There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
Floating in a sea of disbelief Itching for relief Stripped of every belief I once held dear Bereaved of my self Shucking the sleeve of my former reality
By Atomic Historian12 months ago in Poets
i hated pink. it carried this culture's baggage of femininity: soft, weak, frail. a "girly" color indicating frivolity and unseriousness.
By kp12 months ago in Poets
takes what won't be given powered by my grandiose generousity i heard cold feet are contagious finding capsules of time in the trinkets we misplaced
By ⸘jason alan‽12 months ago in Poets
The Dryer Dream I saw that sign and burst out laughing thinking of myself spinning for glory. Ten minutes inside a warm metal cave
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 12 months ago in Poets
What Would You Do For Love? I’d hold your name in quiet hands, letting its glow spill into me. I’d walk the nights you couldn’t face,
They kept telling me "God is love," But then did the fucking opposite. Spend so much time praising God above, That you forget the people who exist.
By CT Idlehouse12 months ago in Poets
Nobody uses me anymore. She lets arak pool beneath her tongue. I wish I had a dick. For her candid thoughts she dressed in & of lace.
By Sean Balogh12 months ago in Poets
My inbox has a small, dim country called Drafts— unmailed letters, half-born thoughts, whole lives I almost chose and didn’t.
By Milan Milic12 months ago in Poets
The Last Candle The candle dripped its final flame, Shadows swallowed the room in silence, I touched the wick and felt The cold kiss of everything gone.
So, you must be wondering how I got here. It's a funny story really! It began with the promise of kitty snacks, so long as I could answer questions well -
By Amanda Starks12 months ago in Poets
Waking up in a lot of pain Body carrying yesterday's stress Playing back everything in my head Because I am not a professional worker
By L.I.E12 months ago in Poets
I built a fire escape for my thoughts on the back of my mind like a wall, iron-rung ladder of midnight doubts where the loudest worries crawl.
