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If life isn't worth living for and there's nothing to really achieve,
then wouldn't that make all of us over-achievers?
i was running and thought of this?? does this even make sense??
Faizel Farzee Sep 2019
Just sitting here thinking about the world today,
Is just me, or does it seem decayed
Has it lost all meaning?
Are we just coasting the game
Flowing along slowly, on a stream of the mundane
When genius, gets thrown out as insane
Who made all this rules, are we really just mules
Some slaves to the fame, chasing
The name
Thinking we free, when we really enlaved
I think, leaving a legacy is all we have left
We don't know what meaning is,
We lost and bereft
.......Of feeling.
When you chilling and just start jotting, thoughts flowing for a pen not blotting, a point to be made....
annh Apr 2019
You are a sky of broken promises;
In the early morning, bluer than blue,
By midday, overcast with a shower on the way,
As evening falls, I trudge home hunched against your cold rain,
My trusty umbrella doing its best to shield me from my disappointment.

Yet again.

‘When all is said and done, the weather and love are the two elements about which one can never be sure.’
- Alice Hoffman, Here on Earth
Poetic T Jun 2018
It was 11.59 a moment before
       the afternoon of our lives.
But a finite moment of seconds
                  can collect on regrets.

What if I had told you the life story
of midday reflections was momentary.
I was nothing before you walked on the  
                                                          d­oorstep
of my heart, rubbing feelings on my heart.

Alas time will wonder on seconds
                       of inconsistent faults.
     Within those frail moments our
future was a shattered reflection below.

You were mine before midday, I'll hold
        every second before the moments past.
     Reflections of moments I'll collect,
      but I know after midday your just a memory.
Can't remember the last time I got paid
Lost my worldly goods
Now I am stranded
By the house on the water

The river is the only thing
That moves real fast
As time nestles in.
Life seems normal
On the water
Like an everyday occurrence

I got laid last night
Drew my mind-set around my body
Down through my toes
The river keeps coming from nowhere
More and more
My mind is reeling like a movie
From your touch last night

The morning starts
With mist on the water
The wintery bare trees
Hold the mist at bay
Like a man sitting smoking
In a dim and crowded room
Just waiting for something
Gray and bad-lunged
And slow to move the day along

That cold sun pulls back
The ice like curtain
Man, you got to see the sun
Another day by the water
And I ain't got no work and no pay

By midday no one's calling
But the ducks that skim the water
The rocks can't hold back the river
Hushing sound of water
I try to think of something else
But baby, your power
Has me someplace else

Picture you naked as you were
Got to have you, got to be there
All the time
It's your distance
That keeps killing me
And the waiting by the river

Call you, got to call you
From the house on the water.
Can't remember the last time I got paid
Lost my worldly goods
Now I am stranded
By the house on the water

The river is the only thing
That moves real fast
As time nestles in.
Life seems normal
On the water
Like an everyday occurrence

I got laid last night
Drew my mind-set around my body
Down through my toes
The river keeps coming from nowhere
More and more
My mind is reeling like a movie
From your touch last night

The morning starts
With mist on the water
The wintery bare trees
Hold the mist at bay
Like a man sitting smoking
In a dim and crowded room
Just waiting for something
Gray and bad-lunged p
And slow to move the day along

That cold sun pulls back
The ice like curtain
Man, you got to see the sun
Another day by the water
And I ain't got no work and no pay

By midday no one's calling
But the ducks that skim the water
The rocks can't hold back the river
Hushing sound of water
I try to think of something else
But baby, your power
Has me someplace else

Picture you naked as you were
Got to have you, got to be there
All the time
It's your distance
That keeps killing me
And the waiting by the river

Call you, got to call you
From the house on the water.
George Krokos Jan 2018
Hey you there, oh thou drooping rose
what are you trying to disclose?
It seems that time has passed quickly
and left you now looking sickly.
You once were so bright and fragrant
but now you are like a vagrant;
shedding down all those body parts
before the expected end starts.
Was it because of your placement
in front of a sheer glass casement
on that window sill sun-exposed
and in midday hours being closed?
My sympathy for you dear friend
it looks as if you're near the end.
_____
Written late Nov.2017.
Inspired by actual matter of fact events as penned in the poem after placing a cut rose in a small vase with water on the window sill in the kitchen.
Lunar Sep 2017
"i'm awakened.
you're like the early sun
whose light touches every corner,
even the darkest parts of me."

two years were just a numbered period,
until we recalled
every memory that
warmed our minds.

"sometimes i may seem like a daydream;
a mirage you're afraid to come close to,
in fear of me disappearing
despite the hour of noontide."

lyrics were just words,
until we discovered
every meaning behind them that
reached out to us.

"i'm never afraid of coming close to you.
why would i be afraid of home,
when that's the place
where my day begins and ends?"

melodies were just sounds,
until we heard
every note that
voiced whenever speech failed.

"some have left
by the sunset;
will you stay
for the sunrise?"

the sun was just a day star
until we saw
its glow that
reflected off a silver mirror in the night.

"yes, i will stay.
through the sunsets
and the sunrises,
i'll be here to watch it all."

my day was just a day
until you came in
and became it.
a poem for DAY6's 2nd anniversary.
titled after their song, My Day.
some may have been here from sunrise,
some from midday,
and some might leave at sunset,
but just so you know, DAY6,
you'll always be our day.
b e mccomb Jul 2016
Gold glitter
Only stays on the ceiling
When the upholstery is gray.

Church gyms are suddenly
Piggy banks to play
Basketball upon.

I will draw a city on
The bulletin board
And owl pushpins will inhabit it.

My mind is no longer in a
Casing of gray rick-rack
And suppositions I do not feel.

It is a precarious thing to
Play a solar piano
Under the midday sky.

Have you ever heard
A pumpkin-flavored
Volkswagen van?

It happened suddenly
That everything I could possibly
See became a photography contest.
Copyright 5/10/15 by B. E. McComb
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