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Jeremy Betts Feb 2021
You know exactly who I'm referring to when I say...

They have this habitual political ritual of babbling on
Rambling wrong, your standard God complex politician
Standing in front of a congregation spewin' lies, oozin' corruption through thin skin
Politickin' about a mission we should sht on and skip the Charmin
This is my f
ck you dissertation, a doctrine based on real time observation
A deep dive into what has essentially become an unhealthy obsession with sin
Holding a position I'm told I have no right to speak on much less be a voice in
But if one life don't matter none, no life matters son
Including your own, don't confuse facts with opinion
Watching your tone would be wise in this situation
Hooked on the slogan defund every police station
Convinced it means let loose the entire prison population
You know, just for fun
Stoke the confusion, skip any and all explanation, no need for a reason
Willfully blind to the sedition, a corporation backed rebellion, it's open season for treason
To quote the law men, "we'll even hold the door for y'all till you're all in"
Then when they're leavin' make sure to welcome them back again
A simple bewildered complexion brings 'em satisfaction
Chaos the reflection of a lagit election
Regardless of the facts within reach, we witnessin' half a population claim fiction
Feel the friction
Destruction is the reaction, falling for a complex distraction
The consumption of our damnation overshadowed by a mutation of this god forsaken nation
How did we wind up in this position? How'd we let this happen?
I reckon we sure weren't just placed in this situation, a fraction of us stumped by long division
It''s by no means an answerless equation but a question we still debate on
Standing upon a soapbox trying to out crazy the competition
What was once neighborly is now seen as the opposition
Someone please just hit the gong so we can move on
Restoration is easier than resurrection so stay strong
Hope has been long gone for so long, maybe to long, a hopeless conclusion drawn
No anti venom for our venomous condition
A symptom raised from conception, taught to the young
We bet on corruption inside a polling station
Ballets a currency printed on different stationery then it's just simple addition
Still waiting on the announcement that we finally won
But that day will never come unless you're higher echelon
Controlled by the elusive free mason, I'm guessin'
Can't know for certain what side they on, influencing our direction from behind a curtain
A mission forgotten, a population forsaken
Praise God as dangerous as hail Satan
That should be a$$ backwards but it ain't wrong, I'm just sayin'
If you were payin' attention you wouldn't need an explanation
Incarceration eludes the criminals behind the walls of that white mansion
Not a single one ever pays for what they've done and that's fuel for frustration
The people scream out objection and beg for a proper ejection of this borderline evil pantheon
But they get to run over and over again every election and instead of serving up a strict ten day eviction
We just turn to digital b*tchin', no real action taken so we're stuck with this dangerous faction
One that holds Rome as its inspiration so you know this nation is collapsin' it's just a matter of when...and if we'll even make it to the end

©2021
Zywa Oct 2023
The cold lies thick
over the world like dust
as if no one has been
there for a long time

and I have been
forgotten or overlooked
left behind as if I couldn't
be taken with them

No one with whom I can
share what I feel, the cold
since you've been gone, the cold
since I've been home alone

No one
to tell that
I have lost you
my dear darling

All alone
No one
who sees, who knows
that I miss you
Song "The Frost" (2023, Mitski, album "The Land is Inhospitable and So Are We")

Collection "Reaching out"
Melody Mann Sep 2021
A forsaken smile crawls forward as she greets her past,
Rushing with euphoria and glee - his call beacons her,
Uplifting and fulfilling does he compliment her every day,
A mistaken encounter solidified as she prays.
Simon Jul 2020
I rhyme to stay in touch with my own inner child!
Only enough before I realize I'm already too old to admit I've been wrong about why I've always thought I'd been rhyming...when it wasn't to begin with.
With that I've forsaken my own trust about who I am...till the very end!
Rhyme as you must... It's nothing to truly be taken seriously, unless it's an option to help you simply cope!
SammyJoe Jun 2020
I hate this temporary psychological condition
It's a knock on effect of what I can't write

I sit and stare at my blank piece of paper
Frustrated, can't sleep, up all night

I feel all inspirations drain from me
Click, click goes the top of my pen (again)

I'm determined to beat you and not let you win
**** you disambiguation.
Grey Mar 2020
The same ones who hate me
tend to try and break me,
Curse and forsake me,
Then cry when they **** me.

Then they see,
That they actually need me

it's too late for that now,
Because I do not break and I certainly won't bow.
They have condemned me for now
But watch them as they come back around.....

For Help.
Hating what is provided and then loving it when it saves them. Weird how that works, right?
Winter Sparrow Dec 2019
The raiding has begun again.
This land is no longer fertile.
Its tainted and dry.
Too painful to stay in this place.

We raid with no compass.
No direction. Only the wind.
Let it fill my spirit with stallions.
Let it fill my anger with wolves.

Wherever we go, we know not where!
Wherever I go. I will shield myself.
However, should the wind drag me back.
Should you find me again.

Do not fool me once more.
I forgive, but forgiveness hands on a loose thread.
I do not forget; memories are feelings.
And I cannot forget how you made me feel.

It was better then any wine.
But cut deeper then any sword.
You wrote about me.
Now you have erased me.

The raider was raided.
The thief was robbed.
The archer was shot.
The trickster was tricked.
Xant Sep 2019
The truth is
what once was yellow brick road
is now red from blood
blotched by dirt
and partly
covered in moss

I see no purpose nor hope
in following this particular road
that leads me back to a place
so called 'home'

It's rather unpromising
and untempting
unwelcoming even
And it makes me think;

At the end of the road,
will I be left to rot
by the people who once swore
that I will be loved
but would leave me standing
forsaken and starving
like they used to do

And so I'd rather stay in Oz
Then to follow the 'yellow brick road'
To get to a place where
I were to be ignored
My high school friend who had a dysfunctional family told me that she would never want to go home ever again.

She sees her family as what was beautiful, now sorrowful.

I could only imagine how her sweet childhood memories (re: yellow brick road) had turned bitter (re: red from blood).

And this poem, I dedicate it to her.
I wish her happiness :)
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