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Joshua Phelps Aug 2021
are you listening?

can you hear me?

can you hear,
can you see
what's going on
around us?

Do you hear the sirens
that are going off
in every direction?

Everyone is leaving,
Everyone except you.

For you,
the sirens
fall on deaf ears

and you stay,
right where you are
watching the disaster unfold, in awe

The embers begin to flick and flare out
travelling down this stretch of road

and here you are, without a care
Blissfully unaware, the fire
is already taking hold in this town.

can you hear me? are you listening now?

You feel a tug of the arm,
Signaling it's time to go.

your reluctance is telling
But you know you can't stay.

You know that
you have to go.

Memories last forever.

But for you,
You know
the hardest part

Is starting over.
inspired by "bed head" by Manchester Orchestra
DET Jun 2021
As the world seeks for a prey
Myself hath acknowledged I will become the next target!
So, myself must ignite the fire
Rather is among the roars of the thunder
The fire must shimmer all my foes...
If any predators dare strive to demolished
My serenity...
Then no mercy...
Will be granted...
For I will be no ones prey....
If merely my foes knew...
The rage hath drove me insane...
So, dare not mark me as the next prey!
Cause not even death makes me shiver...
Copyright Β© 2021 D.E.T All Rights Reserved
Jennifer DeLong Jan 2021
Its my year
Chinese animal
Year of the oxen
Strange to even include
Chinese but , I am
deeply devoted to what
shaped my life my spiritual soul
So grabbing the bull by the horns..
Good bye 2020
Not touching this year
Time to be ******* happy
Be adventurous
Live like today is all you got
cause it could be
Say I love you after every conversation
Be kind help a stranger or a neighbor
Laugh and do what you makes you happy
Thats it πŸ»πŸ‘ŠπŸ€˜πŸ™πŸ’–2021
🦏 Jennifer Rhinomom🦏
Erin Dec 2020
my hands hover above his skin
ready to begin a glorious prelude,
a lithe overture
smooth ivory lay beneath my fingertips
where anticipation mounts,
palms tingling, aching to travel
across satin scenery, the supple canvas
my covetous joints crave
the staging of a sacred symphony
to b minor not to be mine
Martin Bond Nov 2020
s Sep 2020
by Sunday night I was exhausted. you had drained every hopeful part of me but told me I was crazy to not believe in the future. you told me not to worry but then you stole my patience, my sanity, my peace...yet treated me as though I was the thief. you told me to calm down, to stop over-reacting, to live more rationally, but how can you tell me my fears are irrational if I see them happening in front of my own eyes? I knew I wasn't enough for you anymore but you made me feel like I was too much to handle at the same time. too much emotion, too much fear, too much liability. You told me you felt like you had to walk on eggshells when you were around me even though I rolled out a carpet for you to walk on. I picked up the pieces and stuck them on my own feet so you didn't feel the pain. By monday night, you had told me you had bigger plans for your life. I said me too and detailed how you were gonna experience it with me. You said no, Shelby, its something I want to do on my own. So now I sit, relieved, knowing that my Tuesday is coming, even if you aren't going to be in it.
SomaSonata Aug 2020
I want to know the the truth
The privileged secrets known by the few
But they say it's better this way
A light in the dark
A hint of ignorant bliss on the wind
But what do I know?
I'm a everyday fool
I sing in the rain
I feel nice and safe
Or so I'm told anyway
I'm a no name
They laugh in my face
They dance on my grave
The ending's the same
It will all be ok
Such and such #strong
Remain calm and carry on
I'll guess I'll play along...
For now anyway
If those young men had looked like me,
how diff'rent everything would be.
There'd be no blood or teardrops shed.
Had they been white, they'd not be dead.

If Mike Brown had been Michael White,
he surely would have been alright.
"Don't shoot!" would not need to be said.
Had he been white, he'd not be dead.

From Ferguson to East L.A.,
we hear the stories every day.
"Protect and Serve" til streets run red.
Had they been white, they'd not be dead.

Call it racial immunity,
where skin-tone is impunity.
Don't let yourself be so misled-
had they been white, they'd not be dead.

As more and more young ones are slain,
and protests are met with disdain,
you may debate what I have said,
but were they white, they'd not be dead.
Wrote this when Mike Brown was killed in Ferguson. I'm sad that it maintains relevance today.
Alex Jul 2020
I've got numbers that never show.
I'll never see another text
From those asleep in an oak box.
I screenshot them; kept like dead leaves

I hope it never ends
I hope it never .
Colm Apr 2020
Hovering where here
On the edge of a mountain
Holding steady fast
A tired high, a subtle cliff
A calling fall which rings out
This one is about that lost feeling when you're traveling between work and personal time. Stuck between repetitious duty and selfish desire.
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