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Ruheen 1h
Halfway there
Then I turn around
Start walking west
But I hit the ground

And I don't get back up
I turn to my side
Elbow underneath
As the I watch the Sun pry

The gravel digs in
I turn on my back
Lie on my arm
Make it all pitch-black

I keep 'em open
When I hear sounds
Engines revving
It's about to go down

I crawl outta the way
My palms scraped and ******
Was lying on the dirt
But my jeans got muddy

Lights fly past
They show me a way
So I tie up my hair
And start walking straight

I'm still halfway there
But I turn my feet
Start walking north
Now there's grass underneath

How could one find me,
In this mess of a field?
...
I wish I were richer
I wish I were smarter
Or in a better political situation
Send help
Please Send Help
South Africa is falling
The government cannot protect us
The government is too corrupt
The government keep making mistakes
Political parties in the country are killing farmers
Caucasian Farmers
Political parties in the country are promoting ****** of Caucasian men, woman and children.
Black Lives matter
What about the rest of us?
Don't we all belong as equals?
Send Help
Please Send Help
South Africa is falling
They're burning our buildings
They're burning the country
Our government prioritises money
Over the welfare of our people
One president to steal money and another to come
Send Help
Please Send Help
South Africa
Is Falling
Women are being *****. Children are being *****. Men are being murdered. The people of this country are going to begin an uprising. Send Help
Shifting bruises in unswept dust
Summer whispers to trees untouched
A wind-swept melody
trills through sun-baked weeds
Amber roots seep steadily
Staining the driftless sky
Steadfast
And arriving in bared eyes, to darken a room
Curious over the name of a voice that has
The time, with a risk to turn long looks, of doom...

Into a vanity of sorts
The walking upheaval or the heed of a share
We find too much more than a pace of distance, and mores
Of a clash with sincerity that has the look of simple care

Wall's, begins the voice
Have two names for it, et. al.
Heroine, we see your destiny, the total of choice
Made to order and select its own, as if flowers predict well

Dourly, the notion of implied faces, and their new nature
Of a waiting star, some were about, some were now
Some were a hero, to know seldom with a such, a curiosity
In the spare tastes and freedoms we make a romance, so how...

Turns of light into a sharing heart?
The sacred in a wondering heat, is a creation to view a need
With the solemn, to say with a new voice, shall and part
Let the day save its wealth in our hands, the person and the deed

Beauty so let, daring a legend
Have a soul for a second, something to do...
With a season to say when, a here after in tradition
Is our blessing come from the beginning, we knew...
Into every person's life, some take to heart, a rain is the next, rainbow
Haley Protega Aug 28
My gaze flickering across this landscape divine -

a whirlwind of sentiments unfolds.

Yet a single word echoes across my mind:

mine, mine, mine.


These hills, these trees, the distant shore,

as sure as the breeze caressing the steeple:

they are part of me, and more -

I am at home, safe, with my people.


I feel it, I know it, the comfort it sings -

whispers of safety, a lullaby to my broken wings:

familiar and gentle, deep in my bones,

the ancestry calling from ancient white stones.


Rosemary, lavender, olives, and fig trees,

they tell me of history, of proud victories;

of battles, of sadness, of stories untold,

the generations with lingering spirits of old.


This is my land, I belong here;

the soft hum of time; a smile and a tear.
30.07.2019.
Visignano, Istria (Croatia)

(Latin, mea terra = my land)
Sujan Aug 20
The son of heaven,  erupts with rage,
The south, dare profane my land,
The court tries to appease,
But to no avail.

The emperor's decree,
Bugle the horn and prepare for war!
The granaries full, the armoury filled,
The journey is long.

The soldier,
Kneel, to their parents,
Pray to their gods,
And fly kisses to their love,
Then they march.

Treacherous road, even more the goal,
The entourage proceeds,
Joins the youth, with sickle and hoes,
To their end,
For the love of their land.

South is in sight,
This green plain, todays battleground,
The sun dazzles the land,
As it awaits without care.

The enemy a swarm of yellow,
And ours the mighty black,
The dawn is long,

Close they eyes,
Reminiscence if it's their last,
The tears of mother,
The stern look on my father,
The embrace of love,
And the playful children.

Bugle,
And they march,
The horse gallops,
And within heart blazes a fire,
Of anger and wrath,
For their country.

Clang, the shields raised high,
Roar, the spears pierce deep,
And shine the metallic armour,
And dye the green with red.

The wind bellows,
And With it carries the smell of blood,
The land a shade of green and dark red,
A beautiful red poppy.

The light of day dares not intrude the flower,
Herein lies the true hell, feast upon it,
And see what you create,
The bugle calls the end of war,
But none a soul shouts a victory call

In a serene morning,
A widow, dares interrupt my court,
Within a web of spears,
The widow with eyes of fire,
Shouts,

"His Majesty, Your imperial highness, I hear
Your country won, What about the people?"

THE WAR
Maria Etre Aug 19
Beirut cries in constant sirens
after the explosion
August 4 marked the world's 3 biggest explosion in Beirut, Lebanon.
Jordan Gee Aug 2
I hear the frogs are singing,
meadows anointed in lyrical
benediction.
In a golden hour the fields are
sacrosanct - waiting for the hard water in a
drying fellowship:
keep your sights between the swirling moons -
the terminals extend to where we know not, for
the moisture may never come.
The song unfolds upon the face of
all the waters, the
fire apart from its origins and exiled -
something man may recognize within himself.
Sudden genesis and then divided, strewn
thin across the planting rows.
in the womb a germination abiding in peace
under the shadow of the Almighty.
then a birth into this world:
We heard the frogs were singing,
and saw the dogs were bleeding and
worrying the bones.
The gravel in my heart is enough to build
1000 chapels,
houses for worship without sacrifice.
So I sat upon the setting sun
counting my mistakes and
crossing my heart, for
long and hard is the way that from out of hell
leads up to light
and right now
all I smell is gun-smoke.
But the Heavens, they pale and deepen and pale and deepen,
and I recall that the devil hid the Trinity inside my heart.
I really did believe my destiny lay at the end of a braided rope.
But I remembered there is no
resurrection without a crucifixion.
Somewhere up ahead in all that dark and
all that cold
my ancestors are waiting by the fire.
are you going to **** me?
that depends, can you see me standing here?
Gem Palomar Jul 24
Cityscapes and skylines
The lover from the city
Of busy nights and sleepless days
Starts his day at night

French toast and bacons
The lover from the country
Of old towns and folksongs
Starts her day in the morning

Lovers that will always be apart
When the mood hides
One tucks herself in
While the other drinks his coffee

Lovers from different time and place
When the sun hides
One goes to bed
While the other lights a cigarette

They long to see each other
Only to find out
That their ends may meet
But their ends will never touch
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