Hate. Poems - Poems about Hate.

Oh, since that day, I’ve been done with your games, I’ve been done with your games, so tired, left me in pain, and in courtrooms insane, took half of my gains, you liar, Now you just want to come back, think it’ll all be a snap, life’s just a lark, you were playing the part, but woman I see through the trap. I’m...

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I tried God, I f***ing tried. To be liked. To be easy. To be the kind of girl they don’t talk about once she leaves the room. Smiled soft, spoke sweet, let the sharp edges hide beneath skin. Held their secrets. Held my breath. Held it together when they left. They called me fake for being kind. Called me a b*** for standing still. Said I was cold — because I didn’t beg. And...

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( L A. Times - A cogent and accurate commentary by Member - johntomas ) You recycle a common but baseless accusation that NPR and PBS have become “left-leaning,” when in reality, what’s often labeled as “bias” is simply truthful reporting on deeply troubling actions -- including Donald Trump’s sustained attacks on...

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Last tear ?? In pain I write While hope slip out my hand God one word one breath you could have land Silence darkness candle out flames cold You choose Who new it would be you The one I trust to see me through But I guess it's true You gave up on me, did You? Why I'm I asking when I know You power...

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When beauty’s gone bye bye and slack flesh becks Jowls, crow’s feet, graveled voice and turkey necks Too old to be a narcissist what’s left is a pacifist *Tender genteel haters do not make...

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So far, they go - A distant throw - Down simple snow - Forgotten. And yet, a maid - Through crime, parade - And riches swayed - Ill-gotten. The weak confide - Then run to hide - To turn the tide - Now rotten. A dream, they’ll fade - The cuts, been made - No chance, persuade - Stained cotton. ...

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I hate the way you looked into my eyes. I hate the way you rubbed my feet when we made love. I hate how you smelled. I hate that you were married. I hate that you have children. I hate that you held me in your arms like i was the only woman in the...

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They told me I was pretty for a black girl But if that is the case You want me to interpret that as being special That out of every black girl Im the exception To your pre conceived perception To how you view a black woman The only way to take it Is as an insult Black women are beautiful But your attitude isn't And when...

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We do things we love Do things we hate -- One, for affection: and the other, for fiend necessity, like~ executions and wars… Maybe better, not to confound the two – maybe better, more and less we do?!...

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Judy woke up pregnant just as her one-night stand was leaving into oblivion. What was new Hell introduced him, hell could have him back She remembered another man A man of the cloth What were the words he always spoke The dead are amongst us The living below They sent him abroad when they found out Faith and sex They just didn’t go together Not...

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He doesn't cry in public- he's learned to bleed where no one looks. Where bathroom tiles keep secrets and mirrors lie just enough to keep him standing. he skips lunch again. just not hungry, he says but the hunger is real- not for food for someone to notice. for silence. his sleeves stay long, even in summer. skin whispering stories that no one ever asks to hear. because boys? boys don't break boys don't...

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I saw a butterfly in the sky from a memory a tear came to my eye through transcendence it had arrived it wasn’t in any way contrived our oneness with loved ones passed will always last the truth is no longer masked we are one the die is cast life is good when understood through the Light nothing can hide from it...

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Value people when they have life Strangely, people understand lately Everything is loud and clear, yet blinds Still, people find it challenging, but why? honestly Wait, let’s unpack the fact. Dead people do not speak Neither response is to pick a fight They are calm and quiet Due to which they candlelight Celebrate the opponent's flight Words flow with compassion disguised The love poured out...

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I'm tired. Mostly of people being ugly to each other. I'm tired. Of being disappointed with society. I'm tired. Of individuals with no integrity. I'm tired. Of greed and corruption. I'm tired. Mostly of being tired....

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They took him— not for war, not for crime, but for curiosity. A boy from Congo, where rivers hum with memory, and the trees know your name. Ota Benga— smile full of sun, soul full of sky— was stolen, placed in a cage beside an ape while the world laughed. And they called it science. They called it education. But it was cruelty— plain and piercing. He was not a beast. He was a...

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