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With due respect
Let's resonate
The sympathetic wave

We're not blind
We all are mirage
Somehow
We are different
Yet
We are the same
In response to
An exquisite pain
Genre: Observational
Theme: Sympathy || Air Craft Accident, Feb 27, 2019 Nepal. RIP to all departed souls
Rose Jul 2017
Abreast, his drums pound faint in my ears
Still writhing hearts now downcast and drear  
In the sheets of illegitimate bedding thereupon we'd lain,
Disheveled, ashamed, and I, rent in twain.
How after this could I feign delight
With suns shining in my new amaurotic eyes
With roses, abloom in my cheeks
To grow them, it hadn't taken but weeks
He'd vehemently ensconced himself neath my skin
His rivers had run dry on my chin
Leaving me the sweetest halitosis grin
What a orphic sin this is
To crave his nature somewhere within
To trespass in a garden that is not my own
The night we watched Antichrist
Amanda Nov 2018
I want to walk down sunlit paths
Where birds talk about the weather
In a living land of ancient trees
And warm breezes carry a scent of green
Amongst rising domes of fungi
Heartbeats can be heard amongst the ferns
As feet scurry to hidden homes
And sharp eyes watch the passing
Of the predator human
Silence as the first tree falls
And the birds weep
Sabika H Oct 2018
Too ******
and impulsive.
Too selfish
and deluded, ignorant
and submissive,
wearing a veil of falsehood
in order to feel protected.
So inconsistant
to my promises and my solutions.
Too eager for a better me
and a better life,
but too greedy to truly see myself,
too blind to be truly kind,
too sad to strive,
too happy to move on.
Too bad,
I'm too human.
The human condition.
M Aug 2018
I walked through the portal
leaving sadness, sorrow and grief behind.
My footprints were muddy,
and chains dragging behind me.

I left to find new purpose and freedom,
the old world of which could offer me none.
Every man that returned was a changed man,
a freed man set on a new path of greatness.

Now that man would be me,
who would find extraordinary power.
Even now I can feel my shoes being cleansed,
the chains feeling a little bit lighter around me.

Oh, what glory is this that I've found,
this glorious thing that has shaped me!
A changed man am I,
finally free from the bounds of confinement.

But, wait! What's this, this feeling that I feel,
filling me with **** and pulling me closer?
Something I have never heard of or seen,
a thing unforeseen by anything I know.

Hark! He knocks unceasingly on my door,
with the voice of a newborn and the staff of a man.
I am drowning in want for this,
yet this new world is filled with it.

When I let him in he comes with a howl,
and bounds me with new chains made of strong steel.
I am captured once more in this illusion of perfection,
too naive to see the truth of the dirt.

My shoes are again muddy,
but with the dirt of this society instead of that one.
The chains trap me and I am changed,
a ***** forever chasing what I can never have.
Something I came up. Hopefully it's good!
LERCH May 2018
Ya want
Endless love
& Affection.

There aint
Even enough
For everybody.
Victor Bucarizza Apr 2018
What does it mean to be human?
Forged in the hearts of the universe
A billion fragments of creation, woven into one existence
Children of the stars that envious eyes reflect
What does it mean to be human?
I am the universe
I am alone

What does it mean to find beauty?
To witness the Sun's racing photons pierce the atmosphere
with bursting **** for the horizon
The waves finding my eyes, and leaking dopamine in my brain
What does it mean to find beauty?
I am in awe
I am chemistry

What does it mean to write poetry?
To order the shapes and symbols written by dead men
in a way no one has ever seen before
A fool's attempt to have one feel what all have felt before
What does it mean to write poetry?
I am a poet
I am a liar

What does it mean to die?
To find the book continues writing
for you were not the protagonist all along
To learn this, only once you cannot learn at all
What does it mean to die?
I am alive
I am finite

What does it mean to love?
To see the finite chemicals in all the lonely liars
And to hold them close
In awe of the universal poetry that is our lives
All the same, we are all the same
I am love
If we were anything else, there would be no point
No Hope
No Life
c Apr 2018
We are all subject to the train’s pull
No matter our worth in weight or wealth
No matter the sum of gold noosing necks & wrists
Gravity wringing aspirations into pools at our feet

We are sacks of meat, burdened by the heaviness in knowledge & consciousness:
The knowing we are, and yet not

Writing preface to our own demise,
Whilst the load of space around seals its binding
******* righteousness in the left & ignorance in the right

We, nature-made, we
Busy in breath and body

We, donning better halves as pelts and scarves, we
Soulless sleeves malleable in gear

We
Train people
Swaying
As does a bundle of seaweed moves about a scape of blue,
Powerless in swing

--
c
Enjoy the ride.
The Unsung Song Mar 2018
War.
This idea of competition,
this idea of fight or flight,
this idea of narcissism,

This is the epitome of,
not human nature,
but inhuman nature.

Humans were given the ability to talk with,
one mouth,
and they were given the ability to listen with,
two ears,
yet we either SHOUT at each other endlessly,
without listening,
or we skip the talking and go straight to fighting.
This poem has no real end because according to statistics, war will never end.
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