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Andy Lee Apr 2018
I find it hard to talk to you

Because I know I don't know everything
But you pretend that you do
Alex McQuate Mar 2018
Spiraling mindsets,
Shattered perceptions,
Twisted and mangled plans for the future lie all around.

Dying dreams scattered in the churned-up mud,
As a light but steady rainfall of dread cascades upon the carnage.

The accusations are steaming from where the rain hits it,
Both sides fired shots at each other so rapidly the barrels warped beyond recognition.

Rusted fields of barbed comments lie between,
Where even a knick could spell infection and disaster.

New dreams arrive to replace the old,
But are torn asunder just as quickly,
Hard truths rake their lines as they cross,
Torn asunder by those terrible things.

This place was once nice,
Full of hope,
A place of peace and happiness,
But now is lost,
To fire and steel,
As the guns finally fall silent.
sunprincess Feb 2018
A tiger cat and a black cat
were having an argument

They quarreled
For five minutes or longer
Fussing and fussing

Tiger cat's tail was swishing
Black cat's ears lying back

Finally,  tiger cat relented
And backed slowly away

I'm very pleased
cause I didn't want to see
either one get hurt
True story
Bryan Oct 2017
The green dies.
Never totally, but effectively.
The shadows reach across the land,
increasing their span.
They spill and run off edges like paint that never dries.
Yet you can step in it and never leave a print.
...Or never have one in the first place,
never leave your mark, just crush the foliage:
**** whatever life is left.

The air steams your breath:
A lesson in mortality.
Look! See what makes you tick?
Let me take it, freeze it, condense it,
put it on display, and leave none for you:
the one who made it...
just to make a snowball
(which is really just a fight waiting to happen.)
(Who stockpiles ammo with no intention of using it?)
(Who bites their tongue with nothing to say?)
Too many snowballs grow to be an igloo:
fallacies you can live in for a while.
It's better to just be rid of them.
Let them fly, let them fly...
Relinquish your breath back to its element:
say what must be said, even if it kills you.

It's all the same in the end:
the land will thaw,
the shadows recede,
the snow will melt,
the air will fill with argument.

Why make so much noise
if you can just throw the snowballs
as you make them?

I'll tell you my frozen friend: shelter.

At least then, we can hide for a while.
Mold it to our will.
Sure, we could let it accumulate naturally.
Unformed and unmolded, it's just a burden:
unfocused feelings, drifts of words,
letters, and sounds.
It's better put to use as shelter than mud.
At least igloos are useful for a time,
(Mud still has to be dealt with in the spring,
Why start early?)
and snowballs are at least manageable:
little bites of envy, jealousy, suspicion.

Woe betide the sun who made THIS winter!
Leave US in the cold, why don't you?
Shower US in discomfort!
Leave US to deal with blessing after blessing
in the worst way possible!

It's in our nature to throw the snow,
to waste our respite, to fight with words.
If we don't, in our igloos,
we're washed away every spring
when the thaw takes our shelter,
our words,
our breath,
our loves,

our lives.
Irene Poole Oct 2017
I was trying to start
 a conversation, an education:
a way to reach the dark-hearted ignorance
 and nurse it back to health in knowledge
but
my consequential words
slammed against your brick-walled brain
the china shop to your bull-
****.
Wasn't sure if I was going to post this, due to the political nature, but here it is. Sometimes all the work you put in to a well-crafted argument seems futile when pitted against an uneducated and close-minded opponent, but it is still important to try and have conversations with people who have opposing views from you. I felt like this feeling was better expressed in a poem than in an angry Facebook rant, thus this poem.
Cliff Green Oct 2017
Times past, our driving word was ‘could’
As in we could do this or that
To help the world, to do some good

Then, strong ideas asked if we would
Let them then, step up to bat                  
Respect was asked, when we used ‘could’

That this meant work, we understood
And some attempts fell fairly flat
Yet help we did, and did some good

That fashion’s out, replaced by ‘should’
Imperative, we’re spoken ‘at’
Time’s passed when arguments have ‘could’

One must comply, it’s understood
By those who dictate online chat
Now ‘only we’, can do some good

And half the people see falsehood
When wrapped in hate, ideas are spat
It’s hard to see this do much good
Perhaps we should re-visit ‘could’


Cliff Green 2017
This is about today's painful state of discourse, and the imperious nature of trying to win hearts and minds through bludgeoning...
Kaels Sep 2017
no wonder they said you fire words at people
its the same mechanism as a gun
you aim at the target
   the person
you pull the trigger
   you start yelling at someone
you feel the kick of the gun
   the instant questioning if you should have started this
the bullet hits the person
   the words hit deep and they feel the pain

and both these wounds can effect someone minorly and severely and can even be fatal to the person receiving your words or bullet
please don't be an addition to the cruel world we live in today. be happy, smile more, and be kind to one another
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