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Literature Text
I'm six-
scatter-brainily
sketching
a stick figure
of myself,
I seek the
"skin colored" pencil,
to shade in my
peach flesh
I'm thirteen-
Ditzily
doodling
a classmates
silhouette,
an epiphany,
a realization:
racism is
not dead.
scatter-brainily
sketching
a stick figure
of myself,
I seek the
"skin colored" pencil,
to shade in my
peach flesh
I'm thirteen-
Ditzily
doodling
a classmates
silhouette,
an epiphany,
a realization:
racism is
not dead.
Literature
For My People
As far as I can recall:
I did not ask to be birthed
Into a cycle of stagnation.
I did not ask to be told,
That my dreams are achievable;
Only to see them limited by the scope of reality.
I did not ask for a failing system,
Passed unto me by half-dead corpses wearing suits.
Nodding eagerly at one another,
As they wait for an inevitable death.
This I did not ask for,
And I am certain that most of you did not either.
But it is for that reason,
And for that reason alone, I say:
That it is up to us,
We siblings bound by the chains of our forefathers,
To create a system that is better,
Than the bitter shackles of the past.
Justice is what I lo
Literature
Out of Time
Can you feel it, I wonder?
The sand that slowly slips away.
The inexorable march of time,
Ticking away at you,
Piece by piece.
You crumble.
Regret, anguish; there is no joy in what comes.
All you have left are 'what if' memories,
Eating away at you, like maggots on the skin.
So deep was the pain inside of you,
So bitter the desire for change;
You even came crawling back to me,
Begging for another chance.
I wonder,
Shall I give it to you?
Literature
Where's The Art, Deviantart?
There are many forms of art,
But because of Deviantart,
It's all falling apart.
Because now the site,
Is for all drawers alike,
As they always get promoted,
While the other's are left behind.
But why is it right,
To ignore the rest,
Like Writers,
Photographers,
And even comic book Illustrators?
You raise the money,
For the core members,
Without even questioning,
Or giving us warnings.
And contests,
Are nothing more but for advertisement,
For a movie or game,
Because it makes money.
So before I end this poem,
I really need to know.
Will you accept our art,
Deviantart?
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EXPLANATION: I was thinking the other day how I would always call the peach colored pencil "skin colored." It got me wondering, is this a (very distant) form of racism? Even if it really is not, it just solidified the idea that racism is not dead in general, even if this case is only one of childhood innocence. It also got me wondering how exposed we are to people other than our own race/culture/etc. at a young age. Is this one of the roots of racism today? Some of the questions this poem is proposing is: are these somewhat racist thoughts engrained at a young age by accident, or lack of exposure to groups unlike our own? Or is this just a case of childhood innocence that will always exist?
Or maybe all in all: Should we be exposing our future generations to more cultures at a young age, in order to create a better understanding of what it means to be human, regardless of issues such as skin tone.
Stay rad!
Feedback and discussion appreciated!
Let's get connected:
Instagram- instagram.com/brittanyatk/
Tumblr- boomingdreams.tumblr.com/
Or maybe all in all: Should we be exposing our future generations to more cultures at a young age, in order to create a better understanding of what it means to be human, regardless of issues such as skin tone.
Stay rad!
Feedback and discussion appreciated!
Let's get connected:
Instagram- instagram.com/brittanyatk/
Tumblr- boomingdreams.tumblr.com/
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Comments95
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you probably know now but racism is a primal urge.