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There’s an old phrase that states if only these walls could talk.
Skin. Skin is the thing that wraps our bones. Molds us into an image – Skin. Smooth and everchanging, but never really changing.
Every night she stared through the thin slits of her blinds out to the branches that contorted in the hollowing wind. She wasn’t afraid, but maybe she wished she was,
The eye exists to capture the ingenuity of every encounter. It is the passage into one’s soul that identifies earnest emotion.
“Who am I?” I asked myself in freshman year. Silence. No answer. I always felt lost like an outcast,
Puzzle Pieces The connection here is lost, unruly and static. Trying desperately to make it work, like putting puzzle pieces in the wrong place.
Day in, day out What is it all about? I can’t deny This change I’ve taken Maybe I’ll be different. I’ve walked through Depression I’ve walked through Anger I’ve fought my battles
Want to know what you’re made out of? The answer is simple, but not easy. It takes a great amount of willpower to start
It hurt to be alone So I smiled and talked Never thinking on my own Being told it’s ok to be laughed at And be the clown of my home. I didn’t know why I was told “I hate you”
It hurt to be alone So I smiled and talked Never thinking on my own Being told it’s ok to be laughed at And be the clown of my home. I didn’t know why I was told “I hate you”
The air was cool that morning, Matching the sky’s lavender and peachy hues. Vehicular white noise And the wind’s quiet whispers Lulled the peaceful baby to sleep.
I am not her, Not my past, Nor a name. I am not the order Of the stars, Or the gods of the months, Or the beasts that follow the moon. Our value no more than
I am n o t the person I used to be. I am l o s t in this world,
BANG! POW! KABOOM! Words exclaiming from fragile comic book pages. wrapped in cape much too large, although the tag claims “one size fits all”. Mind wondering, dreaming
i feel sad. i feel sad because the world is angry. i want to use my words to sooth its temper but paper isn’t enough. and when i shout them,
i feel sad. i feel sad because the world is angry. i want to use my words to sooth its temper but paper isn’t enough. and when i shout them,
She chose the path they told her to, yet she could not recognize the face, she who stared back from the mirror. You are not enough. Was it the glass breaking under the weight of stress, was it she?
In a sea of stars, My head was a constellation of chaos And mindless insecurity. In my universe, There was no lack of striking entities. You were so down to earth, I was up in the sky
Dead trees stand tall Beige brittle limbs stiff as dried out bones Silver inside the screaming sky Snaking between evergreens Darker than Hooker’s Green in pure white
I know this- life is difficult, it has ups and it has downs I know this- having a mental disorder isn’t easy,
i've done it. okay? i've done a lot. i've laughed till i peed myself, cried until my throat was sore, figured myself out so i wouldn't have to
When our biggest concern isn’t about Fighting over the hula-hoop at lunchtime, we’ve grown up When our days are no longer filled with recess and giggles we’ve grown up When our eyebrows start to furrow
I don't pick my favorite colors. They pick me. They cling to my skin, they go under my scalp, they find those little spots under my fingernails that become tender and raw when I bite them
fighting writhing agony with screaming voices in my head and on and on throughout my day for evermore they say that I can’t measure up, and till i drop i’ll
I once heard that My eyes hold an identity That is not entirely my own. Where are you from?
She looked at me while she giggled a light-hearted laugh It rang out like a wind chime till cut in half She looked to the side and made a face that shook me
Known by history for its wretched despair Broken ankles link by link hauled to a grave A life most ignominious that one would never want to be spare
Last day. Big smiles, warm hugs Laughing, refusing to cry. The outgoing one The funny one The athletic one The identity that doesn’t need an introduction. No one told me
It's funny how we all perceive ourselves It's barely accurate and sometimes we deceive ourselves How do you see yourself? Who the hell do you think you are?
I wasn't quite sure how to outwit life's clever twist,Which, like most things, can't be solved with my fists,There's no technique to speak or tweak it out of me,
It was the same scene time after time, had me wishing i could fast forward or rewind and make it all go away, but I can't .... so it's all here to stay. A new day was a new nightmare,
The only thing that's constant is change, so I'm constantly changing. Taking responsibility instead of blaming, learn to forgive and swallow my pride, so who am I today? Jekyll or Mr.Hyde
Dirty Dirty, dirty words How dare you speak them in my house My home, His house Who I am is not dirty But let it be undefined, unspoken
My bare feet freeze to the steel. Only 5x3.
My anger is not a star Bursting with untamable fire Stubbornly bright When drowning in darkness And boiling beneath the surface To drive out the cold. It's a double edged sword The weapon
I’m losing my skin to this cold winter’s day. I’m slipping from you and that’s all I can say. I can’t feel myself under this snow.
Unfamiliar A child, scared at their own shadow, Pondering its own unfamiliarity, Slightly,
When Time was There It’s not about the money, Not about the price, Not about the hatred growing up on the rise
Where am I? I’m not what you want me to be At least not today I just want to know if that’s okay
this life it’s jovial, isn’t it ? sprouted with his anger, his disbelief, his lack of acceptance but her
I feel the warmest when I’m surrounded by my family We live life as if there’s no limitations despite the fact that there are so many
My hand is kept as claw clutched close to my chest. Even I'm not sure what's inside. Did you think you could pry it open? Secrets are meant to be hidden, my darling, And mine are hidden from me.
1. Sinigang, maybe.Adobo, sisig, halo-halo.Fitting food into my mouthlike they hold the key to a languageI’ve never learned.
Today I painted my nails black so next time I dig them into your warm cold, indifferent back you might feel my anger under your skin and maybe my kiss might
“What’s your favorite color?” This social crutch has been used since kindergarten and is the basic question of first impressions.
Address the “you” Who is “me” “you” “I”? The multitude of omnipotent augmenting masks? The ever flowing stream of made up emotions?
Your age never held you back from dreaming. From breaking and reshaping an entire subcultre. Your gender never hindered you from achiveing. Having saved thousands of those haunted by the black vulture.
Where I’m from is home ,yet alien all at once Where I’m from there are more children than adults to care for
She’s the one with big eyes who sees beauty everywhere ,and since of so you will
Dear Black Girls,
I recall our first sibling school picture, me all curly haired, smoothed skinned boy, immaculate in uniform. Later changing school, being in the new house, 'our house' ,
i sat in my us history class 4 years ago watching my spirit slowly split from my body and i wondered if everyone saw what i saw watching from the outside in, a spectator to my own body.
With lies I make myself family deceived friends forsaken What lie is worthy of you all? What contempt as demanding
This charcoal is not me: sooty curls on paper thick a blonde-combed lad caught by the flash of father's thick-veined hand
With words, I spoke everything out of nothing, whispered life into the world, named the spark that brought forth fire, read art from dreams long gone, yelled friendship from the abyss,
We are warm-blooded
When do you feel the most free? “When I am alone” What do you do when you are alone “Ya know, the usual… I read, maybe dance, I writ...:”
I express my identity through poetry. Who I am and who I hope to one day be Bleeds through the tip of my pen In a rush of eloquence, My stream of consciousness.
Adeb́oĺa ́ òòòòò Ìshòlá omo Adé Omo ìyíọlásemí, omo Adégbóyèga Ìshol̀á Omo tápà Adé Omo Ọba Olójòkú ti ilu Òjòkú Òjòkú, mosè mo jalú omo Arógun díyàn Mo deĺe ́mo kiẹ́ oooo Adeb́oĺa ́Omo Oba (Rezthapoet, Reztha
My particles buzz In vibrations. I’m trying to keep myself a solid, But I’m slipping down to absolute zero. My structure is hapless within
Iceland. I’m pretty relaxed And at the same time Northern lights. High maintenance sweet pea. Face mask.
I look in the mirror And do not recognize The reflection Which stares back at me directly. Who have I become? She is not who she once was
My mind was jumbled, like a puzzle piece trying to fit into a mold that wasn’t shaped for me. Trying to come up with the reason as to why I couldn’t be both.
I need you to be Your first soulmate I need you to fall In love with yourself Before you fall too far for me I want you to look at yourself And see the beautiful person you are.
What is the point of this? Spending hours upon hours pondering: what shall I write? what words shall I use? does the rhyming matter? does it have any use? Maybe it doesn't matter,
Child, You are ignorant. Ignorant to the horrors of our world. Hatred. Evil. Corruption. Destruction. No,
i wish i didn’t have a last name; i don’t belong- anywhere. my original last name lost its beauty from the very first day i was hit, lost its identity. i became nameless.
I have found the story Of a young girl who thought she knew the world, Idealistic and overly-praised as she was, Running free as her wild ocean eyes. I have found the story
Seven years old, standing by her parent’s door,Wishing they wouldn’t argue anymore“That won’t be me, I swear it won’t,”“Love’s a fight, it’s not for me”I don’t want to end up crying on the floor A nine-year old girl, in the shadows,Two people, poi
Some Things Cannot Lie: The wagging tail of a dog The chocolate-covered hands of a toddler The calloused hands of a carpenter-hands cannot hide their life’s work-
The business of show The business of show is a strange thing I know, It lives for a yes but then kills with a no It asks for your heart but your image it owns
There comes a point in time When your favorite song Grows old After listening to it everyday, 2 3 10 20 times, It seems to lose its value.
Dear Raven, The naked mole-rat intentions that rashesthe film of your eyes nudges the clay whichcrumbles in a whisper, spotting a flutter,hissing into the dust I bite. Bathe under your chalky roof, sculpted fromliquor-sweet caresses that anchor yo
Dear Alicia, Remember when life seemed so simple?
I still remember, Nora, the first time you stood In front of me, trying to figure out the little tufts Of hair on your brow, On your arm, On your leg, On your pit, On your head, On your lip.
I was not made for fire. But that's what they created with time. I am an accidental monster. They can't put me into a cage. I roam free, searching. I don't know what my goal is.
What am I, really? Am I the lost child, the one searching for hope. Or the old man, nostalgic for his own world. Am I the fire, the fury that burns through you. Maybe the ice, freezing to the bone, the blood.
Who? Am? I? . . . :’( (written by an ENFP) Who am I? I say fuzzily . . . A tear drips out of my eye, a single droplet. I am the world’s savior I say . . .
you can only get so deep before bursting into tears being vulnerable is hard before it’s easy where’s the key that opens up all the locks
There’s a name for whatever this is— You call it a beautiful agony because you’ve got a lot to lose I call it a chaotic chemistry to maintain my flow It was an off-day for you
This book reminds me of you Soft cover, indestructible Keeper of an old god Tell me more about who tore your pages Where you got the damage on your jacket
Dear special someone, Coincidental how we did meet Magically swept off my feet By surprise you ended up so sweet Our past revealed; darkness loomed Confided though we carried gloom
I am coco skinned. Blackberry eyes, pink lipped lies; a button nose and a touch of spearmint. But, my mother is winter toned. Leafy piles on top of cherry smiles;
You said I can go the distance, but then I think to myself, can I even make it past this barrier that stands sturdy before me. The one that blocks me off from society. What you don't see is your inability to crack open my minds door.
Dear Malcolm, In some parts of the world, Light shines brighter than in others, Shade-divided world. Under bright light,
Everytime I see the doctor, I pretend to be who they want me to, Or who they think I am. For I know if I tell them, They'd invalidate me instead: "You are female." "Forget about it."
You were invincible.Tough as nails. Nothing ever got to you.Or so everyone believed,Until the dayYou killed yourself. You carried yourself with an upright zealMade it taboo to show any sign of weakness.While your fortress stood steady,Everything i
I'm not sure how it happened, but I woke up one day to realize I haven't aged in a very long time These bodies don't define who we are
To you I am nothing more than what you see, what you hear, what you read. I am nothing more to the world than the traces that I leave, in my words, in my art, in my legacy.
One may walk in a hallway, With the only purpose being to hear his own footsteps echo. One may look in a mirror, Only to see a piece of glass like a foggy window. One may scribble their thought,
37.1 trillion cells 23 pairs of chromosomes 46 chromosomes total 4 stories The pigment of my skin, a reminder of the humid city my family came from.
What is lost can never be found I found myself Lost some friends Felt some pain In the end Disapointment? That's okay Because I still found myself today Made new friend
You don't know who I am So why tell me what to be? You don't know what I've done So why tell me how to feel? Why can't you say my name Without wanting to rip out your throat?
You gave me a gift More precious than material As far as I am concerned You gave me my heart ------- Months turn into years Sweet nothings turn to slander My mind starts to wonder
A slow and steady rainfall Bringing life to those around The ache in your stomach from laughing too much Bittersweet in itself The vast ocean with parts unseen
Who Am I Who am I without you Who am I to be left alone Who am I to cry when you leave How can it be that knowing you're leaving can hurt
don't make me remind you of your failures of your dentures of your expenditures
Rubies glint on the sill in the light of the sun-- A light she'd once seen through miles of murk. "Happily ever after" she heard herself say, While her stranger of a husband prepared for his work.
Mama goose stared at the odd-looking egg plain, white and small Which end was its head? It hatched early on when the mist was still dew a sight to behold, something was askew.
Mama goose stared at the odd-looking egg plain, white and small Which end was its head? It hatched early on when the mist was still dew a sight to behold, something was askew.
When I was a child I was told that I was black but not black black. I didn't quite fit into the pre-packaged, tick-one-only boxes society had for me. Which made it difficult when trying to find my place.
Striving for greatness Causes great stress. Settling for less Causes saneness.
Verse: Mist, in my eyes Ice, heart melts, freeze Dive, into ocean spacious as skies Lie, sea turned bed if dived too deep Still profound, unexplored Wonder, how change will give more
The red white and blue Seem to mock the brown hues of our skin But we plant our feet firmly We are here to stay Blood, sweat, and tears,
Who am I? What comes to mind, when I say hi? How is it that you feel, when you find out it’s me? Are you sad or happy whenever you see me? Do I make or mar your day? Does it feel good when I stay?
When my father stepped off the plane twenty years ago and found his way to The Bronx where his brothers were waiting for him, It was to live every day plagued by stories of his
They named me weed For living on this hill I blew in as a seed, Amongst the lilies, Dandelions and daffodils. For the same sun I stretch
Hello, My name is broken A heap of letters left on a tattered floor Shards of my identity, opaque from the settling dust Hello,
My grandmother saw America not as a land of opportunity, but as a last resort. Taking off only when there was nothing left Leaving because a twenty-six-year-old with four children cannot provide on a dime.
WaterNot the blue water we always talk about – not that water, a different waterGreyWhite maybeLike a mirrorThere’s smoke too, or mist maybeYeah, I think it’s mist
I know my names, I know each and every one. I wear them each without shame, I clothe myself in the light of their sun. I am stressed,
My hair is getting blown in the wind as I pedal over rocks and dirtThis trail is bumpier than I had heardBut this doesn't stop meAnd I choose to pedal fasterAnd all around, leaves shed from their branches above meAs all of my struggles and bad mem
Who are you? Who am I? Does anyone really know? Who are you to tell me what I should say or what I should show?
I always thought a lot about my days there. There with the grey circles and led pencils. I thought about how they’ll reflect my future, And influence those around me's opinion.
Around age thirteen, freshman year is where life began for me Rising up from my cocoon so that the world would take notice of my identity I was quiet but passionate, Reserved but determined
wrestling with an impression of myself,confidence scant and creativity diluted,I found solace in the arms of a soldier who decidedmy dreams encompassed all the world-just not the war he was fighting.
A year from now it was dark, But that was before Clark. So I came out, with a famous shout. Now I wear glitter and make my mark!
Rowing the little boat over the roaring tides and underneath the thundering clouds, I hold onto the life I had lived before. The load got heavier, the rain fell harder and the waves crashed with more anger. I surveyed the black water, looking for
Imma take you all back to the Civil Rights Team When Martin Luther King came n the scene Emotional About some dream And you see he wanted us to believe That love was the key
Coherent masks of beige are what we wear at birth Skin too smooth, too gentle to be disguised But when our hands reach into the abyss of reality
SOMETIMES I SHRINK Back from it all. There are a million bows to tie. Why should I be studious? Maybe if I were a kid again I wouldn’t be spoiled rotten. I never claimed to understand potential.
Always sweet and nice, I am cotton candy. Sugary and colorful In my own world. Soft and fluffy To loved ones. But if events take turns, My mind is black licorice. Feeling all so
“What are you,” they ask me To which I reply… I'm MelinaThey scoff and mentally pat me on the shoulder
What is black? Is it the curve of my black hips?
Who am I? Am I just some short mexican girl? Or am I really a part of this world? Am I just a hidden shadow in the corner? Or do I wait in a line to order? I am one person But I am more
love be tender love be rich love me till my final breath love be faithful love be kind love be the trusting lifeline love be gentle love be whole
Labels are a dangerous thing. It’s good to feel like the happy girl,
I am from the neatness Of clothes tucked away In folded squares In chests of drawers In the cream white room Where the television
You all are followers You seem to forget identity. You all are in search of conformity You seem to settle with docility. Opinions are not for sale They have gone out of style.
let me be clear, i am not trying to be political, i am only trying to exist.
Give us this day Our daily bread And please take away This overwhelming dread Of living a life That is not entirely mine Everyday is a fight To not cross the line But it's a losing side I am on I'm just along for the ride Just to dea
The first time I saw her I deduced from her briad and her emerald necklace and her strands of bronzy hair - like willow leaves in the air - That she must be called Helena.
B-a-b Baab Curve, swoop up, space, curve again Two dots below, short and sweet I trace it with my finger, my pencil On my skin and my tests
Elizabeth, meaning the “Oath of God,” or “God’s satisfaction.” A girl who is supposed to be beautiful and feminine.
i wonder what the others feelwhen drinking wine or grape juice.it's strange, i know--it tastes to melike comfort, love, identity--the fruit of the vine, warm chanukkah nights,
A brand to a being Beyond this body, My name rolls Off my tongue Unrecognizable.
My reflection A mirage of the Metamorphosis I undergo Each sunrise.
I have a gift: The gift of changing myself. I can be anything, Anyone. I can be family or stranger, Friend or foe. I have a gift. I can choose to show it Or not.
Oh sweet, how sweet To be me but not Judgment belongs to someone else, It belongs to plastic innocuous speech, Flowing into a vacant House that is yours, theirs-mine
"Having a Coke with You," I thought I had fallen in love with the protagonist of "Beastly" but really the works of Frank O'Hara made my heart swoon, the poem soon became an embedded memory.
There's a battle out there- this world's got a scheme To take the 'you' and replace it with 'me' That's what they call the Hollywood machine- It just starts with one flaw may never have seen
Like a misty black cloudIt swirls in darknessFull of questionsOf the unknown.
The lips of my brain Were born to be insane Driven to rust Life was clearly my lust My worth defined by dirty words that often weren't even heard A soulful sorrow of judgement
Do i look like a person who is two faced? Do i look like a person who lies? The mind tends to grasp the looks of someone By their beauty, Their imperfections .
Thank you all for coming to Group tonight!My name is Griffin and I am……BlankNothingEmptyDevoidThese were what I thought.These were what I used to believe.These were what I was.
Black. That's what they see first. Black. That's what they hear first. Black. That's what they touch first. Black. That's what they remember first.
The lights on the ceiling blurred my vision As I lay on my back, Humming low. The world is cruel to The young who Have no place to go. And the first thing I saw when I stepped into the open
You are unique. Though this may not be the life you seek, All around, you will see, You are what people will never be. I was born who I am, And my life is not an anagram.
The voice of another soul Escapes my lips. Foreign entities cloud my thoughts, Concealing my mind in a Toxic dust. Yesterday's whims of being Unrecognizable, among
The night ends faster than we realize.
You are a good thing. You are the poems that you devour and that you dream of creating. You are every piece of art that you love, You are a piece of art.
Some days, it feels as though I have an identity And others, it feels like I’m faking. I am not a fake or a liar Am I? What does it mean, the word identity? I have always struggled to find the meaning
My wildflower, forest sprite— I'll paint you pictures of all your light For words could not do it justice. Imagine myriads of stars Above the velvet tops of trees —The greenest in the forest for you—
People are made of boxes. A check box marks your ethnicity, gender your who, what, and when, in a box. The box in your pocket the ibox, galaxy box, maybe the LG box
Who I am Am I my long Spanish name? Or am I the tongues of those who cannot pronounce it? [Can't I just call you Maria?] Am I my full, curvaceous, petite body frame?
it was innocence nursery rhymes read as we fell asleep cinquains, haikus A, B, A, B, C projects typed fresh from a word document prompts and clear curricula
Been told all my young life long My words conceal where I come from. Fellow Jamaicans would speculate About how I enunciate With a too-American twang. Not enough patois to be a yaardie.
I still question what is my own reflection? Looking into a steamed mirror Staring not at my outward reflection Looking toward myself to find. To find, my reflections from inside.
Oh, the lovely corner, a home and friend of mine. Oh, the lovely corner, your comfort is divine. Oh, the lovely corner,
All my life I have gotten used to being called an “Oreo” Not an “Oreo” as in the deliciously cream-filled snack
Hello I am...
My wrist, formless, shifting and breaking like a cloud;You grab hold, tightly--too tightly,And I vaporize before your eyes.
The trees--they quiver with life.Yes, all around me,They shake with strife.Their bones, bare of bark,They're stark white cast in dark.Sister stars shoot to earth,Little pricks of light plunging-
I’m pretty sure that public bathrooms might just be the most important invention of our modern world, I mean think about it,
I’m tired of these white boys Saying I'm not “black enough” I “act white” and “talk white” So I don’t match their model
My Identity The one thing I can’t live without is my identity. It tells me who I am and where I go.
In childhood, I was cut off from my family.Unable to speak in and on their terms,I reached for the tongue long lost to me.
Surrounded by quiet chaos Walking pass people, unseen A reflection appears before me Thick and thin at the same time Not short nor tall The hair, it seems, cascades down as rushing waves
The Bird inside my soul sings beautiful, powerful, free. She laughs and cries and lives, she is the key to me. But as the lava burns the voice soon starts to die, and all I'm left with is
Pretty brown skin, girl you know those boys love you They say you have a “fat ass” so you should show them all a little something No need for modesty, just show your body, be sexy
Today my pick won’t go farther than three inches into this jungle. I could straighten it, but that would take too long, leaving me with only exhausted arms and a smoky bathroom.
Poke andStab andPinch andCutAndLift andPluck andCover upBecause internal beauty isn't enoughAnymoreLess eatingLess sleepingMore doingLess being
“There is but one place where humanity coalesces with the purest concentration of earth. This is in a dimension where blank noise is alive,
I’m stranded. Don’t know where I am, starting to lose sense of who I am, but that can’t occur. See, while my location may be unknown, my identity and ideals cannot be gone
we've been told our whole lives who we are our identity carved into our skin and hidden underneath our dresses
It's morning It's just like any other day but yet somethings gone What it is it? Where is it? Why can't it be found?! It can't be gone It's frustrating Why can't it be found
"What do you want to be when you grow up?" A question frequently asked by many. Growing up I've had everything a young child could ask for. I had a stable home, a mom, a dad, and endless amounts of toys.
Money, power, accessories. I would banish all these luxuries, All costly clothing, all fancy bling, For the sake of something Greater.
rise, still, from the left-hand corners of my papers; black letters; better to read poetry in fifth grade history, shouting; I was named after a poet— heroic: note this, notice
I Awake Each Day With A Smile, And Greet It With A Laugh. The World Is A Treasure To Me, Because Of You.
I love her more than I think she loves herself. I look at her and see so many things. I remember oh so well the mask she wore everyday. The smile that was plastered on her face.
It wasn't too long ago that I had her, so close to me, so willingly but the winds of change swept her away and just like that she was gone. I didn't want to admit to myself,
My hands are always full I don't want to be successful I don't want that at all I don't want a big house Of which I've paid off every ounce With my supportive spouse
As I grew, I learned to curse this sun kissed skin. It felt like a trap to me, plaguing me as leper- socially condemned being… but after I gazed at my brother, the blackened night sky,
No name can fit this hollow mess of flesh, so try another and carve a new facade wear it today, a new one tomorrow as yesterday's skin has decayed into a rotten mesh of bruised and bloated purple-green. I know! lets create our own!
The meaning of identity is having a close similarity affinity identifying oneself to another idea. To be or not is no the same you see to be means
My skin, the cover of my soul’s pages, is soft leather binding, knitted together by the Expert Craftsman, protecting secrets from
Visions of a little girl distract my days& haunt my nights
Self where are you come back to me for we need to be reacquainted
I grew up with Seuss and SilversteinRoahl Dahl and Robert FrostI live with MayaAnd I run with NikkiSandburg he's always whisperingHemingway holds my handAnd Shakespeare keeps on reaching
I am not African.I am not Black.I am not Caucasian,Hispanic, Filipino, or Asian.I am not a Melting Pot,but I have surely been influenced by - I am not a NegroNor am I a Niggerand don't say "Nigga, please"or start any conversation with"What's up, m
This skin does not belong to me it is merely borrowed. A place in which I only temporarily reside. My skin is not yet finished. My time has not yet come. But it will.
A house is nought but the sum of it's parts A day is but a set of hours A year, a system of days, each bundled up with others and given names All a decade is is a repeat of the day before
Child, I’m sorry for the cold And the pictures in the snow Your bright red cheeks were only reflections of the season Your tears ran down in the cold
Starting college has been pretty fucking hard if I'm going to be honest with you. Going from straight A's to struggling for C's when I've never had to study before this takes a lot out of me.
wanting to have true friends but none are true enough to be one wanting to get in love and to be loved but gifted with none of the above
I've been asked, "Describe yourself in one word." But one word cannot describe all that I am. A sweet, shy girl is all they may see, But best believe that ain't all of me. So let this poem give you a taste;
of few things I am certain.
Trapped in a beautiful reality, Twirling my Mobius strip. Walking on burning fallacy, Standing on the edge of spontaneity, I flip into the abyss— blinded by the power of silence
Am I the sum of my parts? Am I the sum of my interests? Am I the sum of what I have created? As time moves on I find myself turning to this idea
Connected by the heart and clasped with a hand A whole lifetime and more spent in constant company, a single monochrome In dazzling colors blended by genes, painted with love. Questioning identity in sadness Trapped in a mirror of dazzling irides
Leaving behind a title, Breaking the barricades; Calling out for revival, Hurling out hand grenades; Fighting for survival, Peeling off charades; Waiting for avowal,
If I don't know where I'm from, you ask, how will I know where I'm going? Fair enough. Here's my best answer: I am from a little boy crying because I turned his amoeba of green paint into a t-rex.
On the first day of kindergarten music class, i cried because the teacher asked me to sing ‘my name is rachel’ and i thought it sounded dumb.
Right here, right now I wish my hands were magic, instead my touch turns to dust, and they can’t keep hold any more.
I am happy, I am kind, I am jovial. I am honest, I am free, I am jovial. I am thankful, I am appreciative, I am jovial. I am independent, I am a dreamer, I am Lindsey.
I am... in a shell, ever-evolving. A piece of my shell cracks open each day.
I am an iceberg- Seemingly small in strength, but brimming with boldness and bravery
Picture the summer of 2014. Driving on the freeway. Walking along the beach. Blasting music with the windows down. Is this going to be a typical California summer? Not in the slightest.
Hushed within myself the instrumental softly incurred.
I am the white flag Winds permeating my face in the coldest way I stand, stll. Wavering with doubts once in a while I question my existence. I am here. Now. I am resillient
I am not a poem. Typed letters can take you to other worlds But not inside my head. I am as infinite as the universe As impossible to map as existence My body could fit in a refrigerator box
La-la, la-la, la-la It is I, Adventruous, Ridiculous, Eccentric,
I am from a Caucasian mother and an African American father
India ink harpoons its way into fabric strung around alabaster bone, staining cloth with polychromic significance, injecting an artist’s rendering of alternative beauty between the stitches
I am the beat of my heart fighting the wind of the fan at two in the morning the heartbeat is a reminder. whenever I'm dead because of the thoughts that often pop up
Memories where my mind drifts off too at the wrong times never seems to happen at the right times. I close my eyes and I see my self cry
I Am Paint splashed onto weary walls That have stood over centuries of the normal person. Spots of color to prove I am different Than the rest Splotches that don't blend in With the rest
What am I? I am human. What are you? You must be confused, since you cannot clearly identify me. You mean that the color of my skin does not give you a clear indication?
A fork parting the road, Forever veiled in mist. Offered two roses, of ravens Of angels. For which to reign in light, Or shadow. Marched through heart, To seize both kingdoms.
I am Rhett Artis The shortest person in all my classes But a personality to move the masses Focused doesn’t begin to explain Who I am and how I deal with pain My mother passed away when I was Two
I remember asking myself, why can't I put on an act like everyone else? And then I remember two things, one - I am not everyone else and two - I can't put on an act,...when I am the act.
A wildfire of a soul--entrapped by glass of reality. Ferociously burning, in which drains for all eternity. This is passion. My passion.
Who am I? I am made of many masks. Each stacked up upon the other. They have a mind of their own And I sit back and watch my life take place before me. Who am I? Am I a psychopath?
I sit back under the light post. Illuminated But barely able to see my surroundings. I look at my hands. I see hard scarred loving hands. I touch my face. I feel the foreign mask I wear.
My identity can't be defined By simplistic, pedestrian words You couldn't flip to my page in a dictionary Because I can not be defined Let alone on a single page If words alone could define me
The rock in a hard place. But if the rock is broken apart you find gold. Girl tried to get a date, but rejected. Honor roll status diminished and finished. In-crowd was the main goal, and she
I Am I Am from the land of the free, Where anything is possible with enough faith
It don't know why I write, I just do, I guess it's to deal with the things caused by you, So thanks, For being my muse, And putting me through pain, Because without you, I would be, Nothing.
There is a fire in my chest A small fire growing Everyone has a small fire in them Its called passion But this fire The fire that grows as tall as a forest Burns in anger
I am me And I have a story
They don’t see it.
Hey, You! Yeah you I know who you are You're the big old empty shell of me that real life and real stuff doesn't mar You're the face that I take off at night My double when I am under the bed
“I don’t know.” That’s my answer to every important question I’ve ever heard. “Don’t you know what you want to be? What you want to do? What you like, What you hate – what you love Who you are?”
Identity is naught but illusion. It is fragile and fluid and fleeting. It encompasses a heart’s brief beating, And vastly differs among everyone. Identity is seen in name and face,
I am whatever I want to be, at least that's what my parents tell me. But yet I walk down these hallowed halls, people laughing, staring judging
I am... from playing barbies and dress up
Another Definition By Abigail Gyamfi The one to put an impassive face when she firsts enters a place,
don’t ask me those questions they are self-erasing and ugly in nature unidentifying and dreadfully hollow.
At first, I thought I was a mix of my sisters. They were complete opposites: One was cautious, one was reckless. One did well in school, the other struggled. One was popular, the other had few friends.
It's my pain, my power pens flow like raindrops, and the pen showers My lyrics tickin' like clockwork, showin' my hours Pages are the hourglass excellence is my aimed target greatness is my current path
Hi my name is Frances I am Puerto Rican, although anyone who doesn't know me would argue that I am half black and something else, I am a teenage girl in my own words through thought
When I find myself Behind the clusters of sofas And worthless knick-knacks You'll be the first to know I see you frowning At my reflection But-of course- you keep looking Upside down
I am tired, I am hungry, and I am weak I have looked high and low, but nothin has seeked Every day many drop one by one All continue to drop for more months to come Why must we starve huh? Why must we suffer?
I am tired, I am hungry, and I am weak I have looked high and low, but nothin has seeked Every day many drop one by one All continue to drop for more months to come Why must we starve huh? Why must we suffer?
I am tired, I am hungry, and I am weak I have looked high and low, but nothing have i seeked Every day many drop one by one All continue to drop for more months to come Why must we starve huh? Why must we suffer?
i am the soft music from a poor piano player's hands
I Am a child of God. whos hard to defind in simple words... Whos actions are carful but never captured... whos simple but elegant in the way she speaks to others....
I know that there are times where we all show weakness, and plenty of strengths, too. And let me just say that while that may be true, never doubt any of that
Hello, my name is- well, I don't really know.
Look for me under dreamer.
I am five and I sit across my mother’s lap Praying for a human toy to assuage The eternal boredom that is my loneliness. I am six and I hold a baby girl in my arms as I pray to God to never let her grow
We see laughter as the reward for a joke, but n
Everyday I wonder who I am People try and tell me, but it just feels like a scam And some days I think I’m at the top of the world And I start to see God’s plan unfurl
I’d rather stare At fireworks in the evening, Than a dark tear
I see myself as a confused individual, who knows exactly what they want in life. I see myself as the person who wears yellow to an all white affair. Yes, I am unique I stick out like a sore thumb.
the world in a daZe it seems like its the end of days the sun close u can feel it in the rays lost child i cant get out of the maze head high i still carry hope even though all we was told is nope
Velvet triangles, shiny black buttons and soft pink hands that grip the underside of my window. He is peaceful, finally fully unafraid while sleeping while only I watch his steady daytime slumber.
When we are young, We learn to form our own ideas. Ideas that fill our minds Like stars fill the night sky And emotions fill the hearts of lovers.
you place the blades to your wrist again, the blood begins to pool, you think your family will never be whole and you wittness oppression at school. but you only want someone to see,
sense of purpose, sense of worth a thought of my impact on this earth. not sure why or what purpose i serve, but i know i'll make a difference in this fallen, broken world
if a mirror was placed before you and you cast your gaze upon it, what would you see? if the reflection that comes back is not yourself,
Looking at yourself, seeing someone else It’s how it always is, how it’ll always be Is this who you are on the outside? It’s so different from the inside . . . So misleading
This Isn't Supposed To Make Sense.
All along, he was memorizing Handel The way he taught himself to worship Fullness, Alberti bass... That perfect Wrong chord with one too many g sharps. The way I breathed through his wax paper lungs
My father has been proudly serving in the United States Navy for over thirty years. He’s only ever had, only ever wanted the one job. He is what his job is and he’s never wanted to be anything else.
In the parched places I pausedfor a cool refreshing draft and found myselfdown to my last drop but you were thereto give me drink to energize me
She walks within, she walks without She shines in the sun's rays And she shines when the lights have gone out Radiating warmth she glides towards us In her wake is love and joy
Brain on sensory overload Fade into the darkness She's becoming like a ghost Turned into a bad girl You can still smell the sweet perfume Closet full of black What's the pont of color
Grandfather I wonder why you passed so quickly I miss you ever day but you died from being sickly Sometimes I wonder what heaven is like Are you with angels taking a high flight?
Is my skin the only part of me that people are willing to see? Wil it be the one thing they need to sentence me to rest in peace?
Summer died; Winter resurrecte
my soul is well, yet my mind is lost in an Identity crisis.
I am not the color of my hair (lord knows i've dyed it so many times before anyways). I am not the color of my skin (I didn’t choose it). I am not the color of my eyes (they seem more appropriate on my dad’s face anyways).
Tssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss. Silence. That sound is a lover of the wind breathes essence of fire
When life has lost meaning and everything seems slow and nothing's moving forwards yet so does the show the grass blows lagging to the past when it all just looks the same
I'm afraid for my unborn son. He cannot come until this war is won. I don't want him to not come home one night. Can't go out or live his life because he's not white.
I lack the words to describe unlike a scribe
she is beautiful in her own way, she’s a size ten, and acts like a two she’s flirty, smiles and hugs around she’s smart, brilliant some would say she wear’s dark purple and black
You love em you tease em
Alex lived in walls of electric blue, contemplating.
Behind the eyes is something hard to find. The doorway to something beautiful, dark, or kind. It may be lost, buried deep beneath the shadows that loom inside.
Today people are concerned with falsified images they create a fantasy world where they are king and their followers are their supposed friends. Where acts of friendship are not hugs, but rather “likes”. They reach out hoping for acceptance.
“Other” is my race,
Photos of perfect people #Filter Photos of perfect bodies #Filter Photos of perfect models #Filter I do no think these photos embody the beauty of a sleepy smile, or the yawn of somebody you love
Incarcerated within my own thoughts
Yellow on the Outside,
I don’t quite fit in,
They drive me like a clean cut Lambo down the A1A with my hair in the wind insane. They make me like a dishwasher violently correcting with the voice hitting the ceiling angry.
I can be bossy and loud, But I’m not asking you to tone me down. I may be harsh and sarcastic, But my edges don’t need to be smoothed. The world has exposed me to so much,
Behind the curtains of my eyes Hides a glare A stare A lie The carefully crafted façade The fragile, cheap disguise Behind a mask lies another Feeble layer of an onion
"So what are you?" A question too familiar Years ago my mind would halt, frozen My heart would pound. "I do not know" I did not want to know. "Are you Asian?" Your ignorance now shows
Whirl your pointed pines
When asked, "What is your name?" My response is also a question Why am I unsure--of the one title I've possessed since birth, How do I claim to know myself. If I still don't know what I'm called?
Who am I? If I say I don't see color, am I a racist? If I forget your sex, am I an asshole? If I tell you, I don't know your name but I still want to know more about you am I Denying your identity,
I am キラキラ. I am sparkles and glitter and yellow and sunshine.
I saw him on the corner of the street, Holding a sign, With the same words the rest of them say. What is he really going to use the money for? Everyone knows. I walked into the store, A child running up and down the aisles, His mother yelling....
A gainless challenge it is to connect intellect proud with lashes long, eyes veined, and sanguine colors wetly flooding merriment into chapped lips and brown cheeks cratered;
Who am I? Do YOU know?
Strange thing, authenticity. It sort of squirms, morphs, blacks out When you stare, But sure enough when you forget it It's there. Ah, I'm a warrior-princess! (I hope.)
I've try to convert if I can The will of the canvas at my demand So many different ones to counsel in Purple, red, yellow, blue or green
A young man dressed in grey Consumed in a subtle pain Walks along a path Woven, built, and made of frayed webbed thread, A conduit for hidden despairs. As if some vengeful deity
I see me Not a me I want to see... but a me that I can't unseen A me that is viewed as incadescant in the eyes of the profane A me that sins to fit in with people that believe
Tucked in and faded Blue or green with a logo Our daily polo
It’s dusk on the hill as the heady sky rotates slowly above, silently aglow with vivid pulsing pink around the edges, like a child’s fingers eclipsing the dying flashlight of the sun.
I was born with the sun in my teeth and hair with mercury pouring out of my fingers and toes Unburdened with the notion of needing to be anything at recess I practiced the sprinkler so I could be everywhere at once
One thousand empty chairs stretch to stage she meets my face and suddenly it's noon, i'm staring in the mirror : a distorted reflection two people two strangers
Defines not the whole of my being. Hosts the absence of vitality and worldly beauty. Yields contrived images of darkness and the unknown. Fulfills past shadows of forgotten spirits.
When you see that pretty lone flower you pick. When you see the random round rock you kick it. When you see me you see nothing different,
Vulgar Modest Deceitful Honest Life is full of filters: Filter what you say, Filter what you do, Depending on
Some people contest with me about my own identity, As if I were a defined word they knew, that I was not keen on understanding.
My pictures have been fake for years My eyes don't sparkle like they used to I try to drown out my mind with music and drinks My heart and soul don’t quite work right I'm hurting on the inside
I am the trunk of the chopped tree submerged under the weight of trampled earth. I am the dirt underneath your finger nails. I have no polish. I am Sandy's nephew and Katrina's first love.
Every day is a gift, all the days just flow so swift try to live positive & for others try to uplift... <3 You are here for a reason bigger than you I know some time you wonder what am I here to do? Is it some thing huge & grand, here...
Because I have imperfect Spanish, I am never Mexican enough to those who speak better than me Because I have imperfect English, I am always too Mexican for those who speak better than me
My mother is weak And I cannot stand it She is feeble, stupid, and plain Who are you? And where is the woman that I once knew? You’re a weakling, darling A scaredy little ghost
Makeup and picture themes Time well spend
God We cry out to you With scorching pants Our crops of passion Demand satisfaction Enchanting sight In chants we cry "Juliet will never surpass The fate you store
I am a fleeting fragment
I am he who seeks but young am I who seeks, Born of two who do not seek each other, More of my mom or dad, This I do not yet know, Now I must find my place Away from those who have made me me.
Who am I, through a completely organic lense? A lense with no skewer or sharpener no falsehoods or pretends What am I in an entirely natural glow? A glow that eminates my true personality
My mind is filled with words and phrases which are trying their best to seep out onto this page, but they are being constricted. Its still lines constricting how much my words can reveal my soul;
I gaze upon the sky and come across stars. The stars seem to decorate the background of darkness like a beautiful stipple painting. I notice the moon. She hangs in the night sky, sitting upon her throne,
Remove the filters that surround our lives. Don't sugarcoat it to the ones outside. The world as we know it can be harsh and cruel, so let's not pretend that it always looks cool.
when one takes a scroll through my instgram feed they see a girl who is a animal lover,music lover, food lover and a make up enthusias but when I the stop posing
Who am I deep down? Am I flawless, or am I hidious. What do people think of me deep down. She is perfection, she is distruction. But deep down I am just me. I am me. Not you or her or him or them.
This is me Unedited, Unfiltered me I am the cries at night when hearts break The anger when it's broken I am the fear when the world is coming down The tension felt when it's falling
Will to love the wrong person Their ugliness never seems to bleed
I am a teenager I am reckless I make mistakes I stay out late and do nothing I am on my phone all day I am a student I have 3.0 GPA I am a leader I take too many AP Classes
I am dark eye circles. I am nothing but gross, winter skin tapered onto a bored face. I am yellowed teeth, and thanks to dad, hideous manbrows.
If I must confess
Knowing my true identity makes me flawless. Knowing that I can overcome anything makes me flawless. Not letting others destroy me into what I transformed myself to be.
Who am I?Am I the girl that stares into the mirror, internally degrading herself for not beingsociety's sweetheart?Who am I?Am I the lady who cannot keep up with the
Who am I... I am a genetic mirror My eyes are those of my mother's mother Dark brown like the indigenous blood that flows through our veins My black curly hair That was a gift from my father's father
Social media is a soul-sucking succubus. How is that for consonance? We are all just internet personalities. THe generation could use some resistence. Profile pictures are petty portrayals.
I wanted to kiss my name off your lips, Taking back my identity
Too plain Miss Jane Hair pulled up No foundation, just her natural blush. How plain Miss Jane Eyes neutral Fair skin spotted with rose scares. Pretty plain Miss Jane
Am I just my father's daughter? Can't I be something more? I see how his life affects those Constantly around him I don't want to be my father's daughter Am I just my father's daughter?
Tell me, what do you see when you look at me? What do you think when you
Being told I am not enough I get hurt because I care too much I turn to things that help me up. The art of makeup makes me forget who I was I got myself a new identity since I cannot go back to what I was.
A shot in the dark An idea that just might jump start your heart A tiny spark A shot in the dark I have no apology for my theology I need God and so do you
What you see before you is not what I see in the mirror. For the mirror knows the true person who always hides behind the mask. Tell me, is it true that the most common mask we put on every day is a smiling face?
I am a body of water Stretching far and wide Beyond and away From my shores, to some unknown Place And my body is the water It rolls and ripples And my mind is the water Calm and glassy
Who am I? I'm a person I can see my body So I'm real I can see my skin So I'm black I can think WOW As I think I try and put each thought in to words
It starts off small, feeling rising
i am beyond words and ink-stained hands because i've always thought language to be a limitation to thought
I am that brown spot on a white sheet That has climbed a mountain of success Not only to be defined, yes But to be unique in this generation, I am blessed With my brown eyes staring straight forward
Lost...... i was lost lost alone in the world, no where to go i looked everywhere and searched for everything i quit i gave up I got so sick of trying trying to be good enough
Who am I? That's a loaded question. We are all dense individuals, filled like an overflowing dam with ideas, experiences and contexts.
“Momma can you please braid my hair?” a ritual request with each daily fading of light from the window
Winter has always been tinged with blues and greys.
The inner person in the busyness of the city streets. The hearts have not gone too far. No place too far to not be found at all. We still continue on.
Am I only the shy girl who sits in the corner named Niki? Am I just another girl in the hall way to you? Did you even take the time to get to know me?
What is money without those you love Everyone wants grip allow me to be the glove You wonder why the stars get coked up While there are people struggling to get coated up
Paint splatterd t-shirts, accomponied by a librarian nose, stand erect as a lighthouse. Vindictive waves may crash, And temptuous winds may roar. But I glide over these turbulant seas
Who am I? That's the name of a great song
Do you remember the first time we met You showed me Love that I'll never forget As time went by me and you got real close
My motto is-
Bleached hair, sleeveless shirt,legs covered with a not-long-enough skirt.She’s bad, that girl.Rotten to core.You don’t have to get to know her,just look at what she wore
Throughout my years, I've been broken down and I've been built up. I've loved and I've lost. I've changed others and I have changed. I've drank and I've smoked. I've cried
Looking through my perilous soul I see nothing but a toll Is this me I see in this photo Or just a way to fit in with a motto Nothing ever seems the same With filters getting all the fame
My sound? Is a silent night, I have no music no beats, or rhythem. My sound? Crickets on a summer day. When I was born they sang. My sound? Is a soft noise
I am a pile of leaves waiting to be affected by the winds of time; Scared of what the future holds. I lay here calm and collected, my emotions trapped inside; Bursting at the seems, my sanity is wavering.
I never meant to use a filter I didn’t think I did. Look at me and tell me what you see
Everyone thinks they know me but really do they
You call me selfish when I try to be selfless.
Want to hold your hand, It's right there for me to grab, I feel close to you, I'd hate to see you go, don't.
When I was younger, I used to think that I was overweight Because my parents would say "You should lose that tummy of yours." I'm sure they meant well. My biggest influence didn't come
My Starbucks coworker said that “If you were a mode of transportation, You’d be a tugboat.” At first I was confused. All I could think of was a book I had As a child, Lost little red-and-white tugboat
Life is like a camera,
Strangers that had a past. Enemies that had a bond. Two seperateminds, two seperate hearts. Trying Failing Hurting The force grows stronger But it never touches. Civil War of the heart.
I was fifteen before I realized that no one could ever love me as much as I loved me And a revelation of poetic, creative, fertile ideas were released inside of me
Mirror Talk For a while I’ve been saying what I don’t truly know I thought I made myself A long time ago Looking in a reflection Hoping my thoughts won’t worsen
They call us thieves - filthy, hungry, bean-eating wetback thieves. They look at our brown skin and sneer. But they do not know who we really are.
Yes mom, I'd love to help at church on Sunday. You're so kind to me and I love this family. Hey buddy, nah those assholes are so annoying, making me so mad, I want to tell 'em to blow me.
Laughing Smileing Shy Sad Scared Angry
Family… The definition of it: is a group of persons who came from the same ancestor Sadly though no one wants a family anymore From the generation that has now been born
love is nothing to pease war is death to us all between god an angels the war is small to us love is all peace inposible war always untll we are dmned etween devils and god we're left for dust
Break away from everything. Are you aware of whom you are? Remember when you were little and you knew Exactly what you wanted in life?
Silently angry of an arguab
As we walk on this world Full of anger and hate Nos vemos nosotros getting dirty of it De lejos venimos to look for a dream Un sueño, that makes us forget what really exists
When I first laid eyes on your goregous caramel skin, round brown eyes, and cheeky smile I nearly fainted And so did my parents I could not keep this love a secret I would not have it
Do you think she knows? The way she moves, Giggling-groveling-grooving She cares too much of who approves. Do you think she knows? How she makes the world turn, Living-loving-leaping,
Flex my fingers crimson, chartreuse, jet, slate, vermillion
You wear a mask like me. We can both see it, But neither of us have the courage to say it. You always go above and beyond for me: You sacrificed your time To relieve my pain
Being abstract is not bad. You don't want to like everyone else. Being creativity and rare is beautiful. This world embracres everyones beauty but, tends to forget their own.
I’m not who you think me to be; I’m not a sweet innocent girl, waiting or searching for love. I’m not a delicate little flower, waiting to bloom.
A friendly face, for friends and family, naive grins, boisterous laughs, plastered across their visage. A familiar fellow, warm, kind, and blithe, never a stranger, or visitor,
You wonder why I wear a mask,
I was given the name Colin They didn’t want me called Colon
The white snow falls from a blue sky gently landing on the land below. It covers this world in freezing blankets of white as the dirt beneath quietly hums with the warmth of life.
Who am I? a girl just trying to survive working, hoping, trying to be the best I can be sometimes I may fall yet somehow I always rise again my ambitions set me apart from others I know who I want to be
This fear I feel is formed from my imagination. Constantly contemplating where my life will be stationed.
People have asked me Why do I act so? What's with the cat ears? Why always so positive? Maybe I'm just weird Or just that naive I got my ass kicked thrice So many family issues
The True Me? The True Me is everchanging. When I try to find it, it morphs because I was not the same person I was finding it as I was when I found it. When I see her, few things remain the same:
My mom likes to think I'm just like her That I love crowds of people and constant noise That I love calling all attention to myself And that I like conflict My mom thinks I hide my real self from the world
You see the Iron Empress Who standing tall, stoic, regal. She hides the Carefree Clown Who could entertain for hours. She hides the Lovesick Maid Blinded by love unrequited.
With everywhere she's goes
The pale ghost stares at the filthy mirror. He sees not himself; with that happy scowl and playful temperment. The pale ghost makes the suface clearer. He sees not himself, but his own warm disembodiment.
Stress, sadness, fear,wory. I have a mask to cover that up. Boredom, anger, doubt, loneliness, confusion, regret. I can hide it. There truly is no know emotion
What is The Duality of Man? I ask myself this behind a wall with my-head-in-my-hands.
Why can't anyone see the me that is truly me? All they see is a mask That does the un me task the one that shows no fear the one who is not really here I wish to show you the me that is really me
I am a mask,So many think they know who I am,but they don't care to ask,Yes, they are content with my maskWho am I? One of many made to pleaseWho is me?
Pay no attention, To the girl behind the curtain. She's got nothing to say. Her voice is not important. Pay no attention, To her weakened state.
I guess I should just tear you off Because you seem to want to define me I guess because I resemble a Hershey's kiss I'm just as smart as one but half as sweet Because I look like I'm from African
They made me wear a mask when I was younger. Days went by and a new stitch was added to the mask. It was starting to fit my face perfectly. "Do this," they said. "Do that," they demanded.
There I sat staring As every color flew by Oceans of madness
My heart bleeds onto the glaring whiteness of this canvas. Oh how should I state the story of my soul? Staining the white canvas with colour. Red.
I won’t apologize for my complex emotions that can be your ecstasy or your next nightmare. I won’t apologize for being the one who won’t bow down to your word and whim.
Can you not see who I am? Hatred bound to a soul constantly witnessing discrimination of WHO I AM, Ringing in my ears, “You’re black, act like it!” “You’re female, act like it!” “You can’t break the mold.”
I don't know how i came to be. When a deer approaches... I am suddenly a deer. I hear the breaking of twigs, the whoosh of the leaves stirring. I watch the deer graze...like an alarm for impending hell.
Who am I?I'm the girl in the corner that keeps her quiet and to herself. I'm the girl that has the crush on that one cute popular guy in school.
Identity is the flint of the modern age Sparks rain when we shape who we are Nations big and small all share their drowned voice What is mine, you ask? Well, I'll tell you
All you see is the exterior form Instantly you judge me by my face, clothes and background Yeah I'm different, isn't everyone? Flawed human beings we are Hiding behind, creating an illusion
Feelings are a cycle,
You may think you know me. You see my smile, the pep in my step, the flitter in my voice. You may think you know me, but you only know my mask. My mask is smiling,
"Being Human" Being Human Means You Strive for Acceptance,
"Being Human" Being Human Means You Strive for Acceptance,
Being alone and often watching the blissful life of others, you often sit and contemplate, why am I drowning in my sorrow? why am I brimming with hate? Is it because i'm not optimistic?
The man behind the curtain, the face behind the mask. One beautiful soul, behind a treacherous task. A woman of inseurity, concentrating on what she lacks-
Its funny that this Slam was chosen, I had written a litteral poem my freshman year literally called "The Mask" The mask is constructed To hide you away You appear happy You appear kind
A person’s voice can reveal a great deal,
People think her cold People think her bitter People think her strange People think her just like them People think her cruel
To the reflections of me I look to a mirror, a photograph, a song
Who am I really? Does it really matter? All these labels I see Only make me sadder How hard I always try For all my secret passions By nature I try to hide Can't help but do this
Confident, Shy which is the lie? What do they wish to see? Why can't they leave me be? Strong, Weak I can barely speak. What they see and what they know all of which is just a show.
There she stands, with her past far behind her. Yet so close it just reminds her. Memories of the mistakes and the bullies. The disability that has kept her.
I have a secret identity I don't want others to see You need a key To set me free I have a big weakness I can't love myself I have my uniqueness But is there anything else?
That girl people see walking down the hallway in school. Do they know that she is me and I am her? Crazy it might seem to some that she is a part of me. That crazy and loud girl who somehow manages to get staright As in all her classes.
My life is ridden,with lies hiddenof a dark past belowthe pain I bestowkeeps me below.My identity is lost,I want to find it at any cost,my life is riddenwith lies hidden,
I dream of a beautiful woman I gave birth to years ago.
Verse 1: We taint the air with idle words Cause sticks and stones hurt the most What’s a jab to the bird? What’s a duel to a roast? Shoot….
Forever I'll love you All you ever said.
Here I sit, Mind opened, Thoughts spilling onto the floor, Creating a raging sea. A sea so vast, A sea so wide, A sight so magnificent I nearly cried. There is no plan of action,
I put on the cap and the uniform To please the people that give me money. I follow their rules with a synthetic smile To appease the ones I work for. I complete the caustic piles of work
I can analyze the dichotomy Of good and evil Light and dark Life and death Not one without the other The ying to the yang The extremes of both sides Cliches so easy to analyze
I am a coward. I'm too scared to face myself.. Too scared to find myself. I'm always running away from thinking about the inevitable. I run away from reflecting on them.
In the past, I was the one that was intelligent. I was the quiet one. I was the teacher’s pet. I was criticized for being a girl on the drumline. I was the one that played too soft. I was the liked one.
I am from my Dad’s trumpet calls announcing early church services I’m from words and phrases composed with love and tears From late night prayers kneeling by my bed wrapped in more than just my pink blanket
Like a caged bird, I pretend to be happy I have to be the perfect daughter, friend, student and girl Like a caged bird, I am left alone No one seems to acknowledge the fact that I feel isolated from society
One It is about time you realized that you are black you still don’t know what that means But one day you will And you will never have felt more beautiful or misunderstood
Oh Geez, this breeze, this wind in my soul isn't easy. The reason for this change of season is beyond my grasp, just beyond the looking glass. At times I am estatic, fantastic but delayed,
You have to love me for who I become what I create, what I say, what I see, what I give, not what I take. You cannot love me for what I need what I want, what I’ve been given.
Too inconsistent to be myself, I am three thousand pieces of a mask Ripped up and stuck together With brittle glue and strings: Promises But they never hold. I’m a shape shifter,
I. I am saturated in vivid hues Painted by my culture, A life I didn’t choose, Mere stone formed into a sculpture. These decisions are not mine, A stranger’s language spoken,
I will look upon a normal tree, Robust trunk and swinging leaves, Then realize I wanted a flower. I’ll tell myself it could be one, Then it is, the transformation done, Less of a tree with each passing hour.
Everyday is the same as yesterday I fight to be a new me but it always flees The chance to change my families name itches at my mind That new me must come up and rise
The female identity Is not to be confused With the male entity On what they think What they say Or what the media portrays And they? They’re the men and also the women
i am a diamond that will not be shaped to please others.
I have a name I smile as I write it down That means something
This is between the two of us: a rift. A raft, and a river. A ribbon of word, ear to ear, half to half, space to sky.
I've often gone in search of my identity, Posing the question: Who am I? A one point in time, I sang, "I am a musician", For music has been a great passion of mine for as long as I can remember,
I took a walk
Am I more like the lone tree of the Prairie? Of the Savanna? Tall, tanned with a puff on top. No one sees my roots. Are they are lost? Unseen, un-kept? Words don’t define me,
"Erasure," It's a word that's been Thrown around lately Something That has unfortunately Been brought to my attention Because it is about me, It is me. I have been "erased"
A few years back someone asked me “why do you act so white?” After a moment of hesitation I simply responded “but I’m black…” Later I then thought to myself “am I really black or am I white?”
I have not one, but two names One means, "who is like God" The other, a variation of a flower It also means unblemished, virginal You decide, you pick, it makes no difference
300 years of slavery, 300 years in chains, One hundred years of bravery, This finally led to change. Fifty years later followed Obama’s campaign, Somehow we are still scared from all the previous pain,
Theres two of us hereOr maybe threeI don’t know anymoreI stopped knowing a long time ago. Or was it recent.But it doesn’t matter because theres not just one.Thats bad.Right?
I am both the hero of my own story and his twisted evil twin, foiling myself at every turn. Telling myself that I can do it one moment and screaming NO in my face the next.
Advice given me when I am in trial Whether through example Or egregious error Or candid words You are the explanation for my ability to reach for success.
I live with no sense of identityBlack-Female-Gay-They all represent meBut being stuck in a mundane placeGasping for air and spaceLeft with this double-sided face
Behold Teacher! I am the perfect teen! I am exactly who you want me to be. I never break the law and your homework is my hobby. I prefer reading the dictionary to TV
For the Ones that Are Muted in Society For the Ones that Are Ridiculed for Their Differences For the Ones that Are Slammed for Their Opinions For the Ones that Are Voiceless They Are Who I Speak For
We feel the need to change ourselves. Rearrange ourselves. Our features and faces, we wax and we tweeze Applying the colorful goos and powders as we please. And why? In the name of those around us.
I Am Two By: Autumn Alston I am two. Two worlds forged together, each crippled by negative history, Two forces, diametrically opposed, when combined, producing a mystery.
-Redefine beauty. Extract all the melanin from my skin, or add just a bit more to yours and let's see what difference it makes in our personalities. No change.
Remember when I made her smile? Lips parted like you haven’t seen for some time. Those thoughts The ones that plagued her mind. Those that caused her to pick up the yellow bottle. Empty it.
Who are you?The question is asked and a crisis begins.They wait as if I'll answer on cue,
She hides inside of me
I cannot act, I cannot sing But allow me to tell you what I bring An artful imagery similar to that of a painting Without the brush, no rush
I am white
I am from the ground full of g
Who told us that life would be so hard Our past haunting us, The future looming ahead, We struggle to enjoy and succeed in the present. I have given up the hope for my life to be perfect
Who was I?I was a little girl who went to mass every Sunday and sang “Santo Santo Santo” to the heavens as the salseros played sprightly music in the balcony of the church.
Who was I?I was a little girl who went to mass every Sunday and sang “Santo Santo Santo” to the heavens as the salseros played sprightly music in the balcony of the church.
I am a driver, halting at stop signs; only staying briefly at each one. I am concentrated on a single mysterious destination. And perhaps I veer off the road running into a stop sign and leaving a mark
I see change In every second there is change
when you were little, did you ever play hide and seek? there’s always one kid who hides in the closetif it was you, you know whythe closet’s warm and dark and quiet and as long as you stay silent, no one can tell you’re there
If I could change one thing
Living in amber Rigidly transfixed on them They, the elitists They have no idea What He and the Devil Portend to reveal Change consumerism
Heck, do I even know who I am anymore? I mean, I knew who I was back in middle school… weird, crazy, out-there, cool with everyone… a nerdy, lovable-type kid—that was me But now I’m in high school
Don't define the undefinable People are not words, people cannot be broken down No dictionary can tell me who to be No thesaurus can find something similar So neither can you. Everyone says:
Your hatred is unreasonable, unfathomable, and irrational. So why continue to say that name in place of my own? You are the NIGGER The low-down and the dirty. The hatred.
i wonder who it could be that would want me for me who could include my faults in whats best of me why cant i see when will he show its been a dream of mine he holds the key
Look around and what do you see?
I feel like a porcelain doll
In Stranger in a Strange Land, ‘to grok’means “to understand so thoroughly thatthe observer becomes a part of the observed"
There are those that make the most asinine of assumptions Is willful ignorance funny? Who are those who quell their voices in the midst of rustling leaves and perceived as either mute or dumb?
Cars, and toys, and rug burns I am a boy. I am a boy. Basketball, hip-hop, down the block. I am black. I am black.
Hello, my name is "Chinese" "Japanese" "Dirty knees" "Look at these" "Criss cross" "Apple sauce" "Do me a favor and get lost"
To be recognized One must have something to be recognized forAnd I, Well, I have nothingI have the world to walk uponBut it is not mine
Our ancestry shall not define usWe are as much a piece of the pastAs an integral portion of the futureAnd yet we are not only that
Questionin innocenceNeed tuh cleanse n replenish dis effed up conscience.Hoodie up, arizona n skittles in his pocketsSuspicionLife taken away for foolishness of self defense?
The burdens of this world resemble
They think that I’m redThe kind of crimson that comes from loud mouths and smart remarksThe scarlet of sarcasm that stems from quick witFrom quips that taste like fire and sound like flame
Sometimes I have a hard time picturing myself sitting behind a desk, or standing in a gym, or flipping burgers. In other words, I have serious issues.
Drenched in pain and despair
Dr. Seuss was right when he said "today you are you, and that is truer than true there is no one alive who is youer than YOU"
Two cultures live within me
It is hard to see Through the web I have woven
I am from the cliffs of Scotland, with dreams of the Emerald Isle and the tight laces, heavy skirts of the South. I am from the sewing machine, the book-keeper's pen, and the defiant wife.
I am Broken
I am a child of the air I am not one to cower in the face of change
When I was younger, I used to think that our teenage years would be different. I thought we'd all be happy and have boyfriends. But in reality, we're all depressed.
Forever, atleast that’s what you said.
No father mother here but really there I am here but really where? nature or really nurture?
You look at me from across the quiet café
I’m 21 years old. Well, almost. For these 21 years I’ve done my utmost
Asian-American immigrant Born in the East, thrown to the West My best was all I could give For the past five years I've accumulated fears Fistfuls of tears that fill the tank in which I'm drowning
I. Where do the days go When a mind smooths itself above The rippling bubble Aimlessly resting Unaware of the big pop. Where will the days go? II. Old
Yes em master no em master
Black is thick eyeliner,
I write because it seems that's all I can do. I write because I love you. It's a matter of understanding, of liberating The heart and soul and mind And find the talisman that will bring you spirit and joy
We shall overcome one day, Are the words that the leaders use to say, God Let us have justice is what they'd pray, Please let the pain and suffering go away. Now the people recite those words no longer,
To run away from ridicule One hides behind a mask of lies
Every day at school starts out with the same thing.
How are you? God, what a dense question.
Why? Why do we discriminate our own kind? It's a color in the publics eye.
A World Changer By Kattyana Adrien They say hurt people hurt people But they really do not understand the circumstances
If I could only write, one more time in my life, To say all these words, that have never been said, I definitely wouldn’t be writing for a scholarship. Money, power, wealth, gain,
I said I got to keep my head above water - James harden in OKC bring me off the clutch time in the 4th quarter - Its funny nowadays how people don’t want you to make - nothi
I feel lost. Like I could never be found. Like I'm wandering around in a dry and barren plain. Cut off from civilization and people. I feel trapped.
Who am I and where have I been I feel like butter that's been spread too thin I've lost myself trying to fit in And that's society's poison I feel afraid to look for the real me
I want people to be afraid of me, I want them to look into my eyes and shiver at the darkness that they see. I want everyone I meet to remember my name, Something reminiscent of power, influence, or fame.
I will be whoever the fuck I want. Let me repeat that. I, Faith Rider, will be, whoever, whatever, the fuck I want. Everyone is putting themselves in boxes, "I'm straight!." "I'm Gay!" "I'm Bi!"
i thought that your flesh should be the perfect canvas and she gazed into the hand glass hoping the reflection would sing something new she bottled some earth for safe keeping
When it is between white and color it's all over the news, But when its black against black it gets no views! This is normal just like sinners behind pews. How is the stench of dead boys on the streets nothing new?
What if the truth, was really a lie? What would you say, if I told you that's what I live by? The lies are only there, there to hide the pain, the sorrow, the sad, the everything.
I tried to write in a smile, but it ended up a frown, I tried to write it upside right, But it ended up upside down. I tried to write it in like summer, but it ended up so cold.
I counted to ten, I'm done! Where are you? I can't find you... Will you come out soon? I miss seeing you, Hearing your voice. I miss being with you, Hiding wasn't your choice.
Popularity is our aim. Potential fame is our game. Being the best, forgetting the rest. Who needs the loyal friends. We flock like birds. Orignality blown away in the wind.
Black letters scrawled indifferently Staining ivory paper indefinitely Concrete in deed and purpose, inherently
Welcome to Chicanos- r-us We service all of your needs Will school principals go to isle 12? We still have a few janitors here Desperate for a job Yes, they are Mexican Ready for their graveyard shift
Who am I? Am I a hero? Am I a villain? A star, a role model, a mother? Who will I be... When I venture through the darkest of caves Will I emerge to see the light? Who can I be?
Conformity is like a box, Your as sly as a fox. You try to sneak in your ways, This is not a game everyone plays. Its so serious, Dont act mysterious. I have my beleifs as you do yours.
I have no culture, No background, No heirlooms; I have no memories Of the deceased, Of the forgotten. I have some pictures, Some drawings, Some presents, That doesn't mean
Look at me, what do you see? A picture of average nationality, American girls in picture books. Come here, come closer and take a look! All you see: brown hair, blue eyes, Coming in at five foot five!
I’ve ask, and ask, and ask, Over and over again, What is my purpose? Am I supposed to be here? Why was I born? And over and over again, Questions went unanswered
Raised by the vernacular, but taught to adapt. Thug life…never ran after her, I kept my moral code intact. But what do they see… What society has painted individuals who look like me to be.
I have heard it said That our souls have feathers. I don’t know whether this is true But I- I am a magpie. A collector Of the ornate The obscure The outdated
Once a generation lived Anonymous. They had an inescapable forbidden love. Parents blame it on incompetence; Forbidden because of its godliness; Anonymous to afraid of the consequence,
I'm sorry, I hadnt realized that correct grammar and proper English was only something one race could doMy mother never told me I had to talk in slang, incomplete sentences, & silly colloquial speech
You taught us A-B-C, 1-2-3, Reach high scores on SATs, But when do I learn to be me?
Everytime I look at a paper it has: Black, White, Chinese, Indian, etc... Why can't it just say American? I don't want to be labeled as those things, I'm not black, I'm not white, I'm just an American.
You would think by now Wait no, you should know by now I should leave Leave it all Wait, that just isn't right either Can I ask a question? I just did huh? And there I go again S-C-H-O-O-L
Eating rosebuds my cheeks start to flush the once translucent skin becomes the rouge that victorian women pinch their cheeks for. lovely lace falls on ashen skin and it drags across violet fields
i find myself in the 36 scattered people yet they seem half asleep as if I had met them in a dream i searched and i searched for the place that I called home but
identity controls behavior identity controls emotions identity controls how we feel identity controls how we think identity controls how we carry ourselves Identity determines our behavior
Black, Black, What is black? I am African-American now thats a fact Being a person of color does not differ me from others My ethnicity is of many shades, like leaves changing colors in the fall phase
Ever since creation our ultimate goal was to become Neglected Individuals Gracefully Giving Everybody Remarkable Soul Black skin eyes made of Gold
There's no point in being someone that you aren't. The act will be obvious and off-putting. Besides, what are you gonna do if he wants the fake you?
His game was astronomical This young boy who loved to hunt In the underbrush of the forest sun halve past twelve A fox appeared ahead Golden fur and bright brown eyes
Let me screeeeeeeeeeam Let me shout to the world Show them what I am capable of I’m invisible Minute A mute So hear me yell Hear me shout
Take these chains off my wrists, take them off my ankles. Take this mask off my face, take it off right now! These chains held me back! That mask held my face, held my true identity.
He was my age when he died, a boy who would now never grow up. I don't know what it's like to grow up hated and feared by simple minds and closed hearts. I don't know what it's like
The legend of my people Swept under torrents of napalm Behind stars of lead Drinking storms of Orange Subsistence of my blood Obscured by molding bread By confabulations of scars
Lost inside something That doesn’t exist, Huddled in the corner, Hiding my face. Broken to pieces, Glued back together.’ Stolen from my mind, That piece that’s missing
Who shall I praise in my moment of glory Who shall I praise in my moment of pity Who shall I praise when I need to be happy Who shall I praise when I cry like a baby Who shall I praise when I don't know who to be
Writing What is it? It is a form of language we all know yet many do not use. What is its purpose? It lets us "speak" our thoughts not aloud, but on paper Why do we write?
Tell me. Who do you see? When I look in the mirror... Who looks back at me? Who should I see? Who am I really?
I sit here, thinking heavy My young brother, no intent of harming any Walking with a hood on is that a threat? But with his black skin many scream death Skittles, tea What harm could that be?
In the beginning of this love affair with poems I learned I was empowered by the way words flowed from my pen. I saw that it was a unique talent that not many got and fewer choose to practice.
I was born here I came from there My body is here My soul is there My words are here My thoughts are there My feet walk here My mind runs there My bones lay here
Negritude… A conceptual ideology in the tenets of humanity A construed solidarity in a common black identity Abstruse in such arcane a concept?
They always has an opinion formulating what's wrong or right They utter words that damage hearts destroy dreams and alter lives
The life of the innocent is taken by the sinner... They said "Black skin, wild hair, how could they not be barbaric? For these chains all men, now and future, will share it. No peace for man.
Listen. Miscommunication sucks. The people involved in this travesty feel unheard and underappreciated.
The Yellow Jacket zips up to its neck The fly should be zipped down but its attracted to the fruit of our neglect. The Arch hive patterns the nature of all respects But Guerilla warfare hides behind evolutionary concepts.
With nowhere to turn, my life flashes by. Looking around and nowhere to hide. I know all these faces, and they all know mine. The same faces day after day. They get comfortable with not saying hey. Walking around with nowhere to belong.
Perfect flowers do exist. But only where the good people are. When I close my eyes at night— I like to think that only then am I waking up—and everything else is a dream.
Never what I am, always looking for Me, life follows no plan, we're tossed in a stormy sea. We walk on trial, walk down death row, while accusations pile,
While you were busy resurrecting instances of critical synthesis the head nurse beat you to the sliver of hope, rinsed it out and out came a question"where am I?" I don't know kid, that's what we're all trying to find out "hey, where's Tweedl
They are broken, shaking, bitter and lost— I know it well. I have been standing in the dark Shadowy corner of my cave, Shivering in the mildewed enclosure. I have scraped at these rocks
Pretty girls dance across the room A parade of blonde hair, red hair, dark hair, light hair Sleek and shiny Bouncy and fluid The kind of hair I dream about Girls bend and sway in the morning sun
I am the poet Full of pain Full of dreams Full of desires The page is my escape The words are my children I fill them with bittersweet thoughts until they can no longer take it
It's 11:16 and I can't fall to sleepI can't tell if it's the weatherIf it's excitement or dread. Maybe it's the dark in my room,or the monster under my bed.It could be the bombs calling my doom.
If you don't understandThe way the trees bendOr how the breeze feels on the skinIf it doesn't speak my nameCall me Crazy.
Though my skin is white, I still have to fight. For education, equality, acceptance. I promise I'm bright. Actually, I'm Hispanic, but you couldn't tell by my skin. Call myself hispanic, and it's considered a sin.
It's not a burning sensation More like a puffing As though you wish to look down See your eyes fall out of their sockets
Sides are picked, muskets raised Grey and blue, wool blood stained The Union must stay intact, but Brother versus brother are being attacked In the end, all people are free
We buy our sterotypes off of tv subconsciencely we feed our ignorance without a black face and watermelon red lips but with a pretty face and round ass we've become americas number one pupets our sistahs aunties and mothers have been degraded to o
Here's it here's that here's everything. the discovery, the rise, the fall the fall, so steep, so black, so surprising sliding on your skeleton carrying your deserved cross remember?
My name. Since the day I was born, My destiny was owned by others. They gave me that name, Tied to their rotting family tree. I hated to hear it, For it only meant trouble.
I once read all that glitters is not gold and by no means is this an exception
Snap, Pop, Crack! There goes an elbow with one firm grasp. La la la watching those tears mixed in, Is water, blood, and all the hope plus determination flowing from that corpse
The colors of the rainbow, hmmmmm! Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo and Violet; Let’s add White and Black. Why not even Gold and Silver?
Child you are beautiful You are the darkest bark Covered in a sheen from the purest honey The earth grew grass to soften your tread The trees grew leaves to lessen your heat The flowers bloom every morning
A teenage girl cries in her bed "You're going to hell," the message read. Is it a sin to be in love? What makes you think you're that much above? Show me where in your holy book it reads
Today I take a stand, I take an oath I make a promise, to be the best woman that I can, dignified, untainted, and honest, I will be what God defines me as, instead of a product of my past, so I hold fast to what God says about me, forgetting what
You think this is funny. Making fun of the sticker that claims me. You take it off me, so aggressively, as you place it on your neighbors arm. “You are now number 4131” you giggle as you read the name of my new identity.
As the moon swells from still waters below The sky turns a dark indigo Yet another calm night has granted us rest And blest are those who soundlessly sleep
Who are you? Walking Down the streets, unseen You're falling No one can hear you calling. White noise-dead quiet The beating of your heart is gone. Who were you supposed to be?
Going down a broken path; You wonder how long it will last. You're blinded by the dark that's surrounded you And you're not quite sure what else to do.
I dedicate myself to public speaking Peaking subtly along with the days and nights and weeks and whatever comes next Sometimes I talk too much It’s not enough to always think after I Open my mind up,
I wake up in the morning, looking like I had a rough night tears on my cheeks from me crying myself to sleep. I look in the mirror who am I.
The rumbling of the drums to the gathering of the clans are where we began. Mothers and fathers together as one uplifting their precious child. Culture, visions, and lives all destroyed
(poems go here)
I float like a butterfly, sting like a bee Knock you out faster than Muhammed Ali Because the situation in this nation requires some retaliation, vindication and education.
In the beginning, There was a God for all A fierce parent Loving and righteous. But men bent him In their own image- A lily-white God with blond hair Fair and beautiful And biased.
The gym is my Tabernacle, A place I long for, a place I seek. A safe haven from all the daily disgust. The gym is a war against my muscles, A place my sprit is freed,
I must know your name what secrets lie beneath your face what tears run thick through your veins I must know your name Speak it Tell it to me slowly let your fingers rather than your tongue
I live not for orange chicken, nor Miss Saigon-style hats.
I can't stay young forever. I am not Peter Pan. I am just a man. Life creeps on and on, forcing us to go. I want to turn back. Run. Hide. Run. Hide. But time moves forward,
A Good Black Man Our old memories of you Fly by us fast And everything we REMEMBER of u is now in the past You once told my mommy If you work she wouldnt HAVE to work again A good black man
I need to see my pain I need to I need to Cry for help? how I just want it to go away disappear be different. If only If only If only I were stronger Smarter
I’ve got so many pictures and so many thoughts. Oh I’m so blue, there’s just so much to do! I’m scrolling towards infinity. Should I reblog it, queue it, or like it? Should I post a picture, a video, or a blog?
But I love him. Of course I do. I love him more than the world. But that isn't real love. No. My love is just a phase. A test of my parents will. Because why would i love him? I'm only a boy.
I don't understand This violence It sickens me To be cruel is so easy Yet to be kind is so difficult. I find this hard to believe. Although to look on the outside To believe, is so difficult.
Unlike you, my copper skin glazes in the sun. And my almond eyes twinkle. Unlike you, I sweat the fruits of my labor, and make my living plucking from your collection of cotton. Unlike you,
I can't help it but to feel Times wasting away. With me sitting here Without words to say; With everything to say. This little voice of mine With big things to portray, In such a loud place around.
Silent beauty Fluid grace Eyes open wide Head up in space She speaks of the world Yet knows so little And speaks of her pain emotions brittle
Shhhh! Do not you dare compare him to I! For he was not born within a skin that does not comply. I am beautiful, of this I have no doubt, But this is a fact, not a way to stand out.
My name means something. It means everything to me. My name is Latisha. Not Lakeisha. Not Laquisha. Not Latesha. Not Latosha. There's no K, no Q, no E,no O!
If I am to be one thing, let me be transparent. No, not to fade off this earth. Let me reveal the dreams I nurture within me. Let my past be exposed. Let my inspirations and drives radiate through me—
Some tears say I’m sorry Some beg please look at me. Some tears ask just hold me. Some tears say leave me please. Some tears say help me… when I feel alone.
Give that I will Give that I must They let me walk They let me run But I'm forced to crawl while they have fun They take my keep They make me weak They give demands I don't comprehend
Days and days have went by still here I stand in this cold night telling you all about my misery yes, for this will all stay in history As our fathers and mothers fight for liberty
Days and days have went by still here I stand in this cold night telling you all about my miser yes, for this will all stay in history
Couldn't format it here, so it's the picture.
Identity Is an interesting concept to me I was me when I was young But now different words and ideas flow from my tongue. My name has been Quincy from then to now
Statements that stay behind closed doors, they stay in the room Hover above your head Seep into your mind fall into your river of thoughts Sink deep into your conscious Straying off to your emotions
You might as well fuck For virginity, if you war On account of peace. Life is full of irony. Fraught from the plurality of man Uniformity mistaken for marching to your own beat.
I hide from you all. My true self, I cannot recall. You see what you want to see. I display a fake identity.
Struggling within the mindtricks of doubt, A voice corresponding the everlasting route. A system of finding possible self definition. A move to the dance inwhich lacks a transition.
Eyes closed, head back My mind tries to comprehend Bombs blowing up my family Racist slurrs towards my president Teens lacking amibition and inspiration Or Perhaps they were inspired afterall
The Colour of War is not Red By R. M. Otto
Waiting In the fog of the distance, impatient, searching for you. A faceless creature with features blurred, blurred by the ominous presence of the fog, thick and frightening.
Gazing off into space with her deep brown eyes Pleading for someone to notice All the sorrow she hides Deep in her heart Only knowing that tears are not enough All her memory’s flow out of her mind
I felt myself drifting flying soaring All eyes on me, my mask adhered, my smile plastered, on plastic face. What’s this feeling?
If I’d rather watch Will I ever rather roam? If I’d rather dwell on futures Will there ever be just one? If I never talk about it Will they leave me here alone? If I never Is rather a choice?
my mind is a hidden garden where my thoughts grow wild dandelions, savage blossoms, beautiful weeds, overgrown from blowing too many wishes into the wind
No no no; don't look at me so.
I am the man that killed no one While people protest to free the son Of Martina I pray to God for ya!
I am Too Blind in the light Too fresh, too hood, too...Ghetto World uses me like a puppet; Geppeto African Americans need to Stop, and think We want to see the Intellectual abilities you can bring,
Hey, you! Me? Me who? Me with the glasses? Me who is short? Me who is heavy? Me with soft, clear skin? Me with tea-streaked skin? Me with milk-brown eyes? Me with dark, vancant eyes?
Music is my life, it helps me sleep at night it gets me up and high unto sky, it gives me courage, when I sing in the choir at church, I burst into flames of happiness, and
An empty heart leaves room for the mind to roam, Thoughts unspoken rotting in your brain growing old. your self conscientious only left to connect with your soul.
I'm what?!? Oh you say i'm weird as in erie, different, or abnormal, right? Does it bother you.... you know, that i'm not like you or your crew Am i offending you? Well sorry to hear that!
Express yourself? Forgotten Classes Routine Every Day LIfe expression? variety? More is less, Less is more large audience younger older What is my audience?
"Inspiration" I laugh, cry and think smile-I feel it now.. Inspiration here to play a role Flipped on like the light switch of my soul.
Dear Jordan Davis, When you felt 8 foreign metals scratch its way through your chest, did it drown out the music?
The Spirit churns Like the grinding of cogs The breath of the Spirit Is the blackest of fogs It glides through the sky It makes not sound But for the chortle of rich men No other voice can be found
All I ever wanted was to be beautiful. Like new mothers, like flickering candles in dark rooms like flowers pressed into books like new shoes...
The Light that comes when they finally see a figment becoming reality. The Shadows that once existed in the outskirts of their mind, resides in their hands. The Inspiration
I am from purple mountains majesty,With its red rocks and dry, unforgiving air.I am from a mid-American suburbiaWhere outsiders still think we ride horses to school.
We live in a land, supposedly free. Good men died for you and me. WE can live our life, to pursue our dream. Unattainable to others not for my brothers. If you're gay, black, or anything else;
Choose Between Hate or love WHITE OR BLACK Wrong or right Parents or soul mate Holding back or holding hands Being ashamed or being proud Seeing skin or seeing soul
The way the ignorant bystander lurks, Enclosed with thoughts and society pressure, Cradles their mind possessing hundreds of blisters, Thinking they might overcome the silence.
I am not dark skin. I am the sound of deep cognition. I am the voice of thought-provoking composition. So, if you feel like you are fiending just to stay and listen;
Intelligence used to be a virtue, Ignorance used to hurt you, But in the past few decades the roles have reversed . . . I though about rhyming but now it's a free-verse,
attacked, chained and forced on ships brought to a land to face hardships there is a light shining above us illuminating our many shadeds of brown unique souls and great minds that shaped
I'm known to be a dreamer, It's my way of sanctuary but surrounded by closed minds, Made me less a believer I am a dreamer, but darkness shrouds me Storms my mind until my memory Is washed away
Here I dissociate, alone in awe I am taught I see what the silence has tried to show me all along occasionally blinded by intent of the selfish sort I can never truly understand until I learn to dissolve
Here's to the parents who think they're always right, and here's to the mem'ries that keep you up at night. Here's to the days when you can't find the light, and here's to the demons
Piercing eyes glare at unfamiliar faces Awaiting rejection So use to backs being turned, hearts being broken There's rejection. Unrevealed truths, broken promises
Kyler Leon Nathan IV is who I am, Always have been, always will be, Shy, yet filled with dormant energy, I strive to succeed evading all obstacles, I keep my head held high, yet my nose is still level,
On April 4, 1968, Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated in Memphis, Tennessee.
What is black? And, what does it feel like? Black. maybe its constriction in dark, damp chambers, and gusts of fresh air once you've come to face the sun.
Industrial Revolution Builds on her the loneliest right. Liberty has occupation, Though she's victim of Mans' old rite.
They call us blacks not only because of the color of our skin, but because...once upon a time, we were like shadows. Black shadows that trailed behind white bodies. Afraid, and hidden.
Her hair in neat braids, her frock a stainless white Gazing at the wispy clouds that curl against a cerulean sky She approaches the white picket fence and waves hello— It is 1956.
Everything used to be so black and white Suits that men wore, the color on a T.V. screen, The photographs that took hours to print. But so were the beliefs of our countrymen. It was either black or white—no gray area.
At the beginning there was no love, Only hate, But from one man, a brave man, Layed our society’s fate. There was sadness and despair, And enough hatred to kill,
Let’s Go Back!! Let’s Go Back, back in time, where we began to rhyme Singing hymns to kill times, of inequality, let’s go back where we loved each other while marching for justice
They say choose your battles carefully, but our side of the starting line was chosen for us. Pick by some biased hand in advance, with no perspective for the past or future. We were held hostage in the present with no escape but survival itself.
(Civil Rights make it possible for me to attend this school...thanks... to go learn and make better life to marry a red blue green or black wife I don't know Now I can see me and her See him and her and them
She was Born to be Judged Judged to be Born, She inspired those of her color, Those of her class, Those of her gender, To be something more, To defy what people thought of her,
It would’ve been an honor to be a Freedom Rider To be able to fulfill my desire To sacrifice my life for a change For the exchange Of a better tomorrow
I have the right to school I have the right to live my way You have no say I have the right to speak Thats my rule To live everyday I have rights
Who do you think you are playing God and deciding our destinies planting unnecessary scars claiming our rights are but fantasies?
One man willing to stand up for his rights, one woman willing to fight, A man who has a dream for equality in the nation, The woman on the bus encountering frustration,
Your color does not make you Your language does not define you Your neighborhood should not break you You are you not what they say not what they think you are you
I am stricken with the paint of bigots, Cast in the colors they throw on me. I am mulatto, all coffee and cream. But when I am looked at, not seen, but looked at,
Together as one we stand The smell of equality is so sweet Together as one we stand Our thirst for freedom cannot be beat
What’s the meaning of pursuit of happiness when I can barely exist When I’m treated like a quarantine disease When they’re waiting for the next headline to pronounce “New cure for the ‘Adam and Steve’ & the ‘Madam and Eve’”
Everyday we walk Everyday we keep silent Everyday we wait We wait, for God gave us patience We wait, for success comes in time We wait, for our voices are still merging into one
Equality, easy as the breaths we take? It's a mind set of minds we make. We have the power to teach and train. We have the power to stop with our blame. You inherit control to set the new path.
I ain't done nothing to you I ain't even looked at you funny All I ever done is be me and all you ever done is Hate me
The simple air of a whistle. Clean outside air, sweet perfume, cigarette smoke From the usual porch sitters Outside Bryant’s grocery store.
Nana tells me, ‘White people pale ‘cause all they kindness been drained outta ‘em.’ Shushin’ her with the harshness of a kettle at boil, Is Mama, Scolding her for fibbin’ to me. Grunting irritation,
My father will never understand the constant frustration that runs through my mind when I think to chase him. To run after the man who has my heart but it's an abomination
Why does the mockingbird sing? Why does she lift her head to die? Is it the color of her wings? Or is it the passion in her cry?
A beautiful black girl with innocent young brown eyes And she gazes up at me
The lash of the whip doesn't define who I am the burning sun's rays upon my back don't tell me what my purpose is it's the tender hugs of my children that remind me of who I am a mother, wife, sister, aunt
Birds have beautiful colors. Their feathers of red and blue and golden yellow ruffle together against the sky.
Let me break into your thoughts, I’m a mindbomb, ticking time bomb. Seven years I wore the the veil shielded myself and kept pale news shunned like yesterday’s mail happier than my previous trail
The harmonious step Like Ants—Strong in Numbers Like Tributaries Leading to a River Starts with a trickle, Becomes a Flood Overflow of Hope, Love, and Faith A Faith in the Human Spirit A Faith of Humanity
A boy sits alone in his closet. Enmity splattered walls. His heart, so open to love, is beginning to wither and fall. But what, I should think, makes him live in these walls, is a secret to me,
We live in a world that has been teeming with hate, Our ancestors have endured much pain and hate, Our ancestors have inflicted pain as well, We live in a world, in which we have no appreciation,
I have lost my voice in the crowd of thousands from the top of my lungs I screamed down from the mountains my vocal cords ache from the shouting in the streets chanting and yelling for the rights of my people
Under protection of our own, government was created to dethrown. As a people, we chose to vote. "Majority rule!" the people quote. Soon, people debated, hated and fell into moral confusion.
I am bound to my chain Never to be set free The state of my confinement is one that is definite A constant reminder that ensures my inhibition
The bus is hot as it rolls, and with the number of bodies is Sticky air and sweat-wet seats and the raw smell of humans. We are the freedom riders, the Beaten at bus stops and booed as we walk.
The cage is open But not to free me. To free me from the bonds That once held my cellmate Whom I expect now runs Far away from the hate
She was a Rose A beautiful, brown Rose She stepped up on the bus of separation She sat down, for our freedoms She rode the mistreated waves of segregation She quietly refused, for our people
I have a nightmare. Twoscore and ten years ago, Mr. King helped revolutionize our country. Equality for all, he said. No black, no white, no yellow, no red. Equality. Shades of gray given what they deserve.
Sweat and blood cradle it, It’s the mothers old hands that Wove its breath. High above myself and earth, I can see freedom slowly drifting Across towering mountains and dark Clouds.
Separate Has never been And never will be Equal. Paging through the textbooks of history and time The white, clean pages Have been bleached of any color. Black history relegated
I kept silent haunted by my self the past In pain, I once was recalling a voice that was once home mama are you there?
Blinking sweat from his eyes, His heart is on the verge of defunct, Light irises face his. Wild with fear, His stomach solidifies like rime.
Once happy then taken from the land of the sun Now chained and broken the long night has begun Faster and harder the work never ends Fighting to escape the master's demands
Wake me up, when the days of suffering and pain are over. Wake me up, when I can walk amongst others with out recieving a cold shoulder. Being different, with my face, color, and shape. Being different,
The world is cold The unknown cuss at the unknown While heads get blown Summoning all my people, we discuss the harms created by Obama's throne The change still isn't shown I'm torn between college
Who Are We? We build our own lives and souls We are unique and separate But how do we think for ourselves When society guides us
Blind in the eyes of god is the color of our skin And who said you were in charge of deciding where I eat, drink, watch a movie, sit on a bus? You think we’re dif-fer-rent but we’re all-the-same
There is a path just found behind the school Rumors say what happened there was very, very cruel I go to see the famous place And find footsteps at the base I follow it and hear a crack
One. You mock me, shame me, spit on me; You deny my humanity and curse me. You cannot see past my dark hue. Two. You mock Him who made me By burning that cross on my lawn.
How would you feel walking down the street? Minding your own business just being a teen When a group of people behind you come to attack Only because in their eyes you’re a “fag”
Dear God, Is it time for us to live? And break those shackles that bound our hands and ankles? Trying to escape, danger lurking around every angle Whip marks on our backs, blood leaking from the wounds
I am blessed To have been born Inside a place Previously torn But now repaired With the thinnest thread I remember this As I go to bed
A month after I was born, in 1955, Mother told me Of the beginning of the bus boycott Because a woman of color Refused to give up her seat To a white man. And that was the year
accusations against innocents crime against the colored fear, disgust, seclusion we take one step forward little by little were pushed two steps back continue to push continue to fight
I stand for the people who walked down the street for equality. Dr. King said it best in his “I Have a Dream” speech. I stand for the kids who were pushed to the back of bus
The Civil War is 19th century news Only talk about it in history when my brain is on a cruise See the Civil Rights Movement ended years ago And there’s just no more desire to know
If you closed your eyes Would you know who I am? If you closed your eyes Would you see who I am? Is it possible To see who I truly am With your eyes closed When you can't really see me
If it wasn't for the magic when this universe was born- the gravity that held it down the sun that kept it warm
Racism why is it even here all it does is bring us tears Whatever happen to a world of peace its time we bring a new life lease We stand in unity to raise hope so that we may live in a place of harmony
man and man will in a few passing days become one flesh
Black boy (Hook) Last night Night before 24 robbers at my door I got up and let em in Hit em in the head with a rolling pin
A great man once said:
Rosa Parks. Malcolm X. Dr. King. Jesse Jackson. Mamie Mobley. Tears shed, blood spilled, injustice fought. But for what?
You may know me, But you can’t see the pain. You can’t see my struggles And you can’t see my strife. For my identity, it isn’t superficial, It’s an identity that is rooted deep, Below your hateful words
We washed upon the shores And traveled in rivulets through the veins of a nation. We filled her cracks and hollows And saturated what was parched and wanting.
People A head, a heart, a body, a soul Working, breathing, loving, hating Brothers and sisters Created as equals With only small differences We live, we love, We take part in others lives
When I see into my future I have to look behind To those who sacrificed And even risked their lives The freedoms I am given By right of Birth and Law No matter what my gender To be of fierce defender
Here is a man Proud and strong black Here is the Law Strict and harsh White Here is the school Whites only Fair Here is Oliver Brown Stop this Please
My room mate, my friend. She doesn't see me, She sees my almond eyes. Her white-tinted glasses tells her eyes, those orbs of ice, what is Asian. Despite the spots on the map that my people come from.
Ever since I came out the womb, they said it was power to the people But what power do you have when you aren't allowed to speak back when being speaked to We've spoken, the world has been broken
Hate Me Judge Me Threaten Me Beat Me Lessen Me Fear Me You’ve never known me
At first just yelling. Spiteful cries, Words like cleavers, Got under her fingernails, and the mahogany skin on her cheeks. And then the stones came, an ambush, penetrating deeper
Free at last, free at last! Thank God almighty, we are free at last! That’s what I want to say But it’s not the truth I mean the whole truth Civil Rights More than Dr. King Rosa Parks Malcolm X
The story of then, The story of now, and then the story yet to be unveiled:
Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Yes I am angry. But you wouldn't know. Staring down at the floor, how could anyone tell? I clench my fists. Tap my foot. I smile. I say "yes, sir" and "yes, ma'am."
We shall overcome.... We shall overcome....
We are the people of this world We are the people of America What are rights? Does rights have a color, a ethnic a gender, a race? NO Rights are something that is given but yet earned.
Freedom IS costly Costly? The lives that were Volunteered, made freedom costly The lives that were damaged beyond Repair, made freedom costly The urge to hold the family Dear, made freedom costly
They march and march, but not without a reason. With no guns or knives, but they're still accused of treason. Signs in their hands, begging for a change. Visions in their heads of better days.
Standing alone on the corner Listening, waiting, hoping The message, loud and clear But everyone else refuses to hear All created equal they claim But their actions don’t match the words they say
I am not just a number for you to process I have feelings. Nothing you say can change how I feel. Just because you think you can shut me up with words hate violence secrets
Why you so surprised? You thought change was gonna come But let me explain something to you History repeats itself And it’s just a matter of time Before you’re back in the fields.
I had a dream Where a world was free It never mattered who you are but what you will become I am fighting for a dream where I can be free It doesn't matter who I am Just what I want to become
I was the slave girl taken from the South to the West I was the sister that was beaten tortured and ripped from the home of my loved ones I was the young mother dragged and taken in chains forced to kill the life inside of me
I walked miles to school every morning, past the closed doors of the all-white school. Dirt clouds ruined my clothes and my shoes became worn and my hair mangled.
When the world goes blind, It will only be love that we find. Everyone will look the same. We will no longer play a vision game.
You're a strong young woman. You know you are. He's just some jerk in class that always has to have the last say. But there's something about his wit and attitude that you like. You know it's dangerous.
For hundreds of years the black man has been crying with inner tears, striped from his manly dignity and identity, his self love has been ripped.
For centuries the black woman has been demoralized then defamed. As well as watching her dignity being put to shame.
Because of the pigment of my skin, they do not see me Since I am "different", I am separated And although they give many reasons I know that it is not because of My hair, or the way I dress, but
Like crayons are only colors our skin is too. We should all be equal shades to the human sight, but fighting over colors is a destructive thing to do.
The sun began to set as little Johnny trudged on three hours ago he found out that his mother was gone. Dead by water maybe dog or cane but all johnny knew is they didnt even know her name.
Hit the mirror - watch it shatter Not liking what you see Blood running down your arm Oozing like your broken heart - Empty inside - no friends outside Why even bother trying
Children, Windows are now doors Streets are now sidewalks They are now history D-day, Don't forget your toothbrush.
When Obama won they said it’s over. He won. He’s in. I say no. One triumph does not erase past sin.
The pen has hit the paper, the paper has been passed saying in the United States of America, slavery no longer lasts.
The disease of men That put us in pens The beatings and bruises That was so abusive A disease of their mind Our punishment wasn’t kind Back then it seemed That it was okay to be mean
My Bones Ache My Hairs Grey My Pride is Gone Can I Rest Now? You Ask For My Seat I Say No My Hands Are Cuffed Can I Rest Now? We fight For Whats Right Boycotting Transportation
As we are black , we tend to be underestimated as we fought for our rights they couldn't hold us back
Our forefathers bled for us. They took the pain of being different away. They fought against the stubborn who would never allow black people to have rights.
They say we are equal. Why the bullying? Do you think it's fun? Is it satisfying? The way you treat them? They say we are equal.
We take for granted the freedoms we have The biggest freedom of all to some Are civil rights and liberty African Americans will stand on my behalf. We often do not look back at the past as if we were there
Who gave you the right to take away mine? Who gave you the right to tell me where to sit To eat To go to the bathroom And even drink some water
Can you imagine what it's like to struggle? To be confined to a suffocating bubble. To not be able to live peacefully and equally with man Or be condemned because of your love of man. We are taught that we are one.
They say I’ve got dirty tears, The ones that run down my face are not the same, The blood I bleed is much too dark My bruises far too faint, And I’ve got dirty tears Don’t get me started about my skin
Society By: Megan Williams Society Please tell me What have we become? We sold our souls Our inner being And for what? Society Please tell me Why are we so mean?
My rights are my rights/ got infinite time to put up a fight/ going through the system/ listen to your mther respect your father/ dont speak out/ dont stand tall/ fit the mold of the kid that will work till they get to old/ my dream job unattain
The pain they felt I cannot imagine They fought for rights With such great passion They fought for right With all their strength They fought to be equal To fight this hate The fight for rights
The pain they felt I cannot imagine They fought for rights With such great passion They fought for right With all their strength They fought to be equal To fight this hate The fight for rights
I can hear America working their shuffling feet and their clasping hands I can hear America singing with their tutting horms and their high pitched whistles I can hear America speaking
If that mysterious man of old awoke What tales would he tell? If that mysterious man of old awoke What praise would he sell?
What are our civil rights? Can they be won without a fight? The world is trying but people are dying. Children are crying and the whole world is lying in the bed of all that is bad.
Growing up, all I ever heard was how the "white man" would keep us down. How all they ever wanted to do was see me frown. How I was suppose to accept this as life truth and never enjoy the fruits of my youth.
I left the Home, a shabby lumbering shack, Taking only the clothes on my back And the chime of Symmetrical thoughts, And walking with Ambitious steps, Trampling the Dirty paths, and
Blatant like a beat Driven with strong emotions Distant in the night
In a time of hardship, Many fear the fight, Many face the fight, Going day by day struggling, Many face the fight, Trying to ignore the ignorant people, Many face the fight,
You sit up on the bed you were sleeping on The Pain inside of you shudders your every bone. The youth that once was is now forever gone You vainly try to remember all those moments you were happy,
How do you describe my skin? Do you only describe me as light skinned? Do you not see the pain and scars that are visible to the surface? I know I'm not perfect... I'm different My skin is my shield hiding all the, pain, sorrow, the quilt?
Beaten and tired of being called on last, Mocked and threatened, living this way is no easy task. Viewed from the bottom of society’s totem pole, White faces all around and they expect us to stay small.
A whistle to myself, I whistled a song, A song about a woman, frightened by the black night, frightened by what she don't understand, she calls upon the daylight, and then it comes,
(poems go here)
Many a man has lived that has given his life for another. Not many a person, though, who has changed the world forever.
whispering wind will pass the booming thunder will overpass your voice will shutter and ever-last but i wonder who will hear it make souls shiver at your voice to hear the goodness of men
This is the public, right? Than why shall I be set aside. This is wrong, we will fight! We just want to eat. We all need to care. So here is where we’ll sit, Until we’re treated fair.
How do I repay the deeds done by the civil rights leaders of the bonded past? How do I shine light on the dull, average people who became heroes by taking a chance?
I felt connection there, my yellow skin flashing in stark contrast with the black in my right hand, the white in my left.
It is August of 2012 and I walk through your memories, a museum. My feet pace the floor where yours once did, a battleground. I gaze at your portrait and into your eyes, silent. In the election of 2016 I will vote.
There is a life. A life of a new age in which all men are free. I never dreamed that I would see this day, ho how my soul looks back in wonder. Our Ancestors, who bore the strife and the hardships of this life, they call to us.
From the beginning of time we have been judged by the color of our skin. Not caring for what was within. People have told us for years we are not wanted here, but what makes them think we had a choice?
I AM, Somebody. Initiating the vigorous montage of syllables sliding down our tongues. corruptedly speaking our words of passion and love of grace. Bullets of sweat trailing down the shell, we can not change
Some say black, Some say brown. They call us monkeys, Some still slaves. They call us stupid and uneducated, But really there is some irony in that.
Lost soul Lost faces One Color Lost Races Here but not in existence, just traces Draws warnings on these spaces Knows but doesn't feel Wounded but never healed Eyes open or close they see
The ride to freedom was long Time would never heal The wounds and the cries From men and children alike Full of tears, pain, shame
first foot, second foot march. here and there everywhere just march. to get where we half way are today they had to march. to get where we want to be tomorrow and never be sorrow we have to march.
A century before, Not quite a distant enough memory brother fought brother on an all too familiar soil.
Fight, they said. Puncture the minds of those who choose not to listen. Free your voice. Let yourself be known. Fight, they said. Persist upon your rights to be. Unbound, unarmed. Fight.
Black and white White and black Ying and yang Colors that make this world bright Why should color of skin matter When trying to achieve rights?
Every minute of my fifteen years on earth has been spent examining the various colors around me The chestnut trees that stretch their tired branches shed a great deal of vibrant green offspring
These streets remind me of quicksand When your on it you'll keep goin down
These streets remind me of quicksand When your on it you'll keep goin down
My life is in pictures color and black and white. I hear the ocean roar and see my family's fight. Struggle to third floor just another day. Mother worn weak and ragged like the scarecrow hanging by a few pieces of straw.
One mind, Same heart, Why are we blind to see that, But yet quick to see color, Black, White, Orange, Green, Red, We all bleed red. Pain experienced, Violence involved, Tragic heartbreak.
"After working all day.." Tired, i bet, All day had she worked, worked up a darn good sweat, Oh Lord, this woman said no.
Imagine this life Divided by segregation No equality No independance A life not worth living in Ruled by skin color
E - Everyone is loved in God's eyes. Q - Quietness about this issue is not needed. U - Understand how important it is to stand up. A - Anticipation for a better future. L - Let people know what you stand for.
Cradled by life, mind so naive Fierce within, yet shackled by body. A voice so strong, a will so powerful, Humanity's gift so humble yet so. Very striking. Ghouls gaze upon onyx skin and fall behind deviled eyes.
You look inside the bus You find a sea of people Much like an ocean Both filled with life Colors are scattered about As people move around Much like a rainbow Both vibrant and beautiful
Little do we know, A Civil Rights Movement Is happening right now. During these times, Protestors remain silent, Hiding in shadows. Paralyzed by fear Of being snatched Away from family.
Fear Filled within their hearts Individuality, discouraged by the Xeroxes Adversity, scorned Change, frightening The Unique With an appetite For speech For Identity For Recognition
The smoke burns My throat is sore Daddy says run But they’re doing more. I never knew How bad it was How much hurt Came from us. ‘Cause Daddy says This is okay. And any lies
I'm going to take you back in history and I don't just mean yesterday's history. I'm talking about to the history of our ancestors To the History of slavery where the color of our skin made my ancestors slaves.
They were treated different, Because they looked different. They were a different race They were made no space To live together in their world They weren't equal enough, and were hurled
You try to tell me, that we are not one You try to tell him that he is not like me You want to separate us But what you don’t see is that we are truly together You are me, I am you, you are him and her!
A few weeks ago I was reading a book on theater And someone saw me reading and told me, "Black people don't read". That made me sad. Then the quote started to sink into my thoughts and it started to make me mad.
Living in the Shadows, the man of color Looks for work, only to be turned down. Another day for food stamps and support from his wife Living in the Shadows, the man of color
They tied him down with the same thick threads and chains that he busted out of a few scores ago Unknown white men in white capes with white tips strung him up upon a thick black stump
You stand with Me. Hands connected. contrasting skin. Warm from the fight that flows through our veins Damp from the tears of our palms. Against Oppression neither of us can take. You stand with Me.
I remember you sitting next to me learning about our history, about the protest that our ancestors took part in. For you and I to live free, with equal rights as whites. Belittlement, beatings and such things as slavery.
Black and white are as opposite as the sun and the moon. People can be so thick skulked, like stuck in a cocoon. Even if the colors are on the opposite sides of the color wheel. But judgment is what all people can feel.
You took charge. You had power with your words. You are a hero in so many eyes. Your spirit will never die. You are the only reason I'm here. You made it possible for me to be here.
Together we soar, Together we strive, Together we are great, Together we are alive; But not today, no, We have lost all equality, Judgments and discrimination, Create a growing fatality;
I've overcome… From the whips and chains.. I've overcome… From the bitter taste and sinking pains.. I've overcome… From the shackles and wounds that burn all day.. I've overcome…
We were making history. One thought that kept us going as others viewed us with faces of disgust, for we knew that the same faces of disgust would be present upon the people reading about us.
I stare in front of me as I put one foot In front of the other I look down At my wrists And see them yoked to my brother’s And my sister’s I think about how proud my mother Would have been
It hurt, you know. The way you treated me. The way you made fun of me, the way you hurt me, the way you talked about me like I wasn't there. It was like I wasn't even human to you.
One day closer Each day To a time When this will be finished.
Falling. The fresh taste of blood salts my lips. Rage. How dare I dream about a future that may never come? For dreams bring the pain, despair of hope. Hope for the better. Anything better.
Racism is something that one can't speak on unless they experienced themselves Looking to be treated equally like everyone else is simply like a toddler reaching for a 6 foot shelf
Passing by their faces show, The ignorance hidden deep below. I read their faces like a book, Absorbing every dirty look. Fear and guilt consume their eyes, Unconcealed through pretty lies.
Though some see no light, On they must fight. Though they faintly hear the ring, The freedom bells bring. Man, woman, and child, Their ideas seem wild. Their lives not in vain,
I strive to take a breath as my lungs fill with the heavy smoke The fire burns so hot sweat begins to trickle off my arms The burns sting and the heat dries out my eyes.
The power of the right, Was not acknowledged by the Might. They fought and fought, Yet they were left distraught. No one’s pointing a finger, But did you do more than linger?
The world was so cruel All the blacks were treated like fools They were enslaved by whites They had no civil rights But now look where they are They have made it so far They fought for civil rights
(poems go here) Shut Out by Injustice The only way I will ever feel in this empty world of hatred is belittled. The whiplash created from the names being thrown out left to right.
"All of you boys best move right now!" yelled the officer. I did not move, for I was unafraid. Dr. King said we must not move, so I do not move. "If ya'll don't want to listen, I'll get the hose"
Law Righteousness They are not the same One Yet two To the naked eye The other is blind They can come From two different minds And never intertwine For some reason
The night was thick like a nightmare, The shadows lurked with fear, The gentle wind felt cold on our dark skin, Our hearts raced like a caged bird’s wings.
A protector from discrimination You come for my salvation In your eyes there is no difference of color No shame in sexual orientation No barriers for speech, No integrity that is beat down
Met a man on the street today, black shoes, black glasses, black skin Talked a while about this age we're living in Told me his story, how he'd nearly made history Until he realized the strings were pulled by white hands
When dreams long since are spent and broken- when a weary people can no longer wait- they will rise up, rise from raisins and sores and rotten meat, and they will speak.
Minorities, Women, LGBT, Why is it that no one sees, The world is not just white men, That conquered land across the sea, And called it home?
(A colored skin individual with dreams and aspiration in their eyes Faced with the choices of the now and the then Reminded of the options and choices they never had No opportunity to frolic among the most educated
In the beginning, there was darkness. There was no room for sense, No room for differences. But one day, a light suddenly appeared. There was laughter and tears, Celebration and mourning,
Mi abuelita is ripping apart carnitas with her fingertips Through my squinty eyes I am sifting through the lavish, glamorous sky I want to speak Spanish to her but I always forget
To resist an opportunity in the midst of our days by the sunlight catching the inner core, it holds weakens the penetration of the mind, the many splitting of the selves, the gold no one can take
I was once a strong weak thing. I often looked in the mirror And asked who the girl staring back at me was. Was she strong, brave, and steadfast? Or was she weak, scared, and indecisive? For there were two girls
To all my sistas and brothers with dyed afros multicolor braids septum piercings: this one’s for you. shuffling through old Aaliyah jams with anthems of white teenage surburban angst
All the world is a stage and I am a one-man comedy act. “Be funny!” the people shout. “Dance for us! Tell us some jokes!” “We like you,” they smile and say, “You make us laugh. Do it again.”
I am an American For my blood helped build this country It was this blood that grew crops and weaved the clothes on the moon's back The moon would be nothing without the sun to graze it's face