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Don Moore Dec 2016
Come this way, or we may stray, stray from the path that I wish
Come this way, past the dead roses of lost loves on the path I wish
Come this way through spring, summer, autumn and winter come what may
Come this way, follow me, turn not to look at other paths, for they are wrong
Come this way through exotic smells and vistas, for they hide my intentions
Come this way, eat what I eat, don’t fight it, don’t dream there is any other way
Come this way, drink from my heady draught, served by the darkness in me
Come this way through the lines of trees, which loom and glower
Come this way, let me lead the way, let me lead you by your hand
Come with me, you really have no choice, come and all will be revealed
Come with me to another land, another land maybe, maybe not
Come with me, as I am no deceiver, not disguised as anything more than I am
Come with me, for I am here to offer solace and that which goes hand in hand
Come with me, for I am death and not dressed up in any other way.
Paul Butters Nov 2016
Trees are inevitable,
For something must grow higher than the rest.
Grass is inevitable too:
To carpet the world.
So are fish, to swim the seas,
Birds to fly the skies
And human beings to walk the plains.

All Life is inevitable
Springing from a chemical formula or two.
The Universe has Rules
Which make it so.

So, is God inevitable?
I have to ask.
Is there bound to be an Overlord
Responsible for All?
Or is it all an Accident?
Chance Happening?
A spin of some Super-Galactic Wheel?

It’s Logical to have some Being
Who’s Omnipresent, Omnipotent, Omniscient –
However many Omnis there may be.
Or even a Race of Gods
As the Greeks and Romans surmised.

Some say that We invented God
And that is very possible.
Some claim there simply is No God,
Which is quite possible too.

All I know is that I’m here right now,
Living in the Hope
That somehow I’ll survive
My Final Demise
A certain thing that is
For all
Inevitable.

Paul Butters
I've gone religiophilosophical again...
Erin Suurkoivu Oct 2016
Could it have happened any differently?
Perhaps. But which fork in the road was it?
Where does the path start to unravel?
A change in the way things are
Would have changed everything else as well.

For all the mistakes bemoaned, lessons
Learned – unless vanity stands in the way –
Or the same error repeated
With different actors playing the same role –
Hero and villain alike.

And the split between people of insignificance and
The people that matter – faces splashed on
Tabloids and magazine covers –
The invisible reduced to mere shadows
Floating on the fringes of light.

Shadows have a way of defining the light.
People have a way of shaping our lives,
Setting in motion our trajectories,
The way banks and boulders guide water in a river –
The wind, a fallen tree.

No absence made a hole in the day of someone
Who was never there.
What’s out of our control – people,
Sequences of events. What’s inevitable –
How we choose to react.
"The Way Things Are" can be found in my poetry book, "Blood for Honey", available at Lulu.com and Amazon.
Dwarde Ozadal Sep 2016
Memento Mori

Beware It comes like a thief in the night
A blink of an eye, a flash of lightning
Beware for you know not when you might die
Or when you might have the thought of dying
But be not afraid of the thought of death
Be afraid of a life you have not lived
Embrace death as you breathe your final breath
It is not as evil as you’ve conceived
Life and death, and the sun and the moon
Contrasting elements, both beautiful
For how can you hate such a lovely boon
One which gives meaning to a life so cruel
So treat the end of life as a reward
To a life which many deem very hard
regardless of whether is was me or not
it is inevitable
that a mixed race male
would be considered “passing”
and accumulate all the weapons
and silent confidence
of privileged society
trained with the most valuable
intellectual materials
he would expose the disparity
and its shame
in its naked entirety
like I
everyday
exist in its entirety
thoroughly through
the most cooperative
conceivable act
of eternal mixture
Waiting4TheStop Jul 2016
Pop a vein. Let it spill
. Just breathe....Slash!
 Angels and demons, battle and clash.
It's just a matter of time until....
(C) 2015
Cat Fiske May 2016
bad designs have already been built.
on the verge of collapsing from all the guilt.
aged and longstanding no wonder we face the inevitably,
as what has been built will now dwindle away as ironically,
wilted petals will do the same,
disintegration of what we had is defamed,
a shattered frame never goes addressed,
with too many problems we just left,
but I guess maybe it was best.

we lost everything,
and still never learned anything.
we have nothing left to say.
just the rusted frame like our doorway,
we don't have to knock to be heard.
but watch your step so nobody gets burned.
because it hurts as memories flood in,
making you cry as tears scorch your skin,
you begin wondering what could of been.

and then you stop,
and drop into the doorway as you take the mats spot,
your the one fading into the wreckage,
sinking away fast before you can find a new direction.
Shattered and vanishing away,
but you never left the rusted doorway,
your looking to escape the battered zone,
you know your grown,
enough to handle the pain on your own.
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