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What lies beyond this dour door
that leads to things ahead?
I stand and wonder what’s in store
behind this portal grimy with dread.

Its glass is cracked, its lead paint is chipped
while its brick wall is turning to sand.
Its handle doesn’t invite to be gripped,
nor does it tell me where I’ll land.

I look all up and down the street
and see only more doors that look the same.
Before each one are more: their feet
wish to walk away from these doorframes.

Each one of us is seized by impotent rage
at facing a choice that’s no choice,
to be fixed as if in a steel cage
and finding no cause to rejoice.

But one of us in this bleak boulevard
must be the first to twist the ****
with the will to face the path that’s hard,
to not let our lives by fear be robbed.

Let each of us kick in our doors of fate
and overthrow their grips on our lives,
smash the clock and pass through that gate
with heads held high, fearless of where we arrive.

Spurred by the clarion call: it came to pass
our pent up waters burst the dams.
No captives are we! We struck en masse:
Battering rams forged out of lambs.
Ken Pepiton Oct 18
All education and habit
instigation occurs in time used
coincidently with life's constant,
kudzu will to make life livable in senses

only one fully functional can make, ah,
and we know mankind can become broken,
fail to function for any good use imaginable,

while using carnal mind made excuses to steal,
take away the ra' effort of the tamer of horses,

rob the seed stored for the sure and certain
cold to come, watch the birds flying south,

wonder where the wild goose leads, indeed,
come, and see, let this mind be in you, linked
to all a mortal has time to think twice, once
in slack jaw awe, as we appear in thought, once

aha, we may imagine, all alike, first knowing, yes,
that works, that has utility to me, see, I know,

how to catch a rabbit, and take it's life, for me,
and my baby who shall soon see winter, first,

and play for a minute in cold, cold snow,
not giving any thought to the bunny fur.
It is an addiction I have developed, finding answers to use against lies I was taught that once forced me to take up arms and serve, or die in prison, which requires an escape in deed, not plan.
Follow the wild goose one winter,
Lo' find Florida all under melted ice
from the last long winter finally ending.
Simon B Dec 2020
I’d like to jot a historic note
One of truths and one where facts remote
Find the facts; here’s your game
One is true and the other defames

I’m an elephant at a zoo
On display, with something to prove
Fake and force fed to stay alive
Forced and caged I’d rather die
I’m an elephant at a zoo
With a trunk full of water
Blowing straight crap out my mouth,
Not fit to be a father
Not actually that unique
And more of a bother
Not ready for life I’d like to be out
But used to being sheltered
Owned by someone but feel headstrong
I’m a big strong mammal with weak wavelengths
Brains a peanut and heads down ashamed
If life’s a zoo then I’m on the main stage

I’m a free gazelle
Headlights a wonder
Ankles are weak from birth after mother
spotted and brown my consciousness is splattered
I’m free to be me yet shot at the same
There’s perks to free range
But rents like open season
Going to be broke by august
Hit my heart without a fine given or any reason
I don’t know what those lights are and why do they move quickly?
Why am I on a hood? Where am I going?
What is my purpose what’s this mantle they speak of?
My heads now on a rack and my eyeballs are marble
I can’t see my pain or feel my legs
But atleast I chose this route and tried to cross that street
Instead of being spoon fed;  lesson learned I suppose
Life’s like a cage I’d rather be out then in a box decomposed
M Solav May 2020
You want to be manipulated,
you like it this way,
to be robbed from your agency,
to be imprisoned deliberately.

And in the sandbox play as you will,
With known constraints
And known space to fill.

You want it altered just so enough
As to tell things apart,
But to be told where they belong,
Hinted at what’s right or wrong.

And in the new stuff find exhilaration ,
But newness is old news;
Just give them the passion.
Written in May 2020.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
www.msolav.com

This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
__________
My hand writes when it is sleepy,
Though my pin prickled pal pays me no tithe,
The static sound feel of my arm,
Removes itself from me,
Granting formerly unprecedented agency,
Between my brain and my limb,
With me left the unhappy spectator
Stringer Jul 2018
And Chrysomallus discarded the golden fleece, on the shadowy east,
Of the American land,
Harvested,
By charcoal calloused crimson red stained hands,

Our industry
Is heinous beyond belief
It's a surprise that we can sleep in peace

Selective memory is bittersweet
A Simillacrum Jul 2018
It's easy to get angry
and see the worst in
everyone & everything
isn't it?

No one is above the
bottom mounted
power supply
if one is

One likely bleeds money profusely

At the bottom pointing
fingers at the
portions of pie
passed around

Get your pitchfork
Get your rock
Get your virulence
Put your words to work
Put the words to terms
Put the terms to head

Blow the brains

Serve justice upon the lame
Serve justice upon the poor
Serve justice upon the tray
Of silver fear

With the money
Make guns
With the gun the
Money, make or break
With the money
Buy guns
With the gun ****
With your gun away

All these people fighting over
Fences and personal defenses
Look more and more like ants
On this elevator up

As the poverty line rises
The middle meets the bottom
Resources are scarce as it is
Now add to that the opulence
Wanting younger sibling of
The richest parts of a country
And you have two distinct groups
That don't understand how
The U.S. government works
That don't understand mass
Media conglomeration
That don't understand those
Two groups fight and also
Fight the churches for the
Remnants of our human soul

Earth is the perfect farm
Introduce a material form of power
Then put your bids on the board
Watch as the poor and the poor
****** each other for the right
To dive on coins

Left.
Right.
Up.

Down is where we're at.
I never knew why standing on a balcony was so unnerving—
Why driving across a bridge,
Or around a mountain with only a short railing,
Made me question reality and life itself.

Tucking me in that night before you went home,
When we talked for an hour about Agency and Free Will,
Before you finally kissed me and left me to think in the dark:
My eyes were open wide as I learned that feeling's name.

"It's like how I could scream, right now?" I asked
And you nodded, "But something keeps you from doing it."
"I don't want to wake up Mom," I laughed.
He smiled and said, "And it would hurt my ears if you did."

Then a conversation later, after you blew a kiss
You turned out the light, and I lay in the dark.
I could jump out my window right now, I thought.
There's nothing physically stopping me.~
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