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North Texas is a land of storms and in 1970 so was our living room,
and when you're 6 years old you can’t just pick up and leave town.
Your stuck like a fence post in the middle of tornado alley.
The rain is going to come down hard.
The winds may knock you down, cause your heart is a trailer park.
That is just the way it is!
So, you learn to pray and sometimes look the other way,
like the eastern window of an old house.
Then no matter how you try part of it follows you
down the road are pieces of your past.
Like remnants of a tornado’s destruction and you find yourself sitting
back in that same old place even if it is just for a little while.
I look back and I see that 6-year-old sometimes and find she is not that far away.
Just another rain storm away from remembering
what not to say.
Brian Mutua Aug 25
What if everything we see ,is a shadow of truth.
And not truth itself,
What if the life we live - is not ours but someone else's.
What if the meal we like ,
Was theirs that wanted you to like .

In a space filled with opportunities,beauty and hope.
What if there was non ,
But intentions that doesn't belong to us ,
But all we must follow.

What if the clouds were not really clouds,
But distraction to the clear sky,
And maybe one that distracts stars from shinning through.

What if every smile was not a sign of happiness,
But pain .
What if every yes was a No ,

Perhaps,
We are living quietly,  
In the soft shadows  
Of a deeper truth.
This poem is dedicated to all readers , being able to see things with different perspective in a world where things and people are not real but seem real instead let's seek a deeper truth.
Norbert Tasev Aug 25
Because now man can hardly do anything else: mere Existence is a pile of straw and a foolish faith in survival, needles and thorns constantly wound his bare feet until they bleed. Afraid or just an addict, a blind eye, a solid fairy tale about the promised dream lives, which at most only flow through a few tabloid media sewers every day at their pleasure.

A sluggish indifference coordinated to the inexorable rhythm of life instincts follows as a paid extra, to walk on the edge of the threshold of Existence on black and white squares, - it is true - only a few dare to do this.

As if restless, rebellious minds could hardly walk in slow motion through the undulating peaks and valleys of the soul believed to be immortal, like a buzzing link, like an ant together with the excluded inner loneliness of man creates the system theory of its symbiosis; because only great powers are able to rid extreme living conditions of pests. Stripped vacuums of timelessness are created and destroyed in seconds.

Each and every outgrown situation is increasingly strangely devalued, because the intentionally tamed childhood, which should never have been intentionally forced out with its raw brutality, has become a paper coffin in itself. Some similar, petty finite beings may sooner or later still recognize the one-essence: only seconds separate the bearable struggles of existence from falling towards the certain depths. The uncertainty hasn't made the days any more predictable.
Jeremy Betts Aug 24
Who am I
And who are you?
What is real
And what is true?

I see good people
Doing evil deeds
I've seen the righteous
Plant wicked seeds

Up is down
And left feels right
Standing your ground
Is a forever fight

The very moment empathy
Is seen as weakness
Moves human life
To just a basic business

What have we created?
What exactly is this?
Something that can not be debated
We are beyond any type of forgiveness

©2025
Half asleep,
barely able
to feel
the coffee cup
in my hands,
I wander morning
searching for
a destination
my calendar
has not yet mapped.
Jeremy Betts Aug 24
I run from myself
Every chance that I get
42 and still I don't know who
I truly am yet

Feeling lonely though
Not technically alone
Afraid of now, afraid of then,
Afraid of what I know and all the unknown

Who am I to be someone
Who belongs standing right here?
A complicated life
Makes the fragility of life so unclear

What's done is done,
Besides, I'd only mess up a reset
What I have done and what I haven't
Both turn to regret

©2025
Norbert Tasev Aug 24
Sooner or later, sweating and creaking, he will confess his inner, more feared soul to someone else; perhaps to a possible third party, if he still sees. He will catch a glimpse of himself in the sacred whirl of silently yawning curved mirrors, which show his truer, more authentic face, Wrapped in gauze of promise, like larval pupae we simultaneously chew on morsels, and we mutually reproach each other, because everything and everyone has its turn. Why is it necessary to continue to tolerate the frightened scolding of soul hordes?!

Today, man tolerates and endures his plunderers out of necessity. Perhaps one day he himself will become the atoning guardian angel of his selfish-belittled scoundrels; the false-shell of the appearance that they wanted to celebrate will finally burst, they fall apart, they drown in the anthill-like, fierce jungle-throng, big cities with the smell of Nineveh, rotten space-dirt and indifference-lined wild Lack keeps dancing on the hearts. It breeds on sinister shadows, like some infected big patient, the World is incurable.

It would be better to stop once and for all the unborn promise and grace that smells purely and exclusively of profit and money; instead of flirtatious, romantic purrs, the redeemability of the Universe - now they have consciously forced on the majority that it is necessary to live in a cage between the shallow, desolate walls of Europe; clinging to each other's shoulders, their tiger claws gnaw, and like cannibals they rest on the guts of fat-smelling moxings instead of flesh.

It tempts them regularly under the deep surface splashes; the most trusting feelings and movements seem like pontoon bridges; the howling of tame wolves can be heard in the stench of so many drunken and rebellious pubs, on the deserted alley walls of streets; in every storm and hurricane, like mad sheep, the crazy, brainwashed stupid crowd keeps clapping and it becomes less and less important who is friend and who is enemy! It would be appropriate to measure the unit of measurement of non-existent empathy and tolerance as a humane humanity!
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