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Luiz Oct 9
Memories

always there
never spare
to scare
they stare

and snare
relentless
they swear
my despair

not a prayer
to breathe air
never fair
always tear

here and there
mentally
everywhere
I'm elsewhere

back in time
times behind
hit rewind
as tears flare

past glares
I dare
warfare!
beware

prepare
nightmares
rip to pairs
memories

to replace
and erase
no space
for disgrace

give it face
past deface
earn my place
win the race

up the pace
live in grace
life embrace!
Khoi Oct 8
No more hugs for thugs

big bad wolves
thick prison bricks

huffing and puffing?
Satire
Spriha Kant Oct 2
I am not stubborn. Rather , I am
  nothing beyond a soul who can't
  dare to rebel against her own inner    
  voice.
Chris Slade Aug 28
Ted Slade was a Communist, an Atheist,
a Realist, a Pragmatist. All the ‘ists’…
Even as you’d see from his poetry…. a perfectionist.!
So, right to be bitter now and then,
about how the so called maker made him.
I’m right there with him on that.

How can there be a superior being… The Big ‘G’
The creator of all things living and breathing
when, he dished out the proletariat’s grand life plans…
The stoop, the damaged flesh, retracted blood and bone,
the twisted hands.

After he’d fixed the sun,
the moon and the stars
and the creatures of the sea,
he made man in his image… his own
the likes of you and me.
But Ted picked up a duff one,
an already beaten body.
Spine twisted, lungs restricted.
Unfit for purpose - ****** up.

Like a life jacket with a puncture
If he had jumped overboard with it
he would have drowned.
He’d picked up the parcel in the warehouse
that had already hit the ground.
One that shouldn’t have made it beyond quality control.
If he’d had a hand in a design that was plainly odd
he would have chosen the super deluxe model for his starring role
So he just ignored everybody else’s God
Just got on with the job…
And as such, scored an even more brilliant goal!
This is about my cousin Ted from Hull ... who, at about the age of 6, was diagnosed with severe Kyphoscoliosis - a complex curvature of the spine ... So he didn't believe in God. Ted still, without formal education till the age 12, was accepted at university at 15 ... Bsc Hons. Metalurgist, Marketeer, Internet Wiz, Programmer, and Latterly, of course, a Poet. As you do!! Ted Slade: 1936 - 2004.
Words' Worth Jul 4
I don't know why the garden behind a lulled neighbourhood
Reminds me of the forgiving past
When, I jotted my thoughts from the start
As a pale boy

Understanding the road of violence taken
Many ideals ceased to exist until poetry came
Maybe, because of white privilege
But, the Bible is all we had for freedom

Now that black lives matter, thorns stub your head
As the nail impairs the prolonged hammer
We write for a culled audience
Dealing with prejudice, with our hands tied

Things are not black and white anymore than before
It is my duty to see the color
Life is more than warm and white color
Like blooming flowers grasping their innocence

Life is a beautiful wonderment
It isn't born of acceptance
A dirge-like procession always carries on
Yet, indelible writings are on the wall
Gunnika Mehra Jun 19
The belt which holds your pants up,
The same belt holds my head high.
The game which you play at night,
The same game I deny.
The heels which I wear,
from them beware.
The make-up in my bag,
Is yet another instrument hiding my despair.
The smiles with which you greet me,
One day I will turn the tables Around.
Maybe today i ain't doing it,
But it doesn't mean that I wouldn't do it ever.
The day will come nd it will come soon.
Maybe you do not acknowledge me today,
But remember my day will come too.
It isn't only about what you did to me,
But what you did to hundreds out there.
Maybe it isn't daily that we speak up,
But the day we do can put behind the bars thousands of you.
(This poem is a message from a **** survivor to her rapists)
Kawsu Sanneh Mar 26
Tell them, let them to vanish
I mean those cruel vampires
I am referring to them, the crisps,
The evils to our lyrics to perish

Free us, free us from your satanic shores
Let us life, let us be happy but not sores
Let streams flows through our pores
Let our dreams be fulfil at the highest scores

Let those Vampires vanish from our government
From their unruly atitude, where all flaws farment
Where their deathly games begins. Where corruption
wine and wallows within our administration

Refer them to the scribbling scripts of the land
Lay it, Spread it, Open it and read it before them
Even if they resist, Do not desists to grab them
Led them to the truth. Tell them that change, we demand.

What did they wants from us, which they not been
Awarded. When they hoared loudly for votes
We gave them. We paid them through taxes. We have seen
Them brutally burning our fleets of vehicles.

We shall never needs "rocket scientist" to led us
And we don't sense of elegance. Where humours
Hide with hedonic faith. Where they thought we are
Sleeping. Until I task champion to read us "Sleep no more"

From an enigmatic society, where our soul have bee laid
To survive. We shall never slacken our ink. We have paid
Them as servants. How could we surrender our armour
When our only blood vessels were been torn in every hour.

Until then we will never relax to advocate
We can't fold flawless flanges to suffocate
We stand for change. An immediate change
Where we shall all sleep in pleasant peace
Kawsu Sanneh Mar 25
Tell them, let them to vanish
I mean those cruel vampires
I am referring to them, the crisps,
The evils to our lyrics to perish

Free us, free us from your satanic shores
Let us life, let us be happy but not sores
Let streams flows through our pores
Let our dreams be fulfil at the highest scores

Let those Vampires vanish from our government
From their unruly atitude, where all flaws farment
Where their deathly games begins. Where corruption
wine and wallows within ouradministration

Refer them to the scribbling scripts of the land
Lay it, Spread it, Open it and read it before them
Even if they resist, Do not desists to grab them
Let them to the truth. Tell that change we demand.

What did they wants from us, which they not been
Awarded. When they hoared loudly for votes
We gave them. We paid them through taxes. We have seen
Them brutally burning our fleets of vehicles.

We shall never needs "rocket scientist" to led us
And we don't sense of elegance. Where humours
Hide with hedonic faith. Where they thought we are
Sleeping. Until I task champion to read us "Sleep no more"

From an enigmatic society, where our soul have bee laid
To survive. We shall never slacken our ink. We have paid
Them as servants. How could we surrender our armour
When our only blood vessels were been torn in every hour.

Until then we will never relax to advocate
We can't fold flawless flanges to suffocate
We stand for change. An immediate change
Where we shall all sleep in pleasant peace
Grey Jan 31
Clouds billow around us
as the zephyr gently ruffles
your red-brown hair
so that it falls in waves
across your bright almond eyes
and hides the light freckles
dappled across your forehead.
As you reach out to fix it,
another gust shifts it back
and your laugh is like a magician's spell,
banishing the last few shadows lingering
in the cobwebbed corners of my mind.
I brush the strands of hair
behind your ear,
one finger lingering
to trace the spots where the sun kissed
your caramel skin.
Your lips tug into a smile
and you squint your eyes
so that long lashes hide
all but the swirling royal blue
of your irises.
Head tilted back, your long locks
tumble down to your waist
before everything fades
except your blissful smile
and contented gaze.
You open your sunset-colored lips
but I silence them with my own,
warmth flooding our bodies
as the sky howls around us.
Its salty tears begin to fall,
but your giggle is soft and bright
as you pull away to dance under the stars.
Our fingers lace together
as you tug me towards you again
and we twirl and spin as the sky cries.
Bodies moving as one,
we dance and laugh and smile,
bracing ourselves against the harsh winds
trying to break into our euphoric oasis.
Our fingers and fates were tangled together
as we watched the whole world
fade away in front of our eyes.
Standing in a beam of light,
silky white fog rolled over
the lonely cities and dark alleyways
until they were obscured in a ghostly veil
and all that was left
was us.
end is a bit bumpy
two many "ours" at the end
sentence structure at beginning is a bit repetitive
make the entire poem present-tense?

Jan 19, 2020
With not much clarity
A guess is worth its weight thrown
But no one ever really knows
Unless the game is read or set
To take or give
Conditions met
I keep the rest to go against
The sense between the self and less
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
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