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 Oct 2018
J Robert Fallon III
Life is but a fickle and fragile game,
constant pain and pressure create inner ill fame.

As we watch time pass like droplets upon a window frame, we are suddenly awoken by an extinguished flame.

Shock, despair, devastation now all we imagine and watch in full frame, we see no hope and want something to blame.

Their is never anything to blame or claim.

It is just time passing through and through, the inexplicably untamed. Untamed life. Seconds away from the afterlife.
 Aug 2018
Vanessa Viniegra
In a drop of you, I lost an ocean of me.
 Jul 2018
Flo
Some men make me worry
Degrading treatment towards women seems to be ok
On their behalf I would like to say sorry
This kind of bahaviour needs to stop today

As a guy it sickens me
The sheer amount of disrespect
Rating women, calling them a lousy three
Something in your head must be defect

The other day I heard a colleague say
Don't worry about their names
I'm saving them by the codes
Each letter leading me on different roads

"S" means hot, "X" is for a one time use
I was aghast, no I was shocked
In my opinion this is resembling abuse
After that further chat had to be blocked

A dark day for a believer of human dignity
No human should be reduced to an object
Fellow men, stand up when facing this immorality
This is a wrong we need to correct
I wrote this poem about half a year ago after being confronted with the above mentioned situation. I was debating whether I should publish this poem at all, as there are a lot of poems popping up especially in regard to the "me too" and "time is up" movement and I did no want to "jump on the train" so the say. However, I think it is important to stick up when facing wrongs like these no matter if this relates to women or men alike.

Cheers to the believers of human dignity!
 Jun 2018
L B
I don't think about it any more
I take out the trash
noting
Sticks caught in the crotch of a tree
The wind does what the wind does
breaks weaker branches down
does not care where
it leaves
them
on its invisible way

Days do what the days do
they don't count themselves
worthy as they go
to release
the afternoon
to evening—
an artless
emptying
to a low spot
where tears tend to pool
if I'd let them down

“You know,
in that low spot
out there...?”
Where it's hard to see
Where its hard to care?

They take heart
out
divide it by energy
for sadness—
I haven't got

Watched the clock go round
wipe out my little plans
with relentless hands

...and I never got dressed today
6-12-18
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