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 Oct 2014 SweetCindy
Mirlotta
Words
 Oct 2014 SweetCindy
Mirlotta
Sticks and stones would break my bones
but words would shatter and splinter my soul
until it couldn't be pieced back together again
until all the hope in the world had shrivelled up
and withered away and died
as if souls were
fragile things like
whispered secrets
and
love
and
poetry.
 Sep 2014 SweetCindy
wes parham
Here was a human animal, most kind,
With a sword for the heart of kindness,
Any that came from a place of deceit.
Are you true to yourself?  
Say, or no, and be quick.

If she told you she cared, or not at all,
Then you had good cause to believe,
That she meant it- every word unspoken,
Or none, as the case may be...

The world built a challenge,
In pretense and sloth.
She gave it the finger and
Bang-  Took the day.
If the night was a struggle, she never did show it,
She made it look easy anyway.

She appeared in the masks we all have to wear.
A voice from behind spoke at last.
Speaking grace through atrocity, reliance on self,
And she never once spoke of the past.

This most human animal, in touch with the world,
Most kind in the offing, decay for the wood,
Preserving a cycle, flesh beetles contented,
That life destroys, as well, to create.

So the life that relentlessly comes, now must go.
I can’t tell you a thing,
You don’t already know.
a meandering through themes on my mind these days, personified into a composite.  Wisdom comes from experience, cumulative collisions and recovery from adversity.  Here, the original idea was to describe a soul who manages to do great good through great harm.  Long way to go, but I wanted to release this into the wild, see if it had wings on it's own.  Not a theme to be wrapped up in one day.
 Aug 2014 SweetCindy
Juneau
With the things that we know now,
and the knowledge we've lost.
you say things are better,
but what was the cost?

If knowledge is power,
then why are we weak?
Who's really in charge here?
Is the answer I seek.

We've become so corrupt,
conditioned with lies.
We watch our world suffer,
yet we can't close our eyes.

but there may be hope,
in my life time at least.
the wheels of Industry,
should be dead; deceased.

The banks will fall first,
and then comes the war.
But the sun will rise again,
out of the blood and the gore.

We will rebuild our homes,
only this time by hand.
No more machines,
will be made in this land.

It is not too late,
we can always restart.
rebuild nations a new,
but this time we'll be smart.
May 2, 2012
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