When I look deeper, I see another symptom of class warfare. Why do I see this? Because even as I write this, I know that those who don’t take the bus probably don’t care about the situation. $2.25 is no different than $3.25 to some, but to others, it is the difference between being here or there.
Devil Juice
Delali Norvor is a teenage writer residing in Maryland. Delali has shared with us one of the poems from a recently published book of her poetry called Baptized in GXLD.
Dalai Lama Supports Legalizing Medicinal Marijuana
Billions of dollars have been spent across the continent in the futile war on drugs. In the U.S., we have prison cells filled with folks whose main or only crime is using and/or selling this plant.
Lidless Eyes
This poem is a response to the exploitative nature of society. No one is spared . Not even infants, who are used in commercials. Hunger and homelessness are other issues touched upon here.
Ian’s Coffee Stop
Never underestimate the power of a community. Most people would see at first glance a quickly deteriorating art-deco building in the heart of a city. This is simply the veneer, the real story lies a little deeper.
Precinct Oldie
Delali Norvor is a teenage writer residing in Maryland. Delali has shared with us one of the poems from a recently published book of her poetry called The National Eyes of an Urban Pariah.
Three Beads (Part Three)
Suddenly the man slammed on the brakes and the truck fishtailed to a stop in the middle of the road. The beads flew from her hand and bounced onto the floor at her feet. Asya scrambled to her knees to retrieve them.
Three Beads (Part Two)
In the middle of the night they crept to her mother’s friend two doors away. They clung to each other for many long minutes, tears glistening in the starlight. “When I am a rich doctor in America I will come and get you,” Asya promised her mother.
Three Beads (Part One)
“She has reached that age,” her grandfather said to her mother one day. “If you do not have it done you will bring shame onto our family name.” ”Amadi and I agreed that we would not carry on that tradition; it is barbaric,” her mother replied. Then her grandfather began to shout, and Asya knew that he would carry on for a long time.
Can we talk….in person?
We just don’t talk anymore….especially face-to-face. But even a phone call is becoming increasingly rare—Call you? Are you kidding?—when email is so much more efficient…but wait, now even email (a one-way communication) is passé if you’re communicating with anyone under 40. (“Don’t email or leave a phone message…if you want to reach me, text me…or message me.”)
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