social commentary
There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
Letter to My Coworkers
My skin is not a joke. My black identity is not a punchline. The rage I swallow down is not a commodity that you can sacrifice in the name of "humor"; unfunny words that come down as laughable for their lack of empathy and compassion. Yes, you are snow white but you are not the victim in the story of European colonialism. People like me have been the ones to bite into the poisoned apple and lose the very thing you want to pry from historically weakened hands. Culture.
Senso SensoPublished 7 years ago in PoetsMy Children
My children won't grow up like I grew up. As a parent, as a mom I have to understand it. When it comes to the Basic life. Our children don't have the same setup
Lovely LatifaPublished 7 years ago in PoetsThrough the Windshield
Through the windshield Darkness. Panic Through the windshield Alone. Despair Where did I go? Tornados and Tears I have lost Hope.
Jennifer JeanPublished 7 years ago in PoetsNot Who We Are
Some creatures Come into this world prepared They are ready to survive Instinctively knowing what to do They handle life
F.D. BrakePublished 7 years ago in PoetsWhen I Knew Before...
When I knew before ... The beautiful wide expanse of colorful flower ... In it many overgrown thorns, caterpillars are late to become butterflies,
Do You See Us?
On the mall We are dressed darkly You think that we should be brooding Focused on death But we are laughing Do you think it may be at you?
Marc SylvirPublished 7 years ago in PoetsYoung Boy Crossing
I wasn't the first and doubtfully the last But one of a few To see you before you passed Small, jointed arm Raised to the right
Ben AttwoodPublished 7 years ago in PoetsLiving Dead
A gentle sweet kiss from my white knight, one last kiss before our good bye. Soon I will be gone a life I have lived wrong, Oh I can already hear the angel's sweet songs.
Malena LopezPublished 7 years ago in PoetsRooted
Like the sturdiest of trees my culture stands. Roots thicker than a southern twang and it runs back to the mother land. See my DNA carries the strength of those queens before me.
Sydney robinsonPublished 7 years ago in PoetsEmpty
Empty. Vessel of self. Too busy filling everyone's tea cup You let your well run dry. Linked up in the seams Of anxiety and withered dreams
Sydney robinsonPublished 7 years ago in PoetsTruth Can Hurt
You don't like the truth? That I know about you too? I speak it, You just don't want to hear it. Sorry, did my back hurt your knife, when you stabbed me just right?
Crystal KorpanPublished 7 years ago in PoetsBeautiful Chaos
In a world full of daisies, she was a wildflower A warrior, who’s voice could not be silenced With a storm in her eyes, her strength could move mountains
Nicole (Nikki) M.Published 7 years ago in Poets