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Nadia  May 28
Shouting
Nadia May 28
Don't make it political
It's not about teams
Don't make it personal
These aren't your dreams

Don't legislate rules
You wouldn't follow
Don't prescribe medicine
You'd never swallow

Don't stack the deck
We can see what you're doing
Don't trample on rights
Trouble is brewing

If you haven't had struggles
Of a particular variety
It's not your decision
Don't push your own piety

When lives are at stake
When safety is in doubt
When children are damaged
It's past time to shout

Is it your choice to make?
Are you an expert in the field?
Judgements are dangerous
Weapons to wield

Survival isn’t a game
This isn’t fair play
If you want to feel superior
Find another way

It’s easy to say that
You’d make better choices
When you aren’t one
Of the many lost voices

It’s easy to criticize
Or mindlessly follow
Unless you are helping
Your judgements are hollow

Don’t close your eyes
You can’t avoid this atrocity
Action is needed
To end the hypocrisy

You don’t need to start big
Every act carries weight
Find your chances to help
Make a vow to break hate
more wasted words
Autumn moves fast through the tunnel of love
Push from the top; bottom falls from above
Dangling leaves are flexing about
Dreaming of hope is a nightmarish shout

Cackle of ghouls; a shivering spine
All that is due will be due in due time
Whispering wind softly kisses my cheek
Lifetime of searching; know not what I seek

Darkness emerges as light fades away
Tried to hold on knowing no one can stay
Feeling alive only once I am dead
Listen but don't hear a word that is said

Roar of a flame, the warmth of the light
Fireball streaks interrupting the night
From the ashes we rose and to dust we return
Heart made of ice will not sooth what’s been burned

Holding my breath and not rising for air
Promise to no one the nothing I share
Hugging and squeezing a cuddly toy
Faded reminder when I was a boy

Roar of a racing car traveling fast
Linear stories that live in the past
Afternoon stroll through the paths in the woods
Wasn't enough when it’s all that I could

Didn't regret not regretting a thing
Perfectly still while I sit on the swing
Lazy and careless; the problem I tackle
Chained here forever without any shackles

Future and past presently now amuck
Free man who's also imprisoned and stuck
Roaring, the waves speaking softly to me
Shouting a message using secrecy

Cackling rooster call to end the day
Adult you become but your parents can't stay
Ending's begun and beginning ends near
Enveloped in fog; then it all became clear

Through stutter and stammer, I clearly can speak
World’s strongest man; I am fearful and weak
Worldly observer, I travel through life
Don't leave my house; Live alone with no wife

Peacock with confidence strutting my stuff
Have had my fill but not yet had enough
Nothing I fear but much fear have for it
Blowing out candles that never were lit

Bellowing cheers of "hip-hip hooray!"
Round of applauds for those who've died today
Subtle of strikes from a blatant attack
Gift you are given; already took back

Slapped with audacity right in the face
Composed with the utmost politeness and grace
Then without allergy, still my body reacts
Calmly I sit through a panic attack

Telling a lie until it becomes truth
Speaking with stature his words are uncouth
Deafening silence rang shots from the gun
Finished a race that has not yet begun

"Rule" one time "Golden", now covered in rust
Did what was needed but not what I must
You can be anything but yet nothing you are
Traveling often but didn't go far

Properly set for no expectations
Biased perception began at creation
Feet on the ground and head in the clouds
On display while naked and exposed in my shroud
Written - April 6, 2017

All rights reserved.
Marília Galvão Jan 2018
He came as he was
And she, as he wouldn't have imagined
Cracks of her artistic nature
Overwhelming every cell of her palm
The fragility of an inviting craziness
Captivating his instinct for drowning
her impetuous gaze
Shouting a child's malice
The absurdity of her coherence
Killing him of laughs

He read her silently, she was the book that turns off the light
of the room
And
The reader's, drenched in the revealed chapters

Torn between the doctrine of his sense of justice
And
The torment of smiles caged in 'if'

Oppressed by an unfamiliar circumstance
And
unpronounceable desires

Ripped between her disarming perfume
And
His non-existent suicidal vocation
August 2017
min  May 2017
trouble game ▪
min May 2017
trouble is our destiny
only two can play this game but

who will get hurt first?
who will love first?

these calls which i declined
these text which i just read

i love to tease you
i love to see you angry

you keep shouting at me
you keep calling me names

i thought you could keep up but
i just can laugh at you

there are no rules
and there will never be

but how can you win a serious game
with a funny player?

let that sink for a while sweatheart
Cress Rosario Aug 2014
Looking back at the smiles that once shared
Faces that once brightened with love
Memories of the past we wished that could last
Laughter in our hearts we still hope to come back

Looking back to the years we could climb those trees
Running through the open field, shouting, "We're free!"
Had those million laughs when we got dirt on our faces
Realizing that our friends are dirtier than us

Looking back to the days we were young and loud
Looking back to the happiness that we almost forgot
Sammie wells Dec 2013
Christmas is here
Santa's been
Listen to them
Excited screams

Racing down the stars
Jumping on the spot
Excited giggles
Shouting out

Santa's been
Santa's been

Tearing open presents
Shouts of Delight
Lots of hugs and kisses
Smiles on everyone

Family gathers round
Chatter never ends
Laughter fulls the room
Kisses under the mistletoe
Raise a toast

Santa's been
Santa's been

Tucking into turkey
Hiding Brussel sprouts
Pulling Christmas crackers
Making people laugh

Merry Christmas everbody

Santa's been
Santa's been
Kevin J Taylor Sep 2015
With bat and ball and gloves in hand and on our way
we'd pass by Old Man Finch where when he'd sit and watch the world
one of us would wave. Most times he'd look,
he'd say—Ever tell you boys about the game?

He stole our breath away, sure, a hundred times.
We were fielders for him, basemen, catchers and every ball
split seconds from extra innings in mid-flight-
from-outfield-to-second-base-and-home-plate night games.

Peanuts, beer, hotdog vendors shouting,
with every other voice, shouting!
Out! You buncha losers! C'mon cmon cmon! Safe!
Allow the call or fault it, either way.

We were ball card heroes, just the same,
with bat and ball and gloves in hand and on our way.
.
This poem tells a story. Life, imagination, games, spirit of play, youth, heroes and age. Baseball! When I was a boy we collected baseball cards. Topps I think. We carried them in our pockets, traded them, flicked them across the schoolyard in games of accuracy, attached them with clothes pegs to our bikes so that they hit against the spokes when we rode and made motorcycle sounds (we imagined). Cards were toys. I don’t collect cards now but if I did I’d collect the most played-with cards I could find.

.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry from common things.)
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