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Created on: November 13, 2009
Seven black homeless men
Sit on a corner stoop,
Waiting for the day to begin.
Their scarred faces
Tell various stories of loves
And reunions,
Of disappointments and failures,
What they could have been
And what they turned into.
They sit like pensive crows,
Viewing the world with
Blackened archaic eyes.
They receive no respect
Only wary glances from afar
And still they sit, waiting
For the sun to finally set.
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Poetry: Oppression
FOR FAYTH
Incarceration is a curse,
A sentence set for life;
Resolved for better or for worse
When I became his wife.
At any
"To Rise Again"
I need to tell the story,
Of the torture in my soul.
The terror I can't mention,
The things I shouldn't know.
The
It is not right
To blame, to criticize and fight
Because one is different from you
Do not keep one down
And show
Mean-spirited fools
With their veins bulging
and with reddened faces
their corded necks
strain against all reason
oppressors
by Moeze Lalji
Oppression
In love
Breaks the
Strings and
Bridges
Of the heart
That play
Out
Natural affections
As smooth
Flowing
Rivers
Uniting
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