leolewin Jul 1

Why are countries run like companies instead of communities?

Why do we prioritize a profitable margin over a healthy society?

Why when I try so hard to see the beauty in the world, does it continue to show me its ugly evil?

Is life redundant since we all end up dying?

Why do we die?

Is there anything after death? A heaven? A hell?

Probably not.

It's always darkest before the dawn
I know, that's what I've been told
raise your head and carry on
and live, before you're old

Don't dwell on the darkness
it will drive you too, insane
stare not into the deep abyss
or you'll never be the same

But, time and time again
I've been to the cliff, and beyond
delving into how and when
and just where, that I went wrong

So hold to your optimism my friend
stay on the brighter track
and to the light, commend
it's always at it's darkest
just before the bend
as it goes

I'm not an optimist, I'm a pessimistic cynic, of this, I'm positive :D
Bleurose Feb 25

Beauty is draining from the world at an alarming rate...

Nothing means anything anymore.

Sex is just a past time and not an expression of anything, trust or otherwise.

Words mean little, often biting and cruel

Society has grown jaded and water is thicker than blood.

Family keep secrets and speak not to each other, but to the masks each has created.

Friends are not true and often hard to find....

Loneliness is an epidemic, and no one cares enough to find the cure.

Within every cynic is a dissatisfied idealist.
Graff1980 Jan 29

I do not trust a happy day
My mind recalls past patterns
And each time hope has come my way
Peeking past life’s parted veil
Singing songs of sweet tomorrows
The weeks that come are always hell
As are the all the years that follow

I do not trust a lover’s promise
For they can be given so easily
I have seen certain hearts shattered
When loving to carefree and happily
I know one cannot pledge eternity
Anything can be broken even the best family

I do not trust a possessor’s passion
Cause in pursuing owner’s pleasures
I have found all things are only passing
For the taking, to give, in the asking
We all tire of the new toy
Sweet things can rot away
Adding one more item to your pile
Won’t save you from your final fate

There is a far darker day dogging me
The shadows tight on my trail
Night will fall sooner than expected
So even when I smile, I do not trust myself
Moods will change, ebbing and flowing
With the winds that keep my armor
Flapping up and down so my scars are showing

The good is just a phase
Then again I could say the same thing
About the bad days coming
Neither are permanent
Only one thing is inevitable

Kit John Parish Dec 2016

I'm sick of being sick of everything

deep red, it burns a hole into my skull

original right? four in the morning, I bet you're crying now
you alienate your friends and revere drug abuse
how fucking original

39, 40, 41, only son, nothing done, faulty one
63, 64, 65, tricky lives, slicker knives, I'm sick, I lie
98, 99, 100, and I dread, and how red, I'm brain dead

Temporal Fugue Oct 2016

A song for the bluebird, a tune for the jay
awkward in silence, dire words, while at play

Noting the difference, of the things that we say
inflection and nuance, depends on the day

Hand me no justice, from books that you've read
ideals  in vain, too many liberals dead

Reality binds, as would bad underpants
not pessimistically wrong, given half a chance

Don't shoot the messenger, when delivery done
dark be the letter, that's never much fun

Hannah Rose Sep 2016

I tend to play with the notion of love.
I see people who are in love,
and I wish to know
what it feels like to
cherish the existence of someone,
and to share with them
the most personal parts
of your body and soul.

I often find my cynicism
to cripple my chance
of ever finding someone
who I could love.
I fantasize about love so often,
yet I do so much to-
ruin whatever chance I could have.

I may never love someone-
the way I wish to love someone.

I drew two from a deck:
nothing and the ninth.
I laughed.
It was a decent start,
because I'm living the good life.
I know only fools
turn blind eyes.

But I'm still playing my part.

Most meet a terrible fate.

When it's done
and love finally fails me too,
I'll leave my body in the woods
or maybe the walls.

And I'll be fine

if I never speak
to another damn human

ever again.

© Derek Devereaux Smith 2015, 2016

ebony rosa white May 2016

if I speak of tranquillity, it is the tequila
replying to your eager eyes
mocking your lovely lies
it is my inner cynic in disguise

this bar is an escape, drinking away the vicious veins
terrible at talking but here I stand
touching your hair resembling a lion’s mane
with a bottle in my other hand  

very, very nice champagne
very, very pleasant night
I forgot his name, but it began to rain
this time not from my eyes

at one with my pathetic mind and the pure air who avoided fire
showers returning sooner rather than later
teardrops thinner than brass wire
scribbled white paper, typical white water

SassyJ Mar 2016

The corner street awaits with pride
Raise the palm and wave me hello
As the eyes melt reveal your heart

The smile is the manipulating trap
A stance you gaze magnifies my life
Stay in the zone oozing not snoozing

Disengaged in bases of sinking shells
Float on the wavy stretchy topography  
Claim my proponent inside the rigid iris

The splash of the canvas sprays attraction
Alternate the kaleidoscope fluid flashes
A slash, smashing my scepticism cynism

Untitled spiking depths and radiant flames
Erode past the sizzling chargrilled grins
It's in my eyes, my very soul sits and shines

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