the president's wife

i don’t really like talking politics, but my country is currently being destroyed by a maniac and his political party, who have the majority of seats in the parliament.

first, they fucked up the Constitutional Tribunal, and now they passed a bill to terminate the Supreme Court, so now they will choose their own judges, who may vote in their favor in all cases, meaning that it will be possible they will never lose another election.

people are flooding the streets holding candles and flags

the president tried to change something, and have more power in the selection of Judges (which wow, at least he tried, because before he was signing literally anything they shoved his way), but it backfired and now he will be able to do even less than before

the maniac (if you remember 2010 and the tragic plane crash involving the president and his wife, as well as the majority of the most important people in Poland) is the late President’s brother and like two days ago he blamed the opposition for “murdering my brother, you scumbags, and don’t you dare be using his name with your filthy mouths” - his words, not mine. but even more inappropriate for the parliament.
this is not him grieving anymore. this is him losing his mind.

the EU is already angry with us for many things, starting with the destruction of the CT, and not accepting any immigrants from Syria, and if nothing changes I feel like they might kick us out

Since today, Poland is semi-officially not a democratic country anymore… what was the fight for freedom in the late 1980′s even for..

god help us all

boom, then crash,
the shattering of glass.
i dive to the floor,
busting my ass.

“the hell was that?”
was all that i said.
then i seen the pool of blood,
then i seen my moms was dead.

no emotion in the commotion,
i wasn’t even sad,
even when i learned that the
bullet was meant for my dad.

vietnam made pops crazy,
he was already half - dead.
so why couldn’t that’d be him
that got shot in the head?

all the news that fits the print,
momma’s death went unreported,
not a whiff, word or hint.

“they don’t care about us niggers,”
is how my pops explained it.
but i didn’t know i was a nigger
until my dad proclaimed it.

six months later,
my pops was dead too.
drug - related shots fired,
his skin turned cold blue.

on the news that night
the presidents wife got a
new hair - do.
the news guy said,
“i like it, how about you?”

no word about my pops
in the post or on cbs
why was that, you ask?
take a fucking guess.

and yeah, why is that?
that’s what politicians
should be asking.

but who got time for
questions when you all
skiing up on aspen?

broads get gunshots to
the head and all y'all
serving us is aspirin.

my momma was so lovely
she’d have made your
head spin.

level the playing field
and y'all will see who’ll
really win.

and yeah i got anger,
but i don’t let it take
me down cause my momma
taught me better.

and she holds me up
when i fall down.
rest in peace moms,
don’t worry about your
son.

some day i’ll make you
proud, because yeah,
i am the one.

—  ezekiel figuero (the get down),
zeke’s poem (i am the one).