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She sits rather still, stitching her loom
shackled and bound to the whispering room
While the walls shutter speeches
she slouches then reaches,
her stitching resumed.

Threads of silk pool in spools
cast to the floor
Hushing the voices
as they pour

the voices repeat their crippling phrase
dancing the space
bound to their maze
Not sure. I've been editing it for awhile and I give up.
one of the first songs i learnt to play on a guitar
was about a guy in space
while planet earth was blue
and there was nothing he could do
so he came back

and wrote a bunch more songs i can can play on a guitar
about heathens and spaceboys
and a guy called picasso
who was never an *******
but never came back

and in between he morphed a few times
assumed many guises
genies, heroes and dancers
rebels, dreamers and monsters
and never looked back

and i chuckle to think that up there on mars
whoever he's selling the world to
be it all the young dudes
or you in your red shoes
needn't give it back

i feel grateful for being part of it
all you've left behind
at least one thing is sure
there isn't any more pressure
and i've got your back
thank you david bowie, rip.
“You know what’s wrong with this world?
We sell away our innocent girls,
We fight and bicker,
Ignoring the lonely man reaching for another bottle of liquor,
We tell our kids not to smoke,
As we reach for another to laugh and joke,
We point to our happiest guy on file,
Not seeing that he’s hiding behind a crooked smile,
We go to parties and raves,
Forgetting about our veterans who are slipping into the grave,
We argue that the rich man should pay,
While we kick our beggars out of the way,
We believe that race
Has an incriminating face,
Not realizing that under our skin,
We are all kin,
We ignore our newborns grin,
While we go out and sin,
We trample on the desperate,
While we fight over who’s going to be the head of the cesspit,
We say “only a few dollars more”,
Thinking about a raise instead of the poor,
We say “there’s no I in Team”
While our eyes gleam,
Blinded by our greedy dreams,
And we bully those who stick out,
As if they didn’t already have doubts,
Instead of caring about others,
We only look out for our brothers,
But what’s saddest of all,
Is that in the end, everyone will fall,
Regardless of wealth, power, age, or race,
We are all going to be gone without a trace,
Except for a few daisies marking our grave."
I'm trying to contain
the entire galaxy in my mind;
but with you,
the stars and planets align
and thoughts just spill out unknowingly.

— The End —