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Moomin 7d
There are Angels among us
Metaphorical Angels
They have no wings to fly
No superhuman powers to call upon
And no ability to remain unseen
They dance to the tune of human need
Become a crescendo in this dark time
She leaves her little one asleep at dawn
With aching heart and weary eyes
For even Angels tire out
She enters Hell where monsters roam
Little creatures with verocious appetite
Leaving lungs and lamenting in their path
She stands her ground and grapples fear
For even angels are in need of courage
She gathers the sweat and blood and tears of strangers
And soothes them to life or death
Yet while she suffocates in misery and mask
Selfishness abounds outside
And those restrained insist on fun
They gather together in revelry
Kissing flesh and adoring sun
She sees them on the nightly news
While she strokes her daughters brow
And comforts her with unfulfillable promises
Yet though they have the right to be free
They make her burden heavy and sad
With more victims for her ordeal
Yes, they have the right to take the loaded gun
To play roulette with their stubborn lives
Yet when the game involves warheads and virus
They invite death for others too
Who did not choose to enter the deadly casino
For even angels die!
Dedicated to our wonderful nurses
Moomin May 20
If each of us could share a little piece of your pain
The way we share your love
We would
If we could endure for you
To give you gentle rest
We would
Yet no darkness can overwhelm your light
No amount of pain or tears can change you
You have taken what this dying world deals out
And you keep your integrity
I have seen forever
And touched the newest day of hope
And I want with all my heart
To share it with you
I wish you sunlight on your golden hair
And new warm winds on your gentle face
I wish you laughter in your baited breath
And sweet hope in your heart
For this cage won't hold you for long
And you will not always hurt
Yet you will always be loved
And you will always be
For my beloved daughter - Rachel, who endures a lifelong illness
Casey Dandy Nov 2013
I beg the stars
To keep you behind bars.
I never thought you'd take it that far;
Now it's plain to see:
Jail is the only guarantee
That your children will be free
From your vapid disease
tapioca May 12
Clutched to the ***** of my mama,
Rocked lightly to sleep - It’ll all be over soon, this is for the best -
We hum soft hymns, link hands and dutifully maintain
Distance from the other families. One metre
Between our island paradises, one metre
From Together. At sundown, we cross
Our legs and curl up around the fire,
Listening to the good word of our prophet.

His robes reflect the glare of the lights,
Enveloping him in a soft, radiant glow.
His kind smile caresses me gently as he whispers
Of safety, precaution. It’s for the best.

We settle into routine, the comforting monotony of sameness.
We awaken, canaries in cages, preening ourselves carefully.
We stir lightly, attending to our chores within the confines of these blank walls.

See as the squirrel stumbles down the tree, scratching insistently
At the knot between two branches. Rusted fur glistens in the sunlight,
Warm and alive, almost close enough to hear the pattering of her tiny heart
Trapped between within her matchstick ribcage. The salivating dog lumbers after it,
Snapping and frothing at the mouth, eyes bloodshot, filled with hunger.
His blackened lip curls back in a snarl, matching every move she makes,
Bark torn up beneath his cruel claws.

A leaf falls and I flutter with it,
Plummeting down to the floor beside the beast.
Clamping his mouth shut, I release a shuddering sob. He whines,
Suddenly a child reaching for a ****** to nuzzle, an alarm screaming for

I feel him settle behind me, his kind warmth replaced by cold anger.
Our leader, whom I love dearly.
His hands pin down my wrists, wiry meat on his bones,
Don’t leave. Don’t leave. I kick and I scream,
The cries tearing out of my throat chased by hoarse pleas,
My gown feeble and sheer beneath the blades of his fingers.
Sliced open, I’m butchered by him, each sliver of flesh separated cleanly from
The bone. Laid out on a table for all to see, the audience
Watching with rapt attention as he skins my prone body.

Sweet strips of muscle are passed around the circle.
I wear my dress like a suit of armour, but everyone sees
It as the pitiful bandages it is.
That night, mother draws the curtains with one fell swoop.
The canary is shrieking now.
the line breaks might be a bit off but this is about quaratine! but written as if i'm in a cult. has some funky images.
Who needs emotions when there are people to please?
Who needs doctors when you’re the source of the disease?
Who needs human functions to live when you’re deceased?
Who needs love when it’s certain you deserve to bleed?
Who needs?
Afterall, who needs? Certainly not I!
Äŧül Apr 28
Corona made people Jäïn,
People are turning vegetarian.

Stock markets made us Đïgämbär Jäïn,
Now we're pauper & don't have any clothes.

Đïgämbär Jäïn don't wear any clothes,
They stay **** as a part of their penance.
My HP Poem #1841
©Atul Kaushal
Phil Bailey Apr 25
The stable genius spouts his wisdom from the podium.
All doctors, scientists, generals - Compared with him, are dumb.
He has the best words and ideas no others could conceive.
He'll cure you of the COVID-19 if you'd just believe.

So eat some Tide Pods™, drink some Lysol™, boof some Listerine™.
Spend twelve hours on a tanning bed and you will come out clean.
No more virus, no more suffering, no more pain or strife.
You will be cured of COVID, by being cured of life!

And as your soul departs your corpse, if might occur to you.
The orange man's thoughts and ramblings might not all be true.
But if you live, my Trumpist friend, I'm sure you'll be content
to cast your vote to re-elect that fool for President!
Someday, a vaccine will be developed by doctors and scientists to eliminate COVID-19, but will there ever be a cure for the disease of ignorance, fear and hate, as embodied by Donald Trump and his followers?
Francie Lynch Apr 24
Let me take you back
Over ***-holed tracks
To present day nostalgia;
When six feet away meant a grave,
And not a rule of order.

Let me take you back
Through ***** air,
When smog and soot were normal;
We didn't attend strange masquerades,
Breathing wasn't formal.

Let me take you back
Down the spiral stairs,
When holding rails
Was common, and expected.

Would you,
Go back,
To that Brave Old World,
Where we have the poor,
Wars are raging,
The environment's in peril,
With despots engaging.
Hoarders cheat,
Ice-caps retreat,
Animals compete
With billions at the table.
Oceans over-heating,
Egos are defeating
The food chains of our world.
Forests burn bright,
Crops rot from blight,
None treat us right.
And a hundred thousand unsolved queries,
Compounded by some glorious leader.

Let's not go back,
Take small steps onward
Into our Brave Newer World,
That compels us forward.
A tip of the cap to Shakespeare.
Joshua Notah Apr 18
Sad days lie in wait
It's on those days that I create
A symphony of "what ifs" inside my mind
Like time can be turned back as easy
As it is on the watch on my wrist

Calculations of consequences come easy
When those consequences have been had
Past decisions determined to be detrimental
But they do not define who I am

Depression hits like bird **** on my shoulder
Random and a nuisance
Much like the burden of my drinking
Thinking things would change with the change
I spent on the Dark Eyes staring back at me

Connection to my feelings turned to self-reflection
Work that seemed pointless now brings satisfaction
Active participation helps me avoid temptation
Watching the seconds tick away deep in contemplation
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