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Traveler Dec 2024
There’s no labor
When we’re in the zone
Every line is on its own
Every stanza polished and pure
What was it that drew us here

Some shadow driven desire
A dopamine rush if you please
Like a yogi in the moment
Like a dogs tail wagging free

From the masses we have risen
The quickening is quite satisfying
All the addictions we could have
And it’s poetry that we rely on.
Traveler 🧳 Tim
Discover the medicine maybe abuse it
The day could arrive when you choose to refuse it
Live it and breathe it
Or take it or leave it
With patience and time you can learn how to use it
In many of my less whimsical limericks, like this one, I extend lines 1, 2, and 5 to include 4 accented syllables instead of the conventional 3 (12 syllables instead of 9, more or less). Always just 2 accented syllables in lines 3 and 4.
When I hear about someone with an addiction, television is the first thought that enters my mind,
everyone that watches it is into robbery’s, ***, and violent crimes.
They all sit quiet like a rock staring into space,
with no movement at all, a cold blank look on their face.
So many of them have trouble deciding, changing channels all of the time,
So, for gone they can’t concentrate, or make a decision with their mind.
Many of them got started years ago, someone turned them on to it for free,
now that they are addicted, they are happy to pay a high monthly fee.
Television teaches children bad habits in so many ways,
watching the weather man getting paid to lie, then they learn the truth the very next day.
The viewers hide from their families and friends all of the time, has anyone ever told you they have to go, they can’t miss their fix, of a repeat TV show.
If you count up all the hours they waste, years over their life time, that’s why their called addicts, because they altered their state of mind.
The next time you, faith full watchers see a story about an addict on Tv, you can hold your head up high and say, that guy is just like me.



                Copyright Tom Maxwell 08/18/03
If you train A young child to watch Four hours of television a day, and they live into their eighties, add up the years....
Alaina Moore Aug 2020
Though every joy that could be enhanced, and every misery that could be diluted.
Thoughts of escape dance like ballerinas in my mind.
Fluid in motion and undeniably enticing

I swoon for them - hypnotized.

They are really sirens seducing me, and pulling me toward oblivion.

I'm a moth to the flame.

Seeking a comfort zone that was never comfortable to begin with.
To inflict a suffering I do not deserve, yet so desperately long for at times.
This WAS a better poem before the bad gateway error. Edits inbound when the spirit is right.
Two plus two is four

One plus one equals two

And perhaps it's also true

That love is equal to me plus you.
I can't help this feeling for you. I'm sorry that I'm like this...
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
It burns,
The decaying heart within.
It eats,
A maggot feasting eternal

Love is not a gift
It consumes
Love is not a gift
It destroys

Yet we mortal plebs
Crave it and suckle every drop from another
We hopeless vagrants
Waste away within our addictions

Curse you!
With love!

Curse you!
With smiles!

Curse you!
With laughter, *** and sighs!

Curse you!
With my dying breath.

No curses of hate can I make as I say goodbye.
MisfitOfSociety Jun 2019
What makes someone worthy,
To witness the birth of an angel.
A place that people only read about,
Is a place you have walked.
Beautiful and shimmering.
A face that cradles the universe within.
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