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Anastasia May 13
ashes, ashes we all fall down.
i’ve come to take back my crown.
ashes, ashes, you shall fall down.
i will destroy this town.
ashes fall with us.
can’t you feel the rush?
the ashes fall.
it’s time for your call.
ashes, ashes we will fall down.
ashes, ashes, no more ground.
falling into ashes.
we all have our gashes.
now I breath in.
the sky grows dim.
ashes, ashes, we all fall down.
a sort of dystopian poem i found in my old poems from a year ago. i only put my favorites on here, an d this made the list.
Ke-caster Feb 20
Society has no regret

Stretches us out like human tack
Twists the gears to move the rack
To keep us tight and highly strung

Much easier to hold the notes
The ones that get stuffed down our throats
The ones that we think that we sing ourselves

Society has no regret

A child playing with marionettes
Then torches them when play is done
To watch the flames eat up and take

We entertain, to be its friend
But seeking value in an early end
Its wish we die before become a burden

Society has no regret

Tears out gold teeth for circuit boards
Greases gears with chewed up hoards
Then renders down their fats for soaps

Society has no regret

Keep us numb on drugs and hope
Steady pulse of dopamine
Notice nothing cut or gleamed

Society has no regret

The great machine has got to turn
Your body's your country fuel to burn
To expend the shell as it sees fit

Society has no regret

The ash spread out makes fertile fields
Let the future make the past its meal
Kate longshaw Feb 14
Been too long since I have created,
Since i've drawn or wrote owt celebrated.
Having a breakdown to reality,
Working out how life is meant to be,
Unshakled mind but still not free,
I now make sense of the things I see.
Open mind does lead to free thought,
Free from the sick indoctrined fort.
Free thought leads to controversy,
When spoke folk try belittling me.
Words are the most dangerous tool,
To brainwash those who learn at school,
Make us obey each fascist rule.
Why can't we all open our eyes
To all the enslavement and lies?
Why get angry at those awake,
Who care for you for goodness sake.
Instead of cussing those in power,
You insult those while in moods sour.
Laughing, oppressing piece of mind,
With tyrannical words far from kind.
Outrage seething from closed brains,
Not folks faulght, we have been trained.
To regurgitate the lie and do not think,
And let them mould our mind to shrink.
Dissmiss the real with a curse and wink,
Is this what you really want in life?
To let greed and hate and fear run rife?
To stop humans thinking for self,
To keep the slave masters in wealth,
Staying downtrod for there good health?
All roads lead to Rome it's said,
And we're walking roads that they tred.
His story not history,
No truth wrote, why can't you see?
No Darwinism or big bang
No cells turned fish who did evolve
No axles for us to spin,
The puzzles there for us to solve
We can't let the demons win.

Kate Longshaw
Casey Nov 2018
In the midst of the melancholic dusk,
soliloquies of the forgotten are hushed.

Those who listened snickered
at the surreal hopes of those
who search for their flicker.

For you see,
in a year not so long ago,
the Empathy did leave.

Ever since the start,
Empathy lived in the world’s heart.

He came to visit us every day.
His grin is warm and bright like sunbeams,
and he hides behind what the people say.

Empathy was the hero of the lost
His touch mended the broken spirits, although,
none of us knew it had such a hefty cost.

Is there a more affable friend that could possibly be,
than that of Empathy?

Empathy was a close friend of mine.
When I sang his somber song, he appeared.
The bourgeoisie had never seen anyone so divine.

There was something furtive in his eyes
as if he knew, somehow,
that he would have to bid me goodbye.

I asked him, “Empathy, what’s going on?”
He replied, “The light is fading. They have killed the dawn.”

And so I saw his words ring true.
The sun rose not,
The sky faded gray from blue.

The people of the world began to hate.
Abandoning Empathy, they set the universe ablaze.
Fire choked the sky, for us it was too late.

“Save yourself and run away!” I cried.
But Empathy, he shook his head, smiled, and died.
This poem is for an assignment for LA. We were given a list of words to choose 8 from, then we had to incorporate the words in a poem. Hence why there's a random bourgeoisie in there.
Isaac Ward Oct 2018
Monsters still roam these streets,
Their names written in every sunset,
Pronounced like wind whispering through barren trees,

They rake their claws through your hair,
Dripping ichor-venom,
Long, wicked and dirt-caked,

And they dip tentacles in your pockets,
Taking a cent here, a dollar there,
Bleeding you dry, starving you out,

These horrors call you ****, lonely,
Give you poisons as glamours,
And name themselves friend,

These beasts steal into your soul,
Become closer than your heart,
And tell you who you are.
Anton Stonelake Sep 2018
-October 17, 2230


White marble and the vitalizing smell of chemicals.

Our light and evenly coloured avenue, straight and decisive, reaches the distant horizon.

And all without trying.

The clear autumn sky, sterile and wonderful is well fitting our day of celebration, is it not!

In front, rows upon rows of men glowing with pride and dressed as myself, (why do I waste paper on the axiomatic….) move swiftly and evenly along to the beat, oh so evenly...

And arms move out and up on every beat.

For our jubilee has come, and a hundred years have passed since the necessary (and by them voluntary!) extermination of citizengroup 3.

Oh, whoever might read this joyous note of mine, what a day to be!


-O402
A poem heavily inspired by Yevgeny Zamyatin's dystopian novel WE
V Aug 2018
a world so crumpled in the folds
of black and white exhibit
no color, no individuality
or hopefulness.

  a world of conditions,
agreements, and contracts
dwindled the creative senses
of the budding youth and
the creativity of the
newly implied, fruitful minds,
but the youth never entirely failed.

   when pushed down into the
heaps of ranks amd despair, a
dew hopefuls remained.


  youth used the broken bits of
crayons, of whole pieces and
shavings to apply to the crumpled
corners of the world,
starting off with a few swipes of color
among the horizon
and the skyscrapers of the world.

  the once black and white world
began to blossom in shades of
violets and yellows, bleeding
down the white pages, smearing
among that of shades of
blues and greens,
creating a world that was once
referred by legends or stories
as being a
a world full of color,
a world so fruitful in love
and perseverance, and
it ended up being strong
enough again to become reborn
once more from the hands of the
youth.
In the digital l-and
We l-ive in
Mistakenly automatic
One pointing at a chest of tools
Eyes on i
No soul can tell a part a weakling metal


Robots robbing robbers rich
T-error terrifying t-errorists
Artist gods and goddesses
Sharing platform to unleashed gifts


Mint hue bubbles squeak
Fizzy dizzy violet haze
World head to toes spins
Any day it spins coins in change


A quiet girl is sinister
Siren of mystery or future
Robot is your mirror
Peach chin with teeth filter
No innocence and glitter litter
Guilty until proven the latter


A quiet girl a terrorist
Error mouths terror twist
Terrorist from the orient
They hide in between every end
Disguises they cover in
Racist as problem solving


Smile girl watch
A fake smile and eyes
Skin of steel so is her
Heart made alloy
How it blazes to the touch when heated
Oh it bites fingertips as it's cold
Hair resting on the curve of her spine
A woman's hair only breaks if it tries to grow


What she said
Tell me if you can tell us a part
Warning tears borne from her crooked eyes
Robot and soul
Terrorists from t-errorists
No soul knows either
Tattoos or memory shall identify you
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
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