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Us as cracked pots,
with a possibility to be fixed
as fine and flawed

The geology of our clay:
dirt will behave as dirt,
rare earth as rare earth

With time it transmutes
to something new,
shot with old veins when fired

The new *** fragile,
prone to drops and knocks,
desperate to hold known water
Roro Aug 27
Some of us were sick and broken
But now some has turned into plenty
we live in a society
The rattle in your lung
says the choice is no longer yours


For thought or effect,
the end’s the same

Played your hands in the game like always


The rattle in your lung
says the choice is no longer yours

And where did the vitriol get you,
old man?

To a better place?
Where fat white women sing your praise?

While at home your carbon copies
bust their lips
when the home team loses?

The rattle in your lung
says the choice is no longer yours

You waiting for something?
Applause for working a nine to five
and allowing a fraction
of your take home to be spent on living,

The rattle in your lung
says the choice is no longer yours

I’ll stand over you now
As you stood over me
Instead of raining blows
I’ll let the misery of your truth
Catch in your chest
and fight for the cause

The rattle in your lung
says the choice is no longer yours
Caveat: my dad is a wonderful, gentle, clever gentleman. I deal with many who are not.
Lara May 15
I scream for your attention
But you don’t hear me

I scream out all of my anger
But the wrong people listen to it

I scream
I just scream
Does anyone feel the same way?
Does anybody just want to scream.
Does anyone want to scream with me.

Scream about something
Scream about everything
Just scream

Scream about the environment
Scream about politics
Scream about generations
Scream about social standards
Scream about what is going on in my head

The roller coaster in my head is screaming
My ideas are flowing

And I stop screaming
I begin to overthink
Are you screaming with me or against me?
Keiya Tasire May 11
Is a Child
A mirror of himself
his father,  and his father's fathers.
All culminating within the palms
Of his own two hands
His newborn babe.

He wonders in awe,
"How can I best teach, support, and love you?"
With ears of compassion
Eyes of love, and a heart of gratitude
His Spirit spoke,

"Allow your light to shine."
Allow your heart to breathe.
Allow your your ego
to slip away into the shadow
Of your Ancient Wise Soul.

He felt it!
As he breathed deeply
Down to the depths of his soles.
A heartfelt love
A love that was only imagined
Until this very moment
The very moment we realize that we are a father, and that another generation has risen through the union of the one we love  to create a new precious loved one to welcome to this world.
It seems to me
that as people get older
they mature
not like fine wine
but getting more stale
and more bitter
with each passing year.
Coffee, perhaps?
I know some truly wonderful adults (my mum especially) but I get so many 'it was harder when I was younger' etc. vibes from the adult population as a whole  so this is my response to those people who constantly put down the younger generation with their self-centredness and self-pity
Isaac May 9
What if there was no rush?
Only an infinity of time
To discover the world
And all you could do.
But that is simply not true.
We all head to our grave
Minute by passing minute
Year by passing year
Just because this is so,
Is it wise to rush?
Or wiser to take your time
And let your roots grow deep
Soaking in the richness
Of an Earth that has seen many generations.
It is only then we truly live
And not drift like dead wood
Afloat a windy river
That leads to a long drop over a waterfall.
Let's establish ourselves,
And become a true part
Of this magical world.
Fashion yourself into this work of art.
Engrave your essence into the bedrock of history.
Don't allow the wind of this generation
To disanchor your heart.
Let your grip tighten
Into the realms of future and past
For they can be easily forgotten
Among the nagging realities of today
And the constant worries of the present week.
Are we allowed to drop the shallow,
And explore the deep waters?
The unknown exists.
It welcomes the rarest souls
Into its hidden chambers.
But who dares to go there?
Who cares to go there
When the colourful attractions
Of previous discovery shine all around you?
Convenience the wall that guards the masses
From the hidden worlds that lay beneath.
Written 9th May 2020
LC Apr 17
the tree grew in rocky soil -
now its fruit is decaying.
its seeds fell into
the same rocky soil,
sprouting into trees
with the same decaying fruit.

these trees feel the decay.
they know to spread their seeds
where the soil is fertile.
and the resulting trees
will bear ripe fruits
for future generations.
#escapril day 16!
Xella Feb 5
Well you know whats going on-
You know yet you still sit there and

So while at it give life a thought-

not yours but the kids

-why even are we doing it?

It's survival
I want to be free from temptation
Keep me far from the things you hate and
Help me to never walk away
From this freedom for which you paid
We'll pass it on to our sons and daughters
Those coming who we haven't yet thought of
The greet deeds of our redeeming Father
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