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 May 2015
SøułSurvivør
~~~

Is zero a number?
Is numb a feeling?
Is comatose slumber?
Is sleep now healing?

Is why a question?
Is try a verb?
When you can't shake
The ***** and herb?

Is static music?
Is silence screaming?
Is nighttime cursed...

is daytime dreaming?


SoulSurvivor
Rewrite (c) 5/12/2015
Written 2014
For those battling addiction...

It's not something you "give up"
It's something you LET GO.

~~~
 May 2015
Sean Stull
"Oh say can you see,
our land of constant misery.
Where dreams are crushed and faded,
from the Nightmare we've created.

We are born full of wonder,
till our lives are covered with terrible thunder.
Hopeless we've become,
a country so accustom to glum.

We are taught education is God,
but really it's just a facade.
Learning was never the mission,
greed caused this division.

Smart kids made depressed,
over a school system we don't address.
They can't get the perfect grades,
so they turn to blades.

State testing, grades, our lives judged by paper,
so much stress caused, some choose to meet the Maker.
Future doctors shunned because of a bad grade in History,
they are instead forced to live a life of misery.

Colleges and the goverment want only the "best",
so who cares about all the rest?
The man who could fix the economy?
Put down because of a bad grade in Biology.

Speaking of money,
wanna know what's funny?
Our future crippled with debt,
but yet they tell us not to fret.

Other countries' colleges are free,
but us Americans can surely handle such a "small" fee.
The system feeds on our scores and money,
while some of us live on crumbs, isn't that funny?

We start our adult lives behind,
and the goverment doesn't seem to mind.
We have to make the change,
we surely can't be this deranged.

We are the ones who have to fight,
with ALL of our might!
Remember, life isn't fair,
espcially in this American Nightmare......"
this is a poem about my feelings toward the American School system
 May 2015
Mercurychyld
Let the bough break,
Let London’s bridge finally fall.
Go ahead, lock her up
and throw away the key.

The roof,
the roof is on fire;
let that M%#@%F+$@*R burn!

This time, the truth
won’t set you free.

When the folks are good,
they’re very, very good,
but these days, I’m afraid,
they’re simply horrid.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
 May 2015
South-by-Southwest
My footsteps fall softly on sixteenth street
Searching for the sprites of the past
I find only the wisps of memories stirred

I carry a sadness of golden flame
Cured in perfectioned pain
A pain that comforts my soul

I found the porch swing
But it no longer sings of
Dazzling lights in night

The sun harshly criticizes the age
Of this memory going down
Scorching into a white colorless litany

Where are the soft wet kisses
That burned into the bark of my heart
Proclaiming our love by this deed

Now has forever to be trampled
In the wind's rushed revelations of falling Leaves remembering soft wet kisses
 May 2015
Bo Burnham
Why do poets always talk about the ocean's waves,
about their single file march to shore,
and yet never talk about my grandmother's farts,
which arrive in time, one after the other, with equal
     regularity?

Are these poets too holy to comment on anything
less than nature's flashiest gestures?
Are we going to spend another millenia searching
for meaning in sunsets and waterfalls?

Or will we finally turn our ear to Grammy's ****
and away from all that pretty stuff,
and hear that foul, muted trumpet sing,
marking the end of an era?
the orb of light is my destiny.

in my dark valley
escape is a blind flight
on the moonless night

when heavy lies the fog on wing
neath misty sky crickets sing
beckons me the halogen

come embrace forget pain.

be afraid not of the one recourse
come what may fly to the source
soak in the fire of the drizzled night
life is precious with death on sight.


caught in wire stuck on fence
dying this night makes only sense
i fall like rains and at last free

the orb of light is my destiny.
Between September and November each year, Jatinga, a village on the Halflong Ridge, Assam, India, sees the unique and as yet not fully explained phenomenon of birds "committing suicide" at nights that are foggy and moonless. They fly to the light, do not try to escape and are often killed by villagers.
 May 2015
brandon nagley
This is for all of you who have complimented me own work or just liked a poem of mine or shared mine own, I just want to thank all of you for doing such, as all of you are beautiful wonderful god inspiring talents!!! As your creations I admire soo much and makes me want to write more thanks to all of you!!! Use your words for good and not hate nor evil nor bad, prophesize with thy tounges, spill your heart and soul out and let god write through you, and you can reach magnitudes the world cannot fathom!! For I'm dealing with a very hard time in me own life!!! So thank all of you beautiful poets for liking me own stuff as you all inspire me daily and make me remember the world still has some beauty left in it!! Thank you!!!!
Lonesome poet Brandon Cory nagley!
God bless!!!
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