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Thorn Oct 26
The building is breaking,
the cameras aren’t recording,
and I’m supposed to do my job effectively?

The world is dying,
the economy collapsing,
the people falling in the street,
and I’m supposed to find a way to be happy?

The bills are unpaid,
the lights won’t turn on,
the water is brown and smells of syrup,
and I’m supposed to care about your new skin line?

Our minds are poisoned
with deception and false information,
kept distracted by flashing lights and one-liners once funny.
Our youth is gone before its start.
Our elders work until their final breath.
The children are crying, screaming, pleading for peace,
yet they know too that it’s too late.
And we’re supposed to count the blessings gone unseen?

I am alive,
but what does that even mean?
All I can do is breath,
and hope the smoke doesn’t destroy me.
I have a safe home,
if you ignore the lead and asbestos.
I have a good partner,
if you ignore all of the screaming.

I looked to my neighbour,
and saw their lawn had no grass either.
We looked across the street together, hoping for new sights.
But aside from the blood and the bullet holes
the people there had the same troubles.
We broke down in tears.
We heard the cries for help,
but were too busy fighting ourselves.
Another life gone,
unprevented by healthcare that doesn’t care.

The news lady spoke of another shooting today.
They showed the children hitting the windows
and asked one fleeing to speak of his dead friend.
They mentioned the staff member killed
while calling the police.
A parent was arrested trying to rush in.
They could have been saved,
but better to ‘keep the public calm’.
919 dead overall.

But still,
they want us to smile
and pretend to be happy
in what is supposedly the ‘greatest country’;
kept alive solely by those willing to give their lives
for what they consider to be a good fight.
We’re meant to never complain
for the sake of modesty and good names.
Meanwhile, 80-year-old men are arguing
over who gets to decide our fate.
God bless America,
and all the dead people living in it.
Prayers for those permanently lost to it.
Gig
6:30 am
time to hit fifty
before I hit the door
Wash away yesterday’s grind
Hoping today has more sunshine
Thrown on clothes darker than my mind
Hit the App that controls my income
Unemployment still ain’t come
So I move somebody’s lunch like a ransom
Even Ranch and Dim Sum
Cause bills ain’t immune
Morning, night and afternoon
Even when my life has gone National Lampoon
By 1:00 pm 45 miles til empty
Stretching the gas past E
I don’t need Jesus grabbing the wheel unless he putting ten on pump three
Turn the clock back before 3/16
Back before covid19
was the fiend
That has me addicted to this gig economy scene
6:00 pm refill
before the dinner rush
Helping Susie make the home like Im the one who cut off the crust  
Disgust with my lack of opportunity piled higher
So I’m burning more woods than California wildfires
Since I’m constantly on the wire
Applying To be more despite the Ravens
Moving in Closer directed by Wes Craven
Scary combination for a brother just trying to get out with his family
11:00 pm taxi as a luxury to another essential needed for my daughter
Whose father fights his introductory
Instinct to be extinct maybe it’s depression,
“What do You think?”
I ask the Waffle House waitress
Whose facelifts to expel “ the bill
$19.86,” with straightness
No hiatus dropdown 30
With the hurry hoping for a better season
For us both Like curry
Too many Wiseman on my team  
so my future is blurry
So the star I seek I see only week to week
How unfortunate but no time for grieve
It’s 4:00 am only two hours to relieve
Swiftly I snore, snooze the alarm button
The real horrorcore
Zywa Mar 19
The single greatest

economic power is --


bribeandcorruption.
Novel "The Golden House" (2017, Salman Rushdie), chapter (2-) 23

Baksheesh = Gift, Tip >> "briberyandcorruption"

Collection "Low gear"
Zywa Aug 2023
Forever new books

by new writers, for a dream --


they are immortal.
"The Queen of the Tambourine" (1991, Jane Gardam), § March 10th (1990)

Collection "A profession"
Zywa Dec 2022
Do I hate my job?

No, not enough to quit and --


start doing nothing.
"Het Bureau - Plankton" ("The Office - Plankton", 1997, Han Voskuil)

Collection "Not too bad [1947-1973]"
Zywa Dec 2022
To have something to do
the attendant brushes up the pumps
In the forest it is already dark

Here it remains light, open
if you wait a few minutes
until he is out of bed

But that is no longer the case at night
The villagers refuel during the day
and long-distance traffic drives past

The economy keeps moving
The country, everyone, lives thanks
to the network (the concrete one)

and it may take some time
before it will be automated
Then occasionally someone will come

to spray the pumps clean
the fly spots will remain
and waxing will no longer be done
Collection "NightWatch"
Zywa Sep 2021
Days without a view,

right through the forest, with inns --


as signs to the world.
The forested country in earlier centuries

View of the south, from the residential towers of the Cenakel in Tilburg

Collection "The migration"
Zywa Aug 2021
People are bathing

in the waves of cargo ships --


that they buy empty.
Flushing (Vlissingen) --- Collection "Summer birds"
082021

Inuusig niya ang mga talang kumikinang
At tumatabon sa mga parating na bulalakaw.
Ang mga mata ng santelmo’y
Hindi na lagim ang ibinubuntong hininga
Kundi liwanag na humahabol
Sa bawat paghikab nang nakatihaya.

Hati-hati sila sa papag
Sa kung sino ang taya sa pagsilang ng araw
At sa pinintang dilim
Na hindi na bangunot ang pasalubong
Kundi pag-asang makapagsalu-salong muli
Sa hapag-kainan sa panibagong kalendaryo.

Habang nagniningas ang mga baga’y
Guguhitan nila ang pisngi ng bawat isa
Gamit ang bawat kwentong agimat ng kahapon.
At mapupuno ng halakhakan ang bawat kurtina
Na para bang sila’y nasa entablado
Ng sarili nilang istoryang sila rin ang nagbigay-buhay.

Ang bawat butil ng bigas
Ay katumbas ng pawis na alay nila sa palayan
Habang ang kirampot na tuyong walang sawsawan
Ay sining na makulay sa kanilang mga mata.

At sila’y magtatampisaw
Sa putikan ng kanilang hanapbuhay
At ni isa sa kanila’y ni minsa’y
Di ginambala na ang bukas ay magiging sakuna.

Isa, dalawa, tatlo..
Sunud-sunod ang mabibilis na butil
Na ni isa’y di mailagan.
Ang mga butil ng palay
Ay nagmistulang mga basura sa lansangan
Na nilalangaw at pinag-aagawan
Ng mga itim na ibong gahaman sa kapangyarihan.
Ren Sturgis Mar 2021
Living in a world of insanity. Society keeps doing the same thing repetitively.
The poverty, economy is killing me. Where is the safety net we seek?
Humanity I'm begging!
Please!
Make a difference we can see. Let's strive for a world of peace, love and positivity 🖤
Inspired by Yungblud's Parents
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