There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
He wakes before the noise, the sky still thinking about morning. Steam curls from his cup, the first small promise of the day.
By MUHAMMAD SHAFIEabout a year ago in Poets
Behind the smile And beneath the skin * Lies the ever-looming fears We keep hidden deep within * Our hours drag on slowly
By Timothy A Rowlandabout a year ago in Poets
I used to think the breaking was the end, a quiet final act, curtains drawn, marble dust on the floor where I fell. But the wound glittered—
By Brie Boleynabout a year ago in Poets
Pressure cooker A ding of a bell as the steam rises Overcooked meet; sloppy Dropped to the floor Its sauce is salty Like it's scared
By Ruby Redabout a year ago in Poets
What is value What is worth Why do so many question their purpose on earth Be it a guide mentor or teacher some seek higher words that come from the preacher
By Gregory Andersonabout a year ago in Poets
I lost myself floundering in my struggles against the raging sea of ancestral evils washed over the world before I entered existence
By K.B. Silver about a year ago in Poets
Overwhelming dread a quivering line on the edge of my vision fine hairs moving at will vomitous tension burned out and rebuilt
The Night of Endless Sleep The bed is soft, the air is deep. The eyes heavy, the limbs grow weak. The dream begins, it spreads its wings.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
How do we get back on the right timeline? If I could I would get it tattooed like a fine line! At some point something happened to the matrix- take me back to 2019
By Susannah Peareth-Kinstonabout a year ago in Poets
Rigidity of 3D vs. Sovereignty of 5D In the 3D world, rigidity masquerades as truth. Conformity is rewarded. Control is mistaken for clarity.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
Prometheus’s fire is going out After thousands of years alight After thousands of years of bringing us wisdom It is finally giving up the fight
By Stephanie Hoogstadabout a year ago in Poets
Going Nowhere, Arriving Late I took the road. It bent away. It bent again. It lost its name. The hour was gone. The train had passed.
