Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Filomena Nov 2018
The meaning of life
Can we find it in our book?
lol i dunno man
written March 2018
  Nov 2018 Filomena
Langston Hughes
What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore--
And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?
  Nov 2018 Filomena
DrippingWatercolors
Knock on my skull
you'll hear no reply
cause I've been empty
my whole life
and that hasn't changed
I'm just a living corpse
and I can't hear you anyway
so wave my lifeless hands
make me seem more alive
force my lips into a smile
make me nod my head
will you ever be satisfied?
with the corpse half-alive?
it's a miracle they say
the corpse now alive
"look at her!"
"she even smiles!"
but go right ahead
knock on my skull
but you
will hear
no answer
What a time it is
to be a corpse
pretending to
live
  Nov 2018 Filomena
Latifah
She overlooked things,
She saw everything in details,
And details in everything,
And nothing in simplicity,
Which to some,
Seemed complicated,
But to her,
It was easier than breathing.
  Nov 2018 Filomena
Reagan Brooks
We light up when it’s dark,
We are cowards in the night,
We set fire to these war signs,
And let them brainwash our minds

How many symbols that burn,
How many people who have to die,
We only agree with mass genocide,
If it doesn’t involve us

We are leaders, we are presidents,
We are the only ones allowed to breathe,
We are prime ministers, we are murderers,
We are government policies

How many lives that are lost,
How many and at what cost,
We take your privileges away from you,
We have no right to do what we do

Set fire to our country, set fire to yours,
Burn it to the stake when we are hungry,
For power an and when we wake,
Well here is my take on you

I’m disgusted for our nations,
I’m disgusted at this terror,
This has become less of a poem,
And more an open letter

Bombs and war and drones,
Dirt collected with our children’s bones,
Is it safe out here in the world?
Are we safe out here in the world?

We know not, yet we survive until we rot,
But I for one will not be broken by this,
All is not fair in love and war,
Though this is neither, this is power and greed.
  Nov 2018 Filomena
Reagan Brooks
Your sense of direction,
Does not always tell you where to go,
And this is fine,
Sometimes you are in the right place,
When you are in the wrong.

Some people think you are a quiet soul,
I know you are not,
Until they get to know you though,
They will not question why or what.

Often you get lost inside places,
And inside your head,
But I know it’s full of wonders,
Just waiting to be read.
Next page