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Literature Text
I want to live past the age of 29
Yet it might be excepted that I'll die.
Along with my friends in this war
With our fellow antifa in our core.
I didn't worry till I got called a faggot
I didn't worry till I was almost treated like a maggot.
So as my loved ones as well
In this world we call a cold hard shell.
See it to believe it
It will give your brain a big hit.
Comatose overdose, big smile wide
Capitalism in age will give you fake pride.
Yet it might be excepted that I'll die.
Along with my friends in this war
With our fellow antifa in our core.
I didn't worry till I got called a faggot
I didn't worry till I was almost treated like a maggot.
So as my loved ones as well
In this world we call a cold hard shell.
See it to believe it
It will give your brain a big hit.
Comatose overdose, big smile wide
Capitalism in age will give you fake pride.
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Literature
Understanding
I always said
that you had to show-
not tell me.
Because sometimes,
I don't understand.
Like when you met her,
You told me you fell in love.
I had to ask why
because sometimes
I don't understand.
But then you showed me:
i. How her smile makes knees tremble
ii. How her humour makes you laugh
iii. How her eyes pull you in
Then, I understood.
Now I'm one step closer
to being able to write
about somebody you love
with justice.
Making the words into a being.
Rather than a snippet of a Sunday morning
drabbling with no purpose, story or life
other than being something
which you sell on to make
money before the ink is even
dry.
Literature
Paranoia
Yesterday I accidently broke my neighbor's car window.
My neighbor is huge and strong, I had to do something.
So I tried to tell him that I was sorry, but he did not listen.
I am so worried of what he is going to do. Is he going to call the police, my parents, or even the school? Or will he just go after me directly?
Maybe I should just tell my parents what happened and then they can take care of it.
No, they could not help me, they would hand me right to him.
I have to look over my shoulder to make sure he is not following, but somehow I know he is, waiting for the opportunity to make me pay.
He would try and catch me, maybe I shoul
Literature
Untitled
The midnight falls upon
The city, like a blanket
Of black & blue.
And to lift this strangeness
And coldness, I think quietly
Of you.
The warmer days of your smile,
The breath's ocean currents,
The kisses that came as
Fires, so lovely and strange
& sudden!
The nights of the stormy
Planets, when the atmosphere
Felt dense as an oven's,
Because we were together,
Flaming, foolishly loving!
And now we're physically
Separated, and maybe it is right,
But I still think of you
When the blanket, falls
In the form of the midnight.
(4/04/2015).
Y. Syskov.
It discusses the insight of privilege, capitalism, and the ongoing struggles America is going through right now.
Warning: Homophobic slur is mentioned in the middle of the poem.
Warning: Homophobic slur is mentioned in the middle of the poem.
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