social commentary
There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
Blessed Are the Makers
Blessed are the makers Especially those that shakedown the takers In a world full of fakers They are the ones that capture the vaper
Atomic HistorianPublished about 4 hours ago in PoetsIf They Could Speak
If animals speak, Would everyone's troubles grow small? Or would we spiral, Into a forbidden chaos? ----- ------- -----
J. K. AndersonPublished about 9 hours ago in Poetswhr r th vwls
whr r th vwls dstryd n cnflct frgt th nrm frg th stndrd dcphr th cd whts th gl qstn vrythng ths s nt drll ths s th rvltn
Paul StewartPublished about 15 hours ago in PoetsLet's Talk
Let’s talk of truths, let’s talk of lies, of language models and AIs, of fame and flame, of doom and gloom, of cherry trees that are in bloom,
Vadim KaganPublished about 16 hours ago in PoetsHope Not
I do not tend to hope for much of anything even if I may mention it once in a while. For me, it is a figure of speech or of writing, like OMG, and Zeus willing.
Patrick M. OhanaPublished about 17 hours ago in PoetsThe unkind atrocity of kindness
The unkind atrocity of kindness On nights that are filled with darkness and despair, Where the blanket bites under the coldness of the swaying air.
Hridya SharmaPublished about 23 hours ago in PoetsI Found My Lost Love
In the depths of darkness, a light did shine, Lost love, a treasure once thought mine. Through storms of sorrow, my heart did roam
Poetry
I have no desire to break down But now I have no interest in joining. I want to change myself now But I don't know why I don't like to change. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Someone cries like this.
I used to cry as a child so to handle mother's lap and father's shoulder But father also often says you are a boy, friend No one cries like this.
The Irish
Is your suffering worth any more? Do you tie threads of gold, To your heartache? Should I pay for the right, To hear your woe,
Conor MatthewsPublished a day ago in PoetsEmpty Souls
Empty souls Trying to fill the hole The void All to avoid the reality There is no amount of alcohol, drugs, or roids to make the pain go away
Atomic HistorianPublished a day ago in PoetsMerdeka
Independence of Malaysia He will be kind All three stood together The day of breathing is the thirty-first day.
Ahamed ThousifPublished a day ago in Poets