I protest. I protest against law, for those who are discriminated, against those who discriminate. Young generations find this as a pastime, a hobby, a fun experience, yet I protest against them. I protest for those who are underestimated, like myself, and for those who have the fight, the willpower, and the strength. GO GIRLS!!!!!!
We all gathered in the hall, sat down, and held our ground, proudly, angrily, fervently, feverishly rippling our rainbow sea of signs. The officials of the school walked by. “Get to class, stop this disruption of the learning environment!”
We didn’t heed their cries. They didn’t understand that we had something worth fighting for.
no
was never
negative
but in our arrogance
it’s all we
believed
never owing
taking blindly
from that which we
received
entitled, yes
whilst protesting
no
My mouth is a protest. Teeth and tongue spitting placard words. Black ink on cardboard. CAPITALS. Your presence is violence. Crushing, choking. “You’re wrong. I’m right.” Forcing your phallic ignorance down my throat.
He hefted the sign up, jumping around with everyone else, protesting loudly. He was fighting for gay marriage rights, as he himself was pansexual. The discrimination needed to come to an end. It was ridiculous. Straight people didn’t get murdered for being straight. Why should the gays?
This was his first time protesting.
He felt other people pressing into him. It was warm, the air was humid.
He shouted along with them, waving the transparent he had brought with him. Was that how it was supposed to be, he wondered.
Many people complain about how things are going in this world; hunger, poverty, corruption, bigotry, inequality… I guess if people start respecting each other life would be way better than how it is right now.
Take your voice out, shove it in people’s faces. Let them know how you feel. Your life may depend on it. Lives of the future may depend on it. Or maybe not. What are you fighting for? Is it worth it? Who knows. Let’s hope it’s for the better.
The crowd pulsed: a rippled back, a ripple forward. The crowd screamed in dissonant voices, tearing forth from one raw invisible throat: “Forward!” “Bri, where are you?” “I can’t breathe!” “They’re spraying!” “Hold the line!”
as soon as I lambast at their attest,
there the goon is, to protest
“Hey I object”. He blabbers.
I know I am not at my best that day,
so my brief case swings at my arm
and we are at a stalemate.
Did I not prepare?
Protests can be useful and protests can be damaging. Using the art of protest to draw attention to your problems or feelings can inspire others to rally around your cause and find a solution. Misusing the tool and exploiting your ideas can result in violence and trouble and hurt you in the end.
rebelling. marching against something that needs to be changed. expressing the rights of people. or animals. or anyone. being true to self. making a CHANGE. living.
i don’t like the word “protest.” Not because I don’t think that people have the right to disagree with something, but because in today’s society “protest” has become synonymous with rioting and death. “Peaceful protests” don’t exist because any time someone tries to assemble for a peaceful gathering where they disagree with something they end up being terrorized by the police and killed.
The protest started with the death of Freddie Gray while in police custody. Police brutality is a hot topic particularly in predominantly African-American communities.
I protest the boring dullness of corporate america. I am an artist who also happens to be a consultative sales professional. I choose to be bold and audacious. I choose to connect and speak the truth.
Keisha packed her usual knapsack. Bottled water, protein snacks, giant magic markers, and a small blanket. Six days down, and eight more to go. Although no one really paid any attention to their silent marches of protest, it made her feel useful. Only today, when she arrived at the courthouse, the corner deli was burning, and there were young boys she didn’t recognize were looting. And just like that, suddenly everyone, including the cops and news, cared about what Keisha and her friends were doing.
He only managed to poke his fingers a little through the bilnds before the crowd’s collective voice roared back at him, so he had to take them out again before he even got a look. Bloody liberals. The streets outside were littered with jobless vermin. Come to think of it, that was probably why they were resisting so much to all this testing on the rats; they saw kindred spirits in their bright eyes and twitching tails.
Well, Edgar saw similarities too – but he wondered how many of them would really volunteer to take the rats’ places if the tests were stopped. They were probably hypocrites. Yes; the entire crowd swelled with the stench of hypocrisy.
“Martha,” he said, coming away from the blinds to sit back at his desk. “Bring me an espresso, would you? All the damned racket is giving me a headache.”
There are so many protests happening right now and everyone in the country seems to be ignoring them. Well, not everyone. Not the people that are part of them, or those whose causes align with them. But everyone with the power to change anything for the better.
Liz marched forward into the crowding bodies. Her small frame felt like a feather pillow being thrown around in a dryer. What she lacked in height, she made up in her loud voice. She screamed above others, making sure that people knew that this was a protest, and they were not going to give up until they got what they wanted.
He stood, waving the sign above his head in anger. All around him the world was exploding. Flames licked the sides of buildings, leaving sooty marks and scorches on the brick. Glass few like fireflies, leaping from shop windows as though the shards were fleeing from the rocks as they impacted. The world’s gone mad, they said. The world is ending. Perhaps they were right, perhaps these were the end days. But damned if he wasn’t going down without a fight.
the joints once moved machinistic smoothness
now i consider the weary bone
a mastiff lies on the ground, whining eyes
we will soon put down this burden
and dream of liquid silver,
silken souls
“You will do as you are told and that is final!” Master Lumere growled. His eyes flashed gold and his magic quieted, but his voice was soft only for my ears to hear. I knew that he did not want to make a scene. I also knew that he was very wrong.
We would all suffer if he did not open his eyes and see what was before him.
“Very well, Master,” I bit the title off, unable to help myself. I bristled inward and out, leaning just close enough for the position to be mistaken, if any of the guards were so stupid as to assume such a thing. “I obey, but under protest. Let it be noted.”
his jaw clenched and his hands curled into fists. “It is noted,” he ground out. “Be gone with you!”
The choice of words was his protest, but it was also my freedom. He never realized that with his short temper, every time he snapped those careless phrases at me, my apprentice contract unraveled another five inches.
Tonight, I would be free of him.
Then I would help. I would help them all.
She joined the protest because he wanted to. It was his thing. But as she stood in the crowd, holding a sign with a powerful message she didn’t believe in, something inside her changed. Looking at these crazy people from all walks of life – old, young, hippy, not hippy, what made her so different that they believed and she didn’t?
She folded her arms in protest. “I’m not going with you,” she indignantly challenged her parents. She couldn’t stand to move for the fifth time in two years.
I huddle in the crowd, not knowing what is about to happen. In front of the crowd the mayors house lys. People are shouting and shaking there fists. I was just swept into there, mistakenly put in a place of distress and restlessness. I snake away from the mayors house, but the crown seems to go on forever.
In class we read abou the Civil Rights movement. In class we read about women’s suffrage. In class we read about labor strikes and rallies and PROTESTS. I never thought I’d be in one. I never thought I’d have something that mattered to me thta much.
protesting is such an amazing action for a world like ours. protest in peace, not violence. become peacemakers, better yet, be peacekeepers. do lot seek violence, or vengeance. seek a way to end all madness. protests are a way to find light, do not allow the tunnel of shaming blind you. seek the light at the end. be heard, be seen. make peace, keep peace.
As thousands protest, the news focuses on the dozen arrested. As millions are disenfranchised, the stations talk about the “thugs.” It does not matter why they are doing this, but how they are doing it. When we tell them they should “change” their “strategy,” we speak from a gold pedestal, while they shake their fists at us from the burning sticks below, unable to breathe in the ash.
I protest. I protest against law, for those who are discriminated, against those who discriminate. Young generations find this as a pastime, a hobby, a fun experience, yet I protest against them. I protest for those who are underestimated, like myself, and for those who have the fight, the willpower, and the strength. GO GIRLS!!!!!!
We all gathered in the hall, sat down, and held our ground, proudly, angrily, fervently, feverishly rippling our rainbow sea of signs. The officials of the school walked by. “Get to class, stop this disruption of the learning environment!”
We didn’t heed their cries. They didn’t understand that we had something worth fighting for.
no
was never
negative
but in our arrogance
it’s all we
believed
never owing
taking blindly
from that which we
received
entitled, yes
whilst protesting
no
My mouth is a protest. Teeth and tongue spitting placard words. Black ink on cardboard. CAPITALS. Your presence is violence. Crushing, choking. “You’re wrong. I’m right.” Forcing your phallic ignorance down my throat.
blood-tracked kisses
dried like
gold flecks
slowly leaf-falling
all round me
like raining petals
i love you
rain-flecks upon me
i love you
slowly leaving
petals
i love you because
you’re so green
x
He hefted the sign up, jumping around with everyone else, protesting loudly. He was fighting for gay marriage rights, as he himself was pansexual. The discrimination needed to come to an end. It was ridiculous. Straight people didn’t get murdered for being straight. Why should the gays?
This was his first time protesting.
He felt other people pressing into him. It was warm, the air was humid.
He shouted along with them, waving the transparent he had brought with him. Was that how it was supposed to be, he wondered.
Many people complain about how things are going in this world; hunger, poverty, corruption, bigotry, inequality… I guess if people start respecting each other life would be way better than how it is right now.
Take your voice out, shove it in people’s faces. Let them know how you feel. Your life may depend on it. Lives of the future may depend on it. Or maybe not. What are you fighting for? Is it worth it? Who knows. Let’s hope it’s for the better.
Peaceful protests go ignored and when they burn their city to the ground they’re described as thugs and criminals.
Do broken windows matter more than severed spines?
Don’t misquote Martin Luther King just because you don’t understand the nuances of the problem – a riot is the language of the unheard.
The crowd pulsed: a rippled back, a ripple forward. The crowd screamed in dissonant voices, tearing forth from one raw invisible throat: “Forward!” “Bri, where are you?” “I can’t breathe!” “They’re spraying!” “Hold the line!”
“Cease and desist!”
as soon as I lambast at their attest,
there the goon is, to protest
“Hey I object”. He blabbers.
I know I am not at my best that day,
so my brief case swings at my arm
and we are at a stalemate.
Did I not prepare?
Protests can be useful and protests can be damaging. Using the art of protest to draw attention to your problems or feelings can inspire others to rally around your cause and find a solution. Misusing the tool and exploiting your ideas can result in violence and trouble and hurt you in the end.
rebelling. marching against something that needs to be changed. expressing the rights of people. or animals. or anyone. being true to self. making a CHANGE. living.
i don’t like the word “protest.” Not because I don’t think that people have the right to disagree with something, but because in today’s society “protest” has become synonymous with rioting and death. “Peaceful protests” don’t exist because any time someone tries to assemble for a peaceful gathering where they disagree with something they end up being terrorized by the police and killed.
The protest started with the death of Freddie Gray while in police custody. Police brutality is a hot topic particularly in predominantly African-American communities.
we protest to stop things we don’t think are right we don’t want in our society.
protest your love to me and I will follow you to the end of the world.. You protest the love that I have for you and it will never die.
I protest the boring dullness of corporate america. I am an artist who also happens to be a consultative sales professional. I choose to be bold and audacious. I choose to connect and speak the truth.
Keisha packed her usual knapsack. Bottled water, protein snacks, giant magic markers, and a small blanket. Six days down, and eight more to go. Although no one really paid any attention to their silent marches of protest, it made her feel useful. Only today, when she arrived at the courthouse, the corner deli was burning, and there were young boys she didn’t recognize were looting. And just like that, suddenly everyone, including the cops and news, cared about what Keisha and her friends were doing.
My lungs and joints protest
as I push this extra mile
and pound you out of my head,
fickle love of mine.
My heart would protest, as well,
if it wasn’t beating so fiercely
to supply to the legitimate vitals
that it could forget the craved ones.
,v,c,ncnvmb
Today will be different. Today, I will not stand by and watch. Today, I will not be pushed over. Today, I will fight for my voice to be heard.
Today, I will fight for my tomorrow.
A statement or action expressing disapproval of or objection to something.
He only managed to poke his fingers a little through the bilnds before the crowd’s collective voice roared back at him, so he had to take them out again before he even got a look. Bloody liberals. The streets outside were littered with jobless vermin. Come to think of it, that was probably why they were resisting so much to all this testing on the rats; they saw kindred spirits in their bright eyes and twitching tails.
Well, Edgar saw similarities too – but he wondered how many of them would really volunteer to take the rats’ places if the tests were stopped. They were probably hypocrites. Yes; the entire crowd swelled with the stench of hypocrisy.
“Martha,” he said, coming away from the blinds to sit back at his desk. “Bring me an espresso, would you? All the damned racket is giving me a headache.”
There are so many protests happening right now and everyone in the country seems to be ignoring them. Well, not everyone. Not the people that are part of them, or those whose causes align with them. But everyone with the power to change anything for the better.
Liz marched forward into the crowding bodies. Her small frame felt like a feather pillow being thrown around in a dryer. What she lacked in height, she made up in her loud voice. She screamed above others, making sure that people knew that this was a protest, and they were not going to give up until they got what they wanted.
He stood, waving the sign above his head in anger. All around him the world was exploding. Flames licked the sides of buildings, leaving sooty marks and scorches on the brick. Glass few like fireflies, leaping from shop windows as though the shards were fleeing from the rocks as they impacted. The world’s gone mad, they said. The world is ending. Perhaps they were right, perhaps these were the end days. But damned if he wasn’t going down without a fight.
Sakbayan. Activist. Proletarian. Revolution. It’s all about fighting for something you believe in. Going against injustice.
the joints once moved machinistic smoothness
now i consider the weary bone
a mastiff lies on the ground, whining eyes
we will soon put down this burden
and dream of liquid silver,
silken souls
“You will do as you are told and that is final!” Master Lumere growled. His eyes flashed gold and his magic quieted, but his voice was soft only for my ears to hear. I knew that he did not want to make a scene. I also knew that he was very wrong.
We would all suffer if he did not open his eyes and see what was before him.
“Very well, Master,” I bit the title off, unable to help myself. I bristled inward and out, leaning just close enough for the position to be mistaken, if any of the guards were so stupid as to assume such a thing. “I obey, but under protest. Let it be noted.”
his jaw clenched and his hands curled into fists. “It is noted,” he ground out. “Be gone with you!”
The choice of words was his protest, but it was also my freedom. He never realized that with his short temper, every time he snapped those careless phrases at me, my apprentice contract unraveled another five inches.
Tonight, I would be free of him.
Then I would help. I would help them all.
She joined the protest because he wanted to. It was his thing. But as she stood in the crowd, holding a sign with a powerful message she didn’t believe in, something inside her changed. Looking at these crazy people from all walks of life – old, young, hippy, not hippy, what made her so different that they believed and she didn’t?
She folded her arms in protest. “I’m not going with you,” she indignantly challenged her parents. She couldn’t stand to move for the fifth time in two years.
What a simple word. How did it acquire such a negative connotation in our society? Protest is what we need to do to make our world the best we can.
I huddle in the crowd, not knowing what is about to happen. In front of the crowd the mayors house lys. People are shouting and shaking there fists. I was just swept into there, mistakenly put in a place of distress and restlessness. I snake away from the mayors house, but the crown seems to go on forever.
Defiantly, we bend our heads, our shoulders, our hearts in the direction of what is right. We inch forward, small shapes struggling in desperation.
We grip tight to hope. We shelter it against our chests and carry on because there is nothing else we can do.
There is nothing else.
In class we read abou the Civil Rights movement. In class we read about women’s suffrage. In class we read about labor strikes and rallies and PROTESTS. I never thought I’d be in one. I never thought I’d have something that mattered to me thta much.
protesting is such an amazing action for a world like ours. protest in peace, not violence. become peacemakers, better yet, be peacekeepers. do lot seek violence, or vengeance. seek a way to end all madness. protests are a way to find light, do not allow the tunnel of shaming blind you. seek the light at the end. be heard, be seen. make peace, keep peace.
As thousands protest, the news focuses on the dozen arrested. As millions are disenfranchised, the stations talk about the “thugs.” It does not matter why they are doing this, but how they are doing it. When we tell them they should “change” their “strategy,” we speak from a gold pedestal, while they shake their fists at us from the burning sticks below, unable to breathe in the ash.
Defiantly we bend our heads, our shoulders, our hearts in the direction of what is right. We inch forward, small shapes struggling in desperation.
We grip tight to hope. We shelter it against our chests and carry on because there is nothing else we can do.
There is nothing else.