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Arkapravo Aug 3
Then one day, the old man had enough,
... and, it wasn't the mushroom,
... neither the naplam,
... nor any other WMD,
... two degrees more, and that was all it took
Written on 12 October 2018. Also published at my blog,
Darryl M May 8
There’s a part of you that senses that I love you.
There’s a part of me that approves.

You’re out of my reach,
But I still stretch.
Tryna grab your hand,
Folded it comes.

A foetus in the womb, my love for you.
Pregnancy pains, my heart for you.
A healthy newborn, our unity.

I don’t know what forever means,
But with you I’m about to find out.
Where do I limit my love,
If the skies fall in worship unto you?

You grew into me like a Chinese Bamboo tree on fertile soil.
Maaz Dec 2018
Stand on graves and cast out the helpless.
They arrive in waves to the illusion of hope.
A 'caravan' of people,
All begging for freedom,
But fear not,
They shall be murdered
for they are evil.

How can they expect asylum, safety & security,
from a land built on death?
Where those in power face no scrutiny.
Where an orange haired buffoon can thrive & prosper,
But mothers & fathers cannot afford a doctor.

Yet still these people come here seeking a better life and
how dare they do?
With hands calloused from hard work,
hearts filled with grief,
spirits filled with belief;
Don’t they know?

This is a land built out of the flesh of martyrs,
On a charter that helps oppress its own population,
A country that thrives off devastation.
A sociopathic society
Lorrin Feb 3
Your frightened eyes look to me for
How can I hide that I’m frightened too?
Scared I’m
Too slow
Too stupid
Not good enough
To fix you
Help you
Heal you.
I try to keep moving
I try keep strong
But inside I’m terrified
“What if I’m wrong?”
“What if I hurt you?”
“What if you die?”
It’ll be all my fault
When your family cries
I want to help
I want to heal
To ease the pain and fear you feel
I’m not enough.
I’m not enough.
I’m not enough.
My heart bleeds with you
my hands will shake
My voice comes out strong
You don’t see.
You don’t see.
You don’t see.
The me that goes home
Slams her whiskey
And cries herself to sleep.
I didn’t save you.
I couldn’t help.
They tell me I’m
But they don’t see
The me in the mirror
The me that bleeds
I’m not enough.
Not enough.
Not enough.
From the bleeding heart of a paramedic.
Philomena Jan 28
You looked so peaceful
Laying there
Silence except for the soft beeps and coughs on the floor
And I couldn't bring myself to leave you
Not even for a moment to close my eyes
You always seemed so strong
But here you looked frail
Strung up with wires and tubes
Eventually I grew tired of trying to stay busy
So I went to the window
And the lights love
You should have seen them
They were so brilliant and so quiet
Soft unlike every emotion flooding my heart
They were just like I remembered
Just like the first time I showed you the lights
And I didn't know it then
Just how much I love you now
Anxious as ever and can't sleep, but what else is new.
Julie Jan 11
"911, what is your emergency?"
"hard to describe"
"how can we help you"
"I think my heart broke"
"Sorry, we can't help you"
Mackenzie Nov 2018
there's nowhere to go for me
the air becomes dense
I can't
my heart weeps with each beat and
My mind is screaming
She yells at me
She tells me it won’t get better until I bleed

Take a deep breath
Maybe you just need to rest

My chest feels tight
You cannot see through my eyes

Okay just breathe
You need to be normal

How do you define normal in this world?

You need help

No please

Trust me, you'll be safe in this place

What is safety
when I made a home in every name of the people I believed would not break me


I'm not crazy, sorry I'm not a saint
Maybe I should listen to the voices in my brain
All they say is breath
Count to three
someone once told me it won't get better until I bleed
Red silk streams down my body and I start to feel free

911 what is your emergency
Feedback please
Sharon Talbot Jul 2018
A subsonic growl emerges
As the red wolf plunges forth
From his concrete cave.
He shoulders aside the weaker creatures,
In his rush, for the men inside
Live for the hunt.
The siren howl is high at first,
Wild and eager, hysterical.
As he gains his stride
On the pavement path,
His whine swings into a rocking pulse,
Keeping time with the fire,
Or the blood spurting from a man.
Behind the pack there is a white dog,
Sturdy and square, trained and sure,
With a lyrical howl.
He keeps pace yet there is no lust
For the hunt, no need for blood.
They circle the waiting disaster,
Disgorging men in black and white,
The hulks rumble as they wait.
Wolves lick up the flames
While the white-dressed men
Lap up the blood.
The wolf prowls as the flames die
But stands guard as the
White dog points to the man.
He has chosen to save.
A fire truck roared somewhere in town and it made me think of the growl of a wolf. The white truck is obviously an ambulance and the white wolves are EMT's! I know, it's absurd imagery but I had some fun with it.
Larry Kotch Jun 2018
No cloud dares pollute this sky,
Then suddenly those winds at home climb so high,
Sea so fresh and desert so dry,
They meet and feed the cacti here, but ignore the needles on my eyes
They shouldn't make me cry.

Sparkling waters, sands so bright
With a million ******* clouds in Skies
Sit, be still and let the timeless force
Crush this sea of thorns and all but native flora die
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