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Seema Oct 2017
I may shed a little tear today
As words of some seem to ****
A reminder may play everyday
Putting me on a disgusting pill

I'm out spoken on verbal and written
Yet, I am misjudged by most
Words seem to be stuffed and bitten
And comments fly in of another boast

I am not a qualified writer
Nor my writes are clear to perfect
But writing makes my dark world brighter
And that, my friend is a fact

My writes are ruins of my thoughts
Feelings of a broken heart
Shattered pieces of multiple knots
And a spilling imaginary art

I am not in competition with anyone
Poetry world is a lovely place to be
I am not in search to nail someone
But to read other poets work as I see...


©sim
Nakia Sep 2017
I am depressed
I am a sad child tossed into a sad world
I hear others speak of me
And cant bring myself to care
Because the comments are true
And I'm nothing to me
In my head I hold no value
Besides support to my peers
A family member to those close
And a love to a lover
Often I kept my poems hidden
A level to my insecurity
Quietly breaking myself down
I'm increasingly quiet
And even more sad
But the thing is I cant blame anyone but myself
I'm trying to hold on
I don't want to depart
It'd be better to stay in bed
And if the day had no start
To be clear i'm not suicidal. That's not me.
Aaron LaLux Jul 2017
The City of Demonios

“Why are some people waiters,
while others are waited on,
why are some people Haters,
while others are hated on?”

I was awaited on,
before they knew they were waiting,
snatched from my cradle pinched from my dreams,
or so it seems because it appears the people are awaking,

I’ve awaken,
in some sort of dream awakening,
and I’m trying to not let Them get to me,
but it seems They get to everyone eventually,

preyed on by hungry Demons,
Fallen Angels that haven’t found peace,
from the hills in The City of Los Angeles,
to the beaches in Long Island in the East,

and this indigestion from lost intentions is getting intense,
so we throw up everything from inside the Belly of the Beast,

a feast,
I offer up my body for Death,
like they do on Himalayan mountain peaks,
when they offer eagles the bodies of the dead,

see only through the death of the physical,
can the Soul truly ascend,

ascend,
do not fear the Reaper,
hey friend,
let’s make them all Believers.

I see her,
like a nightmarish dream,
I love Her I hate her I don’t want her I have  to have her,
she quietly stares in my eyes loudly and makes the Silence scream,

scream,
isn’t that a painting?

A dream,
isn’t that an awakening?

Let’s not,
let our,
hopes only be hopes,

manifest,
all of this,
before Death ties His rope,

around our necks,
bringing about suffocation,
please let us be free,
we all need some liberation,

but for now,
I’ll just take a glass of water,
I’m parched it’s a desert out here,
and I’m wondering if this trouble’s worth the bother,

“Waiter,
please a glass of water.”,
I order a glass of water after saying all of this,
then turn to you and say “Isn’t it ironic?”,

“Why are some people waiters,
while others are waited on,
why are some people Haters,
while others are hated on?”…

No answers only questions,
ah well stay calm and carry on…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

from 777: Alphas & Numerics
available worldwide 7/7/17
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1548700746
lexie Mar 2017
did you know
we are made
of stardust?

a million wishes
are made upon
our bones
our eyes
and our blood

every night we see
a part of ourselves
dotted in a technicolor sky

every day we bid
those stars a good bye
until the night comes again.

how dependant
we seem to be
on stars.

how dependent
we are on
each other.
this has probably been done a million times
Jim Davis Mar 2017
Heard on the
News today
A lady saying
Our forefathers
Were not citzens
She is right
They were subjects
Under tyranny
And that is why
We are citzens
Although now
Of a revile nation

© 2017   Jim Davis
"All we want are the facts, ma'am"   Joe Friday.
The Trumpoet Feb 2017
Oh Kellyanne Conway, when she interacts
with the press, she presents the alternative facts.
The alternative facts, the alternative facts,
Oh my! How I love the alternative facts!

The moon is a cube and it's made out of wood.
The ocean's on fire, and broccoli tastes good.
The inaugural crowd was 12 million strong,
and liberty, life and equality's wrong.

The penguins are all busy making Swiss cheese
and poverty's ended whenever you sneeze.
The Donald shall reign o'er the world without end
and Vladimir Putin is our greatest friend.

Cyanide is nutritious and ice cream is hot.
The *** may be black but the kettle is not.
When night falls the sun gets sealed in a can,
and Trump is a kind, loving, wonderful man.

The alternative facts, the alternative facts,
dear God how I love the alternative facts.
To let tyranny rise through unspeakable acts,
let us live to embrace the alternative facts.
You can also see this and my other Trump poems at: www.trumpoet.com
Link to video of this poem: https://youtu.be/f6ot_2PN-FA
Written January 22, 2017
a Feb 2017
Anybody that is anybody knows the most fabulous and trendy accessory are socks.
Crew, No-Show, Knee high.
The ever versatile socks are the most righteous thing.
The Ancient Greeks may have had some dark ages, but they were the first people that we know of that thought,
Hey shoes are cool, but what if we made them more flexible and soft.
Thus the mighty sock was born.
Now there are some of you who may think completely different about socks.
Maybe they are boring, or annoying.
You are feeling the Albert Einstein side of socks. (He didn’t wear socks because he didn’t see the point, tragic huh?)
Well friends, though you may be genius you are completely idiotic.
Socks are little hugs wrapped around your feet. All day. They are like butterfly kisses that mae you smile every time you look down. What is better than that?
The answer is nothing.
Queen Freaking Elizabeth loved socks and went to the inventor of the knitting machine (which was originally created to make socks) to have custom socks made.
Not only are socks just incredibly wonderful and stylish, they were invented to help save the world… from sticky feet.
Socks help prevent your human sweat drops from seeping into your shoes, making a perfect nesting place for the teenage mutant ninja turtles. Disgusing
In conclusion, nothing can or ever will be more awe founding or perfect than socks
a haughty poem about the awefounding socks
Brent Kincaid Feb 2017
Someone put an elephant
In the middle of my room
To capture conversations
And often predicting doom
Or bragging about something
That it has never done.
This pachydermal pestilence
Certainly is not much fun.

I try to keep things secret
And pretend that they’re not there
Then all of a sudden, ****,
An elephant from somewhere.
I try to deny its existence
Laugh and talk around it all
But the thing is an elephant
Is really not that small.

Then once someone visits
They find it difficult to pretend
That the elephant is not there.
So much for helpful friends.
So, I make up stories to try
To deftly explain things away
But some things are too obvious
No matter what words I say.

Some just give up and leave me
To be the same fool as I act.
But, others get up in my face
And try to deliver some fact.
So, I can’t really be upset
With those who are in my group
But that doesn’t help me clean up
The disgusting elephant ****.
Heimir Jan 2017
These are times of great confusion
which call for radical acts
and we handle the situation
by presenting alternative facts.

We will manage our circumstances
by Spicer-ing up the truth
and Con our Way to our wishes
by being smug and uncouth.

And if all this scheming doesn’t work,
we still got a Trump up our sleeve.
We’ll simply fire the lot of you
if you sternly refuse to believe.
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