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Tehreem Apr 2016
Cold crusted on the outside
Boiling agony folded in
Twisting, turning and squirming
On the verge of spitting flames
Withholding the hunger for demolition
To raze the idols of perfection
Fuming with each punishing breath
Throwing up the grey smoke in skies
Ashening the way to thoughts
That red heart is on fire
The hard knuckle are pale
Soft lips caging venomous eruption
Eyes searing suns of combustion
Virulent brain going haywire
Grumbling of the lethal unsaid  words
Fervid fluid of darkness filling the veins
Whatyoudon'tknow Mar 2014
Come closer child, and listen to us
Come now, hurry don't make a fuss
We'll tell you our tale
We've rehearsed it quite well,
I come wary, cautious of their trick,
and sit and listen to each little brick
Each tells me of journeys long ago and lands afar
Each shows me their every scar.
Some are  dressed finely in scarlety red
Others a pale orange from toe to head
But each ones pleas end the same
Cry out for me by name.
Don't let them destroy us they whisper to me
But I cannot argue with the state's decree
We've fought maany battles they cry
against paint, evil smoke, disease, please don't let us die/
But once again, same reply to their pleas
I cannot argue with what thee state decrees.
Lost Sep 2015
Humanity was not created to save the earth,
It was not created to see it's ending,
We were not sent here to carry out a purpose.
None of us possess the understanding...

We are but children in an adult world,
We stumble and fall without reason.
All of us little boys and girls,
Against the creator - committing high treason.

Our leaders are warned,
And we are discouraged,
We can't be saved from the scorn,
Of Terra Firma's Mother.

The *end
is near, *we will all see,
Pointing our guilty fingers.
And while we didn't mean to be,
*We will be its Harbingers.
Humanity is the Harbringer of the Apocalypse
Cori MacNaughton Jun 2015
Goats are Nature's own
ambulating Demolition Derby
in hilarious miniature
This is the 13th of fifteen 10-word poems I wrote this morning, 23 June 2015.  I posted them here in the order in which I wrote them.
Alice R-P Jun 2015
From it You came,
And because of it You live,
It awarded You Your existence,
And proceeds to give.

Invites You in its arms,
Is welcoming and warm.
Provides You with abundance,
Everyday offering more.

And what do You give back?
Besides tearing everything down
To utmost obliteration
Leaving an open wound.

You don’t stop to notice,
You preserve less and less,
And the weaker links
Are near the extinction process.

You continue the demolition,
For the „greater good“ You say,
Wiping out what’s left,
Until nothing feels the same.

I warn You, there will be a day
You won't be opening Your eyes.
There is a rule You can not change-
Without the greenery Everything dies.
Noandy Oct 2014
Kindly tell the sun to look away
I don’t want to see my curtain sway
Indeed, because these fabricated joys
Are demolished by an obscure ray

Serve me breakfast while the day
Lies as cold as the dew I’ll drink
Now what to do is just obey
Before we are rued by fire’s blink

Put my hot tea beside the lake
Serve it dead and withered
The day is boiling and we’ll be late
For we are but a paper scrapped

The fireplace shall be planted
With torn thorns of brown and black
No rays of red will favor me
As long as the sun scorns at us

Wipe my mouth with torn fabric
It pains me so to be stained in red
That I long ago forsaken but now
Dripping down my crooked neck

For the ghost of you who preyed
On my solitary beat of ill and ****
For your revenant who feasted
On my will and half-eaten heart

For the glooms of your fairy
Schadenfreude upon my sorry
For the life I did not live
To the joy I took from you

Raise the cup and shatter it
Open the curtain and drain our life of lies
To the eye of the day and God’s pity
Serve my breakfast before I live
Conor Letham Aug 2014
We hold onto
each other like
teeth trapping
new wisdoms,
heads crashing
through agony

as the jaw scrapes
and screeches like
demolition derbies.
We'll battle it out,
but who will last
until one is left?

No, drag my teeth
out of contention:
lasso a noose, yank
hard until whipped
numbly off track
to bleed the oil.

— The End —