Their peering eyes sit at the window sill-
Looking in they get their thrill-
A mother's brimming mess they are still-
Trolling HP gives them their fill-
Their calling card speaks ill-
Of good poets swallowing their bitter pill-
Eliot needs to stop this unwanted chill-
Of trolls riding the thumbs down, drill-
Their actions take a good community through the mill-
And ****** if I am going to watch the blades spill-

Logan Robertson

3/19/2018

Ain’t no peace
cause its a
hurricane,

ain’t no river
but an ocean
of pain,

and all that is left
is a tornado
of rage.

A bulge in the cement
that is ready
to crack the ****
while swelling waters
prepare to run over
another innocent man.

Raging waves
ruin everything,
leave devastation
across the barrens.

Silence broken with the sob of
parents who lost their loved ones,
as they count the cold corpses
that clutter our nightmares.

We cry out into the void
for some sort of relief,
beg for mercy
from some higher being
but no one is there.

Little explorers
observe the world,

Little experimenters,
master transformers;

Little lab workers
cause they are so curious;

Until,
full grown men
and women
become
little teachers
ready to unveil
the real and unreal
to help us navigate
past the hate
that fools make.

I live in a world
of flowers falling on
the feces that
fertilizes our lawns.

A world where
the disgusting bares
the most beautiful fruit.

Where children bloom
in the battle wreckage
of the cement and metal
that spirals
out of control.

Where the abused
take the violence
and find a better use
for their anger, and blues.

Like seed pods pulled
from a crushed rose,
these little artists grow,
and show
a different side
of our shared
human life.

We soft fingers
linger
on the locked
door
laid before
the world
we abhor,

wooden rot
ready to be open
so, we can explore
the radiant wonders
that lay
in the day
on the other side
of this dark night
life.

There's no proof God exists,
There's no proof he does not;
Choose one or the other,
Then give it all you got!

My knees are sore,
but the week before
brought the horrors
of a civil war
down upon
their poor
village.

Had to take
my car to the shop,
she had to find
a clean cloth
to stop
the blood
that will not clot.

I got a broken tooth,
but the little child
wears bullet holes
past the thin layers
of his ragged cloths

Over ate
when I am trying
to lose weight.
It would be nice
if the last time
they ate
was yesterday.

I’m getting old
her family is
getting cold
sitting in a hole
where death reigns
and pain stains
the hearts of
those they loved
who managed to escape.

Better to butter up
that butternut
burnt out building
leaving you feeling
the loss of
previous employment.

She’s bitter because
the ones she loves
are struggling
and after fifteen years
of working for
that bread store
they don’t have
work for her anymore.

So, she’s broke
and looking
for someone
who will hire
an old lady
cause living ain’t free
in a capitalistic society
and she has to eat
she could really use some bread.

Instead, she gets to stress
as she undresses
to go to bed
she gets to apply
for unemployment.

Feast or famine,
if we examine
nature’s pursuit
of balance,

we will see
all extremes
try to find
their faithful counter;

Like a crazy climate
that tries to
adjust to
current carbon caused extremes
by creating a new standard
of homeostasis,

like when animals
over populate
till their general populace
is pushed back on
by environmental restraints,
such as resource scarcity.

If you observe
you will see
pressure
will cause other species
population
inflation
to fall back down to
a more reasonable
figure.

However, we
human beings
have moved beyond
the environment’s ability
to steady our fertility.

Resources scarcity
can be managed by
emerging technology.
So, the limited environmental capacity
to sustain our human society
becomes more of a suggestion
then all of the previous pressures
that once pushed us back
for the sake of harmony.

you want to build a wall
to make it high and tall
to keep them out
them all
you fear because they call
with different voices
different words
wear different clothes
in brighter colors
have darker skin  
and
who knows
may have darker souls within

and you don‘t see
they only flee
from terror and lethal poverty

desperately hoping
that the Statue of Liberty
still remembers her promise