Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Rudyard Kipling wrote
White man's burden
In retaliation someone wrote
Black man's burden
Another wrote
Brown man's burden
No one wrote
White, black, brown
Women's burden
My average intelligence
My average conclusion
There was no need
Draw comparison
Each and every woman  
Same burden!
Imperialism, colonialism
Democracy, communism
It's the same
Everywhere, in every condition!
Kit Feb 9
Upon a misty mountain top
Beneath a hollow stone
Beside the trees and rivers
In oceans dark and cold
In shining day and blackest night
In elderly and newborn alike
There is but one essential thing
That nameless one that brings us in
And if the minds of men should fail
Our paltry castles sieged or scaled
No razing or embracing could
***** out this, our spiritual sail
About divine unity.
J M Menon Feb 2
Up there and everywhere,
I think I could drink it all up in one gulp,
my eyes overflow with the magnum,
as tears trickle down,
I hear a knowing whisper from the sky-
' We are one'
When megalophobia bleeds into beauty
Niel Nov 2020
Like a collapsing tool
who’s pieces are smaller tools
Making other tools, made of smaller ones
        Spiraling out ad infinum
Spreading out past their nonexistant boundaries
until there becomes a faint orange glow..
                                                          ­      All over.
          And over again.
Until it’s gathered to assignment all presence
Then it turns into a tool of tools, over defined and sparingly malignant.
          Over turning on itself and holding grudges
Striking insets of childish nature
While springs and leaves hold their settings
Meta morphosis exhausting possibilities in a lovely fashion
          Crisp dews and inner faerie gather
A collection of fierce love helping itself to every serving with little consequence
A M Ryder Nov 2020
It's a big word for me
I feel it everywhere
Almost home
Almost happy
Almost changed
Almost, but not quite
Not yet
Soon, maybe
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2020
"همه جا" از حافظ / "همه جا" توسط لیپستاد


Hafiz                                              ­           Lipstadt
(1320 ~ 1389)                                            (20th ~ 21st century)
——————                                           ———————­——

Running                                                    Si­tting
Through the streets                                 On the sidewalk curb
Screaming,                                                Ob­serving,

Throwing rocks through windows,     Rocks falling all around,
Using my own head to ring                  Striking my head, ringing in
Great bells,                                               Great waves of thought,

Pulling out my hair,                               My hair stands straight up,
Tearing off my clothes,                          My clothes’ fibers come alive,

Tying everything I own                        All possessions, the poems, yet
To a stick,                                                Unwritten, less valuable than,
And setting in on                                  The air that feeds the flames of
Fire.                                                         Their burning.

What else can Hafiz do tonight        What else can Lipstadt do tonight
To celebrate the madness,                  But acknowledge the truthfulness,
The joy,                                                 The madness,

Of seeing God                                      In~Exhaling God in each breath
Everywhere!                                         Everywhere!
Valiant vessel.
Holding much to carry far.
Useful everywhere.
A Apr 2020
He'll come back
He always does
Finding his way back into your bones that carried him for so long
Returning to your blood, leaving it burning and cold at the same time
And even your hips will remember his hands, as they reach up towards them
Whilst your stomach will feel the exact same revolting butterflies as it used to

You'll find him everywhere
You'll see him in your words, the ones he taught you to say
In your chest, when it's getting harder to breath
You'll even taste him in your mouth from when you breathed him
From when you let him get into every inch of you
And now he'll always come back
Not for you, but he'll always come back
abby Nov 2019
you said our spirits search for ones we've known before
yours must remember mine
your soul returned for more

a piece of you is a part of me
my soul is cut into smithereens
prism of possibilities

but I wake up alone and free after dreaming you were next to me
but freedom is not as it seems
you touch the very heart of me

but I wake up alone and cold
shivering in silence
frozen on my own
until you lie down next to me

you said the mountains are your innermost home
with you, I no longer feel the need to roam

your eyes are the evergreens, the winter pines
the flecks of golden yellow color the road signs
the smoky fog that rises and lifts my spirit high
your spirit is the mountain that lifts me to the sky

I would follow you if you just had to go
I would come with you and make that place my own
but for as long as I know your love and your restful soul
I am a little piece of everywhere connected to the whole.
Next page