be who you are
Wrathful winds full of rage, Blowing away, Smashing to pieces, The world of ordinary folk. If you were there? When out of sheer innocence, They unlocked the doors to their hearts,
Savior of oppressed people, Maintainer of tranquility and peace; A country’s epitome of power, Justice, justice, justice!
In the quiet of my closet I speak And the words sound more like a cry for help A plea for escape Or at least for someone to turn the lights on
The hood also known as the ghetto, el barrio, the projects, section 8 and home. A place where family functions don't end till the next day.
At the early hour Hearts are still Echos are devoured The air is chill This campus is not hers She's not the right kind But she just wants To get to class on time
Fake men afraid to have real conversations Adverse persuasion Scared of world view revelations So the same hatin' going down in police stations
Here we are, Here we need to be. Lost in translation, The past seemingly on a continuous unconcious loop. To be brave to believe in some idea, So foreign to thee. The magic can flow and light it will be.
Dear Oppressor, I would like you to thank you. Your mind may be orchestrating millions of ideas on why I would be saying thanks. Why would she thank her oppressor? Is she crazy?
to the world that has made me hate you and that taught me to love you, you, my dear skin. my skin is my name, my skin is my attitude, my skin is my personality, my skin is me but IT’S NOT.
Dear Malcolm, In some parts of the world, Light shines brighter than in others, Shade-divided world. Under bright light,
I sing of oppression Hate and war. I cry out in depression Fear and shame I dream of a day when we can fly away
You Are the hope around my neck. The pendant on my chest rests on the Padlock to my blood that Stained all over the dress you stressed to see me-
We were fine, My mother had money, Built a new house, We lived in a good, thriving neighborhood. We didn't know what we escaped would slowly creep up on us. Gunshots echoed across our community
My vessel has been anchored, attacked, and conquered Leaving the pieces shattered and somber Stranded within a dynamic society My lifeless bones still dance with gaiety Misguided, unrequited, i have lost my light And here i lie undecided if sink
Once upon a time there were Cinderella’s in the world A Cinderella’s love was stellar Full of confidence she glowed But glowing out of gloom she folds
The World of Bi is an interesting place For all is divided into two One is treated like gold The Other is treated a fly- Shoo! One is the standard That all must adhere
My whole life I was told how lucky I am To be born in this country led by Uncle Sam. I am lucky that I am not starving or dying But if I tell you I love it here, I’d be lying.
There’s always been problems That much is a fact. From the moment the pilgrims stepped foot on this land. They were refugees Fleeing from religious oppression That made themselves a home
Battle We the people have an obligation To escape this persecution in search Of a world in which we can be free Victory Now that the hard work is done And over with, we deserve a break
you better watch it, then rap it. twirl it like Beckham. you know what your saying, your binging on hate. she wearing her crown. they tell her it's forbidden unknown to Islam,
An outcast and the people’s man Is nothing but a lewd artifice of a leader His white hot rhetoric sears into America’s already scarred skin She weeps for her children
“When freemen shall stand” is a day Far away, a day strived for but Missed, distant from us, fleeting. Freedom is not a tangible thing: It cannot be touched, nor held, nor
January, February were the months of good packing snow, packing snow on my crippled carcass in cumbersome coats. I lay there and let your bitter cover me.
If the Angels fell for women how long can man escape from the snare of women. Her words hold the weight of the world. She speaks happiness into a mans life. She multiplies the seed of man.
Change, defined as that of growth and maturity within ones self, change is when you can go outside and feel as though you're strong enough to face the world...I wish I changed, I wish I changed to understand the difference from right to wrong, lef
She flies too high, sings the cages bird Her wings are too wide There is no fear in her eyes She flies too high, sings the cages bird Her wings are too wide There is no fear in her eyes
When I was younger, I used to think guys Needed to make me smile I thought boys completed empty parts Parts that first became bruised
I breathe my own fumes, lying up late at night in subtle hope for a change of pace Fumes of body odor and cigarettes Menthol and blue collar work for no pay
I'm falling hard, but it's my time to go. Be who I'm destined to be they say, but what do they really know. Senior Year. I've had enough of this crap, I'm done.
It's too bad I'm not a mas-o-chisttie me down like i asked-for-this I'm screamingI'm strandedAbdicatedAbandoned No. Free. Will.
Passion isn't something you know is there. It lurks in the bellies of darkness and in the shadows of all light. It isn't the calm before the storm, or the storm itself. It is the aftermath. The mess, the complexities of the unknown.It is the quive
Inability to communicate To Elaborate To Speak It is quite a terrible fate One which should not be cursed Even upon those that you hate Yet here I was Crying
You may Shut me up Break my will, Imprison me, just because you disagree with my beliefs.
Expression defying oppression Props to Walker, no ordinary talker Given a voice, best choice The pain, rain is entirely insane The actions, attitude inhumane
Oh father, father No wonder they drew Wretched escapes Through insectile neon hues Your dastardly finger's pop Will clop off your ring
Boom, Boom, Boom. The beat ensares me, blood pumping, my mind, my body breaks free from the cursed ropes of a binding society. In here, they can't know, In here, I go with the flow,
I don't need a society telling me how I should be Skinny with a thigh gap and big breasted with leather tan skin I don't need my parents telling me what I can't do you can't go to the college you want
I wish my culture would teach men to accept rejection. To stop showing up drunk to partiesand grabbing the arms of frightened women who are too afraid to say no.
The enlightenment heightened my slighted psyche, she judges, it’s like the purveyor of our pain and purgatory is a catholic church, no better yet, an oratory.
I am a girl. Who feared men her entire life until she tasted one. Her fear turned to envy and became addicted to them and the sense of pride accompanied by their friendship. Pride was the key ingredient in her attempt to conquer.
Assumptious eye The world is full of conclusions How much is it truth I'm just a detail, within a detail's detail If you saw my mind, would you still be interested in a physique
This is the daily grindtime we don't want to findso full it will destroy your mind The pencil is blindwhite paper all linedwith tape we are kind
I am the voice of the unspoken. Filled with pain and hope, looking for justice. I am a piece of many broken. Bleeding angry, We run out of substance.
Oh the few that stand The test of time Oh the few content To be sublime Oh the few rich That care for the poor Oh these few that were But are no more Oh the few that hold
The world around us is constantly moving Even the smallest flower is beautifully blooming. If a bud so small gets a chance to bloom A human so tall, chance as well should assume.
Sometimes I wonder How could I make a kite fly Even when weighed down by a boulder How could I make these diseased things happy They want money and my everlasting plea to be their servant
I see Native Americans: We stole this from you Black people: We brought you here Mexicans: Get out and stay out
Leigh Duncalf February 15th, 2015 Power Poetry Slam Scholarship What I Carry I carry the crushing weight of Responsibility.
Looking into the mirror, society stares back. Watching my every move, analyzing every inch. Bite my tongue and hold my words back; smile with closed lips. Constrictions; you cannot wear that.
Bombs everywhere, missiles left and right, clenching my gun in my hand so tight. Side versus side, so scared but I will never show it, America the Brave, proud and heroic.
"Speak softly, moon faced child, so that they do not hear you when you quiver. Let your inhibitions ride you like a dog,
As we walk on this world Full of anger and hate Nos vemos nosotros getting dirty of it De lejos venimos to look for a dream Un sueño, that makes us forget what really exists
Dried rust covers the walls turned iron, covered in hydraulic spurts of super glued wounds,
Hi my name is well I don't know I've never had a home been in a cage since I was born
Let us arise swiftly Let our movements be done Abruptly Like the wind So that they may never catch us Us, We who lay in the shadows Hiding in the darkness for we know no fear
I put on the cap and the uniform To please the people that give me money. I follow their rules with a synthetic smile To appease the ones I work for. I complete the caustic piles of work
We are trapped, We are lost, We need to get out, But we do not know where we are, We are slaves to the rich, Lets get on the piss, Lets charge the gates of gold, Lets break te chains,
Violence, much happens to people who keep silence Oppression led the oppress to depression One gun can kill many sons Teenage girls are confused, all bruised
Under roofs, birds chattered youth
The flow of the human race is nothing more than a flow We seem more and more content in our ways we forget to grow The Individualistic idea has inspired oneself to lead a life of independence
Generations past and although you have The blood of your ancestors coursing through your veins, You find it hard to relate. You are proud to be an American but, What is there to be proud of?
But what does it mean to be a Woman? Is it someone who reflects a delicate, fragile being? Nothing more than a teacup embroidered with gold that can easily be shattered,
I. Ascend Out of the Darkness By Nabila Uddin
Sneakers, gym shoes, my father call them gymmies. Nikes, Jordans, Jays ; I love them Its funny;
Down at the ocean blue Whorls of sea foam churn madly Like the feelings in this beating chest My heart trembles like a victim of anthrax poisoning viciously suffocating
People are starving Becoming homeless and dying We got to make a change By making a committee we can arrange
The chador draped across her
All of a kids high school years, are spent in fear, fear that he'll get picked on because he's fat, walking down the hallways and hears them, pointing, laughing, all for a joke, he sits there and wishes he could choke, every single one of them.
I know it won't be different
I want to give freedom! I want to give it now To the African child thrust into warfare at random to the the millions starving men, women, and children to the thousands of kids
They laugh and play and run around and say "That's retarded," overheard by the mother at the grocery store who wanted nothing more than the best for her son who was born with his disability. Ableism,
Life is like a dice game One move and comrades go down in flames But that's just 16 squares on the checkers board It's always queen takes rook, but the hand is lord A white palmed power ruling over the twin towers
I was always taught to value education, But how can I value something that generalizes students of color with biased limitations And failure as the only expectation.
I do not know Poe, He not know i, why why, expel information for score i must, let pen kiss paper, i say let me write, why why, dead and gone, words of the few still ring, please save me, vapid my mind is becoming, emancipate my spirit, why why ,
Struggling, Poverty, Murder, Broken, Oppression. These words mean nothing to this nation, Because it is not reality. It just can’t be, it just couldn’t be. These kids only want a meal,
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.
A practically endless stream of copies lines the shelves at just about every store we can think of.It’s printed so very often.By so many different publishers.
They say you can't do it, your brain isn't right. She just looks at them and smiles with her bright innocent eyes. They say you don't have what it takes, you can't be normal.
Dear Mr. American History: Your tie: red white and blue, representing the noose of oppression you pledge yourself to.
Positivity is hard when the whole world Keeps shoving SOMETHING down your throat
I think its safe to say that I am Black. Even though my skin is as diverse As a misty rainbow, filled with light and dark. Look at all those Browns, It goes from creamy peanut butter, to
Dear School Administration, Why do you take my body paint, my megaphone, and my wig? My build up of happiness is instantly snapped like a twig. You all clamor for school spirit and participation, is that not so?
Racism Sexism Heterosexism Classism Humans Oppression Privilege Advantage Suppression Humans White Heterosexual Male Perfect
When she was in Limbo,there was a crescendoand then, a crash.They said her core was mountain ashbut she was dead.and all there was to see was red.smash, smack, clatter clang clunk.
It's the beauty all around, that calls sweetly to deaf ears. Persisting that it's presence be found, but not many hear. A voice melodic, story hypnotic, with love and sadness intermingled. Eternal love and freedom began with strife.
Fight Another Hour By Jesse Yelvington Screw you for saying who and what I’m ‘supposed’ to be, Though I hope you know that nothing you could say will ever change me;
Darkness. I fancy myself as one who knows darkness. Not that darkness is something wonderful to know, In fact, it comes like a thief in the night and steals.
You look down on me-those cold, calculating eyes Just watching, waiting, prowling around my work-waiting for me for me to fail And when I do: NO! That powerful word
When I look around I see conformity. We try to be the same to maintain a sense of normalcy but it just constricts our voices. The world is closing in around us,
People living, people dying People working, people twerking People love the way you lie Hot dog, baseball, apple pie Cell phone, iPhone, 3-4G
A trembling cry preysupon the unsuspecting matte cavesdark against a silhouetted night. Ay! To be free!To be free! A starved cry,famished by the oppressionof a silent tongue.
A boy sacrifices himself For the good of his family For the good of their name His heavy legs tread Heel...toe...heel...toe His face lengthens with sorrow Eyes drooping in pain
Dear Son, Recognize your power, strength, and courage. You have the drive and the power to achieve great things. And then there is power ascribed to you.
Zombies. Shuffling in a straight line. Thirsting for the one thing. Never satisfied. Zombies. Draw fake smiles on their faces. Everyday the same. They follow the rules, they say their graces.
You.You think you want me outta your life?We both know that's a lie.Sure I'll give some space to fly.But without me long, you die.This is our complicated relationship. Face it.
You.You think I don't know you,But you are as wrong as hell.You, I know all too well.This is true you can tell.I don't need to speak the obvious,The hidden person beneath the mask is you.
Words spill onto the paper from my pen. Words that shape and create new realities. All our secrets here lay bare. Truth made plain in black-and-white. Here there is no maybe. Here everyone is free.
the white man has two hands buys nothing but name brands wears jordans he thinks he can but no, that is for the black man popo oppress cause blacks much stress
I am the poet Full of pain Full of dreams Full of desires The page is my escape The words are my children I fill them with bittersweet thoughts until they can no longer take it
The dots on the wall become bugs; crawl. Your second skin implores you to buy in. Allow the separation of sanity to fall, Like the rain of grace, with razors instead of peace. The vociferous outward expression;
Life is tough, so full of problems; look everywhere Pregnant teen girls aborting, drunk drivers crashing Oppressed children, drug addicts, couples breaking Prejudiced against Muslim girls with covered hair
Dead legs dragging, She'll cut them off To save the whole, Sad but not sorry, Wishing for wings. Desperate to fly because walking here was fatal.
Eyes forward. Chin up. Chest out. Head high. Stiff upper lip, now; that's it. You've got it. Don't slouch. Fall in line. Step lively. Look pretty. Lather. Smile. Repeat.
The people march to protest their oppressors Because they no longer want to be the lesser. They are motivated by the professors To not be the aggressors; The ones who fight first against the suppressors.
Angel-Headed hipsters Lend me your ears For I constantly find myself wondering How many of us are really here? How many of us are truly living our lives
The silence before a victory in equality parallels the silence after: it is alighted by those who barter their carved flesh for candle wax, Set afire for an enduring thread. A strand that interweaves the disgraces of the
Our world is not free. Freedom is to be equal in this world we share.
Freedom is an essence we do not yet taste, Slavery is scarce, but rights we still chase. When will this hostility come to an end? When we die off into eternity's wind? We cannot yet feel the end of this flame,
It’s the stare that burns like fire upon skin The feeling like you could never belong hides within The tear that falls slowly releases the hurt It’s the hurt felt by generations
Superior? Infereor? What are these words I hear? You assign them to races, To put them in their places
I hear the sound of guns "Bam" "bam" “bam” I hear the screams from afar The horrified screams like nails Nails screeching across a chalkboard I hear the sound of laughter As it fills the air
Gramma told me that it's bitterness that eats the soul, A bitterness one cannot control. But it is He who shed light, On all of those who were in a fright.
The wheels go round up an down, hear that sound? Not us. We're deaf. Deaf to life.
Beat ‘em all Through education Raising my satisfaction Claiming the gratification Leaving the misconstruction The misrepresentation Choosing my destination Predetermined by glorification
I live in a world of black and white Bu I’m all color. From my skin, to my hair, To my eyes, Even my insides. I’m full blown color But they paint me black. They paint me white.
Dionysus hazed reality, Patronizing life’s malleability. Amethyst cannot prevent this truth, When a bard’s words run dry and uncouth.
I contend not with men and their rhetoric, but with self and its defiance to the greatness that is alive in me.
This is when your jaw drops, You've finally seen the agony of a man that serves another for scraps, Builds a family from the ground up and still can't see the light, Que tienen miedo de la soga y de morir