Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jun 2016 Mag
Homunculus
Lullaby
 Jun 2016 Mag
Homunculus
Hush,
Little
Baby,
Don't say
A word,

(...)

Everybody
 Dies alone,*
 **Life  is Absurd.
 Jun 2016 Mag
Homunculus
You poor fools!
Pity be upon you!
You are practicing
A dying art form!

Do you not realize,
That poetry is biased
Towards the literate?

There once was a time
When the scribes were
Revered as gods, but
Regrettably, that time
Has long since passed.

Now, we live in an age of
Constant, electronic stimulation,
Mediated by a steady flux of
Ready made imagery, where

Flashing lights and bright colors
Whittle away at the attention span, and
Destroy the capacity of the mind
To imagine for itself, so

Keep your word count low, and
Your syllable count lower, or
You just may lose your audience.
I'm drunk.
 Jun 2016 Mag
Homunculus
Burn it, burn it all
Until nothing is left, then
We can start over
 Jun 2016 Mag
r
Acres of sadness
 Jun 2016 Mag
r
I dreamed of my father
crossing the fields
on his one-eyed tractor
mowing acres of sadness
heading east of a moon
that'll be gone tomorrow
and I waded the creek
beneath a ridge
where my mother is shearing
dead roses and the smell
of those flowers floating
to the foot of the mountains
reminds me of her hair
and my father's laughter
disappearing across the hill.
 Jun 2016 Mag
Sjr1000
The Innocence
 Jun 2016 Mag
Sjr1000
Sometimes
I feel the innocence of all of us
Filling me

Our lives
Our deaths

The moments of love
The moments of terror
indescribable
far too real

Nature has enough in store
How do we treat each other so cruel?

Within this humanity
is everything I feel
All of us really
children without protection

Maybe it's sentimental
morose
maudlin

People work so hard
Try so hard

Put out
Put on
Endure
Put up with

It's all we know how to do

Sometimes I stop
when the colors are vivid
the birds cease their call
a pause in the breeze
and I can hear the innocence
of all human beings
whispering
to
me.
Another hippie dream.
Next page