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four.
chernobyl on peoples mind.
mine too, pretty clear,
humanity intent
on destroying itself.

good to know!

I can put off my
my perpetual idea of getting even by suicide,
no need to cease my puffing,
waiting now until my very last moment,
cause I won’t be cheated out
of course,
by god and his central committee
of what they have being planning for me,
all my life
Ken Pepiton Jul 3
of thee I sing
America, reborn
Four July, any year,

though now, fewer believe, the lie vented
invested
infected
invention of persuasion, magic as hell.

We hold these truths
we hold them
hold them

behold, we hold
these truths, self evident.

Or you ain't we,

the people.
Yankee doodling
L Sep 2018
IV
Where was i going? My tendency to ramble. The fact that you make me crazy. Because you do. You do make me crazy.
You make
me crazy.
Amanda Jun 14
We have gone through more in four short months
Than most do in four years
Strength has already been tested
Faced some of our biggest fears

Winds of change flipped frowns to smiles
Alight with newfound joy
Played around, laughed like kids,
You have shown me life is something to enjoy

Solving life's many puzzles together
Disagreements never would last
Your persistence and my patience
Figured out our muddy past

We have talked through our differences
Also argued for hours on end
Sometimes my lover, occasionally my foe,
Always I see you as a friend

I've cried with your arms around me
Emotions igniting outrage and unrest
Playing doctor dressing metaphorical wounds
Feel so grateful you were there to stitch my chest

You kept me from bad behavior
Rough my recovery was
High we feel when our bodies touch
More serenely severe than any other buzz

Cutting your heart out I witnessed truth
Didn't realize until it was too late
The greatest discovery I've ever made
I can't undo misakes I grew to hate

Things you handled without me near
Things you held my hand the whole way through
Life has shown us lifetimes worth of lessons
Such short time laughter and suffering too

Sick of getting knocked down
Sad because we can't get back on our feet
Our past shows us determination and effort
Will conquer this damaging defeat
Written 5-17-18
Jo Barber Jun 12
Four hours is a funny thing.
In four hours,
I can earn 48 dollars,
or I can shower and make breakfast
while flipping through the pages
of old books
and sipping my bitter coffee.
Four hours...
I suppose some could
save a life or maybe the world
in four hours.
But I cannot.

I can make 48 dollars,
or I can stare at the ceiling
and maybe think big thoughts
and not do much of anything
in four hours.
There were times In my life before I met Helen sat alone In my room upstairs strange thoughts In head
staring
from window out to a world far from the
that of my four walls I know longer felt a part of for It
was
a world that didn't really want to know me for I was a loner long since fallen
from grace sometime In the middle
of
winter whilst laid In my bed not able to face the world through depression I would hear people pass
In the
street
below voice's of laughter so I'd drag myself to my feet and gaze through my
window
at a world I never knew to the
streets
far below I'd see
lover's
walking hand
In hand
making there way through the streets covered deep In snow
stopping momentary to
hug and to kiss kids playing In the snow snowball fights so happy they looked
Oh how I
wanted
to join them just to have fun be able to smile but for my four walls of depressoin
that
surrounded
me It would not be till nearly
thirty years later that
Helen
would set free by becoming my loverly
wife
Bury me
under a tree.

One with
green leaves
and pink
round blossoms.

One that grows
sweet red fruits
that feed
hungry mouths.

One that sparkles
in golden colors
until the first
winter arrives.

One which
rests in peace
covered by snow
until spring.

Bury me
under a tree
so I can live again.
pk tunuri May 30
Boy : 1 2 3
             Set me free

Girl: 6 5 4
            Are you sure

Friends*: 7 8 9
                  Everything will be fine
Four helping hands
Its two for two
The third to last
Is feeling blue

Let go, let go
Can't hold no more
Let go, let go
Now three not four

Three helping hands
Now all for one
The third to last
He's time is done
toleomato May 18
The moonlight splinters through the blinds
To show in darkness one can find
The place where one might ought to be,
Yet absent, unbelievably.
Regardless of whom she spends her nights,
The same moon which reveals he
Is the same one which had shadowed me,
Painting us in equal light;
Strangers of the lingering night.
Whether from the covers of a stuffy bed,
Or in winter cold instead,
It matters not, as you can see,
It is for him, not me or he.
And softly into the night we sink,
We three, with all the time to think
With who it is we want to be
Wasting time thus carelessly,
As he and I dream up the same,
And she thinks of a different name,
The night deepens, the moon shines forth
A missing person, a missing fourth.

And thus it ends,
Essentially,
We always look for someone else,
Across the street, behind a door,
Around the corner, on the next floor,
It matters not, I must admit,
No effort which one may submit
Can change the fact of where we are,
He and I, him and her
Separated by a comma in a poem,
Separated by a thought in someone’s head,
Clumped together in a warm cafe,
Lonely in each one’s own way.
I am certain, I am sure
He and I are equals in nothing
Except worthlessness.
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