social commentary

There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.

A Woman Worn Down
A Woman Worn Down Working two jobs A server at a Japanese restaurant Desperate, trying to earn money To get away from him
By Nana Ogburn5 years ago in Poets
On Language
The human animal is unique in that it has a thing called language A prayer, a spell, a wish, an affirmation It's essentially all the same action
By Jennifer Regis5 years ago in Poets
Escapism
Drowning out reality behind the thin glass of an LED lit mind maze. Traveling the world in the blink of an eye helps one outrun what lies in the next room.
By W. J. Bradford III5 years ago in Poets
A better stranger
Residual fragments, millions of them, scattered about and left to the birds. How do you take back the years? How do we become what we resist
By W. J. Bradford III5 years ago in Poets
Cult kid logic
Cult kid logic We were there, smoking cigarettes we stole from our grandmothers purse under the blue and red stained glass beams.
By W. J. Bradford III5 years ago in Poets
Boys who fell in love with war
That’s all we knew, Long nights of breaking glass followed by a silent morning while we rode to school covering our bruises.
By W. J. Bradford III5 years ago in Poets
Katherine
Ourania, the daughter of the banker and Cleo, spoke English. Ourania, my cousin, the princess of the backstory. Great aunt Katherine’s husband had been from up north -
By Diane Helentjaris5 years ago in Poets
A Fiction
This is inspired by a premise that a good friend of mine Chris Ball (he started a blog , The Ape of Wrath which has two excellent posts then that was it) pointed out at a meal. If you were at a table with a corporation , it would just grab everything for itself whether it was hungry and needed food or not.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 5 years ago in Poets
My Canada
My Canada. A country that stands as proudly united With people and provinces deeply divided. My Canada. Where guns can’t be purchased from any old place,
By Lloyd Farley5 years ago in Poets
We Meet At The Corner
We meet at the corner of 40th and 8th. I am buying a bagel—you are selling heroin. Heroin is cheap. It’s an evil that’s easy to get into.
By John Welford5 years ago in Poets
No Way To Know
There's no guidebook to tell us when we're right, no way to know the future. Without blame, there is no right or wrong answer, no way to know
By John Welford5 years ago in Poets
In My Mind’s Eye
I live in the ivory tower where nobody’s allowed only me, myself, and I , and my money, so to speak. Only occasionally it occurs
By Moon Desert5 years ago in Poets