social commentary
There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
Another Rape Poem
“Another rape poem.” I have now lost the attention of the boys in my class. They all sigh, put their feet up, and roll their eyes. They mutter words like feminist, social justice warrior. Bitch. They tune me out, my pain and struggle only being white noise to their ignorant ears. That is rape culture. When speaking of sexual assault, they sigh and say “Well, why don't they just dress appropriately?” All I want to do is yell, and scream until my voice is hoarse enough to be mistaken for a mans and they will finally listen to me. I am tired. I am tired of fighting a war against the world. A world that wants to take my words and turn me into nothing, but skin and bones. Statistics and numbers. Body and object. I am tired. Tired of fighting against my closest friends. Against the people I love most. Because 93% of sexual assault victims know their attacker. 34% of attackers are family members. Because when I am fighting against rape culture I am not just fighting against creeps in alleyways. I am fighting business executives, and teachers, and soldiers, and uncles and the repetitive songs on the radio. I'm fighting high school dropouts and college graduates. Im fighting women's magazines and doctors and salesman and police officers. I am fighting the world one “Stupid Rape Poem” and “Social Activist Fit” at a time. Because no matter how many times I cry out. No matter how many times I scream. I will only be white noise to them.
By Cass Koprowski8 years ago in Poets
Poets Eulogy
"Wow! All is well thx for the support! xoxo"... Tweet posted. The world of TMI’s able to declare my last bodily fluid but unable to share the thoughts that haunt me. To the moments I have spoken creativity I may dedicate this to the society that turned it into butchery disclaiming its artistry. Known to be a mindful oddball and wittingly quirky but unwanted. Hungered despite grace and elegance of such parol. Mindlessly we rhyme and time our execution of words but no one curtsies for a poet. The Public shames and annihilates our art. The place we escape has fallen and stamped on as if to say poetry is six feet under. Buried in the LOL’s and BAE’s lies the silience of those who shy their voices and hide behind the makeup of model citizens. The spoken art has been hung and humiliated amongst illiteracy. For those who write are labeled “Hipsters” … “what a bunch of losers.” As if to be staked for expression and humanism? We rise with thoughts and lead with letters. In a community of “freedom of speech,” our creations are called “crude” and “annoying.”
By Mellifluous Words8 years ago in Poets
