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Kagey Sage Feb 2021
Burning nostalgic memories
letting the smoke flow out my nose
Cause I resigned myself to just sit and pine
and dream about times where I paid no mind
to past lives

The past five years
I though the world would end
I shacked up with one that decried
my wasted potential in normal jobs
Like where do you get off
if I'm making halfway decent bucks?

The irony of our artsy resurgent humanity degrees
Just go and sell life insurance
Them boomers turned us into gloomers
Generation X, my young parents
the first victims,
at least they had half a fair shake in life
I think the 90s had it right
dripping in yin yang rings and necklaces
so we wouldn't lose our way

Woo wee, where were we?
Hiding from my brother in a clothes rack
with my parents at the mall every weekend
So much confidence in where we were going
The end of history itself
in our careful chaos regulation
Jonathan Moya Jul 2020
If I shut the border,
no one will shut their window,
hide in their closet,
lock their door.

They would shake the blinds of moths,
bring the dog in from the doghouse,
let the cat feast after the mouse hole
has been plugged with a door wedge.

In the distance
the train whistle blows
dispersing mist and rain.
No one steps off nor boards.

The bird nest is not abandoned.
The hollow of the tree stays hollow.
Nothing has shut down at all.

My pen scribbles a poem
only to watch the black words
return to the reservoir.

I open the dictionary to the word “hope”,
but the page refuses to settle
until I put all the words in them
face down on the writing table.

My stoma grumbles louder than my stomach.
I shut my cancer in the mother-of-pearl.
My wife’s cancer is placed in the
small valise of all our memories.

I can’t shut down the museum.
It already is.
I can’t shut down the cinemas.
They already are.
Only the pharmacies are open.

I shut down my mouth
on my broken jaw
with five missing teeth
only to feel the maw of death.

I shut down the ash of my childhood
into a golden urn of my own design.

I shut down America, I shut down God,
putting them both between the now
empty covers of the dictionary missing hope.

I shut down my passions, my emotions
in the moldy basement of my despair.
My shut down love is chained in the dungeon.

Shut up, shut down,  I repeat  to myself,
until those words lose all definition,
until my lips are sealed in pain and
the only thing left is my total shutdown.
Poetic T Apr 2019
No matter the clap that may fall
           before the thunder all
is but static vocalization

brought on by a contraption
               of air that after its initial


golds nothing more than a breeze.

And although it may seem loud at the time,
                 its just posturing to spread fear..  

but once the  air dissipates it nothing more
                     than what was heard large amounts

of condensed air... that was meant to scare...

               But in reality it learnt us to understand that
even though noises are loud there's an explanation

              that it was just meant to scare and in reality
once you learn the truth.
                  Your free to understand that everything
                              is an illusion, till you understand

                          the truth behind the noise of lies.
The engineers they tweak the DNA,
fostering changes to the RNA,
the plants becoming something else,
immunevolution modify man’s health.
And never will they accept the blame,
for their arrogance and dangerous game;
and when the food cannot be eaten?

History recall of the viral cretins.
The evolutionary end of humanity is the recombination of animal and plant DNA.

— The End —