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Kagey Sage Jan 10
2004 felt so far away from 1994
2014 was another world compared to 2004
2024, and it all looks the same

Sure, we feel different; scattered, deranged
Not knowing who to believe or blame
You gave it all to us too fast at once
All the movies, music, and TV
All the books, articles, and self-help
All the DIY guides and platforms to perform
We never realized we were not cut out to be the curators
and communities all by our lonesome selves in our bedrooms
We crumble at the weight of it all, blame ourselves for not achieving dreams like the pretty people on the tiny screen
Boomer producer parents spend so much dough to help their kids seem bespoke  

I'm afraid many poors got too smart between 2004 and 2014
Too much decent community college, Marxist pdfs, and low down creatives coming together

You can't find what you used to in real life, let alone online

The 6 rich guys that run the world got scared of too many redneck dads actually liking Bernie Sanders and the new sushi bar downtown

People were getting too smart, so they flooded us with slop
to get us back to the naïve pissants we were before 9/11, or maybe even before the Industrial Revolution
mikey Dec 2024
my father is telling me last night he dreamt he was telling the neighbours to install a shining privacy screen. my mother is telling me she dreamt about doing her taxes. “hand over your documents” the man said. she’s telling me how it was a different man, and how he really should have already had their documents, and i’m just sitting here thinking ‘if my dreams ever get this boring, please shoot me’. i don’t want domestic fantasies. i am not my father. my father’s only son is the house we live in. i am not allowed to touch the walls. i am not my mother. i do not care if my surfaces shine or not. i am not my parents. i do not want a government job. i do not want a sterile house. i don’t like ikea furniture. i still have dreams about zombies and my friends and war the ocean and i never want that to go away.
Snow red fox Dec 2024
Stretching out like a lion before a fight, dressing like Madonna before a flight.

The scene is filled with blurred out faces, using cigar filled spaces, with big fat snout that grin behind champagne cases. Using tux and hat to hide its hideous face.

The music starts, curtains drop, the dress is on, breath is held. The **** show is to start.

Stand up and start to spin.

Spin and twist like a quiz with questions of riches.
The growing snouts are getting greater as the ash trays are getting major.

The ace and break of broken pines and spine that been rearranged to fit the Madonnas dress.

The show must continue, continue to stand and twist and jump and smile like some sort of an idiot.

Stand at the tiptoes reaching for the gold above while the tips are dripping thru. The bleeding tips that keep painting the ceiling red are painting runes on the ceiling and floor like a sign for the sos.

The pigs are wheezing, the ash is in the air, the gold has fallen. Just the ash that builds up the throat, the only motivation that keeps the smile on and the floors glowing red. The curtain drops the wheezing stop. The floor is so close and the gold is so far. Bette luck next time is all I hear.
Even when the tips of hope is bleeding the result feel so close
Safana Dec 2024
In the heart of a bustling land so grand,
Where the sun kisses the earth with a golden hand,
Lies a shadow, deep and wide,
Corruption sleeps, in every mind it hides.

From the whispers in the market’s hum,
To the corridors where power’s drum,
Beats a rhythm, slow and sly,
A promise broken, a silent cry.

Dreams of justice, pure and bright,
Fade to gray in the dead of night,
For in the minds where hope should bloom,
Corruption weaves its silent loom.

Yet in the hearts of the brave and true,
A spark ignites, a vision new,
To cleanse the land, to break the chain,
And let integrity reign again.

So rise, oh people, with voices clear,
Let not corruption breed in fear,
For in unity, our strength we find,
To banish the shadows from every mind.

In the dawn of a new day’s light,
Where dreams take flight, and hearts unite,
Let honesty and truth be our guide,
To cleanse the shadows where corruption hides

Mr Silence Dec 2024
I find it difficult to breathe these days
with your absurd ideas and beliefs
your secular and capitalist culture
it bothers me, still you refuse to listen
you refuse to pay attention to others
because you’re stuck in this illusion
where you are the main character
your life is more important than others
and your way is the only way to live

it’s as simple as an ax cutting skill
wood chopping to board cutting
yet, you don’t respect others
your savior complex
tribal mindset
you must
fancy
your-
self

still, you leave us with no option
because you think you’re Galileo
the father of science, the savior
of his descendant of geniuses
it must be really hard to see
your wrongs about life  
stuck with those
who are
less

when I look to the left
when I look to the right
they all seem the same
one a wolf
one a fox
with the same intent to ****
no Sheepdog
and only sheep
waiting to be killed
Capitalism, Secularism, America, Identity, etc.
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2024
~
I felt a funeral
between the timid breaths
of ruination, we plucked
to death the melancholic florals
called time flowers,
translucent growths
with crystal hearts,
gifted them to someone else's children,
placed them around the waist
of everyone else's wives.

When plucked,
that crystal core dissolves,
emitting the light trapped within.
perpetual splendor or
the endless cycles of death?
do the normal rules
of chronology apply?

Look now! here comes
the great unwashed riot,
we live in an age of visual saturation,
where tragedy and beautiful
distractions crowd in on all sides,
clamoring for our attention.

Perhaps the dystopian premise
is part of a fiendish plan,
becoming the backdrop
to a fluttering cornucopia
of florals, each outfit paraded
in the beginning of May,
a blooming display of finery
hiding a complex
network of roots –
sponsorship deals,
brand calculations,
dedicated craftsmanship,
exposure opportunities
– beneath its pretty skirts.

~
jonathan Nov 2024
Can you hear all the screaming and crying?
Can you bear the fearful calls of the dying?
Haunting, I say
They won't see another day

They've been long lost and far gone
Not a single thing to be done
For those who will perish
There's nothing left to cherish

Dull eyes, staring and gawking
Cruelly laughing, viciously mocking
Ignoring the tears
Evoking their fears

The true beasts who stand above us all
Keeping them up while making us small
Us having to carry
Not getting to marry

This broken country will never heal

I can feel their pain
Running through our veins

Hoping to ease the suffering
I promise,
it will soon begin
I really wish for society to change for the better
CS Modei Oct 2024
As my body steeps,
Bones infuse,
Organs dissolve;
All I can do is hope
That I’ll add something
To this cocktail of greed.
Y'know, alcohol is actually a great metaphor for capitalism and human greed in multiple ways. Anyways here's one of them!
Kaira Oct 2024
To wake up every day and think
“I hate my life.”

To get out of bed and want
“Someone **** me”

To get dressed and hope
“When will I be more”

To go out and wish
“I want it to end”

To work and wonder
“Why must I live like this”

To go home and feel
“I’m so drained”

To sleep and pray
“Please make it end”

Repeat.
ashley Oct 2024
Here I am 5 years later.

I’m asleep but I dream about the stress of a job that I dreamed of years prior. I cry over a job that I once cried in passion for. I think about the job just as much as I did those years ago, but for different reasons.

Today is an exact reflection of what you were thinking five years ago, someone said to me. It was all a thought you had five years ago. It made me happy, yes- emotional, too. But I wonder how much of that emotion was indeed for my accomplishments in that time frame. Did I feel unsettled, like I had seen the accumulation of five years of seemingly wasted efforts?

But I love my job, I tell myself. This is who you were meant to be, others tell me.

Do I exaggerate as I write this? Surely.
but that small voice I’ve been burying seems to be finding some confidence as of late. Or maybe it has always been there, just growing concerned for me?

It’s okay, I’ll figure it out.
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