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What will release us from our own mortal folly?

a burn across our stricken cheek?

a sorrowful departure?

a gentle kiss?

Death himself.
Sorry my stuff's been pretty drab lately. I've been having a rough year but I really look forward to writing more wholesome pieces.
eva 1d
in the great arching web where all souls reside, and knowledge is shared like starlight. each one takes its turn to be human, to see the world more than as a mess of highways glittering white. and we each bring with it a piece of that knowledge we share as one.

there is a collective of human experience, in the great prehistoric brain we all share, and each little life we live, taking turns to experience each wrinkle of our planet, is simply one step in getting the bigger picture.

you and i are the same. it is my turn to be me, and soon it will be yours. and then you will write my words and i will sit in your chair and we will connect again through opposite sides.

there is a part of my soul that did not enter this body with me. all my life i have searched for it. i am still young, and maybe one day we will meet. for now, i am immortal. but when again i fade into the spiderweb of all things, i hope i shall find again the piece of me that stayed behind with you.
eva 4d
Abandoned factories reach up to god.
Outside them lay a forest undisturbed,
Choked by smog it struggled still to grow,
Like armies camped around enemy walls,
Waited for the weight of years to fall.
And as I passed within its maze I asked
Out into the silent afternoon:
Who will be the survivor of time,
And which of these soldiers will fall sooner?
How soon will they be then discarded if
A suitable replacement can be found?
If that philosophy stands too for me,
Where, now, is the wood of my coffin?
I only hope its seed is unplanted.
Napoleon Bonaparte
1769 Corsica is where he got his start
One of the greatest commanders in history
His manner of death a 200-year-old mystery

Napoleon played it close to the vest
With his armies he was always the best
But 'twas nothing he could do
When he met his Waterloo
Lived his last few years under house arrest

Napoleon drank the water and headed for the loo
He did nothing different than you or I could ever do
Be kind to your skin and protect your bone-a-parts
Remember that's where good hygiene starts!
8/8/2019 - Poetry form: Clerimerick Couplets  (A hybrid form composed of a Clerihew, Limerick and 2 rhyming Couplets. The Clerihew has been described as the literate cousin of the Limerick.  So I thought, hey, why not get the cousins together for this one!   Then two rhyming couplets showed up to the party and voilà!  - Waterloo Clerihew 23-Skidoo! - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Mark 2d
Darkness;
I am asleep.

I awake slowly, half-heartedly
At a sound you make.

Quiet early exit,
Not wanting me
To wake.

Light
Creeps through
My window.

The sun rests itself awhile
On my wall.
Instant joy,
No longer does my skin crawl.

My eyes light up
When I realise
The sun has graced me
With its company,
And with its light and warmth
Has filled up my cup.

No longer do I want to
Gouge my eyes out,
Pull my hair out,
Throw myself about,
Take medication,
Scream in desperation,
Or go on a permanent 'vacation'.

You could have traced
The smile on my face.

Instead, you left.

I understand,
And honestly,
It's grand.

I just wanted to ask one thing
Before I went back to sleep;

Take my sunlight with you.
But don't take it away from me.
Nigdaw 2d
The street is silent
Everything become still,
Cars pulled up on pavements, make way
Pedestrians, without utterance
Transfix their gaze,
As though Death himself
Sat behind the wheel
At the head of the cavalcade;
Brushing a tear from the cheek
Of his smile fixed face:

A small white box,
Lost in the back
Of a long black limousine,
Continues on its journey;
Unhindered by a day
That up to that moment,
Was very like any other;
Until there it was
Iridescent in the sunlight
Making a last short journey
From cradle to grave.

I swear not a bird sang
Nor an engine idled restlessly.
A child's funeral procession I witnessed.
deyrah 2d
Sometimes, i wish for death.
Scratch that, maybe death wishes for me.
No scratch that.
I mean, call me a hypocrite...
But i pray to a God i don't believe in.
Just so something good can happen to me.
Cause being alive seems like a hard daily chore.
And then staying alive, looking at someone else's blessings.
Will make t look, as if God has given up on me.
Can i be close to God through death??
Oh no!! I hear suicide z a sin.
Sometimes, yhu just get to the end of that line, searching for something, anything at all. To pay attention to yhu. Even if tz just a little...
Suhayb 2d
I think I die every Thursday
That’s when everything changes
Everything and nothing
Just little things
The computer corrects a word I've typed
A million times
To a spelling I've never seen before
Frantic searching through dictionaries betrays me
You idiot, it was always spelled this way
It must have been
But then Thursday rolls around again
A rebirth into a new world
Where the minutes seem longer
The hours shorter
Did people always pause for this long between words?
Did their eyes always linger on yours
A little too long
A little too knowingly
The breaking headline news of Wednesday
A mere nothing by Thursday
No trace of the story
Why is no one wearing a coat?
Or holding an umbrella
It’s pouring outside
But the rain is muted
Even with the window open
Each drop is a lie
No I never missed your call
You never called me
No I wasn't at that party
What are you talking about?
Their confusion is an act
A deception
People are staring
I can feel it
My coffee becomes cold in seconds
All my furniture has been moved around
These teeth don't feel real
My reflection is too early
My shadow too late
My children are too quiet
My wife too loud

The sky is falling down
I swear it is
Just look
How can you not see this
You must be mad
Or is that me
The feel of cool metal on my temple
I know I put a bullet in this chamber
But I’ve fired six times to no avail
She’s screaming at me now
No honey I'm not crazy
Just look outside
We’re all done for anyway
The sky is falling down
And no one cares
The sky is falling down honey
The sky is falling down

She clasps my face in her hands
And in a tense breath of desperation
Whispers

No its not.
Everything is fine.

I gasp in shock
While she tries to reassure me
Her eyes give away
Everything

She knows.
Mountain Forests
Driving through the vast forests
Of Central Oregon
Through the wall of trees
I imagine them talking to me

The trees are whispering
Dark satanic rituals
Voodoo mumble jumble
Evil chanting

Then they speak
Loud and clear
Welcome humans
To our world

You think you are
The king of the world
The lords of creation
Masters of the universe?

Soon, all too soon
God and Gaia his daughter
Will tire of you
Their latest plaything

They will discard you
Throw you down
Disgusted at the world
You have made

You took the world
They gave you for your pleasure
This huge wonderful world
Filled with life

You took a paradise
Beautiful, bountiful
Rich and wonderful world
Turned it into a sewer dump

God and Gaia
Are not happy
Not happy at all
With you stupid humans

They will rise up
Smite you down
And turn you
Into dust in the cosmic wind

And we will laugh
and we will be witnesses
at your funeral
but we will not cry

No one will cry
No one will miss you
No one cares about
The fate of humanity

And so you
Will fade away
Into the distance past
Just dust in the cosmic wind

And the trees started laughing
And the birds and bees
And all the other animals
All joined in the manically laughter

Laughing at the prospect
Of poetic justice
For the enemies
Of the natural world

And the coyotes
And the wolves
Joined in howling
Under the light of the full moon

Thus I imagined
Would be the end of days
The end of the world
And the end of humanity



Another Day Another Shooting

another day in paradise
just another day in America
land of the free
Home of the brave

and guns
lots of guns
more guns for all
cries the NRA

yes another day
another gun battle
another white man
who just wants to ****

the President sends his condolences
Thanks the law enforcement
for an incredible job well done
It was horrible

Hate has no place
in our country
and we will take of it
and do what ever we can do

condolences
nothing but false words
empty words
lots of things to do

it is mental illness problem
but he fails to mention
the words gun at all
not at all

and tomorrow and tomorrow
but he at least finally said
hate has no role in country
nothing but prime BS
in my humble opinion

he did not mention
white supremacy
his rhetoric had nothing
nothing to do about this at all

and so tomorrow
I will turn on the TV
and we see
nothing at all

and the dead
will remain dead
the guns will fire again
nothing will be done

welcome to America
land of the free
home of the brave
the End Times Approaches

why do I feel
the end times are approaching
with each passing day
the news gets worst

the hatred grows
the fear grows
the end of time
comes closer to our door

and I fear
the growing power
of the fascists
and their ilk

and I fear
that the world
is ending  soon?Rumors of War

it seems that
we are in the end times
wars, and rumors of war
terrorism all around us

the dogs of war
are restless, just waiting
to emerge from their lairs


to unleash havoc
death and destruction
end of the world

and the leader of the world
our purported president
is every day
becoming more deranged

moment by moment
loosing his mind
as the inner demons
take over

and at such a time
when the whole world
seems to be sliding towards war

Our dear leader
seems determined
to lead us to the ultimate
war of all

world war 111
looms ahead
it could start any day
and nothing will stop

our idiot in chief
from unleashing
the dogs of war
four end of the world poems
Visiting Father’s Grave

Visiting my father’s grave
In Yakima
The ancestral land of the Aller clan

Thinking about my father
And his legacy
And thinking that I am

My father’s son
There is so much
I wanted to tell him

So much I wanted to share
So much I wanted him to see
My accomplishments

He was taken from me
Before I had achieved
my dreams

Before I had become the man
That he and I both knew
I was destined to be


Ghosts in Yakima

Walking along a graveyard
Looking for my father’s grave
Seeing all the gravestones

I begin to sense the spirits
Of the restless dead
They linger around the graveyards

Waiting for visitors
Eager to talk to anyone
Who cares to stop

And chat
So lonely being a ghost
With no one to haunt
two poems about ghosts and ancestors
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