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OpenWorldView Apr 16
Death should be certain
for time to ensure renewal
by pulling life's curtain.

Be fearful of what lives forever
as hubris clouds its mind
and terror will be its only lever.

We are delirious to fathom creation
of a god without its creators flaws.
Beware of this eternal aberration.
Ridges cut sliver thin
etched inner folds  
with iron flint.
A mold once smoldered,
crimson, no longer.
Cooled, bent to the hing
A locket
Heavy Hearted Jun 2017
To hear the priceless sounds,
No medicine competes.
In the rhythms, I am bound
In success or in defeat.
through the tolling of the time-
With those quickening beats,
The sound invokes with clever rhyme
both privilege and a treat:

Light and easy, peaceful and bright,
Or Insidious, sinister, audio plight.
Sorrow, hatred; loss and gain
Drugs and *** and love and pain.
From Intro to Chorus, to Verse-Refrain
melodies tattooed deep in the brain;

Act as the sun, when it does rain
And as both dirt and soap, when life does stain.
free verse
Meteo Jun 2018
Beware the World;

         
          Be the World

     Wear the World
Shane Leigh Jun 2017
I am zoned out of a world I thought once to be beautiful because of its simplicities and no amount of complexity could stray my eye away from that simple red rose with budding thorns; and blossoming rays of sunlight streaming across deserts and mountain tops patched in snow; melting away into streams and rivers of rapidly coursing veins down the banks, through trees and massive forests; cutting through hatch and ragged rocks like canyons – beautiful depths and ridges flowing through Utah, Colorado, Arizona; like natural springs and the crisp bite of cold in the Swiss Alps; like the cliffs of Eastbourne overlooking the sea and the lighthouse that protects the coast from crashing ships.

I am zoned out in a world of man-made beauties. The castles of Europe standing tall and prideful with haunting appeal, centuries old; cities carved into desert rocks in the Middle East; the tall pillars of competition and victories in the cities of the United States; even the homes built out of vanity and wealth – beautiful; the carved rocks of ancient civilization in Egypt and their momentous tombs –pyramids, beacons of pride and dignity and leadership; the stairways to heavens unseen in the deep forests of forgotten lands; the plains and their majestic animals disappearing in Africa; the oceans swimming with all sorts of life we’ve yet to uncover, and yet being poisoned by us – those so eager to dominate it.

So, you see, I am zoned out. I have no time for politics, diplomats, parliaments, aristocratic favors and what-have-you. I am zoned out in a world of simplicities forgotten by all but those who remember they’re there; those that explore; those that triumph in a world that is no longer seen as precious anymore. I am zoned out, I am realistic, and I am beginning to realize just how precious a disintegrating world is to a civilization that is oblivious of it.
© Shane Leigh
solEmn oaSis Jun 2017
i

think that

i shall never see

A Poem lovely as a Tree

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her

*Leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in Summer wear


A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose ***** snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are

made by fools like

Me, But only God

*can make a tree.
"Trees" written by Joyce Kilmer
Journalist and poet
1886–1918
Brandon Amberger Dec 2015
I saw a flower
So miniscule compared to a tower
But it’s beauty so superior
The tower so inferior
Though a piece of art
Created by someone so smart
But a flower wasn’t designed
Nor created by mankind
Instead a natural piece
It’s life only a temporary lease
Nothing is forever
Nor constant, always an unpredictable endeavor
But that’s the beauty
Nature’s easily attainable duty
The want, the need, to continue on
As we look forward towards the next dawn
AmberLynne Jul 2014
Tick, tock
We count the seconds, minutes,
          hours, days,
                    years, decades
          of our lives.
Why?
Time is a man-made construct.
We're taught to define our lives by it,
          confine our very selves by it
          from the time of our birth,
          counting down until our death.
One, two, three, four.
Stop the counting.
Do what you have to, but then...
As far as I'm concerned
time should not be a rule,
          but merely a suggestion.
3.28.14

— The End —