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Petty
Conflicting philosophies begotten
By tribalism; odd in every fixed
Border where the stubborn
Hearts of men are regulary swayed
By division, a faceless internal foe,
Running deep within our sinful species
Alone.
LR Thompson Aug 24
Division runs rampant through unity on the break
Torches flare as rage flickers smoldering kindling to flame
Erupting the perpetual boils that fester beyond infections wake
Fearful that lives saved are endangered for propagandas sake
Nay, the divisions that split rip to shreds the patriotic fabric
Shorn to threads amiable friendships that broach enmity
Between brothers bound by blood shared
Bleeding red in concealed unison given to each at birth
As mighty Gaia trembles under the weight of shrugging Atlas
Beseeching the old gods to return to former glories
Resting lonesome Olympus from its divine pantheon
To quake and shake the shared foundations built
Atop mountains of lies stacked one after another
Before the heavens part and holy Elysium repels
The hearts of both men and women who dared divide
A house unified on sacrosanct liberties inherent
Gifted to the corruptible souls of humanity
On the premise that justice should be for all
That hold the highest values inviolable
By any that would rabble-rouse the masses to forgo
The established law of the land on such flawed premises
Where words hold greater authority than actions convey
And peace is but a pipe dream puffed in perfect rings translucent
Fading before the light has a chance to cast dark shadows
Imperfect in their reflection yet somehow flawless in impression
Oh, if only we were not like that famous allegory
Confined to our own individual caves
Then maybe our eyes could open wide and once again
Let in the truth that we have for too long allowed to blind us in hate
Perhaps the fates would halt their furies
And end our shared torment avoidable
Unifying a once noble people to again stand proud
A beacon to a world begging for freedom
Clearing the fog of war and lighting the path
Back to the house we once called home

By L.R.Thompson
krm Aug 10
He broke his neck thirty years ago
I break mine more with each
promise of keeping you in my life
but Ian Curtis is on my mind a lot,
grieving for souls I will never know.

Some of his songs are so sad,
like hearing the premature
snap of his bones

Cannot help but resent
how clever society is
to glamorize the unglamorous,
even I am aware
the flowers upon graves are not just for
aesthetics, but we are still always trying
to cover terrible tragedies
with beautiful things.

Am I just as guilty?

I cheat on you with him.
His spirit through my headphones,
hoped if I listen intently
the narrative changes.

purple marks on your neck
just that weekend you
taught me what a hickey was
and how they felt good

yours’ declare ownership,
not declarations of love.

You walk into art class,
purple painted across your throat.

If love could save Ian,
had I lived in the mid-seventies
he may very well have lived forever
and his throat painted by love,
rather than the bruises of a noose.

The letters I wrote you were in vain,
my mistake quoting those Smiths’
songs:
Morrissey is an *******
and so are you.

I still
am too scared to
wonder how far I am willing
to go
to reap the benefits of sorrow.

"New Dawn Fades"
tears into my heartstrings
feeling responsible in
the prevention of another
suicide

I grapple onto
what a savior complex was,
your dead father
the tracks on your arms made me cry
but I thought it was stupid.
It made me hate myself more
why could I not learn to undo
my drive to save anyone,
but myself

The phone call
where I broke up with
you and you
pretend to
overdose on the speaker

One of us had to grow up,
had to make it out alive
And I love you again,
every time Ian's ghost
sings Isolation.

And I leave you there,
sure, to end the album
after the final song.
At sixteen an obsession with Unknown Pleasures and ******-addicted boys.
Martin Boško Apr 12
Hear the Eagle's painful screech
While those with delusions preach
Poisonous tears of rage and sadness
Spineless bow to feed their Madness
Ants drowning in the Sea of Lies
While laughing vultures from East arrive
The Eagle longingly looks towards the heavens
The Eyes intently stare at sheep armed with AK47s
A spectacular clash of two camps with strong will
The Flawed Experiment of a Shining city upon a Hill
Written November 6, 2020 in the chaos before US election results were called
syzygium Feb 4
3
There is one
It grows
Free, it continues to grow
But tension appears
And welcome as it is,
It must be relieved

So now there are two
No growth
Opposéd, they cease to grow
But war is their task
And painful as it is,
It must form a dance

So now there are three
Formed of syzygy,
A pleasant mirage
Inspired by vague memories of Parmenides and vegetable dreams.
Juhlhaus Jan 19
A wise woman once told me
Anger is no trustworthy emotion for a poet.
Thus has my hot heart's spring gone dry:
Pain and fury sapped it,
Soft tissue stripped and bitten from without
And within, leaving only smoldering bones,
Teeth dulled and nails blunted;
Calcified soles to carry me
Through desert darkness,
Where at last brittle, broken
They fail. No more strength
In clenched fists,
Nothing
But hope in a desert of light,
To join there those equal to anger,
No longer its slave.
William Marr Dec 2020
misty sky
misty earth
misty eyes
misty mind
all help to form a charming
misty poem

suddenly
a scene on the TV screen
of yelling cursing crowds
with a clear dividing line
of

black       and       white
red       and       blue

tore the poem
into
pi  e  c      es
already running in circles,
still care about drawing lines.
Maybe humans found a way out of their humdrum existence through the division of anything and everything.
But that's not even the worst part.
Unfortunately, it seems that humans never learn and the loop goes on.
Mona Nov 2020
nationalism
interesting concept

it gives me eyes
yet constricts my vision
it cuts to the root, precision
a careful incision

distill patroticism
bathe in schism
schism of the past
no victory every lasts

build rafts
pay tribute to the past
but build the ******* rafts
appreciate your ancestors craft
but realise patrioticism is relative
we all have a past
something a lil different
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