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We keep running around
In search of something we ain’t even sure of
Hatred for no reason
War
Forgetting we are all humans

A young boy in a car
on his way to school
He was stopped by the police
come down they said
His phone rang
It’s my mom he thinks
Wanting to pick his phone from his jacket pocket
All we heard was silence afterwards
Dreams cut short
Why?
difference in color
Foolish homosapiens

A young girl at the airport
Covered in sweat
Eyes wild
Steps into the plane
Plane takes off
Boom!
Explosion in the sky
Why?
Religion
Foolish homosapiens

Why not love
Homosapiens: the name is Latin for “wise man”
Irony
Damaré M Aug 2016
How I wish I knew you, oh im almost absolutely positive that things will be much simpler. I would no longer chase the race of these small minded women who constantly run away from their true escape. Too frightened to heighten their righteousness. A real man in 2016 is intimidating but not for you he is. You're a goddess who only should be standing aside a man with a Godly frame. The look in you're eyes explain to me how a dude with small hands cannot complete your task. I have to ask. Are you finish settling for these dull minded homosapiens? You are the idol of mankind who any ol' kind of men cannot apprehend. If you look into my eyes, press up against my forceful figure, without words witness how the heavens speak wisdom to our spirits. As we have connected eyes an exchange take place. You take my strength and I take your weaknesses. Oh how I hope to get to know you.
this one's for you.
Glenn McCrary  Sep 2012
Leafless
Glenn McCrary Sep 2012
A role is fashioned for each of us homosapiens to portray
Though what if such a role ‘twas fashioned
by a fallacious organization of fabulists
Who decode billions of renditions of one monograph
for narcissistic purpose of monetary gain?
Naked fidelity shan’t be placed upon a hollow existence
Nor should verses be fibbed
Why can’t religion be real again?
Glenn McCrary Aug 2011
In a sphere of infinite narcissism



Wicked homosapiens tread the horizon



Daunting threats of turbulent tragedy



Dawn upon the hopeless, roaming souls



Sheathing them with treacherous shadows



Of atrociously, covert crucifixion



The elite coquettes hearken



The tumultous sound



Emanating from multiple, acrid massacres



Tainting these notably wounded hearts



Within a satanic plethora



Of acrimonious equivocation



By nightfall a harrowing suicide



By daybreak a dreary mourning



Catastrophe is all that occupies



This infamous wasteland of avarice



By Glenn McCrary



© 2011 (All rights reserved)
Krishna Mehra Jun 2018
A quick glance inside our souls
What is it??

Love or Hatred.
Anger or Curiosity.
Hell or Heaven.
Or merely a bundle of frustrations..
Which is becoming the cause of our devastation..

Nothing is pure,
Benevolence is rare,
And we ourselves giving us pain
Which is difficult to bear

Is this our magnanimous nature ?
Is this our humanity,
or our selfish charity ?

Dear homosapiens

What happened
What is happening
What will happen..
Is not in our hands.
We are mere puppets
Bounded by destiny's bands.

Instead of hatred,  spread love
Instead of enmity,  spread friendship

Whoa!!

Let's make our emotions immortal
Let’s break all the bonds and fly.
Never stop
Just give it a try.
Mike Bergeron Sep 2012
Which one's optimistic?
Find him in phrases
That are just as cryptic
As Satan's phases,
Find him stewing
In septic patients,
Incepting flashes
Of dreamy fluid,
Spewing a Druid
Cadence, history
Ripe with cages
Rising,
Built and filled
By single-filed
Homosapiens,
Defiled by aliens
And dumped in
Pools of misery
And mindless failings
In perfect time,
Devising misgivings
And listening for
Censored chimes.
Find me explaining
To a ghost
The passageways of time,
The tunnels a comatose
Mind can dig to confine
Fragile frames
Of ****** bones.
Find a savior
Burning homes
And training Holmes,
Sentimental drivel
Pouring like
Greenland ice melt
Into an ocean
Of violence,
The spittle
Flying from the
Mouths of the smelt,
Hoping their notions
Will achieve timeless
Authority.
Find yourself,
Before your
Lifeless body
Is a gory
Reminder of what
Rotting
Does to the
Smelt esteem.
Find a pacifist
In a police state,
Passing judgements
And choosing who
To hate,
Leasing friendships
And losing weight
And feeling like their
Righteousness
Makes them fake;
Makes their fate seem
All too surreal,
Catacombs full
Of people,
Voicing choices
Between ways to feel.
Find the unfound
And unbound their
Hands, their tongues,
Fill their guts with
Sacrificed lamb, ****
Their haunts with
Spiritual guns,
Toast the rain
And sink their bodies
In beds of flames,
Watch them rise,
And equate the lies
With the actualities
In a cloud of shame.
Find freedom in
Everything.
Find obscurity
Inside a name.
Find anything
That stays the same.
Glenn McCrary Sep 2012
Thrice a summer aphrodisia snickered in my face
Yesteryear the fog of boreal passion surfaced across my window frame
Omnifarious passions are surfacing
The insignificance of homosapiens stood the test of time
Life molests all of us, maul us, then sing us to sleep
Spiraling through dimensions decorated with brothels and strip clubs
Aging with the grains of pebble stones
Aphrodisia is a tourist
shaqila Aug 2013
I am not ordinary but then I’m not extraordinary either
What am I then?
I am the culmination of ancestral miracles and generational transformations
With star particles thrown in for good measure
I have the remnants of palaeolithic homosapiens
And the dust of stars from a million years away
I am not ordinary yet I’m not extraordinary
There are many me(s) on this earth
And I’m inclined to believe in other universes as well!
I am not ordinary, no sirree;
I’m just a conglomeration of stardust derived from stars a million light years away!
wordvango Feb 2016
if I am elected president  of this great country,
next month will be a month long
holiday, a celebration of blacks
whites yellow red brown cellophane
imaginary characters, superheros,
invisible mystery movie stars
country western, Rap stars, long haired rockers
Disco even ( among the most reviled)
rhythm and blues, blues reds
those with accents, those without,
homosapiens and bisexuals lesbians thespians the gay and those happy
foot fetishists, my subscription to wow toes lapsed,
biologists psychologists street pharmacy dudes
Marilyn Monroe (oops my freudian slip, there)
women men boys girls , old young two and four legged
disabled American vet or not
truck drivers , doctors nurses garbage collectors(I gotta give them cred)
machinists secretaries liberals conservatives socialists ummm
communists?, maybe not so much,
waitresses even bill collectors,
lawyers the clergy and those elected,
maids kings queens prostitutes pimps
bad  weak , rednecks Santa , I seen him today at the seven eleven
he works construction this time of year, the DEA
the Armed Forces, probation officers
the unemployed , the guy in the suit at the grocery in front of me buying Ribeyes with food stamps, teachers, septic tank pumpers  
.......whew,   I gotta take a break. I left many out , but this month long holiday is going to be inclusive. No one left out behind.
All colors all sizes all sexes all religions.
Gotta for once stop dividing this country into us
and them, see us all as Americans.
Ordeezy  Jul 2018
Who I am
Ordeezy Jul 2018
I am what you might call an abnormal specie
Although I possess most characteristics of homosapiens I feel ****...different
People say I'm an epitome of art which I find amusing
I feel more like a homeless spirit tossed around by the wind without purpose.
I hardly do things my friends do, sometimes I try hard to blend
My friends tell their love stories and emotions
I go to my story *** and cook creative stories of me spiced with scenes from Indian movies
I have a barricade of fear, anxiety and distrust around my stomach so you can't find butterflies there
Don't get me wrong, I haven't had any heart breaks... Maybe once or twice... I don't remember because I'm not bothered
I gave up on love long time ago... Maybe I didn't... Maybe it just... Left.
So here I am on a serious relationship with depression and solitude
My friends tell tales of their *** experience with girlfriends, party strangers but I'm too shy to tell them of my daily ******* with my lovers.
I flirt sometimes and it seems like a natural gift, I could say sweet words that will make Shakespeare's grave tremble but I never have the strength to go further; to lie on their naked body because I fear I might break their hearts if I go too deep. She might think I'm in love but get disappointed the next morning then sing aloud the daily female hymn "Men are ****"
I'm considered the devil's agent because I'm one of the few species who dare to ask "why" whenever it comes to religious matters.
I am a stranger to myself, I say and do things I never thought I could. I'm a coward, luckily my alter ego is fierce, he's the gifted one; the poet and smooth talker, I just take the credits.
I'm scared of marriage, will I marry because I love her or because my mother desperately needs grandchildren so she can sing lullabies to their tiny ears? Will I love my wife? How will I when love seems like a foreign, ancient and forgotten language?
I am the only one of my kind.
I am... I really don't know who I am.
Vernarth soothes his lying on the bunks of Sheesham's fire. Beam and Incense with ultra olfactory and sensory powers, delineated the elemental and phenomenal nuclei, housing and adapting hyper-connectivity, with Hindu probity, the akasha executed the essential foundation in all things of material worldview; the first tangible and concrete material element was created by the god Brahma (air, fire, water, earth are the others). It was one of the classical elements of Hinduism, pañcha-majá-bhuta or "five great elements"; its main characteristic is the sabda (sound). In Sanskrit this word means "space." It is the physical and eternal substance Akasha, of the ether that flows through the Akasha-Nautas and through Vernarth in each parapsychological regression. Vernarth takes hold of a staff called "Staff of Sheesham" he acquired it once anxious to deliver him to his beloved Tuscany in the Cathedral Santa Maria dei Fiori, in one of his Regressive Lives. They waited for him astonished by the Tyrannized impulsiveness of the nobles in Florence, from which once again he was delayed from the barley and barley fields. of the foolish gods next to Porcellino. He waited long hours for his beloved Maddalena to leave the ceremonial eucharistic ceremony, while he carried his staff in his right hand and in his left a rectangular box that could be grasped for his hand, he carried essences of a potpourri of lavender and vellorita, a ring with an amethyst stone covered by a concave gold bolus, in the supra-circular contour it wore medieval Etrurian silver ornaments from the Feast of the barley pass. Before this acquiescent Samian Sibyl, he continued to carry the clairvoyance where the prophet Isaiah had unleashed the conflagration of the heart that resists death and that agonizes several times in the ...? From today, from Kafersesuh in Ein Karem, the overnight seal is opened in the cradle where Mary perches with her son, already being part of the Gethsemane and Vernarth lithosphere in the heart of Maddalena.

Phylogeny in Gethsemane: **** erectus crossed multiple pieces of evidence of pro-evolutionary-adaptive beings, Neanderthal / HomoSapiens. Children of Israel wrote parables, epistles, verses, stories, and books ..., their vocal and phonetic tract spoke of storms and environmental factors between heaven and earth, of the "Great noise outside of us, but little silence in us." The elementary thing is the larynx that only pronounces the image that denounces minimal evocative concepts of sound in different placements of the melisma in mega sound. Speaking to us how language varies according to history, and the civic-climatic environment instructing us to its threshold and descent, by detaching itself by the air effusions of language in regular tracheo-laryngeal levels. Authoritatively charging intervals of vocalization, and relationship of connection with agriculture and all its dimension descending through its internal walls, but rising through overexcite parietals outside itself.

From the little air that remains to the world, to continue to digest temporarily, it assumes itself by letting its extra-air flow, which is possessed by mechanically inert particles, and not in sanctified prophecies with miraculous inference and Inherence that innovates factotum, in the super existence of the that still do not perish by the hand of a monarchical mandate. Thus, the world swallows air in entire asphyxiating and contaminated halves, while others redistribute it for those who need to sit at the table to collect the Bread and share it with others in half. "Here the echo of the Christic body resounds." That in Aramaic, it will syndicate much more than a language in its blood, grapheme, and stylistic phonemes, in vibratory shock beyond its deep stretch, reverberating with the grace of its divine enunciation ”. Joshua, swallows spikes and olive leaves simultaneously arranging us in his arms, like children of olive trees-infants, we risk a sheep in his arms giving us milk-hydro lactation from the sustenance of a creative verb. "A strict fact of preserving the Aramaic and not losing it by turning the turns of the leaves in history". Aramaic must be incorporated for the times when Joshua grazes us after more than two thousand years yet. The one who is walking from one side to another to tell us that he is still here, only suggestive comforts your walk by plagiarizing with your larynx the sound of his expression. The sheep is a mammal ..., more mammal than man, because its statement formulates bleats always reflected in the bases of its skull, for the rest of its young as biblical language, under all the rainbows of the Cherubs bellowing, together with children surrounding them in identical intention! **** habilis – **** Sanctus, in a process that has an orthodox base and peripheral anatomical capacity, a Pythagorean linguistic shortcut of the winding up and sternum by confusing them with each other, not altering their structural or functional complexity. From the potential of the Lepidoptera and winged insects, the phenotype will arise that will relate and relativize the Aramaic mechanics or the Aramaic method, so as not to misplace the divine language, as well as the laryngeal torque of those who have blood and Aramaic body is sublime since its mechanized mystique it devours the smallest words with the maximums in a whole range of cacophonies and prototyped field: "Come to my field, here the spikes and insects will speak more than the mechanical potential of your Voice."

The wind tunnel was filled with Lepidoptera that flew ascending in a helical way, everything was sensitized with the imminent advent of the magnanimous arrow of Zefian that had been crossing the perihelion from the high Áullos Kósmos, dialectically with abundant credibility inside the geological tunnel of the Profitis Ilias, in turgid enlist of theological doctoral lactation. Timorous and lengthy righteous was ajar in those who were still fatigued, half-opening the ****** of the days that began with the identification of the Sheesham staff, naming themselves regent of the tribulations that drain through their length of displacement, towards static basality, and focusing idiosyncrasies and concerns of the Prophet Elijah who received them at level 103 with passages from Corinthians “That the saints are going to help in the administration of the millennial saints. His capacity will not have the limits of his previous earthly life”
Codex VII - Sheesham Crosier

— The End —