Reality is lost and I fear…
That someday…somewhere so near…
I will fall amongst the people so dear…
I fear…that I’ll just be another one…
Another one lost…
I wonder what the cost of my life is
not to get too political…
But I want to know what the cost of my life is
Is it money…is it land
I do not own any of them…I’m just a simple man
I remember…When I ran across your land…
I remember when I kissed my grandmother’s hands…
But you ripped my away from her…From my home
you ripped my away from my heart…you ripped me away from my soul
I feel helpless…I feel low…
It’s hard to play along when I know…I have no role
I have become a slave.
After all the love I gave.
When I look at my country…people I want to save
When I look around me…people I need to change
It seems like a hard thing to do…
when the range of people is way bigger than you
Freedom…oh how much I’ve heard that word
Freedom…oh how this idea has become absurd
when God gave us life…
He warned us only he can take our lives…
Oh Syria…my home
Oh Syria…my all
Oh Syria…what did they hurt you for?
Oh Syria…I’m here…I won’t let them hurt you anymore…
I am Proud to be your son…
Copyright © Zeki Madjid
This expanse of land has seen things.
Things all of us can only see in dreams.
It's seen war, it's gotten it's fair share of scars.
Bombs bursting, bullets throwing sand into the air like it's a volleyball tournament.
The sand running red with blood silently mocking our arteries.
This magnificent stretch of land has seen heroes' tears fall; dropping to their knees while sadness envelopes their fallen brothers but also looking up to their beloved whilst carrying a ring in their hand.
It's seen bright days, the sun glimmering over wet sand, footprints of past loves being washed away as the sun smacks the horizon.
This expanse of land...has seen things we can only imagine.
Copyright © Tyler Kisner
Changes in 3/4 time.
Can't split a dime.
But you can sure waltz out the door.
Sound of your combat boots on the floor.
I hear the door slam
flies be damned
he's off to Memphis
head long down a pipe line
cutting cards and turning life loose
train stations and bus stations
take you north
to the Big Muddy
A catfish dream
and Mud Island
I'll stay home with my disease
Watch it all on TV
till he shows up at my door
bigger than life
but I got a gun
and I shoot him down
now I got my red beans cookin'
Yeah I got my red beans cookin'
Copyright © Stephen Kilmer
Sheltered from the pain outside
The walls that hold us in
A pane of glass as a reminder
Of our very sins
Children crying in the streets
Waste washed away by rain
The homeless folk we never greet
Lying in silent pain
Land that's scarred by roads we've tarred
Ugly electric pylons
Steaming vents misting up
The door steps that we cry on
Starvation, violence, emotional abuse
Love for money with no excuse
Scraping skies with devilish horns
The ozone layer that we've torn
But far into the distance
The birds chirp in the trees
Beauty flows right down the river
For free, for no fee
Copyright © Jamie Spence
The paddock’s filled with bulls
All waiting there to die
They don’t have too much future
For the farmer, he’s the guy
Who has the power of life, and death
He decides what lives and dies
As he fattens each beast carefully
That’s where his money lies.
I see these creatures roaming round
And it makes me feel quite sad
To know that for my appetite
These beasts be treated bad
The taste of steak is mighty good
But what a price we pay
I eat my share of it, that’s true
Perhaps I’ll stop one day!
One paddock filled with bulls
It opens my eyes wide
To realize these wondrous beasts
Throughout the years have died
So I might feast with bulging belly
It really is not fair
Living on this little farm
It fills my heart with care.
Copyright © Peter Duggan
Such pain foretold.
Women of old,
As fears unfold.
Burning, cracking, the earth splits apart.
Warning, oh warning of my poor breaking heart.
Losing love as it fades into black,
Splitting the earth with fiery cracks.
The starless sky, filled with ash,
For magma bursts through a glowing red gash.
Such fear, unknown, what are you saying.
Please I need to know what the future doth hold, I’m begging, I’m praying.
Am I decaying?
No more, let me sleep.
Copyright © shawnee doling-tye
I was inspired by the girls, "my girls"...
Survivors of domestic violence
that live at the shelter where I volunteer and
have been blessed with the title of "House Mom".
Please put them all in your prayers. For their
privacy, I will refer to the girls as "They"...
They come to us, they're broken,
Their eyes are filled with tears
They've been told that they are "worthless",
For far too many years!
Their scars much deeper than just skin
they've been stripped of their pride,
they've been abused, they've been put down
They feel no hope inside.
They've fled the place that they called "home"
The place the abuse occurred,
the place where they were beaten down
A place they were not heard.
But now they've come to our front door
To seek a place to stay,
A place they can call home a while
a place to help find their way.
A way to new beginnings,
A way to peace of mind
a way to feel secure again
and leave all the bad behind.
We welcome them with open arms
we dry the tears that fall
we tell them just how beautiful
they are to us all.
As time goes by, we watch them grow
we see them start to smile
we see that sparkle in their eyes
that hasn't been there for a while.
We see them making brand new friends
They've taken their lives back
they move forward with the confidence
that they no longer lack.
If they could see inside my heart
when we say our "good-byes",
I hope they know they're in my prayers
a tear falls from my eyes.
I pray they make good choices
to help them reach their goals
I pray that the Lord will guide and protect
all their precious souls.
So proud to see them making their way
as finally a chance to be free
I pray they take the tools they've learned
and make life the best it can be!!
Copyright © shelly hurst
The lust in his eyes
was no surprise
I was beautiful
I only wish
I wasn't his to hold
his lustful intentions
or better yet report him
only rape culture
ours not his
Copyright © Sarah Hall-Matson