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Vexren4000 Mar 16
Mystic places,
Locked away in isolation,
Human eyes may not go there,
Lain upon unsullied land,
Places found by humans gaze,
Usually will end the days of harmony,
The merriment of the forest spirits,
Broken by loud human voices,
Confusing compilations of ego,
Seep into the innocent trees,
Corrupting the soul of the land.
Eberhardt Feb 12
The raven picks at the garbage
Bag on the side of the road
She chews at the plastic
Rips it open with her beak
Out pours rotting gold
Her cache, nest egg, treasure
Trove of wasted remains
She sifts through the straws,
Used napkins, brown bags,
Leftover peels, scraps, debris
For the sweet morsels of meat
Protected like pearls in the ruffage
She feasts at the side of the road
Unafraid - no one can touch her
adrien Feb 10
10%
"This is church, this is where you come to forget"
listen to our pastor confirm
prescribed frail justification
bless my bruises, drink my blood?                                        
we will give you our food money if you will allow us to make an offering
i promise you, it's more than 10 percent.

we will go home after this halted hour
march to our waiting stations                                       
she would leave her bedroom if she could.
she has a headache again.
your mother is busy praying.                                                         ­                     

Father shows us grace.
Father shows us heaven.
Father shows us stars.                                           
Father shows us stars, too...                                          
every night, I pray to them.
i don't think anyone will get it, it's cool.
sage short Feb 5
The people who live in the trees are fragile.
They run from the people who live outside the trees when they watch them stare at the leaves or have picnics in the grass near the base of the trees. But, they are people watchers by nature. The people who live outside the trees enjoy sandwiches and always know when the leaves are changing color. The people who live in the trees speak in short, whispered songs like fairies with secrets so the people outside cannot hear them. Like flies on the wall, they are always watching and listening with joyful eyes and perky ears. The people who live outside the trees are always filled with laughter.
On the summer solstice, they gather round with berries dipped in sap to watch the day pass by and see all the people who live outside the trees dancing and being free in the World.
I took a brief moment out
to think about life since
the day that I lost my wife and no longer understand what It all about this
life
we'll all suppose love so much and be so grateful for living this life all I see looking through my eyes at this world
Is  
born dying lost crying killing staving selfish greedy money grabbing corrupt ambition
own self Importance whilst people die from cold on our
streets
get food from food banks families whose  children are going to school hungry parents that have to cut the ends of their kid's shoes  
because their feet have out grown their shoes
and the parent can't afford new ones a school that has a food bank, not a tuck shop like when I was a
kid
If I hear just one more comment from one of these Conservative stuck up life of luxury MPs saying child poverty Is down under their
rule
Im going to go berserk there own greed blinds them from realities of the world average joes have to
live
all I can say stop the world I want to get off don't want to carry on this journey to where we
heading
look like certain disaster to me I'd rather not see where It's all going to end
I will skip that one If you don't mind
MPs that don't live In the real world Im tired of the things I see everyday corrupyion
Harry Roberts Jan 29
Breaking a leg to make the cast,
Nobody said that gold was brass,
A **** show tarnished not to last,
A circus in truth so wild and fast.

Climb up to fall off then wallow in tears,
"Overcome" now your back and your buried by fears,
A new storm forming when one has just cleared,
A cycle of chaos from the core interferes.

No intermission or lies by omission,
Depressive episodes have become a tradition,
Darkness multiplies it's beyond addition,
Stuck in a bog and it dulls cognition.

You should be happy you play a key part,
You pay all your taxes while breaking your heart,
Slaves to a system from your kids you depart,
Thought you could finish well here's where it starts.

They've spent your whole pension,
They want you dead did they mention,
It's a form of preemptive intervention,
This society is one that breeds apprehension.
Harry Roberts - Apprehension
Mark Rohlf Jan 15
the choppers blades
unaware
the cleansing of color

twist in the wind
like the means of unfit mothers
champions
of unfounded snare

who's revolution
of her weighted intent
should be held to account
when justness is spent

the judges, juries
and executioners trail
hovering the bluster
as appellants flail

<------------->

the choppers blades
unaware
the cleansing of color....
Harry Roberts Jan 16
Cosmic Mother Our Queen Of Life,
Give Us Strength To Stride Through Strife,
Cleanse The Way When Night Won't Fall,
Give Us Grace When We Want It All.

Holy Jesters Making Mockery Of Our Pain,
The Sky May Look Green To A Man With No Brain,
The Grief & Compassion These Animals Fein,
Don't Listen To Closely 'Cause Sentiment Stains.

The Truth Is Shown In Their Disdain,
We're Made To Give So They Can Gain,
Have You Not Seen This Political Game,
Divided So Broadly When We're All The Same.

Cosmic Mother Bring Us A New Day,
Let All The Angry Wastage Waste Away,
All Of The Awe In This World It Can Stay,
But Take Out The Trash & To That We Will Pray.
Harry Roberts - Cosmic Mother
Arianna Jan 13
I invited her for tea
At this cool place
Downtown, but she
Suggested a visit to the sea
Instead.

I know not the source
Of her fascination with the ocean,
But to thither we went
With a thermos of hot water,
A box of earl grey,
And a dog-eared translation
Of Sappho.

Antigone:
Conversation was always sparse with her,
But we understood each other
As only the truest of friends can do.

I didn't dare mention her brother.

It's been rough...

She gazed at the water,
Eyes flicking from the waves,
To the poem on the page,
And back,
Again and again...

Maybe there's something about Sappho,
Our spurnéd lady of ******,
Her fragmented voice
Laying scattered
Like pottery shards
Across leather-bound leaves of paper,

Washing up with the waves,
Poetry shards
Littered
Across these so-called "sands of time",

Although

I can see in her eyes
That Grief is blind
To the poetics of muddy shores.

For her lips, that once wailed,
Once railed against against grave injustice,
Now make no sound.

For what has passed
Has passed;
And nothing remains
To say now of the past.

But her thoughts cannot hide
Behind silent lips and eyes,
For the eyes, having seen truth,
Cannot disregard it.

First Creon, and now
Her own gaze
Betrays her,
Steadfast and unwavering
Before the fickle laws of men.

I know
She often thinks of Thebes,
As soon I too shall reminisce
Upon my native land:

          Great kingdoms permitted by the gods
          To rise high
          That they might more bitterly feel their fall.




Dare I ask, O Fallen One?
An afternoon with Antigone...

Aaaand, in case you're curious to read Sappho's work:

http://www.projethomere.com/ressources/Sappho/Poetry-of-Sappho.pdf
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