There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
Fracture the factions in your mind Leave society’s teachings behind Seek the truth and see what you find Know an eye for an eye leaves everyone blind
By Nicholle Michelle4 years ago in Poets
the main question: how is the world still so backwards? the people who inspire most of us are actors why am i so obsessed that he has not yet texted me back?
By k slam poetry 4 years ago in Poets
A is for ALONE (So much time for thinking!) And A is for ALCOHOL – For cleaning and for drinking! *** B is for BOOZE
By Allison Rice4 years ago in Poets
Sang to Mr. Crowley by Ozzy Obourne Mr. Biden What goes on in your head? Oh Mr. Biden What was it that you said?
By Mark Stigers 4 years ago in Poets
Sung to Cat Scratch Fever by Ted Nugent I don’t know where they get their funds But they have tons They print money for free
I used to think I hated everyone, But recently I realized that isn't true, I do like a few: I like thoughtful people who hold doors for strangers.
By K.C. KENNINGS 4 years ago in Poets
Black girl, Black woman, vivacious whistleblower, canary in the noxious mineshaft of centuries and centuries of oppression;
By R.C. Taylor4 years ago in Poets
The sun rises in the east as Black and brown communities are forced to finger paint with the blood of their children the red lines on the flag of a nation
I wanna write you a love letter. Not some time consuming monologue in a cookie cutter tv show. A real love letter. A love letter that tells you about all the small things I love about you, about the way you tuck your hair behind your ear, the way your teeth are uneven, the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching
By Samuel Wu4 years ago in Poets
Without warning the bull is ready to hit. He slams into you with a mighty force. He multiplies his damage, by finding your weakest spots.
By Haley C.4 years ago in Poets
He follows me Everywhere I go Waving in the grass Dancing on the snow He mimics my every move Never a beat to slow And when evening arrives
By Apollo SQ4 years ago in Poets
The writer’s mind can be a bit weird. You get some wacky idea stuck in your head and then start imagining scenes or other ideas from there. Questions come to mind.
By Mellie Miller4 years ago in Poets
