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Ackerrman Sep 9
There goes the alarm again.
The misanthropic crusader goes into shock,
I calm it down; comfort is mania.
Stare despondently into the void.

A chorus rises,
Violence, people trapped in time shout through metal,
A voice cries, confined, bounces from hall to wall,
I am not sure I woke up at all.

Some higher functioning brain activities
Get bored in their entropic state-
Trade places with whimsy,
Because that is what they do when they lose interest in their task,

As I have lost interest in my task,
And look for more chin music-
To raise a symphony within me.
To make one day look different to the last.
I wrote this a few months ago; It is about waking up.
It's been awhile myself
seems I only write
to look busy at work
I have forgotten how
to communicate
always looking for
le mot juste
to tell myself
it's okay.
YY Dec 2018
Nature with its numberless powers
Can twist or turn, bend or devour.
And those who won't resist the wind,
Will grow the bearing trees within.

"Dripping water hollows out the stone" -
Ovid says with his baritone, -
"Not through force, but through persistence"
Know nothing we about existence.

So small in wast titanic world,
Great powers, people think behold.
Imprudent brains, stop tossing into nature
Your greedy power's ruinations.

For Nature won't be still and silent,
Will sweep your nation's floor with violence.
Just stop pretending you live here alone
And Nature might just leave us on our own.
Simone13 Nov 2018
Mabey it was just the days
that seemed prolonged

My mind that resurrects the dead
To the reaches far beyond  

Fatigued i let myself wander
Fulling false emotions blurred by imagination

Confined in my prior self
Till Im a tyrant to my own degradation

The bittersweet animosity of false hope
Like watering a blossom in hopes of a willow

My self-pity only absent in my dreams
had i wished they where nightmares not long ago

Strangled with fists and stains my pillow bears quotes i suffocate through

That quote
Go to bed
He’s not thinking about you
When you love someone, but that love is not returned.
You know this as a fact ,yet you still torment yourself by hoping

If you are a demon
then send me to Hell
If you are a witch
then take me with your spell

If you are a drug
Then in my vein inject
If you’re a psychosis
Let my life be wrecked

If choosing to stay
Then a price must be paid
Sign a contract in blood
I'm forever your slave

You're heartless and cold
The Devil, you might be
Yours to torture forever
Just don't ever leave
To the deepest of pits
You just take me and throw
From the world I am absent
So far down below
Other people prefer
To Hell travel than know
But for me I'd give all
Please just don't ever go

Thank you CJ for your poetic comment that inspired me to write this additional epilogue  =^)

Written: June 14, 2018
[epilogue written: April 25, 2019]

All rights reserved.
[Amphibrachic Hexameter format]
James H Butko Sep 2017
i used to be able to laugh
i used to be able to joke
but then i couldn't do that anymore
i used to be able to talk to people
i used to be able to tell them anything
but then i couldn't do that either
i used to be able to motivate myself
i used to be able to express myself
but then i couldn't even do that
i used to be able to get out of bed
i used to be able to feel emotions
i can't anymore
i used to be able to be with you
i used to be able to hold you close
(i used to be loved by you)
i'm not anymore
i used to be able to breathe
i used to be able to think

i still can

but i wish i couldn't
Mack Aug 2017
The mirror on the wall may as well **** me,
What stares back is not at all what I wanted to be.
My head’s not held high,
My wings of hope are stripped, and I’ll no longer fly.

They rolled me in bubble wrap and locked me in this box.
Foxes- yet they call themselves cops.
They stamped the box and labeled me “FRAGILE”.
Ripped me of my dignity and cursed me all this while.

It’s just feeding with the wolves-
The lambs come and they devour them whole.
FRAGILE- their little bones break.
I didn’t see it before, but now I think I’m awake.

So as it goes, they stack the boxes against the wall.
Shut away from reality in a little room at the end of the hall.
The wolves feed with foxes, they prey on the lambs.
And though the fox might not ****, there’s enough blood on his hands.

File away the papers, and they’ll deem it so,
As long as they’re quiet, than no one shall know.
Toss out the keys so the cries go unheard,
After all, there’s no reason to ***** the rest of the herd.

A lamb corrupted grows to a sheep,
Stripped of her wool, she no longer sleeps.

If you speak for her cause,
You already know that all hope is lost.
You’ve seen it before, or taken a blow to the head
Or something much worse and you wish you were dead.
Katlego Tladi Oct 2015
My eyelids paint a different shade of paradise each morning.
Forced to make a mural of the world I was born in.

Your barren brown and battered blue,
Are only beautiful to those you matter to.

The clouds, in their grey suits, had promised you greener pastures.
We could've taken better care of you, if only you'd asked us.

You're inanimate by definition,
To me you're the only thing truly living.

We're sorry for trashing the house as if it was our own.
We'll clean it up before dad comes home.

All this destruction is something I can do without.
Sorry mom, I'm moving out.
New planet anyone?
spysgrandson Oct 2015
tufts of grass stand in the yard  
hairy green patches of tenacity
in a field of neglect

half a screen guards
a **** stained door where
someone painted, 214

the pit bull sits behind it
waiting to be fed, and to be
chained again to the stake

where, like any beast bound
by gravity and the grave, he will
make ceaseless circles  

smaller  e a c h  day,  
unwitting sentry to those
two legged creatures
inside

who, with or without
the pit, lie prostrate, in dreamless
bug rich beds    

when they fall
from sleep, they too make circles
bound by stakes and chains…
invisible    

though their pull is felt
and their infernal rattle heard
no matter how far from home
the prisoners of Tulip roam
rewrite from years ago
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