social commentary
There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
- Content Warning
a breaker of deals
we're not in kentucky anymore, and i went there as far as it would always take me back to his bed yet again. misstepping the what's and when's - like it makes a difference in a he said/he said it again. just a battle of will's and won't's. just like i imagined them. like a gentrified chicken chain on every corner. because the easiest way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but it's not the only one. i hope you came ready to get messy. finger-lickin gentrified chicken chain, close enough to the real thing, because what even is real in this world? does it have to be a thing? a breaker of deals? wheeling here and there, just to settle down together, forever? over a great big bucket of gentrified chicken chain. we are a family because the box says so. still all in this together? where is north going? is this where we turn different directions? is it too soon to say i told you so? didn't i tell you that you would break my heart some day? i didn't know how or when, but i knew you would and then you did. and i never ate at gentrified chicken chain again.
⸘jason alan‽Published 12 days ago in Poets - Content Warning
Helen Keller
in honor of 'Repeat Day', June 3, here's to the miracle worker, Anne Sullivan, in so many ways in the common world, there is not room to be normal. in a place where nobody is special, everyone wants to be extraordinary. where everyone hates the everyman strives to be. everyman strives to be. every man strives to be. but nobody is listening now. can't hear thunder in an echo. punishment from the pedestal on the hill. i am high and they are mighty, legendary. but i am legend. and everyman knows that every man shits and every man dies, but legends never bite the dust. they are made of ghosts, mass graves of the everyman all around me, everyman living dead inside, buried before their time. doing what Helen Keller would be if she was alive today.
⸘jason alan‽Published 12 days ago in Poets My Thesaurus Made Me A Dinosaur!?
Note: I know that this is late for the dinosaur challenge, but I had the book staring at me under the dust and in the quietest place on my desk. I think that this makes its own sense...
Kendall DefoePublished 12 days ago in Poets- Content Warning
i'm looking for
something that means something something that makes sense something that isn't this something that is made of dreams, maybe
⸘jason alan‽Published 12 days ago in Poets - Content Warning
the wise owl and the clever wolf
from up high the wise owl lurks, observing the forest at night. he sees subtle movements, and in the dark remains hidden.
⸘jason alan‽Published 12 days ago in Poets Echoes of Antiquity: A Symphony of Forgotten Times
In the vast expanse of bygone days, Where shadows linger and whispers play, The sounds of old begin to rise, A symphony beneath the skies.
Samson E. GiftedPublished 12 days ago in PoetsRob Burrow
I came in from the warmth of the garden And the TV news was on; And you were gone. I cried. I don't know you at all. But I know who you are and who you will continue to be.
Rachel DeemingPublished 13 days ago in Poets“War on Hamas”
- a war on Hamas? children are not terrorists hospitals are gone - Been very frustrated with the coverage of the situation in Gaza by several American news outlets, especially during these past few months.
angela hepworthPublished 13 days ago in PoetsRevolutionary Tale
Freedoms are not free in this day and age, Trekking through the chains, Of another ghostly discharge, We have failed to follow through with before,
Tambourine ManPublished 13 days ago in PoetsYou Are Not Your Mistakes
gazing in to the(o)eyes(o) of the watcher the sands of time for the reflection(noitcelfni) the(pain)blood in my(drain)veins, the stains of my names
Paul StewartPublished 13 days ago in PoetsBlack Music Month 2024
Black Music 2024. Black folk have come to bring plenty more. Enough to make the rest of the world say give me more. Black Music 2024. Welcome back for another June. The melanated children are bringing another tune.
Joe PattersonPublished 13 days ago in PoetsMy Golden Rule
If we haven’t met and I’m unsure what’s true I’ll do what my parents have taught me to do Before all the rumors start skewing my view
Earl W. PearlPublished 14 days ago in Poets