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 May 2014
Poetic T
Life is a fight, we survive
to see another day, We
are the hunter. But never
sit easy because we are always
the prey.

Food chains change everyday,
the weak will be preyed upon
each and everyday, We are
forgetting what it is to hunt,
survive the real world beyond
your safe doors.

The hunters do not hunt anymore,
we are becoming weak, and sooner
than later the ladder we will fall, and
become just another hunted, as we
have become weakened by how
we live today.

We used to fight for life, but if there
is no fight left in us, will we just work,
rest and play...
 May 2014
Chalsey Wilder
One more day
One more chance
Say the word and we'll have this dance
Not my best....
 May 2014
Poetic T
I am a
blank page,
draw my life in words...
 May 2014
Carl Joseph Roberts
Don't Drink The Kool-Aid

Don't drink the Kool-Aid
That's a phrase you'll sometimes hear
It means don't believe every word
And don't live your life in fear

Don't walk around with blinders
Try to see the other side
You can listen to what others say
But make up your own mind

You do not have to follow
When someone makes a stand
There are many different points of view
Each side must get a chance

Your opinion may just matter
To no one else but you
The experience of a persons life
Creates their point of view

So don't drink the Kool-Aid
You can't believe all that you hear
Dont trust someone blindly
And don't live your life in fear

Don't drink the Kool-Aid

Carl Joseph Roberts
December 2013
For all the younger poets who may not know this. The phrase Don't drink the Kool-Aid was started because of the November 18, 1978 massacre when 918  people who were followers of preacher Jim Jones who while at a religious compound in Guyana drank Kool-Aid or a flovored drink laced with cyanide. It is believed that for many of these followers the drinking of this poison was voluntary.  Followers believed this one man so much that they were willing to give their own children poison. Since then this phrase has gained acceptance as meaning dont follow blindly.
 May 2014
Hayleigh
What if the sky isn't blue?
What if the grass isn't green too?
What if the sea isn't wet?
What if we never felt the sharp sting of regret?
What if morning never came?
What if there was no sunshine after the rain?
What if the leaves they didn't dance?
What if love didn't involve romance?
What if humanity ceases to exist?
What if time, was all but a myth?
What if the suns rays didn't shine?
What if poetry didn't rhyme?
What if the breeze never blew?
What if birds never flew?
What if colours existed in shades we'd never imagined?
What if no one could recall, terrible things that have happened?
What if there was no such thing as war?
What if no one closed or opened a door?
What if no one died?
What if no one ever lied?
What if humanity wasn't corrupted?
What if this world we live in, wasn't distructed.
What if global warming was just a scare?
What if all parties involved chose to play fair?
What if life didn't end in dying?
What if we were all satisified, just because we were trying?
Bored in hospital on a Saturday so thinking out loud and questioning the world using rhyming couplets..
 May 2014
Mr Bigglesworth
Tear me open, you outta
'Instant poet just add water'
Mass produced poets freeze-dried in a handy sachet
 May 2014
Raphael Uzor
She said she was Ibo
And spoke with a fake accent
Wanna’s and gonna’s
Littered her speech
Not a trace of Igbo, in her exotic accent.

She smirked boldly
As I answered my phone
Greeting my friend natively
In a lavish of deep expressions
So deep, only Ndi Igbo can share.

With a ****** passport
She spoke better than most Britons
She was born in her village
Yet all she knows is “bia”
She thinks she’s cool, I think she’s lost!

The whole point of wooing her
An “mgbe-eke” from the east
Was so we could regularly, take a break
From all formalities and English
And bask in mother tongues…

I might as well be yoked
With a foreign damsel
For the whole purpose of looking within
Is defeated if your tongue is white
And we can only commune in “oyibo”

Call me tribalistic
Call me uncivilized
Call me superficial if you will
But what you call vernacular
The same is my root. I am proudly Igbo!


© Raphael Uzor
Its Igbo NOT Ibo.
Bia means come (in Igbo)
Ndi Igbo means Igbo people
Mgbe-eke means village girl (literally)
Oyibo means English (can also mean white, as in white person)
 May 2014
Brendan Thomas
They run all about
Like rats in a cage

Every day different
Though they all seem the same

Everyone struggling
They strive for the top

Believe me when I tell you
I for one am not

I know secrets
Few are privvy too

These secrets may help you
They may also **** you too

When you understand the reasons
People do what they do

You may start to wonder
What things make you you

Once you have your answers
You may not wish to know

You had yourself at a ten
Your actually a zero
 May 2014
Theia Gwen
I am stuck in a long hallway
Of mirrors
Each one shows something new
And unfamiliar
I can't even tell
Which one is me
Because I have expectations
But I can't see reality
I wish I could just perform
A vanishing act
Because I can't stand
The image that reflects
I am done with seeing
Elongated arms and chubby legs
And that twisted symphony
Repeating in my head
The number on the scale
Can never get too small    
Cause the mirror looks the same
When I leave the bathroom stall
Always something different
I just wish there was consistency
Because these carnival mirrors
Have got me hating all of me
On body dysmorphic disorder and bulimia. I pretty much feel this way every time I look into a mirror.
 May 2014
Camellia-Japonica
Splintered memories of you
fracture into cracks of scattered longing.
Nothing will repair the broken view
a skewed by time.
Nothing returns to perfection.
The way you smiled, your brown eyes
the way your hair fell
flopped in your eyes.
Eyes that, if they saw me
they lied and shied away.
© JLB
 May 2014
Mike Hauser
She spreads strawberry jam
In the palm of her hand
Adding flavor to her handshakes

Sips life through a straw
Taking it slow
Enjoying the taste of each new day

She wears vintage clothes
Because everyone knows
The past holds hidden treasures

Along with rose colored shades
To help her stay
In the frame of mind that nothing much matters
 May 2014
Mike Hauser
I pulled this poem from out of the mirror

Its reflection reminds me of you

There's a tiny dark spot in the corner that's got

The slightest bit hidden from view

The mirror takes all that it sees

Justifying the lines in between

Redefining the meaning of need

In what the mirror sees and what it believes
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