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Anastasia Aug 2019
the world is getting too bright
i cant tell that something isn't right
something else is dripping
from the tears in my skin
you told me not to
let the darkness in in
but you left
so what's the point
let's set fire
to this joint
the matches are there
no need to stare
reach into my pocket
nothing you can to stop it
not anymore
i'll start this chaos
i've got people to brainwash
this is what happens when you abandon me
i told you but i guess you wanted to see
burn down the room
decorate your tomb
gave you my heart
but you decided to spend it
gave you life
now it's my turn to end it
Chris Jul 2019
Dark,bleak days are coming, darker yet ahead,
Would say I am sorry, but won't 'cause I'll be dead.

Sour land below us and angry sky above,
And those who seek to control us, have morons sell us love.

We've severed the connections, not our fault we didn't mean,
We're under the protection of almighty mobile screen.

I'd rather I was mental, I'd rather that  I was gone,
In the world that ***** on metal, I cannot be or belong.

I know the tastes wildly differ, and can tear people apart,
But I'll never ever consider, to consume that which you call art.
If you wanna hear something different go to:
OZAR Jan 2019
days passed by like a minute long

the kid became a grown, and still can't get along

his head was filled with hatred when he was young

grown up to see a world where he doesn't belong

everyone is an enemy if they do not speak his tongue

to a piece of paper he has worshiped and clung

praised a killer whom with a sword has swung, over the heads of Civilians who were overhung

was taught not to think, so to the reason he tried to slung

was told not to say what is in heart, kept the words under his tongue  

he always knew it was all wrong, but doesn't want them to be unstrung

next step, used to hear but not to perform

used to feel the lie even in its best form

used to see the elders but not to inform

nor even to adapt nor to find the conform

time by time knew that his mind was in a deform

however his mind still suffering from them worms

and only 'the reason' was the way to reform

but can't to the society nor to himself transform

nowhere to hide from the freeze...nowhere is warm

death was the only one way to leave the swarm
Talking about religion and it's effect on me when i recognized it was all lie
Civilized life is rigged, O land-dwellers!
With landmines hidden
in trails of Society's doctrine.
'Too often is it stepped on,
Too often does it explode.'
Blowing constitutions to smithereens.
Where you then rummage within your nucleus
to piece together your scattered jigsaw,
Misplacing your natural elements,
Overcasting your ability to side with beauteous aspects in simplicity—
Of those ethereal-resplendent butterflies.
Disillusioned on land thus is you(the complex you).

Let go—
Rise above your materialistic graves—
Walk on air!
My kindred wisps
Walk on air!
Charlie Dog Jan 2018
How can you say you hate them?
And not realize the irony
How can you hate your own race?
Do you not hear in yourself “that’s a part of me”?
You attempt to distance yourself by making jokes at their expense.
Try to disguise it as humor, but I can see past your pretense.
All of your white friends, whom with you wish to blend,
Will follow suit, then use you as a scapegoat by saying
“Nah, it’s cool man. I have an Asian friend.”
Don't you realize, with your own words you're cutting yourself down
Don’t do this to yourself man, you are not a clown-
To be laughed at and mocked
Neither are the others whom this ridicule has flocked
Be proud of who you are, and from where you came.
Pass yourself off as a joke and others will do the same.
Alec Aug 2017
"The instructor said:
              Go home and write
               a page tonight.
              And let that page come out of you-
              Then, it will be true. " -Theme for English B by Langston Hughes

Ten minutes.
Is that all it takes?
To pour a piece of my soul,
Onto this page?

If it were up to the schooling system,
I could write and write and write.
But not a word of it would be True.
Not a word of it would be me.
Not a shard of my soul would be seen.

If given the chance I could write for hours
Page after page
Verse after verse
No need to stop or slow down
I know that my own Voice, I have already found.

I could talk about the love, the hurt
Anything others wanted to hear.
Or I could write about absolutely nothing.
Does writing about nothing count as something?
If the words on the page mean nothing to me,
Should I still be congratulated on the "good" work that they see?

My eyes are dead as I am praised for the work I forgot I wrote.
Because I didn't mean a single note.
This sometimes makes school simple.
If I say what they want to hear,
Then I pass and move to the next class,
While graduation grows near.

But what if I lose my Voice?
As so many others have.
I think that I would go mad.

Ah, it would seem my time is up.
Tell me then,
Was ten minutes enough?
Did I place a piece of my soul in this poem?
Or did it mean nothing to me,
As so much of our educational writing does.
The first stanza was a prompt given to me by my English teacher. He then told us he would give us 10 minutes to write anything. This is what I came up with.
Eleni Jul 2017
Where the tides of Magnus swell
And his thundering roars beat lightning to hell.

We've been living in a maze.
We've been digging up our graves.
We've been throwing up our brains,
Yet these quakes will still go on.

Sickles and hammers
And tall corporate buildings, portly businessmen.
The windows and towers they will smash because of the beast inside their heads.

Black and white
Good and evil
Are there two sides? Four, eight? Or are there billions of coloured pixels;
Each twinkling their own ideologies.
But once they blend, like watercolours,
The wars commence and their crimes they won't repent.

Our conditioned brains
Entertained by an electronic screen, or perhaps a print of lies on paper.
And we will curse, wail or put other opinions on bail.

Will we live a life of sepia, of black and white?
Or will we respect all sides of that rubix cube which becomes ever more difficult to solve.

The algorithms twist, intertwine, sever
But there is not one single lever- we can pull

to save our bleeding earth.

The quakes will go on
We will not have a break from them.
We are veterans of psychological corruption;
And our armour and weapons are destroyed.
A little extended metaphor about how solutions to a specific problem are not as simple as they seem in our complex world. Just like this poem can be interpreted in many ways, each interpretation may be valid and I have respect for that. Our weapons and armour can deter the quakes of other brains, but we must act and feel intelligently with our minds.
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