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annh Oct 2019
Why,
You ask,
Use ten words
When two will do?

‘Cos a pair is always eight words too few.
‘"The efficiency of the cleaning solution in liquefying wizards suggested the operation of an antithetical principal, which--"
"Did you have to get him started?" Cimorene asked reproachfully.’
- Patricia C. Wrede, Calling On Dragons
Avery Glows May 2018
Good will tames us
from beasts to sheeps.
A check to balance,
to lull and please.
The mind the instincts
long instilled.
Easily coaxed,
compelled, confused.

Singing folklores,
lovely tunes.
Humming mockery
alluring runes.
Days and years gone
past in fire. Burnt
bodies alive
Killed? No.
Sacrificed.

Six thousand years we've stood in bliss.
Molded by wisdom,
civilized hypocrites.
Ignorance trance masks
blood-ridden terrors.
What's leftover you see
they say humanity.
To me however,
A hollow excuse.
2016
T R S Feb 2018
Junkyards.
Filled with oreos.
And dogs.
And cracked windshields.
And not at much filth
as a filth-ridden hilt
on a sword
of a king
or a god.
Chris Neilson May 2017
In Manchester today we're hurting
evil has visited our great city
children among murdered innocents

As shock permeates our very being
we grieve with the bereaved
united in our condemnation

Mancunian warmth and spirit to the fore
we've been bombed and terrorised before
this pointless atrocity won't break us

In the midst of unimaginable horror
reports of selfless heroic bravery
in this city love will always prevail
My home city the centre of attention for the wrong reasons today
Brent Kincaid Mar 2016
We never really know
What happens in a person’s home.
We can’t really know
What happens when they’re alone.
It’s every block and street
Even from those we trust to lead.
Too often parents turn
And simply refuse to even heed.

Crying and waiting for the rainbow
After seasons of so much rain.
It’s a heartbreak one must suffer
Waiting the rainbow to come again.

Not one in a million
There are far too many suffering
Not one in a thousand
Even if parents don’t know a thing.
Not one in a hundred
That is only one small percent.
They are the victims
And they never gave their consent.

Crying and waiting for the rainbow
After seasons of so much rain.
It’s a heartbreak one must suffer
Waiting the rainbow to come again.

Many think it’s a seldom thing
Yet it is too large a fraction of the whole
Robbing the children of youth
And taking away the basis of their soul.
They don’t want to admit it
But if they care about them, they must
Because abusing children is
A vile way to steal from them their trust.

Crying and waiting for the rainbow
After seasons of so much rain.
It’s a heartbreak one must suffer
Waiting the rainbow to come again.
Hannah Nov 2015
Fueled with hate
Everyone thinking that this gate
Is the way to defeat
Or combat perpetrators
Negativity fills the air
As if no God is there
Selfishness will eat you
From inside out
You can't afford to
Live without a soul you,
Should prepare for the worst
But only hope for the best
RH 78 Sep 2015
Why is there a little boy lying on the beach?
Washed up.
Lifeless.
All for a new life too far to reach?

Why is there a little boy lying on the beach?
Terrorists
Heartless.
What happened to the human rights we all preach?

Why is there a little boy lying on the beach?
Traffickers.
Gangs.
Displacing people no home and no speech.

Why is there a little boy lying on the beach?
A son.
No future.
We hang our heads and weep!
Broken hearted and deeply affected by pictures I saw in the news depicting the lifeless body of a little boy no older than three who was photographed washed up on the shore line of Turkey. The result of further illegal human smuggling, people trafficking promising to get families to Europe on a false promise. All too often, people are put into small boats unable to sustain the weight of all the people put upon it and not fit for purpose. This is yet another shocking event in the wake of atrocities taking place in North Africa where the displacement of millions of innocent people continues. Governments are too busy counting the pennies and quarrelling amongst themselves in addition to wasting precious time as gangs and smugglers take advantage of the situation by sending people to their death profiting from the desperation of families searching for a place to call home. When will this end? RIP to the little boy, his brother and mother who all perished.
Braulio Romero Jun 2014
I died in the black and white of the Great Depression
I died in the blast of Hiroshima
I died in the forests of Vietnam
And none of them knew who I was
But when I died in America’s recession I was lying on the pavement
And my head was sticking out my cardboard smoking a cigarette
Pleading for a second chance at life, another birth to come out of a hole

I was bleeding to live the life like others
Marrying together and Christmas was every other year
When my tears fell apart at the sight of my children opening their gifts
All the things I made for them and Christ, are you listening?
I’m blessed at the moment and nothing is wrong

They asked if I believed
They asked if I hoped
And they asked if I prayed
And they asked if wanted to come back to earth
And I told them all I never thought I could exist again
Frank Ruland Apr 2014
Beneath a smoldering sky
I stand atop a hill
A mound of all my dreams
All reduced to nil.

Ash falls from the blackness
From up above my head
It chokes and burns my skin
Infecting me with dread.

From the hilltop I can hear
Cries of ghastly wraiths
Howling for me to join them
To join them in disgrace.

And from this summit I see
So many of their lies
Revealed by purging flames
To newly reborn eyes.

Crows are screaming ******
As they fly away into
Horizons of a ravaged reality
Once pristine, hitherto.

And from blood red infernos
Ethereal gates spawn
Visions of all my desperation
Force me to withdraw.

As I flee from all the madness,
Demons hunt me down
Every single, ****, insecurity
All here to see me drown.

Graves with names of slaves
I pass all along the way
Aspirations left me in chains
Until the day I ran away.

And I remember every sickness
Racking me with hate
I remember every piece of you
To ever taint my grace.

A serpentine stream of sin
Runs along my side
With ghouls in tow, I follow;
Nowhere can I hide.

Chased down, I find myself
Against murky depths
Chased down, I find myself
Facing certain death.

So beneath a smoldering sky
I smiled and fell into
A sea of all my own atrocities
Ending the overdue.

— The End —