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"MIXED FEELING."

The saints
are always
crook: why.?
They have
none tolerance for *******. Yes
believe me
they don't,
even Christ
Jesus didn't. Nonetheless
though He
quoted "When your
right cheek
is slapped turn
the left side."
that's no *******, it's
what make
a Saint. But
He hesitated
not to chase the Merchandise
out the
Lord's temple.
******* are: like, sometimes where positivity is
anticipated finding negativity there
right is
the biggest
******* in the
whole wide
crazy world.
Full of
crazy thangz, crazy people living crazy lifestyle. Wide
life, out
the jungle,
homicides, massacre Wonder why we breathing, when
we living to
die. Or I'm
high? (Sigh)
when will the
world halt being ridiculously
crazy. Said
they he's
zany. Plagued
the sages
mad. However
sages are the
last hopes
to heal
the world.
Corona-virus
army, enemy
agent of segregation. What right have
you to black
me, who am
I to white
a brother. ?
When we
looked just
the same, being  humanbeing.
How to become
human, Auth-positive thinking faculty, creativity,
optimism build only, nothang but
possibility. Innovation, inspiration,
motivation.
Here rode
time on the
road to glory
is there any future anywhere.? if
there ever is
a time for
everythang
le' me use
mine now. I
was told
the future
is now, I
wanna live
it unfolding
my pages
stepping the
stair cases,
roller coaster,
fortune searching
I
ride slow,
nonetheless
I gets heading
I should rush
not, yet
on steadily.
#C9_fm
Jonas Apr 12
how much **** can you take
before you break
******* everything
in your way
As within, so without---

As the universe, so the soul.

And so it is.

I'm done.

With my life (path).
I humiliate my self every time I manifest things wrong. The Universe conspires against us all, not working on our behalf.
Give an explanation for the lies that you tell
Drinking in the ******* cause you do it too well
And I find a way to get to the point I need to reach
I want to learn the lesson pain is trying to teach
And I will not give up on all the time I was with you
Many songs I wrote for us without intending to
I wish I was inspired
A new muse instead
These words paint your face cause it's stuck in my head
I have attempted to take your picture down but can't seem to make it move
Sinking into inky sea of love I can't remove
In tears I drown my pain and flood this whole **** place
Can't produce enough liquid to fill this empty space
I was inspired by that scene in alice in wonderland where she cries and floods the room
Dinesh Padisetti Jul 2020
We see them all the time
Who sell happiness as a meal
To unsuspecting people who're confused
They sound smart & have the right jokes

But follow closely & they get old
Bitter, experienced old men
Meddling into everyone's business
Trying to sell some happiness.
Haven't we all seen some ******* artists...
agatha Jun 2020
(seven)
i stopped wearing shorts—
unable to stop feeling eyes raking my legs
up and down, up and down.
i didn't even know there was a word for that.

(ten)
i started wearing clothes
a size big for me.
they did not ask why
i get angry whenever they force me
to wear something that clings.

i hated puberty,
how things would grow and change,
and they would stare.

(eleven)
i tried wearing shorts again.
immediately i get the feeling of someone
trailing behind me.
i went home as quickly as possible.

(thirteen)
i wore baggy clothes during commute—
a blouse and jeans. it was a thirty minute ride.
it felt longer. especially since this man
sat next to me,

hounding me nonsense— anong pangalan mo?
i do not answer.

that night, i had my resolve—
i will never commute alone again.
people laughed at me. hinahatid ka kasi lagi.

no.

(fifteen)
i started giving prolonged glares,
staring into the eyes of the beast
whenever i hear a whisper as i pass by.
hello, saan ka pupunta?

so i stare them down. funny how
they back away
as i stop in my tracks asking with my eyes
"what now, imbecile?"

does it feel bad when people don't tolerate
the ******* coming out of your mouth?

(nineteen)
ano ba kasi ang suot niya? they ask.
everything feels white-hot, searing.
i refuse to hear anymore of that.

exit.

(twenty)
every time i go home on my own
i carry something
in my hands, a blade if you must.
the night sky begins to envelop the horizon.
the streetlights cast their sickly orange hue
on the pavement as i take one last look at the hospital.

i hope i make it home in time.
"hello, anong pangalan mo?" : hello, what's your name?
"hinahatid ka kasi lagi." : well, you always have a ride.
"hello, saan ka pupunta?" : hello, where are you going?
"ano ba kasi suot niya?" : what was she wearing?
no truth login Jun 2020
the thin line between poet and:


******* artist
is so thin,
it is almost,

almost,

invisible.
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