There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
They called us liars cause they didn't believe we were telling the truth,
By Cherie Schmidt4 years ago in Poets
Oh Icarus, son of Daedalus, The world has been unkind to you. Stories have been carved from your death, and your lessons have been taught to the folly youths.
By John Iluno4 years ago in Poets
A color doesn’t define who you are. You might look one way and see white, then turn around and see black, But I look around and see scars.
By Brittany Odom4 years ago in Poets
The hardest thing for me to learn was How to control that crazy buzz It just grew and grew Who knew?
By Marc OBrien4 years ago in Poets
What does your suffering amount to When you have nothing to hold onto Has the world not always betrayed you Confused you don’t even know what’s true
By Emily Dickerson4 years ago in Poets
The only place I can think is in a crowded bar A quiet amongst the chaos Too many thoughts running at once Alone they are screaming
By Christina Oswald4 years ago in Poets
It's been four years since a payslip read my name, Though I'm more tired than ever when the sunlight wanes. 12hr shifts everyday, no break.
By Alesandra Downes4 years ago in Poets
The caves, the caves Heed my words, don’t let the curse Of man made caves befall your life The caves, the caves They belch up pride inside the mind
Crisis Economics in Three Parts I. Supply and demand. You have learned there are two things in supply and three in demand. You walk to the market with only your adolescent body and a locked front door. You ask the salesman whether he stocks safety, compassion, or at least a birthday cake. Supply is low. Demand is high. You cannot afford this. You wish that pocket lint and welts operated as currency.
By Bri Craig4 years ago in Poets
Nails and hair are strange things They’re not alive, but they grow Even after we’re gone But that’s how protection works
By Matthew Daniels4 years ago in Poets
On a market town market day I slipped inside on my way To a colossal warehouse shop I passed by an android stall
By jamie harding4 years ago in Poets
Rescue is not relief in routine suffocating on sameness without a shred of option. Remnants of adrenaline don’t bother to request backup anymore.
By The Dani Writer4 years ago in Poets
