Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Zywa May 21
The gum bubble bursts,

people scream about profit

motives: blue ******!
"Trois couleurs: Rouge" - Fraternité ("Three Colours: Red" - Fraternity, 1993, Krzysztof Kieślowski), Valentine

Collection "Mastress"
Zywa May 3
The Great Leader shouts:

We Are Great, The World Is Ours!

Who offers the most?
Collection "Different times"
yann Jan 30
Proper lines at their proper place,
And in perfect time if you could,
Please, that would be great.
Rightful colors at their rightful place,
And in record time, if you
Sped up just a little, just a little.

I seem to have noticed your arms look slugghish,
Maybe you should add a bit of cafeine to your coffe.
I think we should get someone else,
Your dead eyed stare
Might start to affect morale 'round here,
Maybe you could go home a little earlier,
Without cutting at your hours.

Have you tried being glad for the opportunity ?
Have you tried being happy for the food on your table ?
What do you mean you wish for more ?

Meaning isn't part of your work, you know,

Proper Lines, and Rightful Colors, with
a Smile on your Face, a Bright, Happy, fried Coworker.

(we do want you quieter)
10.12.22 - being a machine
lj brooks Dec 2022
i don’t want life to be easy,
but i wish it were simple
i don’t want to pick flowers
to die in a vase on the table

it’s too late to retreat
it’s too late to begin
it’s too late to start over
i’m too broke to give in

i want it all or none
spend my days in a class or the sun
either a mansion or shack on a hill
if i could put in the effort, complete overkill

but they don’t want me to belong to the land
(only if i put a dollar in their hand)
so i am a little bit lost
a little bit lazy at a pretty large cost
and i want to know things but not out of need
fulfill my own longing, a curious greed

it’s too late to go back
it’s too early to die
it’s too late to start over
it’s no use asking why
can i only have just one?
rich exhaustion or penniless fun
i’m sure that some can,
but that someone’s not me
unless there’s something that no one can see

i’m digging for treasure
i’m not sure is there
maybe i’ll find it…
if i just change my hair
when i wrote this, i was hoping that a melody would come to me and it could be a song, if that explains the awkward rhythm (or lack thereof). still haven’t been able to think of a melody :/
grave Jun 2022
well, insurance won’t cover my therapy anymore, but at least writing is free.
i mean. it’s not free in the sense that one needs writing supplies but hey, you get the point.
Separated by progress
We live in isolation
Socially stagnated
Growing ever distant.

Focus further inward
Without hesitation,
Cutting off future conflicts
Before they even happen.

Perspective and reality
No longer separate
Eco chamber catalysts
Shattered-faction fragment.

Elitist tactics brainwash
Entire populations,
Localised abundance withers
With dying vegetation.

Doomsday clocks lurching
Our salvation diverges
Shouting to the twilight sun
We share but false elation.

Entire regions' designated
Means of production
No new doctrines allowed
All hail consumption.

Ever directionless, at a loss
Regressing into violence:
Revolutionaries' proudest
Of our failed revolutions.

Living out our dreams
Of solitary bliss,
Live alone in harmony
Or die in the abyss.

What piece of work is man
That chooses inhumanity
A species in a chasm
Led by mere savages.
"And in time there will come a generation that has got beyond facts, beyond impressions, a generation absolutely colourless, a generation seraphically free from taint of personality"
― E.M. Forster, The Machine Stops
Filomena May 2022
A tasty pastry baked by pain
Is made with bakers' stolen grain
But maids and butlers go insane
To take the tasty, not the plain
Filomena Apr 2022
I won't bite the hand that feeds me,
But I'll fight the man that bleeds me
Though the fear of him may sieze me
I won't let the terror freeze me

If we have a rightful reason
To commit an act of treason
Then I see no better season
To do more than put our pleas in

And so what if someone sees it?
Don't be quiet to appease it
To the system you don't matter
So be heard over the chatter

Can't you hear the summon pealing?
From the body comes the healing
Till the time of our releasing
Our resistance be increasing!
Anais Vionet Mar 2022
It’s a Monday. Capitalism and school have given Mondays a bad rap and we need to take it back. That would require a movement of some sort, too much, I suppose, with a WAR on.

I have the jitters. This morning was, well, Monday and I had a midterm - sort of. So it would’ve been irresponsible for me to take the time to straighten my room - I’m nothing if not responsible. But Peter’s here. It’s his first glimpse of my room and it’s a mess.
“There’s an underlying order” I assure him.
“There always is,” says mr. physics.

Anna had taken a (photo) burst of us - the modern equivalent of those childhood, cartoon flicker-books - to celebrate his first visit to our immaculate suite. Now she’s screen-sharing them on the huge common room TV. “You’re cute,” He says.
“Hurray for me, hooray for that,” I reply, “But I was thinking YOU’RE cute,” I say as I snuggle closer to him on the couch.
“We all love the sound of compliments slapping together,” Leong says, sarcastically.
“Find a communist,” I suggested to Leong, “they all study philosophy, I think.”
“You come into MY house..,” Leong begins.
“You come into MY house..,” I responded.
“You come into MY house..,” Anna says from the kitchen.
“You come into MY house..,” Sophy yells from her room. This could go on all night.

“The four reactions,” Peter says.
“He’s starting to talk physics again!” Anna says, narrowing her eyes on him, like a cat catching sight of a squirrel. Leong, yawns excessively, “Ugh! Make him stop,”
“All the forces that we experience every day..,” Peter begins. At first, I moaned as if I’d been told I was about to be waterboarded. Then I take action, rolling over and climbing on top of him, messing his hair and beginning to tickle him, “There must have be an off switch somewhere!” I exclaim.

Now everyone’s screaming and laughing, “Ok, Ok, I give up.” he says, then he pins my arms to my sides at my elbows - but before he can swing me off of him, I lean in and plant a sloppy wet lick on the side of his face. “H-Hey!” he says, wincing like someone avoiding a wild puppy. He was all askew by the time he swung me off onto the couch and fixed me with a concentration that suggested that nothing else mattered. Time seemed to stop and that moment was the first time I thought about kissing him.

Over his left shoulder Anna vibe checks me by making a moony love-face  - throwing in several puckery kisses. I’ve never seen myself in action, but a sharp, stinging sense of recognition told me that her impersonation was more accurate than not - and I snapped out of it. “What are we doing for dinner?” I asked, and the tension broke.
BLT word of the day challenge: askew: "out of line" or "not straight."
Kagey Sage Jan 2022
How would the best user friendly widget
stay that way in a profit incentive?
The physical products escape this unseen
(They're thrown out en masse when profit fades)
The internet’s been a slow fade
from revolutionary layouts and interaction
to the bare minimum you could tolerate
Today most are conditioned not to bat an eye
when the most trusted news sites
are filled with grotesquely glitching ads
that look worse than a 2001 spam virus
Selling sweatshirts with an incomprehensible
automated message containing your last name
Then it switches to threats
the FBI wants to take over my machine

Such is life today
Ignoring what we think we can
Next page