There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
Queer History, Part 19 * After I stopped going to pride parades, after Macklemore, after Elton, Ellen, Rosie, after GLSEN and PFLAG
By Dane BH4 years ago in Poets
Brave fir tree tell your secrets to me. You've grown so tall through it all. Your trunk has scars and your bark has been charred.
By Nicole Caldwell4 years ago in Poets
All the world's a stage And we are merely players, Or, so the story goes. But when the action stops, And the music fades,
By Misty Rae4 years ago in Poets
Vive la liberté Jacobins, Girondins, hear Danton's debut walk to the scaffold the crowd craves a view hold up the head grinning Liberty's smile
By Blake Capps4 years ago in Poets
I am different from the rest of this world There is simply no avoiding it From what to who I am I defy most defaults I say "most" only because my skin is pale
By Alaric A. Stryker4 years ago in Poets
I sit at my desk with no legs to stand I pander to their dreams and work for their plans share my body and soul with demons of old
By Jeffrey Sparks4 years ago in Poets
This is a new one for the After The Parade Vocal Challenge. While being part of Pride celebrations is a wonderfully inclusive feeling we still face rampant homophobia, misogyny and racism.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 4 years ago in Poets
At the end of the day Do you want to label me? Find a name so that I feel understood? Included? Are you so afraid that if I am not branded,
By Véronique Racine 4 years ago in Poets
We once had hope But now we’re slung on a rope They’ve beaten our souls Wiped us clean With their legislative soap The parade is gone
By Atomic Historian4 years ago in Poets
Though I come from many, I am only me. I am my own unique entity, no one else has my identity. Though sometimes it’s hard for me to speak,
By Josey Pickering4 years ago in Poets
I've never liked coffee, I don't like the way it tastes unless it's drenched in sugar To this day I still don't understand how people's whole day depends on when they get that first cup of joe
By Natalie Ambrose Sanchez4 years ago in Poets
Some say the world is crumbling Perhaps, this may be true Society is, indeed, stumbling Maybe this world is through
By Jessica C.4 years ago in Poets
