There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
We must tend our gardens well as we stand at the gates of hell. The weeds take hold quickly. Their roots digging deeper and deeper.
By A.C. Zempleni8 years ago in Poets
Smoldering dawn, arise from the sickened bedpost I lay wet in your unfolding demeanor Guide yourself over the pastures of something new and abused
By Broke Poet8 years ago in Poets
Dear Mr. Trump '' How ya doing old chump '' How was your year? Or does it go in and out one ear? Hows the dictating? Or is it deflating?
By Mags Murphy Lynch8 years ago in Poets
freedom: if you can find it I want it (now) perhaps because it’s so very simple and true even if forgotten and so very simple
By Phoenix Rises8 years ago in Poets
What color are dark skinned humans black brown tan red based on how they look when not in dark rooms. But there's no crayon to show shades of
By Jose Juarez8 years ago in Poets
Surgery went good, I guess, I woke up and my face felt weird, My lips were extremely swollen, I look like Angelina Jolie,
By Crystal Korpan8 years ago in Poets
Our conversation lulls for a moment too long, and I feel awkward, uncomfortable… unsure what to say or do next. So I pull out my phone.
By Nathan Heard8 years ago in Poets
I am the jaded giant fading amoungst the clouds. In a circumstance of forced compliance Peering worrisome above the crowds.
By Dennis LaLiberte II8 years ago in Poets
Seven billion people // fourteen billion faces. We bend down to help only to have someone untie our laces. We are masters of unsaid words but slaves of those we let slip out.
By n vash8 years ago in Poets
Pubes everywhere warns Lee!Read it as pubs and thought it was great. Inside feels nostalgic: looks like a school. Vending machines galore and neon benches.
By Chloe Gilholy8 years ago in Poets
Make your mind a temple. Turn your prayers into action. Religion is not about memorizing text. It’s a lifestyle—treating others with love and respect.
Walking through life with my eyes wide open Never truly knowing what’s going on Keeping hidden the words not spoken Afraid to let the real truth be known
By Brittney Mckinney8 years ago in Poets
