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No knee should bend nor eyes look down in reverence to raise a crown. For “Royal” blood does not exist, just rivals fighting in the mist. The winner claimed the title “King”. What did this change in bloodline bring?
Hill homes and cars and a place in front, we run a race I lost at birth with house wheels and buses. I cross the line to stand in dingy dark, cast by prestige.
Retroismic palaces rise from deserted sands but all I see around me is mental illness A basket of bread and flower, -Lexicon for heartening; Jazz brass and sunburn in the poppy fields
The so called, “American Dream” Is the ideology that everyone should live content and in peace With the friendly neighborhood barbecues And sewing flags out of fleece.
When will I see Fruitions of being happy What happened to respect exactly What's intact is that I watch my back Wondering when one close Decides to hide inside The lies of emotional ties
"Clocks on the wall Talk to watches on the wrist It's the (moments) we relive It's the moments like this"
I will not describe my culture, With romantic language, Showcasing the beauty of our brides, Adorned in striking crimson, Or the spiritual resting places, That spread themselves accross the lands,
Have you ever wondered, What did any of them do to us, Why so much hatred and headache And why not put in all in the past where it belongs? Have you ever thought about,
its that time of class when your books are stacked on your desk and they have been there for 5 min. already your eyes have been glued to the clock and your friends start to get ansty.
I once took a test that required I fill in my race. I looked at the options, and confusion struck my face. As i bubbled Hispanic/Latino I felt I was lying to the Test Proctor.
I was born in an ever changing world, but to me seems like a never changing world. All I had was positive thoughts in my mind, didn't know that would change in due time. Lue find, the meaning of life.
From your talk to your walk I can't stand your presence Everyday I enter that doorway and become trapped in this prison.. your chalk is writing what happen to markers and hope?
Education is the thing, That causes our minds to ring. Our brains twirl round and round, all while wearing a great ol' frown. But in the end all is well, For those who get an education, That is.
Miguel is eight years old walking to school Every day he passes the pot head, crack dealer, and pill popper. He is innocent though and not giving a care in the world.
In class we are asked, To find the sum or the mass, Of topics that I'll never need. What about doing taxes, Or working the faxes, Because this I never see.
Racism Sexism Heterosexism Classism Humans Oppression Privilege Advantage Suppression Humans White Heterosexual Male Perfect
No Ma'am I cannot stop talking, I had to tell Sarah about my strict parents and about the cute guy I talk to now. No Ma'am I did not do my homework, I had an essay, a project, and test to study for.
On the first day of class we sign a promise not to plagiarize But really it’s a balance Between copying And knowing what you want to hear Because our own words aren’t in your answer key You can’t cite scars
I'm sick of my own voice blaring in my ears, screaming, distorted, through the T.V. Female middle class white noise.