Nov 20
poem 9 comments challenge: Wonder
H20.hollym's picture

Pink and Blue

I wonder why our boys are told
that they mustn't let their souls slip out,
they remain safe if it is hidden.
It would be an act of horror
if it were to roll down their cheek for all to see.

I wonder why our boys are told
that they should blaze blue or rage red,
as they throw, or catch, or tackle.
The words beautiful should not be uttered
about anything other than a female,
especially not yourself.

I wonder why our boys are told
that every situation must be grabbed by
their muscled arms alone,
and they must do whatever they need to do
to shove all of the pieces into place.

I wonder why our girls are told
that their bodies must flawlessly pink.
All imperfections in the stitching
are her fault and must be 
covered up otherwise she
is just an unwanted scrap of fabric.

I wonder why our girls are told
that their worth lies in their 
Oct 18
poem 4 comments challenge: Color
H20.hollym's picture

The Obliteration of Gray

Blurred lines,
the in-between.
All of us are familiar with
the gray zone.
I searched Google for specification,
for clarity on the unclear.
I received the following:
"An intermediate area between two opposing positions;
a situation, subject, etc.,
not clearly or easily defined,
or not covered by an existing category or set of rules."
-The Oxford Dictionary

So,
to answer your question,
if I could implode any color into nonexistence,
gray would be gone.
In an instant.
Because if gray flew off the face of the earth,
my constant deliberation,
pain and frustration,
would disappear with it.
I am constantly trying to shove
puzzle pieces of myself
into one labeled category or another,
but I never fit.

I know that this will remain the way
the tears will stream down my face
forever.
Wouldn't it just be easier
if everything were either
Oct 17

Vegas.

Editor's Note: This piece is featured on vtdigger.org. 

9:50 pm
a starlit city on the
dawn of october,
burned red with bar signs
and stop lights.

on this night in Sin City
steam rose from the
floor of the concrete jungle.
predators prowled, prey lurked.
metal vines swung from construction sites,
sun and moon peered between buildings to cast
light on the animals on the street.

the air was aromatic
and unapologetic.
in the wake of
darkness.
spilled beer, cigarette smoke,
and the stench of sweat wafted
from underneath
sewage grates and
into the noses of passers by,
residing in the back of their
sinuses.

fear was absent.
no one feasted their noses on
that metallic stink of blood.
to me it always smelled like cheap rings
Jun 09
Balkisa's picture

Wake Up America

Wake Up America

By: Balkisa Abdikadir, Hawa Adam, Lena Ginawi, and Kiran Waqar

Lena: September 11th, 2001
Wake up America, (gun) *pause* the enemy is here (angry and loud)
Hawa: The terrorist
Kiran: The Jihadists
Lena: Those A-rabs
Balkisa: The womanizers
Hawa: The monsters
Lena: Those Bin laden's
Kiran: The ones to watch out for
Lena: To surveil
Balkisa: To remove
Hawa: To attack
But actually We’re
Lena: The advocates
Kiran: The award winners
Hawa: The bilinguals
Balkisa: hello
Kiran: hola
Lena: bonjour
Hawa: guten tag
Assalamualaikum *wave*
Hawa: We’re the 4.0 Students
Kiran: The honor roll students
Lena: The star athletes (fast)
Kiran: But we’re also the misunderstood (slow down and realize) (Kisa, Hawa, and Lena walk back whispering last few words)