Stanza 1
They say protect and serve like a promise carved
Flaw, but the streets has memories otherwise.
Stanza 2
I've watch protection skip neighborhoods
Like they were erased from the map,
Leaving mother's holding fear like breathe.
Stanza 3
Service shows up armed
Before it learns your name,
Turning questions into
Warnings.
Stanza 4
Safety becomes a privilege
Even when you do everything right,
Because suspicion wears a familiar face.
Stanza 5
Communities protection each other
With no badge and no sirens,
Just caution stitched from survival.
Stanza 6
So I ask again
With no bow in my voice,
Protection and serve who?
Our inheritance become stranger to us
The throne of our fathers birth the bastard king
Our palace rose against its people and its environs
Ripping us into pieces, breaking our flesh as the price to our right and inheritance
Grinning at our pain and discomfort, feasting on our flesh and blood in our land
The land that belongs to us.
The land will never forget the taste of our sweat and blood
The land will not recover from the taste of our heroes' flesh
Sons and daughters are trapped in the cage craving for bread and wine but our tears and blood become the price and the currency
It's not negotiable.
We were taunted
We were massacred
We were stabbed
We were oppressed
We were bullied and cheated
Now we're taunted
We're undefeatable, unstoppable, unbreakable in our land
Though our flesh is broken and our blood was shed but our bones and veins are risen to take possession of our archaic palace and our fathers' throne
The labour of our heroes' past has risen
It's the beginning of our journey.
The beginning is begun
We began with the journey.
We will never die again
I'm a poet don't you know it I'm little
Kristen following the cursed words of the other
Broken dreams follow me though it is so great
Wonder no more stay
The leaders of some countries
lie and deny the genocide
perpetrated by their military
despite the evidence being bona fide
yet those disliked
they don't even know
but want to annihilate
as a dangerous foe
unfortunately it shows
when he goes on the warpath
with ethnic cleansing
it's only the victims who take a bath
I held his hand, cold as ice
I held his gaze, fixed as ice
I held his heart, stiff as ice
I held his guts, pale as ice
I held his hair, thin as frost
I ripped it off
I held his hand
Inadequate;
The word resonates with sickening intensity
All through my life I've had to be my own advocate
I've battled for myself with staggering immensity
The clashing of swords, the beating of drums,
I fight for myself despite the outcomes
I'm withered and weary, battle-worn and aching
I throw down my arms, finally forsaking
But I get right back up despite my depression
I knock down my foes now in quick succession
The war rages on, heartbreakingly perpetual
How much can I bear? My defeat is eventual
One day, I will be knocked down,
And as I rest on the earth, on the cold bloodied ground,
I'll smile in my defeat,
Because now my demons have finally been beat.
I want to miss my kids
I want to see my hair no crumbs or cheese whiz
I want to enjoy healthy friendships
outings like camping and family things
me plus one for a change
I’m so tired of doing everything on my own
I’m always that single mom who’s alone
no partner, no man, just me,
Here I am
no other family, just a loner.
the judge me like a park perv with a *****
the way they look at me, like they pity me,
It was healthier than living with his violent mistakes
No sorry is good enough
When a man treats you worse than his stuff
Society sees a woman that can’t keep a man
They don’t see a woman strong enough to stand
Alone without allowing the disrespect to go on
Every carnival, every movie, every oil change, every bill I pay
Every flat tire every mile
every family photo a forced smile
the biggest lie ever sold
is too tell a woman she can have it all alone
she’s ripped apart shredded at each end
not knowing where she ends and the kids begin
night from day’
far from child's play
but something like a living nightmare
every lonely not long enough exhausted no rest day
The dogs are crying hard in their way
The morning turns to mourning
The hate may go up and down
But yet wont up to pick the call
Seeing your effort
To get back the oxytocin
What about me ?
Who’s never understood
Never get to know
Still they might think
Wht about the good things
Can i breathe carbon dioxide
And exhale oxygen forever ?
But still thankful
Didn’t hesitate to make me sit home
Get me all i want to make me stay there
Still greatful
Not everyone in this world
Get to be this lucky
I meant in terms of me
Their masquerade
By Dustin Branum
9/21/26
The things they say that is
They ain't
The things they say that was
They wasn't
The things they say is up
Is down
The things they say is right
Is wrong
The things they say was then
Is now
The things they say is now
Was then
The things they say we can't
We can
The things they say will end
Has just begun
Unified Call- We speak their names with
Reverence, and the ancestors rise in
The unseen to witness.
The world reads them before it knows them,
But the obscurity answers; their capital is
Older than any bias.
They learn caution too early, discretion too
Young, yet the unseen strolls with them in
Every stride.
Harm pursues them without petition
But protection gathers like a second horizon,
Shifting the air, not today, not this one.
Their names hold history, optimism, and the
Right to grow old, and the ancestors say each
Name is an ancestry of brilliance.
When the world looks away, injustice transforms
Into bold, but the shadows rise; we do not look
Away.
Truth returns to them like a safeguard,
Justice throbs even when unheard, and the
Unseen closes the circle:
Their lives mattered before the world began, and they matter now, fully incessantly.
TRAUMA IS A WRECKING BALL
Do not forgive them evermore,
they know just what they do.
Tis the aftermath of their wrath
of which they have no clue.
They take a piece of innocence,
a shovel and some lime,
bury it deep, beyond the reach,
fermenting in the mind.
Hidden trip wires everywhere,
covertly Intertwined.
Schrödinger's ticking time bomb,
the trauma left behind.
Do not flinch from experience,
beatings familiar ground.
A wrecking ball of insanity,
left crumbled on the ground.
Picking up the broken pieces,
holding them together.
Owning my ground in normal town
takes strength beyond all measure.
Potential is not a promise-
and that's all I've seen in you.
I've given every opportunity-
but you've never followed through.
(You once) treated me with kindness-
but I deserve much more.
I deserve a kind of love-
I've not experienced before.
See, I deserve consistency-
and I deserve the truth.
And I deserve my wishes-
(and all of) my dreams to come true.
I've come to learn from my mistakes-
that patience gets you nowhere.
Not when one's committed-
(to serve) themselves; although it's not fair.
(I) love you for many reasons-
and I'm not sure that will change.
But you've shown me by your choices-
you don't love me the same way.
Choices aren't mistakes-
see, they are conscious trains of thought.
You choose to make decisions-
that you know leave me distraught.
So, since you choose to hurt me-
instead of fixing what you've broken...
I choose to walk away-
my sense of worth has been awoken.
Transparency is like a graduated cylinder
that exposes its contents to view;
When the liquid of clarity shows no obscurity,
the measure marks of sincerity stay true.
Transparency is like a window
that lets the truth beyond the glass be clearly seen;
When the curtain dances across the pane,
it turns into doubt's hanging screen.
Transparency is like a flashlight
that unmasks what darkness tries to hide;
When the hand of power turns the switch off,
though the battery of bureaus stays charged, facts feel denied.
Transparency is like an official receipt
that documents a record for authentication;
When the culprit leaves no certificate of traceability,
no item, amount, or date will show the transaction.
Transparency is like an open book
whose text declares what all have rights to see;
When the crook closes the pages of public awareness,
it covers the volume of its dark secrecy.
The strongest rise with
Echoes behind them; no
Legend ever truly won alone.
Every victory carries
Fingerprints of those who
Refused to let them fall; no
Won alone.
When uncertainty tried to rewrite
Their name, someone
Whispered strength back into
Their bones; they never won
Alone.
Even giants leaned on quiet
Warriors, the ones who held
Them steady when storms won
Alone.
Greatness is a rapport, not a
Solo; every step forward was
Carried by hands that won
Alone.
Michaela speaks truth to legacy:
No hero, no survivor, no Legend
Even won Alone.
It was the cool of the night of January 15, 1966
This was the night that changed the trajectory of
a young nation Nigeria
While the 5 majors were striking, Brigadier Maimalari
was celebrating his marriage.
The majors struck terror into the jars
Who struck a tale of terror and of wages
It was the cool of the night
That Nigeria got its first blight
Ever since Nigeria has not been the same.
This is the 60th anniversary of the 1st military
Coup in Nigeria.
(Written on the 15th of January, 2026)
Abuse Categories
Definition | What is Abuse in Poetry?
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crime, exploitation, misdeed, injustice, wrongdoing, offense, misuse, misconduct, corruption, desecration, perversion, harm, violation, maltreatment, vilification, violate, mistreat, misuse, molest, beat up, victimize, defile, offend, revile, persecute, vilify, belittle, oppress, exploit,