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Drinking the poison to **** someone else
Going around dazed in circles
Hooked on the past
Hate is cast

Truths you didn’t share
Shrouded fear
Injustice and broken trust
Playing the victim, a must

Never allowing acceptance
or forgiveness
Oscillating between an angered past
and a fearful future
What these wounds need is a suture

Feeling strong about being wronged
Trying to take back power
All you do is sour
any light that could be shed upon it

Slamming into your own stone walls
because you won’t forgone it
Being imprisoned by imagined beliefs
Here it comes - the happiness thief
No one will ever do this to me again!
Giving up the Zen
 22h Rich Hues
i cannot write for **** anymore.
i have lost my ability to compel.
to even express.
anything and everything i feel is hiding from me
in some part of my body ive never reached
because it knows what i will do if i catch it.
rip out its inside like squishing a blueberry.
just a quick meal until i am off to **** its friends.
i am no tortured artist, just trying to shield.
i cant wait to read this in a year and applaud
for subtle progress, but me and i my friend
are stuck in different muds.
Today I watched the tube
And grew confused
To the fact I became amused
Daily abused
Our mentality it saddens me
This industry
Called the media has an encyclopedia
Of torment day in and day out
Many shout
Out their opinions when they are minions
Through force fed Dominions religion
Has gave them hopeless spirituality
They look to the sky and still don't know why
Its always chaos and another loss
Roll the script
Another day of slaughters grip
And humanity slips
Nature is talking no one is listening
Too many walking and not watching
Where they are going everyday showing
Us another lie just to steal away freedoms
Thanks to political idioms the symptoms
Only worsen we are cursed within a curse
Spiritually dead in a mental coffin
Too often we are very soften coughing
Up dough to make bread but it gets worse instead
Higher inflation higher the crime nation
The elite sit in happiness watchin us *****
But nothing to show put out our glow
The vibrations of the earth are low so low
That we have the intellect of a grass blades
 23h Rich Hues
There's a sound like a song
Within every soul bound to flesh
A symphony of notes that pour
Like molten gold from the mountain
Watching the wind that whistles
Through boughs of emerald splendor
Whilst spring veins run with life
Surging through rock and earth
Beneath roots of ancient standing
Her stormy sky may roll and toil
Let her hear your song, Let it be
When I speak to you
I should not talk in riddles
Use strange words and phrases
If I mean to communicate with you
In an ordinary way
I have not
I have merely asked you
To weigh my experiences
With your experiences
That differs from mine
I am baffled
Who will clarify?
You are the one I look up to
As my friend and guide
When the pressure is off
I shall behold flowers again
Admire their texture and fragrance
Strum the sitar
Take cognition of the spreading notes
And sing songs
Written by me only for you
Say you will help me
Do not say
You do not follow me
He lays like a lion
She hugs like a bear
And they didn't care
About their different fur

It's a jungle out there
Tigers and fear
It's so much worse
Than the wild in them

He had a mane like a lion
She had fuzz like a bear
And they didn't care
About the hide they wear

No they didnt care
About who they were


The only thing that mattered
Was each other
Trying to reach forever
With different endeavors

He was the king of the jungle
She was the grizzliest bare
Laying ***** together
Honey was shared

And as the world stared
Their hearts paired
For they didn't care
What the looks mirrored

Two lovers
Different breeds
Wearing different colors

They only cared about loving
One another

He was a lion
She was a bear
He had a roar
That her growl repaired

They didn't care
What the world declared

For they were here for eachother
And the world was just another


Tom would try to abstain
from that place in his brain
and the ghost house hid deep in his mind
where the shadows suggest
there’s an unwelcome guest
or a thing best kept lost Tom would find

from the dusty old clocks
come the dead tics and tocs
but the hands on the face have long stilled
no alarm ever rings
and no pendulum swings
time itself was the first to get killed

from the bowels of that lair

comes a creak on the stair

and the scratching of long finger nails

then a bang from the wall
with a clang down the hall
while the wind vocalises its wails

down it’s darkest corridor
somewhere on the 13th floor

is a long since abandoned damp room
where a door black as night
with a latch that's held its darkest corridor
leaks a mist of green menace and gloom

and beyond that wood frame
is the thing Tom won't name
in the corner, it patiently hides

a malevolent thought
he had once fought and caught

it's the room where his demon resides

and that loathsome old fright
he’d locked up good and tight

has a nature that’s shrouded in mystery

why he holds it secure
Tom won’t tell, he’ll demure

only says ‘it's best consigned to history’

since he knows if it’s found
then he will hear the sound

of its voice through the hole for the lock

and the key on his chain
Tom would turn once again
set it free so it could run amok

so he keeps the door closed
and his feelings composed
and his time in there tries to keep short
since although it is small
Tom can clearly recall
all the heartache and havoc it wrought

the last time he’d passed through
he had sealed it with glue

to keep access and egress restricted

then he nailed the door shut
with some wood he had cut

to forget that it ever existed

when he thought that he’d won
that his labour was done

Tom had vowed to return there no more
but was so keen to win
he’d nailed something else in
so at best he could call it a draw

when it comes to Tom’s door
he’s made mistakes before
since that room also houses his heart

when you love what’s been lost
then a very high cost

is a certainty right from the start.
What’s in yours?
I feel like
I have lost
the battle
in a one-warrior
1963 -

Counting heads in herds grazing by
Burma-Shave blurred red words
Endless empty morning's blue sky
Sister snoring unheard

For vacation **** laid in store
One year since Florida
Where dolphin smiles I so adored
Soon Atchafalaya

Strange new names I never had heard
Lakes like the Pontchartrain
'mongst Interstate's mindless murmurs
Mother endlessly prayed

For what know not 'n dare not asked
Care free days 'n sights t' see
License plates ending in Texas
Burgers in Biloxi

Bleached white beaches sand dollar shores
Light moonlit 'mongst night's waves
Fantasies born then fore'er more
Krystal Cheese Burgers craved

Untill it ends in Refinery lights
That dreaded stench so close to home
Orange glowing smoke now the night's only sight
Choc'late dipped melted ice cream cones
Yeah, nice to have a companion
In are life
A man or husband
But nothing is permanent
In life with them.

The only permanent
In are life
Are kids.
That you cannot replace
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