Everyone has their own ways to connect life elements to their own understandings. To me, resistance is having no tolerance for discrimination against self love and naturalities. If we didn’t have that, activists wouldn’t be activists and artists wouldn’t be artists, because if we had the self allowance to let the world walk all over us, the consequences would be unbearable. Resistance is not being trampled, and resistance is not trampling. Resistance is the voice of all who choose to express who they are, and dominate with that self love.
My intentions as a writer are to cover aspects of the american lifestyles that we don’t always feel comfortable to talk about. Intentionally not to cause discomfort but potentially throw at the reader a new set of eyes that aren’t necessarily mine. To speak for the people, and with the people. My poem called “About my nose” expresses the notion that self love should not be discriminated. That self love should not be deprived for unnecessary approval. My self consciousness in all honesty was defeated after I highlighted on it. For anybody to talk about their self loathes and express that in the form of self love can be a bold step for some, and I wish to raise the self love in others, and shine light on a very controversial subject as such. Now for my poems such as “Part of you, Part of me” highlights on the more real deep dark aspect of human nature. Through colors of anger. That may be perceived as resistance, for some actions speak louder than words. My poem “Part of you, part of me” is trying to resist child violence We as humans all have different ways of showing the world how we feel, and in the nature of resistance and anger we write these poems. Everyone has an own individual perspective on these big topics such as child violence and poverty.
People who publicly voice those complaints, and get others to relate to that gets us to stand together. Because there is no doubt we are not alone. But sometimes as the people who are discriminated for who they are or not given equal opportunities because of who they are, they may feel like they are the only ones. I want the readers to take away the fact that regardless of who’s in the oval office, regardless of who they are, regardless of where they stay, they are not in fact alone. WE, are so much stronger and more powerful than to prove our opinions sealed and not protest, for we strive for equality as artists, as humans. I am not limiting myself to any themes necessarily; I like to give a new feeling to everything I write. The way I confidently voice those poems is what makes that my signature. Just as my vocabulary and punctuation should.
In seventh grade, I had won 7GP and that’s when I wanted to continue being the voice of my students. This unit was an outlet for me to dive into getting more psychological with my work, and learn how to provoke specific thoughts by talking in these contexts. I have realized I LIKE to dive into those sometimes uncomfortable notions. I like to think a lot about how our world is always changing surely, but how some things remain the same. I like to think from different viewpoints, look at different cultural differences, and paint a picture of how our community, our country works together. I realized that the most powerful way to express that for me is to develop a character. That character is the outcome of all social behavior constructed by the topic I wish to talk about. I think my most valuable lesson from this poet is there’s no specific set of rules you need to create these types of art. What makes good art good art is the fact literature hits home and because we relate. If we made our art for everyone’s likings there’s a high chance what we want to communicate is depicted by what people like to see. Not by how we genuinely feel. That is my fullest output on how I feel as a writer, and I wish to showcase that on this web page.
“This is me”
It is always full of questions,and some don’t ask. But the way my nose is shaped, doesn’t define my tasks. Now, this is me. “Is it broken?” “OH, it’s in your genes.” Like how some have freckles,or eyes that behold greens. This is me. How it doesn’t amaze crowds like magic tricks,It is not broken,so what is there to fix? This is me. Sharp, unique, or bold, i’ve been told. It’s unpredicted like deep waters,It crinkles when i smile, please behold,This is me. Shall it go without saying, I’m not Dr. Seuss.But if we don’t embrace the difference,Then we don’t speak the truth. This is me.
"PArt of you, part of me"
“Don’t." The first words out my mother, As she managed to shelter us during war.“Don’t help me, don’t fight for us,For you will only get hurt.”But mother you will never see.How that part of you, is part of me?“ Don’t look out the window, for all to hear is gunshots. For if they see us, we could be the target." She nuzzled near us, for she has fear, thus,If they looked through our window, if only they could hear US.But mother you will never see, that part of you,Is part of me. So before dawn was near, I climbed to the attic to find our family’s treasure.I held the gun and turned to the mirror with so much pleasure. I could finally show my family, who I am, show them ME. “Don’t” mother says. But mother you will NEVER see, that part of you, is part of me?Don’t you see my love?But maybe I am wrong, as my “truths” are far too akin to my lies.The outdoors are horrid, the government are spies,Maybe I’m not showing love, as color drips from my skin.But we have so many colors we do not let in.
"The mother leading two children, Picasso"
I am a woman who teaches at an elementary school.
I am a woman who works at my uncle’s corner store.
I am a woman who is impatient, for her boss is pushy.
I am a woman who is unruly, for my family’s popular buy is entitled “The clearance section”
I am a woman who is upset, for my students never listen.
I am a woman who is scared, for if i walk alone on the streets i get cat called.
I am a woman who commonly can be off schedule, but I’m the highest rank at the office!
I am a woman who is stared at because of my family’s story, but i am grateful for the ones who haven’t been shot.
And every day I look out my window, I pride my country.
And every day I look at my mirror, I pride myself, how far i’ve come.
But one day I watched the news, and Trump was in the office.
But one day I watched the news, and Trump was in the office.
I was ashamed that my country had even dared to make that choice.
I was ashamed I had moved here for the better, and received the worst.
My family are all supporters, too!
My family members are all immigrants, they could get deported!
And to think I pride my country.
And I used to pride my country.
But now, that trip to canada will probably be guaranteed.
But now, my hometown will stand behind a brick wall.
To think I loved who I am, I am now left to think of nothing but how disgusting my society is.
To think I loved who I am, I am now left to think of nothing but the possibility of being enslaved.
But It’s all a scam, in 4 years everything will be better.
But it’s all a nightmare, because in 4 years my parents could be in a grave yard.