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Brett Jul 15
Look at the city from above
See how the towers of power
Cast shadow to the rabble
Cowering below

All these fields, stained dry, rusted brown
Gathered crowds are a ghost town
Disillusioned mental state of mass confusion
Factory made man

This free prison is a stretch of highway
With roads determined and paved
Two directions
Places you will never go, and the place you were always headed
Brett Jul 13
Youthful exuberance never grows old; I suppose, until the creeping ivy cradles your gravestone.

This life; to me, is a passing train that always makes its way back around. Just not for you.

Every stop lets off the lost and picks up a child; weary, on their first day of school.

The hero in my mind rides, toward the destiny where he dies.

The wink inside his smile; resigned, for one more longing look up at the deep blue ocean canvas, where he penned the story of his life.

In his fading grin, he whispers one last nothing to wind. A cool breeze carrying his freedom. The silence, his last season.
The silent season
Brett Jun 26
I sit on the seat of a silent hill, watching hope stripped bare
Like tender flesh ripped from the bone. Where do I go from here?
The words in this world, are poisoned with pain.
Even the ink on this wrinkled page decays, like
Receding waterways that turn rivers
Into mass graves. Every frontier turns to a last bastion.
No decadence can dress the dead. Sunken souls
Weighed down by boots of lead. Work and worship.
Open plains become a purgatory for the horseless.
I search.
Peter B Jun 3
They died long time ago
in now-forgotten wars.
And no one knows them here.

Though someone,
Support this poem:
Tommy Randell Mar 12
(Dylan & Cohen, talking together in a dream - )

"You think to lead? Lenny, you should know
There is an Art in it - to being noticed
But not being seen. To glance away
At the right moment with nothing to say
And be just the passer-by, the no-one, that day."

"The Poets of the Future are not born yet."
Cohen says, "In these locked down Days,
Prophets, like Yeats & Lorca, as always hold no sway
But lie un-sung in the furloughs!
We 2 are such Heroes, but which of us is which?"

"You don't understand, and I've followed You
From the moment I heard Marianne.
I'm sure you knew. I'm sure you were aware.
You've seen me look away, trying to be Not There,
Hearing but not Listening - Being there Not-Being.

"Success and Failure they are but Creeds
In my calculus of Thoughts and deeds.
The Art of Following is to Be,
To be the Known the Unknown needs -
Hallelujahs, Leonard will never get you Free."

In my dream, Cohen gave a gentle hinting smile
And, a piece more of the Puzzle -
"Watch the sidewalk, Friend," he advised.
"Seek out both, the Truth & the Lies.
Practice your Art, but don't take it Personal."

Tommy Randell - 12th March 2021.
Literally, a dream I had ... I left out Paul MacCartney, it got too complicated/
I was just writing about you,
So it feels like I just saw you
It's been years, I know
But when I think about you
Remember our better days
It doesn’t seem like forever
I often talk to you
Late at night in the dark
You had better places to be
At least that’s what I tell myself
So you don’t seem so far away
Pretend you’ll be here tomorrow
To forget that you’re long gone
When I share our memories
I make you out to be the hero
Because that’s what you were to me
Maybe you know, or you never will
I just hope you’re okay with it.
Justin Lai Jan 10
O brother, tell us where you've been!
What is the world like beyond these trenches?

Is it safe to crawl out —
we heard the wolves were just 'were-' with a sweet tooth.
Won't you help us sniff out the lotus from the roses,
their thorns so cleverly hidden…

Sisters, we're tired of hiding in the dark,
our eyelids shut by the nurse's damp cloth;

To our champions: were you blessed in your travails?
Did you find the loving,
the caring,
the fabled Happy People that
Nashville balladeers croon about?

brave children, remember to return;
we dreamed of setting foot in a place of our own, too.
does one exist in their world ||

I was thinking about minorities and marginalised groups, that it takes individuals braving uncertainty and doubt to blaze a trail for everyone else. We stand on the shoulders of giants.

(Giha Village is an underground village from the anime Gurren Lagann. Happy People is a song written by Lori McKenna and Hailey Whitters and recorded by Little Big Town.)
around the bends of my mind
lies some memories
of uninhibited realism
of high fidelity
to myself
in letting myself go
somewhat joyous
somewhat chaotic
somewhat musical
but just there
to feel and see things
for more than what they mean
through my own eyes
seems rather unusual
but I go back in time
take a deep-dive
to recapture these ephemeral bubbles
of blissful euphoria
as if singing
to my alter ego
'We can be heroes,
just for one day
We can be us,
just for one day!'
Heroes by David Bowie seems to be the perfect song to relive those high-on-life moments.
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