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Lydia Jun 2017
I am so sick of the crashing cars
The intersections don't make any sense anymore
Everyone's going at the wrong time and it never stopped
I was smiling until I saw smoke
I thought the glass was rain, or fire hydrant had popped, I
Didn't here the sound until I saw him
When they hit, his tire exploded
In a straight-on collision, he pulled over to put his head in his hands
Exasperated relief, he almost made it home
The man on the motorcycle flew over the stoplight
And in that split second we all prayed he sprouted wings and would never come back down
But his vehicle was in pieces hitting my windshield
I was nearly sick at the sound
Dead weight on the road still breathing
I am so sick of never slowing down
It's so impossible
He may never walk again but I couldn't tell you what colour that stoplight was
And the other man won't make it home for dinner
He was so close, did everything right
I hope he kissed his kids before he left that morning
Because he almost didn't make it home
He will. He'll be late but he's coming home.
She isn't.
A humanitarian from my community was killed in a hit-and-run over the weekend. A month ago, I saw my first car crash; a 90 year old in a jeep and a man on a motorcycle. It was the most sickening sound I've ever heard, and I almost passed out according to my father. Today, on the way home from dinner, a man tried to turn left where there was clearly no space and slammed into the driver's side of the car in front of me. The man is alright, he pulled into the shoulder and put his head in his hands on the steering wheel. He was almost home, but somebody was just too impatient. I cannot over stress the importance of safe driving. In the past month, I have seen more recklessness and carnage than I had in my entire life before. This is the third time my writing has tried and failed to capture the damage done by reckless driving. It doesn't have to be this way. Please drive carefully.
Sombro May 2017
Our wooden frame crawls on tendrils
Weeds soaked in seawater soaked in city muck
Grit shuffles into water, disturbed by our passing,
The canal boat slinks on wooden planks and pedestals,
Wicked bears a traditional name

Ice breakers and thought takers,
Our narrow hull rests on its corals
Shuffled into dock
By the bay leaves, short and smooth,
Which flinch and blanche
Feeling their way apart from us
As our engine leaks

No indeed, our boat is shaped like tree trunks,
Lashed together with fickle plastic rope
That bleeds earthly vitamins from the bowels of exploited grass seed
And stewed history, burnt alive within

What I feel is comfort,
But I know the fish below me
Are choking, feeding on
What arsenic they can reach to
Escape the slick of molten carelessness
As we imitate the seabirds that
Come in to roost
And hurt nothing.

I don't think
We managed more than damage,
But HELL


I had fun doing it,
As long as tomorrow comes,
Ours is fine

?
This poem turned into an environmental one - no matter how much we try to adapt our lifestyles to nature, we're always doing damage
Rachna Beegun Apr 2017
Forgive me, but I need to get away from all this before it damages me again.
Àŧùl Feb 2017
I still cry over my accident that happened,
The accident that happened nearly 7 years ago.
Of any gains to me, there seems no hint at all,
And of my pain, there seems no happy end.
Reason with my invisible tears I often do,
Irrecoverable damage after all that happened,
More was the damage that was consequent.

I lost my friends, I lost my career overall,
The accident did no good to me except one.
Of my family ties, it strengthened them all,
And my physical pains are long subdued.
Reason I fail to find for my lost years,
Irrecoverable is the lost love and friendship,
More is that grief of the invisible tears.
My HP Poem #1445
©Atul Kaushal
The scars of your lies cut deep
Your mistrust confuses me
Haven't we known each other for a long while now?
My soul I laid bare for you
But yours was kept cloaked from me
You're fine, you're great you say
There's absolutely nothing wrong; you can handle it
You lie to not just me but yourself too
And the damage done is *permanent
Remember you're only human. It's okay to break down sometimes
Gabriel burnS Dec 2016
And all the wars
those eyes of yours
have started,
and all the gore
blown open in the hearts
like grotesque gardens,
by beauty, battle-hardened,
yes, all of this is lost to words;
none ever cross
the lips of worlds
exhaling in the fallout
following the meltdown.
Youdont Needthis Jan 2017
Deep in wood’s twig embrace
She lies beneath the leaf tessellation
Her hollow skull and hollow chest are friends with the burning winds
She is hallowed in her sloping waist
With child

She is mother bony
Woman with skinless face
She is grinless
For her jaw was stolen in ages past
Yet she is blessed with child
Her middle is heavy with boundless boy

A boy fated
To be *******
Emperor
Tyrant
King
To be lord of the shattered lands and even their scattered men
Destined to be crowned in fragments of skulls and silky fabric reds
He shall mate with fire
Be father of arson spawn
His face will be carved in Mammon’s silver toys

He will never be forgotten by any of history’s tedious scribes
Yet first he must be born

Now the winds are chanting
They push at her pudgy waist
They are chanting for the birth of the emperor ******* king
They desire the tyrant
They are the slaves of God
For they are catalysts that mold the shapes of futures’ lords
They will sing triumphant
When he is pushed through dusty hips
They will congratulate their oldest and most silent friend  

He is birthed with great force
The spit of cadaverous womb
Crying shrieks in the forest
No one living to clean him

By spirits’ force he is taught
To eat the last of mother’s skin
To grow to be the friend of the whispering burning winds

He shall grow into great beast
With strength to wield the lance
He will enter the kingdoms of men
Appearing as a wild God

While he is shaping his role
His mother will often laugh
Ever since he left her
Her body was never again the same
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