Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
RoyHal Nov 2017
Brain synapses connecting at speed of light
Hands type furiously ,pausing to touch her child
Unblinking Cyborg  in a woman's curves

She hasnt slept well in 8 days
Wearing her fatigue like the metal braces
She attatches on her metal child
Clunk,Clunk ,Yet another malfunction
**** Robot
3 seconds,Sorted.

SHE.Shes a well oiled engined
Gears tugging smoothly over each other.
She got it all together.
She is NOT a boy,NOT a tomboy
THIS woman just built a robot in 2 days

Finally,She blinks
Teadrop
Pity her heart cant fix that easy.
you'll sense much friction
whence the ladies come into contact
they'll show an outer courtesy
toward each other
yet be privately thinking
I'm not fond of her

there's no love lost
no not at all
between them there's
a thorny wall

the forced pleasantries
are a dead give away
it's not hard for an interpreter
to see through the display

you'll wonder
who or what?
lies in the middle
of their stance
which doesn't fail
to catch the translator's
glance
one is so glad
for not being a member
of his harem
exclusion from the inner sanctum
gives one a good perspective
on the everyday doings
between his adoring ladies
one oft sees them bickering
over his attention
the females appear
to be competing
at a super-human rate
hoping he'll send a flashing wink
their way
the sheik
has many choices
inside
his tent
Paul Kgaje Oct 2017
We burry ghosts of hearts where our minds won't tread.
We speak the language of now in hope like the rest.
We die in the absence of each other's warmth.
We cross paths only in the depths of our memories.
Pictures appear not physically,
Mentally.
My life is flawed.

We travel through time with lies.
What appears real is only real in lies.
Rain falls different through different regions.
My mind echoes with a name I once claimed kiddish.
My life is flawed.

The sweet daffodil from the garden grew better with time,
The petals look vibrant and bright.
The yes became a no,
The no felt too cold.
My life is flawed.
Sharon Talbot Sep 2017
How many heroes have chosen this path,
Of least or no resistance?
In the face of overwhelming odds,
Or staring at cubicular, corporate submission;
Elect instead the stance
Of simply
Doing
Nothing?

Victorian ladies thought it amusing;
20th Century Centurions and Puritans condemned it.
The spoon-fed rich live it and lose nothing.
Russian aristocrats sometimes recommend it…
When spurned in love & up against it.

Oblomov, for instance, whiled his time away,
In bed, or staring out at the wood,
Writing meaningless letters and ignoring the day,
Yet it still did him some good.

Marat in his bathtub, Proust in his bed,
Still accomplished SOMETHING
Or we’d have forgotten them instead.
Is there still no virtue in doing nothing?

Against the tide of corporate work,
Aquarians rebelled with dance.
Later on, Generation X
Came to work in a greedy trance.

Peter Gibbons was hypnotized,
To escape his lifeless job,
Destroyed the office as it was downsized,
But was promoted by “the Bobs”.

Some lesson there, for those who strive,
That work alone is not enough.
Attitude is more important to our lives,
That revolt by nothingness is not that tough.

Abbie Hoffman was thrown through windows,
While preaching peace instead of wrath.
Despite nobility of cause, does humanity still go,
The inexorable way of sloth?

Sharon Talbot
Someone criticized me for my tendency to do nothing other than stare out the window, yet is that so bad? It renews my soul. Ideas often congeal out of the air! There is a reason so many paintings of women lounging are entitled "Dolce far niente", isn't there?
Danielle Free Sep 2017
The world is a woman with thighs soft as moss, walk bare foot to the crook in her spine, stopped in tracks by her spiraling fronds that hang loose by her waist.
Tread higher and higher 'till you reach the peaks, a scenic view worth keeping a secret.
Explore the whirlpools that tumble the tide, green and blue on the surface, but dark and mysterious deep inside.
Sha May 2017
You are not weak just because they told you.
No!
You are made from bamboo and sunlight
So stand tall and be not swayed by the storms.

You can be a queen without a king,
A goddess without a god,
And a spear with a poisonous head.

Fight.

Fight those who try to take away your existence,
For you have survived chaos
and you have been sharped by your praying soul.

Hold the pen and write your own story.
And when they try to tell you that you look like someone they knew,
Tell them their eyes are not even enough to take a look at you.
Next page