Patrick Mar 22
The western winds speak
They call after me
Inviting me to venture alone
Into the frontier; I tell them
The west is conquered; no
Northwest passage led us
To the Eternal Paradise which
All men truly sought when they
Ransacked villages, when they
Burnt heretics
Every single one was searching
For the forbidden garden
Guarded by the divine blade
Little did they know the answer
To the Divine riddle eluding man
Lied within the heart and soul
Of every man; the antenna connecting
Him to the Amorphous divine
Machinery grinding in the night;
The summoner of chaos and order
The puppet master of tyrants
The warm wind off the coast
It’s all around us
It’s in the rustle of leaves
It’s the laugh of a newborn
It’s you, it’s me, it’s every
Single one of us.
Look up into the night sky
Into the stars which, long ago,
Burned incandescent over
A mother and child
In the heart of Bethlehem.
Rone Selim Feb 7
We get so lost in this another world,
that is becoming our reality,
actually it has already started.
And it's scaring me.
Humankind has lost a sense of self, nothing is real anymore
and when nothing's real,
everything feels worthless.
Everything we constantly keep aiming for... but for what?

Did you ever stop and ask yourself;
what are you doing?
Why are you doing this and what for? What is real?
Is it your smile or your words?

Im frightened that this other world may be the end of us.
We will reach the bottom line aiming for the top, perfection.
There will be very little left of authenticity, if none..
Mohamed Nasir Oct 2017
A giant tree won't fall gently
He won't give up his ground so easily
It'll take a cohesive force
To take the giant tree down
He'll fall with a thunderous shout
His huge trunk will shake a great shudder
A loud creaking angry sound!
Now quietly laid he on the ground
Countless centuries of fighting
For a place in the sun
But he is no match against men
With their machinery
Intending to show who
Is the mighty one to lay him
To rest by another fallen tree
We'll chained him and dragged him
Through mud and filt and out
Of the dark wilderness jungle
To a waiting ship to be shackled
To be a slave in far foreign land
And we'll not mourn or cry
Nor lose sleep over the lost
Of dignity and liberty of a tree
Sienna Luna Oct 2015
Greased wheels, I knew you once.
I loved to balance like a child.

Roaming the paved streets; riding is like flying.

I knew you when the store held you back.
I chose you from behind handlebars with purple streamers.

Your tires silently carried me to classes,
each brake stop signaled that we were close to our arrival.

I sat on your worn black seat like I was on a throne of sorts.
Even though that seat is tattered with one rip on the side,
all I saw in you was my own damn pride.

Spokes, I knew you once.
I played your tune each journey that we went on.
No hill was ever tall enough, no road was ever too bumpy.

Gears, I knew you once.
Click, Lock, Click
sometimes you were tight and never let me ride
sometimes you were loose and my feet went flying ‘round too fast for me to catch
                     what you were doing.

I knew you once, when time was young.

— The End —