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Ron Sparks Dec 2017
The Penguins are playing tonight
I have a belly full of high-quality
whiskey,
a fine cigar between my fingers,
and a pleasant buzz dulling my
constant anxiety.
The announcers play-by-play,
constant and frantic,
blares through my 70-inch television
adding artificial drama, but I like it.
I'm surrounded by my
precarious middle class wealth
while thousands of
slaves suffer and die in Lybia.
But I’m drunk, oblivious, and happy that
my team
just scored
Poetic T Oct 2017
Chain the hands though free,
       they are bonded to servitude.
Every night they get on a knee of
   compliance to serve the whispers
                      that are never heard.

And still they wait for an
                               answer
                          that had no caller....

I will never go on my knee
                                for a thought,
              I will never clasp my palms
in bracelets that are never worn
                              but weigh others down...
Fumbletongue Oct 2017
What's up with our government
telling us how time and money's spent.
I work longer than 9 to 5
just to try and stay alive
Slaving away with no perks
Killing myself with endless work
No funds for flash, no time to play.
Hittin' the bricks 12 hours a day.
It's hard not to feel this rage
with this out dated minimum wage.
How about you give a ****
How many need to throw a fit
Let's trade places for a bit
And you can take these ******' hits
1 trill spent on the war on drugs
Only to find you are the thugs.

To the top once percent
Laughing at our torment
You misrepresent, you reinvent
It's a break of trust
with fraudulent intent
could be more
cder Oct 2017
what was it like?  
Being ripped away from    
the only place you ever knew,  
the place you grew up in, what you called home.  
In a ship cramped between foreign people.  
Bones,  both yours and theirs, protruding,  
digging into your sides.  
Did this scare you?

How did it feel?  
Your neck, ankles, wrists chained.  
Your body binded to others  
who suffered the same fear of this unkown.
Frozen, immobile, confined to this state,
Uncertainty lacing the air
Your lungs filling with dread  
How did you breathe?  

what was it like?
arriving somehwere new,
completely different and obscure  
where you would be stripped of being yourself  
where your name and beliefs would not matter  
where you were judged by appearance  
and your abilities.
Did you know this?  

How did it feel?
Doing what they wanted  
Having no control of your life  
Being defenceless to them using you  
Them placing their hands where they should not be  
Sold as if you were an object  
Treated like animals  
Did that break you?  

What was it like?  
When they took them away  
without even a second glance.
as if they werent your most prized possession.  
as if your blood did not run through their veins  
When he said the boy was not his  
and refused to raise him  
Did that hurt you?  

How did it feel  
To be considered a slave?
Mark Lecuona Oct 2017
I am a myth and a sinner
And I am dead
I wrote the words some preach
But I forgot to include everyone
You never met me and can only imagine
How is it that I was so wise and so cruel
It took two hundred years
And widows and slaves
And burning crosses
And bridge marches
Did it finally make shame my neighbor
And blood on a cross their only savior

I am a ghost and a prophet
And I am dead
I wrote the words some hate
But I did not mean it that way
I never met you and yet I guide you
To the place where a man lives in squalor
Is it his or another man's faults
Is his welfare your profit
Is his grieving your happiness
Is his sadness your blessing
Did it make indifference my neighbor
And an empty tomb their only savior
a citadel
has lever
and set
them free
from *******
but by
the fountain
that breed
the spirit
she hoist
her backpack
in ramparts
and later
he fore
that garrison
under siege
from tyranny
As "she" the  union of federation
Aditya Roy Sep 2017
I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm
No more
She’s my loving me indeed
But she won’t hand me a part of the deed
She told me this in the stable
In the morn’ at four

I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm
No more
I was serving dinner on the table
As she suddenly took my blackened arm
In servility I took her lustful kiss
And as expected she sent me away to the stable

I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm
No more
She’s treating me like fertilizer
Only I’m not white
And out of her food I don’t get a bite
Out of her blood I don’t get a right

I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm
No more
I gonna **** her
I don’t want live to die no more
I want to escape
From tilling her land
And her life shall
Go to Lucifer
To save me command
I’ll accept my title
As landowner
But I’ll still be a farmer
I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm
No more
'Cause she's a *****
And I won't ever use my charm
Because I'm a slave not a love fool
Your construct is enslaving us
we beg and beg for more
trading life and family time
for that bi-weekly score

they will feed you to make you sick
then patch you still unwhole
all the while demanding payment
a form of death control

we borrow what does not exist
from whom we've never seen
try to fill that empty hollow
with California dreams

behind this clever tragedy
wearing the glaring grins
are statues cold, fashioned in gold
of little empty men
Spike Harper Aug 2017
It isn't a game.
But one can definitely lose.
There are no competitors.
Yet self comparisons fog hind sight.
Leading to more dreary backroads that the world forgot about.
It was fun for a little while.
Telling yourself that you threw away the world and not vise versa.
Was truly the greatest lie.
One that grew into actual belief for a time.
But found that the greatest hell.
Is watching your paradise burn.
Bound only by disbelief.
Dumbfounded.
It's a shame that when you lose everything.
Somehow your mind is the only thing that stays intact.    
As if those aspects were programmed into humans in preparation for it..
And happiness got the short end of the stick.
Then to further rub dirt into the wound we create hope.
By means of pursuit.
Shakespeare knew the questions.
And left it up to everyone else to answer.
Only as generations pass.
We couldnt be further from any resemblance of an answer.
Let alone know the question has already been proposed.
Writers play with this notion and yield no two pairs alike.
Lifes most important knowledge sadly can only come from experiencing it.
But with the world in such a desensitized state.
The fear of stagnation is becoming the only real possibility.
Preposterous?
No
Predetermined the moment we chose to let others choose for us.
There is no freedom.
Only sacrifice.
Right.
Forgive my semi rant. A lot is going on in and out of my head.
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