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 Jul 2014 Farnok
Prodigal Son
Let the embers die
there's no need to say goodbye
what's done, is done now
there are no more tears left for us to cry

the winds of change have blown
uprooting all that once held true
the final song and dance are almost over
yet letting go is still hard to do
 Jul 2014 Farnok
R
I could feel every single color
known to man and I could
hear even the slightest creak
in the floor that night.
Even with Pink Floyd
blaring in the background,
I could still feel every bone
inside of me vibrate and the
walls began to move and it
was euphoric, the way air
blowing across your face felt
like a storm raging across
your dark room. Your touch
felt even more electric and I
couldn't tell if I was calm or
excited or just completely in
love with you.

I think you were getting
annoyed with me, but I can't
really remember. I just remember
colors and laughing and wanting
to reach for the stars more than
I already do. I just remember not
wanting anything more than that
moment, because the feelings I
felt were perfect and the sight I
held of you was perfect and
everything was absolutely
perfect.
<3
 Jul 2014 Farnok
Walt Whitman
I sit and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all
    oppression and shame;
I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men, at anguish with
    themselves, remorseful after deeds done;
I see, in low life, the mother misused by her children, dying,
    neglected, gaunt, desperate;
I see the wife misused by her husband—I see the treacherous seducer
    of young women;
I mark the ranklings of jealousy and unrequited love, attempted to be
    hid—I see these sights on the earth;
I see the workings of battle, pestilence, tyranny—I see martyrs and
    prisoners;
I observe a famine at sea—I observe the sailors casting lots who
    shall be ****’d, to preserve the lives of the rest;
I observe the slights and degradations cast by arrogant persons upon
    laborers, the poor, and upon negroes, and the like;
All these—All the meanness and agony without end, I sitting, look out
    upon,
See, hear, and am silent.
 Jul 2014 Farnok
Andrew Durst
From time-to-time I struggle to find
the "glimpse of hope"
that we all need.

That single moment of serendipity.

But all of my struggles and all of my pain seem so worth it
by the end of every day.

Because my loved ones pick me up whenever I take a fall.
     And until the day I die
they'll have my back through it all.
And I will always return the favor.
 Jul 2014 Farnok
Alyanne Cooper
If I could
I would pack up my life
And drive across the Continent
To settle someplace new
And colder because I hate heat.

If I could
I would write poetry all day
And watch movies all night
Until I'm ready
To brave the world again.

If I could
I would join a dance class
And learn the basic
Foxtrot, waltz, and cha cha
Until I could twirl around
A ballroom
From sunrise to sunset.

If I could
I would "catch them all!"
And find the joy
In all the missed days
Of my childhood.

If I could
I would give back
All the years I took
From you.
The advice you gave
Both willingly and not.
The love we shared
Both unconditional and not.
The future I prevented
You from achieving or not.
And I'd give back
Whatever else you want.

If I could
I would...

At 10:32 at night
There isn't much I can do,
Except say to you
Goodnight.

Or maybe even,
Goodbye.
 Jul 2014 Farnok
Alyanne Cooper
Dust-covered two-lane highways
Catch the footfalls of my meanderings.
Meadowlarks and Phoebe-birds
Sing backup to my tuneless whistles.
Clouds illuminated by God-rays
Paint the sky above my head
And the Man in the Moon
Smiles as I bed neath a willow for the night.

I am a wanderer, a vagabond, a ***.
The iron wrought train tracks
I secretly ride pass through the fields,
The forests, the mountains and valleys,
The cities and suburbs, the small towns too,
Home to so many who choose there to dwell.
But my home is the open countryside,
The fields of wildflowers and bushes,
The occasional oak or poplar for shelter,
With a stone for my pillow
Anywhere I wish to rest.

I am a wanderer, a vagabond, a ***.
I am the outsider.
 Jul 2014 Farnok
Joseph Schneider
Though altercations of a secessionist sound stern,
Their minds are stuck and never learn.
Through a disabled rebellion their built,
Words designed to deplete one's self are spilt.
Although it's said consummation executes in the leaning vice of the secessionist,
The desecration becomes the birth of the segregationist.
The segregation of closed mindedness with those of the voice.
The voice has sculpted our worlds obedience choice by choice.
The voice has seen demons at their best and angels at their worst,
There is a reason why this world hasn't burst.
You see, our world is seen through a lens,
This lens doesn't defy our worth and script the uncleansed.
It simply sets a standard for the closed minded to follow,
The voice, doesn't have a standard to follow, this voice makes the lens for those left to follow tomorrow.

-Joseph B Schneider
© Joseph B Schneider. All rights reserved

Don't be a product of society's system. Be unique and become a Voice.
 Jul 2014 Farnok
aar505n
The Descent
 Jul 2014 Farnok
aar505n
The descent beckons,
as I stood on the edge
making a pledge to the eternal night
by singing of chaos.
Igniting a desire to fall,
so I listened to the call.
Didn't try to prevent it.
I gave my consent to the torment
and ventured down the dark descent,
plummeting into the abyss,
searching for bliss.
Knowing the dangers but not caring.
And I remembered them saying,
that the descent into Hell is easy.
And they were right.
For there was no fight,
only a downwards flight.
And as I fell,
I was glad that the descent did beckoned.
Interrupt as you will. Comments/criticism welcomed.
 Jul 2014 Farnok
Andrew Durst
Miles.
 Jul 2014 Farnok
Andrew Durst
I don't want
to say
goodbye
and it's too
**** hard
to accept the
the fact
that the only
time you'll
ever be
able to make
me laugh
again
is over
a phone
        when you're on the
other side of the country.
To my good friend Jamie. I'm going to miss you like hell.
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