Category: Uncategorized

When the confetti falls to the ground
And the flag hangs at half mass
The ground is divided in two by red, white, and blue
When the tears stream down your face as a monster rules your kingdom
And you see humanity’s evil smiling at you
Remember that soft heart of yours
Take pity on those who are broken and drank the kool aid
Just know next time it’ll be up to you and your voice
Pray for those who are blinded to the worst vote in these borders
Even though he stole the rights from your pink tattooed body
And took the love out of the rainbow
And wants to divide colors by a lava of hate
Don’t listen to everything you hear and don’t trust all you see
Your free will can choose who you keep in your life
No one can steal your soul or your hope
When the blood of suffering, the tears of children, and the scars and trauma of the abused women show,
Remember you have the power now
The young have a chance
To make the world they want
Turn the grass green again
Unite the good
Bring the golden morality back to society
And if a so called leader supports evil for what “God” wants
Remember a pure speck of God lives in you too
There will be more wars and battles to win with good

Inspired by Tupac Shakur

A black rose was dying, Still I rose. His was the rose that silted forged concrete! He grieved grout so my block could rest peacefully. As rain poured down the cracks beckoned his torn leafs. He never had a friend like me. sprouts with leaves began to sow forged seeds. North, West, South, East, Coast dreams. Black, white, red, yellow roses. God’s Celestial fog dew quenched his famine. Tupac’s crowned Mountaintop began flowing with creed. Much rainfall troughed drought through the forged concrete. Take a Journey through my mind’s eye, make sure everyone knows what I mean; the realist stuff he ever wrote fountain’s with mountaintops that grow black, white, red, yellow and green. A wilted black rose can become legions in the life he leads; free from subservience, he acted accordingly. Mountainous regions became food for a goal in me. The seeds sown were like tunes of glee. Spring came back with all humor and Famished grizzly bears began to walk with black roses, white, red, yellow, green! Trout were gathered and man gave unconditional love to the WORLD. Populations everywhere boomingly bestowed West Coast dreams. Rich fertilizer replenished livestock. A white rose was born from two white rose within the broke concrete. The black rose died thuggin’, and thugs cried, red, white, black, yellow, green. His death sparked the mind who changed the world in me. Soon after, Men were like rose brothers, and Women were like rose sisters. Still he rose, still; he bestowed feet.

The leafs life approaches a brittle death
and it knows
beautifully, it’s time
to explode
let its beauty unfold
the veins of leaf pulse
red
green
yellow
Picasso could never
this subtly
and when the wind blows
the leafs knows too
it’s time to go.
Don’t hold on
and fall like an earthling
like a man
going splat on a canvas
go in style
float to the ground
and inspire
even as the end approaches.

they call me lucky
when I get an admission
to enter the forbidden territories of superhumans
for which I have to prove
I am not an alien or a terrorist
but it does not matter
I enjoy this sanction
visiting the museums and being fascinated
by looking at masterpieces and ancient remains
of my ancestors
that were stolen from us

I am lucky

I enjoy the shadow, fresh air
the aromatic smell of flowers
in their forests
where my people risk their lives and keep guard
to save the oldest residents of our forests
old veteran trees, friends, and sisters
wise in years
against companies full of inhumans
hungry for infinite profit
backed up by their
international collaborators
and soldiers of the evil

I am lucky

I enjoy separating my trash
in their cities
paper for blue and bio for the green bin
composting for the future
I get satisfied imagining the contribution
I make for ecology and nature
but I forget that
the journey of their garbage trucks
end in my homeland

I am lucky

I enjoy going out with friends till the late hours
wearing whatever I want
with my nipples visible or a deep decollete
drinking, dancing, and queering
where the women and queer community of my country
fight every day for our lives
for our basic human rights
and freedom

I am so lucky

as long as I behave properly
keep a low profile
act “western”
not object and toe the line
because I know how hard and fortunate
is to get across
by those high-minded humans
to their exclusive territories
so I think I was really born (un)lucky!

---

Doga Rojda Koldas was born in Turkey in an ethnic minority group called Zaza. She
holds a BA in sociology and an MA in women’s and gender studies. As a queer feminist
activist, she desires to see a victory against hetero-patriarchal, capitalist, and colonialist
forces and applies both theory and practice to that aim. She believes in the healing

Whether it’s him, her, or any of them
It’s all part of your plan
Whether we all agree or disagree
It’s all part of your plan
May we remember the bigger picture
Not to judge but turn to scripture
Because whether it’s him, her, or any of them
It’s all part of your plan

We are called to unite and ignite
Not tear down and shut out
We are called to be love and hope
Not cruel and act a joke
Because whether it’s him, her, or any of them
It’s all part of your plan

There is no place for hurt and meaningless debates
Trying to change their choice because “you know best”
None of it changes a thing when
It’s all part of your plan, Lord

There’s no place for self righteousness
No place for “my way or the highway”
Because whether it’s him, her, or any of them
It’s all part of your plan

Lord, remove the blinders from your children
Show them it’s all a distraction from the bigger picture
Because it is now you call us to unite and spread love
Whether it’s him, her, or any of them
It is all part of your plan, Lord

Sometimes I wonder if I really am human, or just a product of evolution
Sometimes I wonder if it’s okay to dream, or if it’s only okay to not be seen
Sometimes I wonder if it’s safe to love who we love, or if it’s only safe when it’s not too much
Sometimes I wonder if there’s a purpose to this life, or if we all are just here to live and die
Sometimes I wonder if we all just gaslight ourselves in order to belong, or if it’s because society always assumes we are in the wrong?
Sometimes I wonder if we all mean what we say, or if we only mean things in order to not complain
It feels like we live in a world with double standards, because we do
It feels like we can’t be who we are because god forbid we all face the truth
It feels like we forget that people are people, and that dishonesty is the root of all evil
Why do we start wars when we can’t even fix the ones inside ourselves?
Why do we hurt others when we can’t even heal the history that we have dealt?
Why can’t we just love each other for who we really are and not for what we have?
Why do we hate on things we don’t understand? Is it because of some kind of duality of man?
Why do we destroy others and cause hurt when instead we can just be grateful for the earth?
We fight ourselves constantly, why do we do that?
Why has society proven to us time and time again that the only way to make a change is to start from within, but instead we continue with the most heinous of sins?
In order to create change, we first have to take accountability for our own mistakes, so why are we so scared to look ourselves in the face?

You might have to share your time,
Between one child and another,
You might divide your assets,
If your partner finds another.

Work might make you feel
That you fractionate your time,
While you disjoin your life
Just to earn a dime

You could slice down the middle,
Of a freshly cooked up steak,
If you’re feeling really generous,
You could halve your chocolate cake

You could cut down trees to timber,
Chainsaw trees to a stump,
Could segregate your feet and earth,
Simply with a jump

Well Moses divided the waves,
Of the beautiful Red Sea,
While Jesus became separate,
From God for humanity

But what I can’t believe,
Or begin to understand,
Is how divided humans are,
Upon this very land,

The news reports that children,
Are being divided from their own, .
That arms are being ripped away,
When bombs drop from a drone.

That nobody is sharing,
The safety of their home,
The UN’s attempting caring,
While people starve to skin and bone.

The puzzle pieces need
To be set back into place
So we can see the bigger picture

So our minds
and thoughts
and lives
can embrace.
After all, aren’t we the human race?

A man and a woman are running a race
to be our next leader and win in first place.
A sparkly-eyed woman with kindness to share,
an orange-faced man with the upside-down hair.

She follows the rules and does what is fair,
she looks right at people which shows us she cares.
He shows off in crowds and sometimes talks late,
yelling and shouting “I’ll make this place great!”.

“She’s ugly and lazy and dumb as a rock.”.
Spitting out words to shame and to mock.
Where are the parents, the teachers, the postmen, the cops?
Where are the grown-ups demanding he stop?

His hands and his arms swing with floppity flips,
teasing a newsman through fast twitching lips.
“I could stand in the street and shoot someone dead,”
I remember his words; they live in my head.

Cheating and lying and breaking the rules,
If he were a kid, he’d get kicked out of school.
He makes angry fists, he hollers, and pouts.
He never gets punished, no jail or time-out.

We know what we’ve seen and what we have heard.
The matter with words is they matter, his words.
Sooner or later, his words will all reach us.
If he’s in the White House, is that what he’ll teach us?

Her words think of others with “Are you alright?”,
She chooses her words to make us feel bright.
“We’re not going backwards, we’re moving ahead,”
Hers are the words still alive in my head.

She lived in a house with her sister and mother,
I guess she’s like me, we’re like one another.
She had a best friend who was hurt really bad,
she invited her home so she wouldn’t feel sad.

We know what we’ve seen and what we have heard.
The matter with words is they matter, her words.
Sooner or later, her words will all reach us.
If she’s in the White House, I want her to teach us.

Dog-eating people and those who eat cats,
who could believe there are people like that?
Those are the words from the orange-faced man,
who says what he wants ‘cuz he knows that he can.

“Fat, lazy aliens, get out of town!
He says that to people with skin that is brown.
“You poison our blood; you murder and steal.”
He says all those words, does that make them real?

Why do the leaders who have so much power
spread all those lies each minute and hour?
Mean words and lying words soon start to reach us.
Are those the words that you choose to teach us?

He lost the election but said that he won.
He couldn’t believe that his job was all done.
He hated to lose, said it made him real mad,
He made up a plan to do something bad.

Lots of his friends thought the big boss had won.
They stormed into town with their sticks and their guns.
They crashed through that building, they just wouldn’t stop.
They hurt tons of people, many were cops.

We know all we’ve seen and all we have heard.
The matter with words, is they matter, their words.
Sooner or later their words will all reach us.
Why choose those ones as the words that will teach us?

Maria Ramirez, my friend since first grade,
loves to play baseball but now she’s afraid.
Afraid of the bullies who go to our school,
afraid of the kids who were taught to be cruel.

“You fat, lazy alien, get out of our space.”
Screamed all those big bullies at Maria’s scared face.
They kicked and they punched and they tossed her around.
Maria, my friend lay in blood on the ground.

We know all we’ve seen and all we have heard.
The matter with words, is they matter, their words.
Sooner or later those words will all reach us.
Are those the words you’re choosing to teach us?

What is so great about words that put down,
about screaming and yelling “You get out of town!”?
What is so great about kids in big cages,
not seeing their parents for ages and ages?

A man and a woman are running a race
to be our next leader and win in first place.
We’re begging you please for a future that’s great,
Not flooded in lies with mean words and hate.

Please bring our country together as one,
that sparkly-eyed woman will get the job done.
That orange-faced man, I know will make two;
the good one, the bad one, the red and the blue.

Think of your children and their children too.
The matter with words is they matter, they do.
Please vote for the person you want to teach us,
Sooner or later their words will all reach us.

Nachts im Dunkeln,
Gehe ich ungerne raus.
Doch wenn ich unterwegs bin und
Subjektiv gefährliche Wege entlanglaufe,
Halte ich meinen Schlüssel fest in der Hand.

Ist es noch nicht zu spät,
Rufe ich jemanden an,
Der mir eventuell irgendwie helfen kann.
Falls etwas passiert.

Doch ehrlich gesagt,
Was kann die Person am Telefon tun?
Die Polizei wäre erst da,
Wenn alles vorbei,
Etwas bereits passiert und der Täter geflohen.

In 99 Prozent der Fälle sind es Täter,
Deswegen bleibe ich hier bei der männlichen Form.

Und alle die jetzt sagen:
„Deutschland ist aber besser als andere Länder“.
Hört auf es zu vergleichen!
Es ist nicht optimal,
Also muss daran gearbeitet werden!

Es geht darum,
Frauen und somit allen Menschen,
Sicherheit zu garantieren.

Man sagt ja auch nicht:
„Deutschland ist im Fußball gut, also müssen wir nicht die Besten sein“, oder?

Das bedeutet:
Wir sind noch lange nicht gleichberechtigt,
Wenn wir nachts noch Schlüssel oder Pfefferspray
Für den Heimweg in der Hand halten müssen!

14.04.2024
Livia Schümann

range, red, black
once a life, now into ashes,
dreams dreamt-
now turned to dust.

the price of a soul,
the price of a people–
melatonin, creed, and all that
which does not bleed.

the fragility of morals:
immorality tainted into divinity.
how profound;
surreal, unreal, lies–

white lies
of white lives,
and all besides white
now lies
six centuries and six feet deep
across six continents.

how futile-
lessons from history
remain in a story;

documented, recorded, live streamed
to eyes turned to stone,
hearts – forever frozen to the bone,
what can break these calcified souls?

if not mountains of bodies,
nor rivers of blood,
if not embers of flesh
turning orange, red, and black

then let it be a thundering curse
or a desperate prayer;

may the flames that shroud
these souls of gold
be a spring breeze
from where poppies bloom.