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Colten Sorrells Dec 2018
until I lost some weight
now people fear I’ll waste away
too quiet
‘til I speak my mind
now they’re all ******,
wish I would die
wear too much black
wear pink one day
now everyone assumes I’m ***
work out an hour,
now I’m crazy
I take a break
now i’m too lazy
the truths I tell
become a lie
all people do is criticize
too meek
too weak
an ***
too crass
It doesn’t change
until I die
nobody will be satisfied
can't please everybody... or, anybody, in my case. But f**k 'em
MicMag Aug 2018
What percentage of the time

do you lie in that bed?
     the rest a waste
          of the metal springs
                    forged by
                    factory workers
                    pouring in their
                    unpaid overtime
                    to meticulously
                    shape the steel
                    into just the right
                    comforting bounce
     a waste
          of the soft cotton cover
                    picked by
                    (*****-descended) hands
                    white fluff
                    still echoing centuries
                    of black oppression
                    spun on foreign looms
                    shipped back
                    across the seas
                    dyed, woven,
                    stretched taut
                    into just the right
                    soothing texture
     a waste
          of the foam stuffing
                    made from...
                    whatever goes into
     how many hours wasted?

What percentage of the time

do you write with that ballpoint pen?
     the rest a waste
          of the clear plastic casing
                    melded from petroleum
                    by corporations
                    extracting black gold
                    in exchange
                    for greenhouse gases
     a waste
          of the tiny perfect sphere
                    rolling smoothly along
                    tungsten carbide surface
                    exquisitely crafted
                    for maximum efficiency
                    by man's finest machines
                    factories churning out
                    thousands by the hour
     a waste
          of the bright blue ink
                    the mysterious mixture
                    of dyes and pigments
                    and oils and surfactants
                    spilling onto the page
                    recording your
                    delicate thoughts
                    in desperate
                    existential hope
                    they won't be as oft ignored
                    as that device
                    from which they pour forth
     how many hours wasted?

What percentage of the time

do you sit in that reclining chair?
do you walk in those polished dress shoes?
do you eat with that bent spoon?
do you style your hair with that fine-toothed comb?
do you turn the pages of your favorite book?
do you see by lamp's light in the guest bedroom?

     how many hours
     sitting unused, wasted?
          in a life
Ever thought about how much of the time the things we so desperately "need" sit around unused, unneeded? What a waste of resources and the time spent to craft them! What excess!!
Salmabanu Hatim Apr 2018
I had to leave,
I had nothing left to give.
Your ****,
Had become your must.
Your unsatiated desires,
Became quagmires.
Your continued demands,
Hollering reprimands,
Had left me hollow ,
Empty with nothing but sorrow.
Too much of anything is not good.
Temporal Fugue Mar 2018
An itch, ya just can't scratch, no matter how hard ya try
Searching for a perfect match, just an ****** do or die

The flesh and the movements, defining each and every one
Making some improvements, covert and sexually overdone

Always finding in need, rushing too body's desire
As dire and ****** the deed, welcoming passion and fire

More and more I understand, the cravings and the must
As insanity unplanned, reducing love's touch too ****
I guess that's called a man-***** :D
Back once more from the vault...
George Krokos Nov 2017
It takes some disillusionment and ****** distress
for anyone to abstain from bad habits of excess.
Some people are caught up very early in life and
so can't get beyond them without a helping hand.
From "The Quatrains" ongoing writings since the early '90's
Marla Toledez Oct 2017
It fills every crevice
With pleasure.
Drowning out any sorrow
In your heart.
It embraces you
Until you find yourself
Then nothing.
Some of the most pleasurable things are also the most destructive.
IrieSide Jan 2017
Suit and tie
or gold stacked high
dreams cast out
take root
for a few

agreed upon reality
of desired traits
inhibit the minds
of never divine
mental states

stay true to yourself,
I'll stand with you

challenge your planet
with constructs of mind
shape it, form it
and for you, poet
the earth shall rise
In a world where poetry has a voice.
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