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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
 Jul 2019
sandra wyllie
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
 Jul 2019
b
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.
 Jul 2019
nsp
does it bother you that they all have poems?
the ones who came before.
if you love me be thankful to them.
they all left a mark.
the ones who wore out my heart the most,
helped it grow strong enough to cherish you.
and when I was with each of them,
every fiber in my body was devoted to holding them,
touching them,
making them laugh.
now those fibers are devoted to you.
and when I was with each of them,
I was complete.
as I now am with you.
and for the rest of my life,
whether we blossom as lovers,
or fade to strangers,
I will always write poems of you.
 Jul 2019
ConnectHook
I fell hard for the head of that Isaac
(note the gravity of my event).
Over Tombstone I soared, on the winds of the Lord
Until Holliday’s bullets were spent.

Floating iceberg, I challenged Titanic
Single raindrop, got lost in the storm;
Genghis Khan’s mongol horse had ideas, of course
Stalin’s mommy kept baby Joe warm . . .

Perspectives from lesser-known players
May improve the morale of the team;
But a view from the edge of the forty-fifth ledge
Will compel true progressives to scream!

Have you noticed the wave on that wizard,
Washingtonian mage of the West?
You may dislike his ways, but it’s only a phase;
Now admit it; his hair is the BEST.

He’s the Cheeto in charge of your nation
Chief constructor of all that is Great.
Though you’re peeved at your loss, Mr. Drumpf is the boss
And there’s no more excuse for your hate.

I’m the roof on Melania’s husband
Call me carrot-top, call me toupée . . .
You can whine all you want, but I’m here to be blunt:
I’m the night after Democrat day.

I’m the hair on your wonderful leader
Driving liberals mad—and beyond.
The Deplorable’s turn: feel the heat, feel the burn;
Oh hilarious orange!  (No . . . blonde.)
PROMPT #17: write a poem that  presents a scene from an unusual point of view.
Perhaps you could write a poem that presents Sir Isaac Newton’s discovery
from the perspective of the apple.
Or the shootout at the OK Corral
from the viewpoint of a passing vulture.
Or maybe it could be something as everyday as a rainstorm,
as experienced by a raindrop.
 Jul 2019
A M Ryder
In romantic relationships
You speak Latin
And your empire falls

In platonic relationships
You speak Greek
And think about caves
 Jul 2019
c
Tonight I burn with a reckless abandon
Both ends in embers
I am choking on my smoke
I’m sorry I’m blunt
I’m sorry I’m numb
I’m sorry I run away
From everything trying to help me
I cannot share my sadness with you.
 Jul 2019
John Destalo
the spider web captures
and I am stuck

wanting to be liked
wanting to be loved
 Jul 2019
croob
my boyfriend is a horde of rats,
and no, i'm not just lonely.
this is no delusion, Pat,
i feed him cheez-its
and he loves me.

i give him fancy clothes to wear;
he sleeps below the kitchen sink.
i give him little baths in there
when he begins to stink.

got an issue?
kiss my ***.
love is love,
and that is that.
 Jul 2019
Kimberly
She painted her walls
The brightest of yellows
That when she opened her eyes
She would feel some warmth
Instead of being so hollow
She wanted to paint some more
The purest of blues
Even a touch of verdigris
High up on the ceiling
In awnings and moldings
But she came home with nothing
When she couldn’t quite buy
The kind of blue in the sky
One day she looked up
To cracks of blue between the clouds
In every widening crack
Is somebody holding a paintbrush
They would paint and paint
Until every blue is used up
She wanted so much
She wanted with all of her heart
For some spilled paint she could catch
When her tears cleared
She saw someone floating down
He landed without a sound
He did not offer her some spilled paint
But in his paint stained fingers he held
A piece of the sky
She grinned and looked up
For he had missed a spot.
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