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jeffrey conyers Sep 2012
Those good old days of youth.
Teachers were to be respected.
Not to be attacked.
One ounce of disrespect to them.
You soon was facing your parents.
Yes, those were the good old days.

The church wasn't truly a choice.
Well, maybe for daddy it was.
But under mama rules.
You owed respect to the one that created you.
The good old days.

Respect was cherished art.
It was something those good parents taught.
Even if the adults were wrong.

And you best not try to talk back.
Because you had to be re-taught respect.
Parents weren't trying to be your friends.

You were educated on where friendship ends.
And the role of parents begins.
And with them.
You weren't going to always get your way.

Well, maybe when you sick.
Because parents become carings kids.
You get cake and ice cream when ill.

While if healthy.
You had to eat your dinner.
And hope they don't forget this offering deal.

Oh, the good old days.

You had a time limit to be in.
The street lights bet not come on.
And you're not in the yard.
This when parents went hard.
Lectures and sermons to last for days.
Punishments, I won't begin to say.

Remember, these the parents of the good old days.
Egeria Litha Jan 2015
Being psychically attacked
By my twin flame
Until we are resonating
At the same frequency
Dissonance will arrive
Polarizing our soul
This knife in the back
Is driving me insane
A lovely release
Is the only cure
To make it go away
No eye contact and
A detached embrace
Got the hell out of his place
Feeling his solar plexus
From miles away
Let the mind become silent
And listen to what the heart
Has to say
Promise you
It's better this way
Time and space
Heal the path
For new love awaits
The beautiful fact about
The universe
Is that we have endless chances
To rectify what is dead in ourselves
What is alive in our dreams
What sets us on fire
What fills our cups
And plants our feet
What we want to breathe
desire for my beloved
Is not held in worry
If not in this life,
Then another
To start again from the beginning
But we will always remember
Brent Kincaid Sep 2018
Nobody marching toward us
Their guns making us die.
No tanks are come clanking
No bombers in the sky.
But our Congress and generals
When oil or bases seem needed;
We appear armed and threatening
Peace and love talk not heeded.

No country has attacked us
With troops and lethal artillery.
But our leaders expect us to
Go open up their arteries
And **** their women and children
And laugh while they all die
And we are expected to do this
And never think to ask why.

It’s almost like big companies
Were sad when WW2 ended
So they started attacking countries
We really should have befriended.
We let Russia have free reign
To **** and ****** and steal
Almost as if their aggression
Wasn’t really true or even real.

We looked around and made them,
Those evil old warlike excuses,
That some country threatened freedom
And we pretended they weren’t ruses.
We attacked Korea and Vietnam
We were just supposed to observe
That they were yellow people there
And think they got what they deserved.

We didn’t stop there, as Reagan took
A duly elected leader and put him in jail.
If any country did that to our country
The conservatives would howl and rail.
Then the Bushes tried their best to take
Iraq to steal their oil and punish them
And created an era of stronger hatred
And anti-American outrage and mayhem.

No foreign country has attacked America;
So, the point bears repeating once again.
We need to stop acting like bullies here
And start acting like decent statesmen
And women who have the bigger picture;
The growth of peace in our battered world
So, other countries will not take their guns
And shoot our flag when it’s unfurled.
Dogfood Williams Aug 2013
I autoflog like a friar
who fell to ******* one
two
too many times
by letting these songs play
the ones we heard in the dark
the baby birch and the *******
eternal king
and the grimes and the glows
of those nighty night lights
that cast on your blue veins
an idea that you had died
peacefully while you slept
any more I die while I sleep
attacked by wolves like me
and a basket of fruit
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