Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Nov 2019 SW
Ryan Seth Cole
Low and behold I see, beneath the surface of things.

Inner mechanics that twist and tie us together. The reflections of humanity, the decay and rott placed at our feet.

The way we sew our seeds, ripping through avast particular selection of prey we feed.

Overall becoming that vicious cycle, we take up to hand down, we repeat.

Im plagued with constant torture of painful memories. Traumatizing moments render me to my ultimate defeat.

Im left too the wolves to eat. Only my fowl stinch Drives them away.

Too abstain distance from myself the enemy, who cares to caress my ego and pleasure me with they're company?

Who can I take down or who is out their
Who is worse off than me? Rinse, wash, repeat...

-RSC
Not everyone learns but everyone remembers how it felt.
 Apr 2019 SW
Skye Marshmallow
Metal skeleton, pretty lights
Frozen breaths sit still
Circular motion, hazy nights
Silent minds sound a siren
Swooping lows, soaring highs
We've lost our balance again
Mechanic cogs, wailing cries
The fair ground is eternal
 Apr 2018 SW
Skye Marshmallow
You were willow trees and
Ice lollies on sunny days
You were yellow shorts and
Grinning at nothing

Now you're blurry memories and
Feeling full of regret
Now you're wooden masks and
Smuged charcoal pictures

The seasoned changed and
Rain washed the rose tint away
I was left with cold truths and
Sunshine didn't taste so good

Anymore.
 Nov 2017 SW
Maya Angelou
Alone
 Nov 2017 SW
Maya Angelou
Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don't believe I'm wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires
With money they can't use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They've got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely
I'll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
'Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
 Nov 2017 SW
Maya Angelou
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my *******,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
 Nov 2017 SW
Maya Angelou
They have spent their
content of simpering,
holding their lips this
and that way, winding
the lines between
their brows. Old folks
allow their bellies to jiggle like slow
tamborines.
The hollers
rise up and spill
over any way they want.
When old folks laugh, they free the world.
They turn slowly, slyly knowing
the best and the worst
of remembering.
Saliva glistens in
the corners of their mouths,
their heads wobble
on brittle necks, but
their laps
are filled with memories.
When old folks laugh, they consider the promise
of dear painless death, and generously
forgive life for happening
to them.
Next page