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Michael R Burch Apr 2020
grave request
by Michael R. Burch

come to ur doom
in Tombstone;

the stars stark and chill
over Boot Hill

care nothing for ur desire;

still,

imagine they wish u no ill,
that u burn with the same antique fire;

for there’s nothing to life but the thrill
of living until u expire;
so come, spend ur last hardearned bill
on Tombstone.

Keywords/Tags: Tombstone, Boot Hill, grave, headstone, death, doom, graveyard, morgue, final, payment, resting place
Ahmedabdrabo Mar 2020
We are the forsaken son of Noah
And   water keeps flooding
we are the small tiny ant we step on
Without even knowing

We are on our own
Scared to the bone
And The end is coming soon

We  Got no ark
And the road is dark
We can't change fate
But surely we can bark.
N Nov 2019
I cannot utter what
is bothering my soul

Perhaps it is the fire
of my own mind  

The same fire that
kept me warm was
the one to burn me

Or perhaps it is the
unbearable weight of
my sleepless eyelids
I haven’t been sleeping lately, and I no longer want to take my meds. The downward spiral of doom is back once again.
N Mar 2020
I’m feverishly lonesome,
and my wounded soul
is yearning for its doom

When I leave,
will the orchids in
my room still bloom?
Nicholas Feb 2020
They sit around swapping
lies to spread to the masses
with their agenda sounding whole
and their actions proving doomful.

Failure lead by
atrocity after atrocity,
they hide their mistakes
with the lies they spread.
They are flawed
and can’t be contained
unless it’s all wiped
out and life
starts anew

leaving the rest with some
more fat to chew
maybe how it should've been
in the first place.
Peter Farsje Feb 2020
The deep, dark pit
holds me tight,

Though my arms fight
with all my might.

Its pitchy blackness
filled with gloom,

Every hour
spreading doom.

On and on, I try to flee,
knowing well its not to be.
selina Jan 2020
We began as specks,
particles of dusk,
seen in a foreign place
from centuries away.

The prophecies had foreseen it.  
The oracle had spoken—
a collision so small in size,
yet so great in power

would tear the sky off its hinges
and send it crashing
through the mountains,
burying to the bottom of sea.

You were a bundle of white,
born on a boat on a summer day
as the clouds shimmered in tranquility,
and the sky reflected the sea.

I was born ****** and destitute,
with shadows so obsidian,
they claimed my soul and
set the sky on fire.

Two opposing forces like
you and me
had always been destined
for disaster.
A B Faniki Jan 2020
Are we there yet when everything
we know turns upside down like
it did during Noah's time? No!, but
global warming is taking us there.
ight ©A B Faniki 01/08/2020 allri
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