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Francis Oct 2023
Someone told me,
To water my own grass,
But what they neglected to mention,
Is that my grass is crass.

This is due to my unfortunate past,
Every minute spent kissing ***,
To be walked on and trampled by,
Boots and heels of brass.

So no, I will most certainly not,
Water my own grass,
The thoughts and evaluations,
Of the judgment I pass,
Is necessary and voluntary,
In a sea of largemouth bass.
Another poem about judgment of character since I’m always in defense.
Francis Oct 2023
The pearly gates seem foreign,
A daydream away from today,
He talked about Hades like Sin,
But what he neglected to mention,
Is that Hell is from within.

A dystopian travesty,
Civilizations amuck,
We fight,
We ****,
In pursuit of happiness,
Whatever that is.
What if this is hell?
Mark Wanless Oct 2023
there was a time long ago in the future
of humanity that folded minds into light

the stars were bright and meaningful
to all who knew the words gone past

history of dreams dogma far exceded
walking backwards into the present

what else is there but we be here now
imagine a life that is imagined

call the spirits call the gods definitions
concepts of the creator weakly shared

ignorance is exaltation wisdom is bane
yet the sky is blue sometimes or pitch

no one exists or ever has a being
we see smell hear taste and touch

a dog is always here for some reason
and will tell me what is true perhaps

the corps on the ground is my own
i turn away and travel a stagnant path
Unpolished Ink Oct 2023
Every slice of bread
contains seeds of history
which unite us all
George Krokos Oct 2023
Blessed are they who are able and know how to truly help others for their motives stem from a sense of divine compassion deep in humanity's real heart.
Simple Observation #471. From 'Simple Observations' ongoing writings since the early 90's.
Jeremy Betts Apr 2018
I abuse words verbally like my voice is Bobby and the dictionary Whitney/
Like a literary hyperbole properly arranged to explain this deranged brutality perfectly/
Force the English language to work for me like a particularly dark time in history/
Optimistically take the tongue twister trickery and aggressively attack a vocabulary vocally and personally/
Not physically but a barrage on your psyche, almost psychedelically/
Use words medically, like a surgeon I expertly plant thoughts whispered softly but assertively/
Moving letters like chess pawns to express thoughts masterfully and creatively/
Gruesomely grotesque but gorgeous thoughts written down beautifully/
You can't help but hear the perplexity of mythoticly placed words with comradery/
An oddity with the audacity to raise the bar and up the capacity/
Because what comes out of me has to be exactly what you see because it is me/                
Not just a part of me but all of me/
I'm not a fallen tree sitting in the forest silently, quietly all by my lonely/
It's just the opposite actually and factually/
I will attack with a dialect so violent you violently retract causing you to react cowardly automatically/
I don't even have to lift a pinky, leave it stinky/
Let my words linger there in the air like **** smoke, thick and sticky/  
Periodically come back to peek and see if you've figured out the mystery and found the key/
One that'll decipher decisively what it is that I've let out of me and spread to all humanity/
I could never have planned it, see, it had to happen naturally, organically if you will/
And not to build it up falsely but I honestly, back then, didn't have the ***** to let it out of me and it cost me considerably/
So now this mastery I hold of word delivery bestowed to me gets jotted down feverishly/
With an intensity equal to none inside of this ******* century, can't censor me/
Got a consistency that forces me to constantly cross the border of insanity repeatedly/
Time only to watch my talents as they literally wither away for all of eternity/
Such a tragedy to see such agony but please, no apology brought on by sympathy/
Just let me be as I drift farther out to sea to a place you'll never see/
To let these words mold me into someone you could never be/

©2018
Johnson Oyeniran Feb 2021
Through the labour of my two hands, I bring forth art with my blood, sweat and tears,

With my sleek guitar, I compose soothing melodies pleasing to the ears.
Kitt Sep 2023
Our mother, Gaia, shall never die
Though for us I cannot speak
When Terra does turn her back to our kind
Our might shall seem so meek
Roaring flames do lick her skin
While Chaos’ storms do rage
But Mother Earth will retreat within
And turn to a blank new page.

Zeus will fall when the skies go black
His wife, Hera, to follow when families dissolve
Once the gods fall there’ll be no way back
And hubris will be our final resolve.
Chronus may falter when there’s nobody alive
To observe the passage of hours
When the clocks have all stopped,
Gears unturning under toppled clock towers
No grandfathers left to chime.
But Gaia will live on in sleep so bereft
Long after we’re lost to time.

With no men to wage wars, Ares will fade
Athena too as innovation runs dry
Aphrodite may weep when there’s no love to be made
Hermes, when there’s nowhere to fly
And though our sun will live past our end,
There’ll be no chariot of gold
No homes, no hearths for Hestia to tend
And no music for Apollo to behold

We have long lost one of the faces
Of Artemis, the huntress under moonlight’s reign
And civilization (so-called) now erases
Pan, the wild god, and his sacred domain
What next, I now ask, shall we bid our farewell?
What aspect of humanity lost?
As we stumble along nearer to Hell
Whom shall be the next forgot?

But fear thee not, for life’s most precious gift
is the transience, the temporal nature of Earth
All will change, all will shift
and perhaps a different Cosmos may birth.
Once the stardust settles, a new something to arrive
And we shall perhaps there meet once again
Tied by fresh cords of fate to share new lives.

And all the while, she’s waited for us
Watching and loving those souls immortal
Taking new forms now from different dust
She’ll rejoice and rebirth the primordial
They will rise and then fall and eventually make way
For the pantheon of a new universe to arise
Perhaps not all will look the same--
But close enough for essence to find.
Zywa Aug 2023
The actor knows what

it's all about: pretending --


you're really human.
Alan Arkin (New York City 1934-2023) wrote in his memoir "Out of my mind" (2018): "When things get tense, when I start taking my work a bit too seriously, I remind myself that I'm only pretending to be a human being."

Collection: "Wean Di"
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