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He was supposed to survive the war
To staunch his enemies and never flinch
Beware of dangers, be always ready
To live the horrors that skin you alive
They make you bleed
The poor man's blood
Pours down the trenches
In dreadful stench
He looks at the skyfall
But never sees it
Behind the curtain
Of blood and tears.
He belongs to nothing
And nothing fears.
Caitlin Faykus Nov 2020
End
My question isn't
When do I start?
But rather
When do I end?
A dark cold night
Whete the moon don't shine
A perfevid dream crept into my mind
And made my belief confined .

"A long lost World
Where humanity is seized
And blood got hurled .
No rain ever fall down .
Only pain hits the ground
But we never made any sound .

Our lives were ripped off
And breath Were seized.      
Only thing which we can't found
Is LOVE AND PEACE
boom.


that's it.
that's the poem.
Art is antiwar, no exceptions.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ravSoceWgu4
A true life storey
   Yet to be completed  
Episode of stairs
   That never ends  

-Pastorlee
Is it still Love when it ends
Aa Harvey Nov 2020
My final line


The sky is black, the curtains have been closed.
I have lost all the love in the world; so empty; so alone.
The lights are turned out, the heating is off.
It was once so bright and warm here,
But now all that was and all my dreams are lost.


I am without a hope; nothing to see.
Everything gone; broken pieces.
The clock has stopped,
My world no longer spins;
Time is at an end and there will be no more beginning.
I pray for reincarnation, but I am without faith.
The only emotions I had, like my hair, they are all fading to grey.


The roots have cracked,
The branches have snapped,
The leaves have fallen,
The trunk is under attack,
From the cells inside;
No light shines from my eyes.


I can no longer smile, this is my final mile.
At the end of a short race,
I could never keep up with the pace.
My pacemaker heart needs another kick-start.
Hook me up with love;
Do you have her number?
Tell her I am going soon and this is no rumour.


But if she wants to be loved for a moment in time,
Then she should let me know if she wants to be loved,
Before I read my final line…


(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Rae Nov 2020
i crave naivety.
i wish i was as oblivious as the others

i don't want to know how it feels
to crave the end.
but i do.
that's my secret-
part of me died that day,
but the rest of me lived.
still glad i'm here
Traveler Nov 2020
I don't ever want to die
But if I had to choose
   Which way to go.....

Perhaps a hungry coyote
Would share me with it's pack
Tear my flesh limb from limb
And chew my bones to plaque  

Perhaps a poison lizard
Green with a yellow streak
Come crawling up from a stool
And bite me on the meat

Perhaps a giant boulder
At a famous mountain range
Could crash upon my head
And squish out all my brains

Like Bonnie and Clyde
Or a Challenger Astronaut
I want to go
Where the cameras have not
Screaming at the burning stake
Freezing in the artic waist
High falling
Last gasp drawing
Deep sea drowning
Ear ringing gunfire
Bomb blowing
Blast
KABOOM!

At the end my days
‘Cause
It’s better to go out with a bang
Then it is to quietly fade
Away.............
Traveler Tim

Wouldn't be anything left of me to box up if it were up to me. Fortunately it isn't!
Unpolished Ink Nov 2020
There is a place, It has no name
Easy to get to just the same
Everyone has one, a room of despair
You can knock on the door
If you no longer care
It's the end, I have had it
I’m glad that it’s done
Can’t be bothered to fight
And nobody won
Battled ourselves to the bitterest end
If anything’s left
You can keep it my friend
You keep on talking
But I am walking
Today
Get out of my life
Get out of my face
Apologise to an empty space!
Sometimes you have to know when enough is enough!
Alek Mielnikow Nov 2020
Is that danger in the distance?
Or do my eyes deceive?

****.

Like dark clouds
gathering above mountains.
Like how the young see their futures.

(Though it's not like the world hasn't been ending
this entire time.

In billions of years the sun will explode.
In hundreds, our planet will be just dust and stone,
and the bones of industry.
And at my rate
I'll self-destruct by sixty years of age.

But) what is this thing that sticks and stings
and irks
like a mirage?

Not the flavor of fingers dipped in deliciousness.
Not the freshness of a newborn babe.
Not the scent of flowers.
Not feet in a hot bath.
Not fumbling a lovers face,
frolicking through foxglove fields,
flitting a fiery frevo,
finishing first.

No,
none of that.

It's not a thing,
but a feeling.

Fear
Fear
Fear

And it sticks and stings
and irks,
like a mirage.

-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet
I have returned.

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