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Phil B Aug 2020
Cold empty chrysalis
And pig slop -

Suckle the hearthfire **** of mother earth
we praise ourselves on being diverse
but we are the biodiversity,
spread so thin we can't nourish the hungry and thirsty.

The pale moon shines on a world somehow even colder,
we consume the birthday cake leaving only the smoulders,

Built monuments and towers to a false kind of power,
mycellium clouds bloom come to consume what is ours,
The midnight clock ticking to doomsday, now minutes from hours.

We believe that we control the elements, but loom they,
The ancient forces come soon to smother and cover in dirt
this mausoleum soon to be crematorium Earth.

And when the smoke clears and lifted is the haze
I dream of a peace on Earth without the human race.
-elixir- Aug 2020
The plane was her last ride,
back to her home
from the deserts of dreams.
The modern plague of her times
drained the last bit out of her.

The ride began as she huddled
her child and spouse close
as if the she knew it was their last
embrace and warmth.
They fell into the indefinite slumber.

The rain lashed it's fury and
winds howled death.
The pilot's last breath was put into
stopping the airborne casket of hopes.
As it skid and crashed them.

Their hopes to live remain immortalized
in their indefinite sleep,
as we mourn their loss,
through the tears of pain that
tear out our folly.
My soul grieves for the families of the plane accident in Kerala. The stranded children make me cry as they try to find their parents. The landslides and floods add up to the worries. Not to mention the covid-19 virus.
The blast in Lebanon was also another terrible mishap, a huge number of people have lost their home and belongings and have become homeless in a matter of seconds. My heart is laden with sadness, is there any hope at this point? where is the world heading to?
TheWitheredSoul Aug 2020
Our love was like a fictious honey ***,
Never in a thousand years would  i
Have peeked in to find out
If our honey *** really had any honey because
I loved the thought of existence of that honeypot
More than the possibility of having honey in it.

My Fictious honeypot gave me  
A taste of what it feels like to have hope,

I wasn't disappointed because
We didnt have a honey in our fictious ***.

I was disappointed because we broke the ***
and We will never be able to go back to the way it was.
No matter what we say to ourselves, When we lose hope in a relationship there is nothing really that can be done regarding that, Seems like I never really had any relationship to begin with rather than a Fictious Honeypot without Honey.
Sheela Jul 2020
Rumbling thunders but wounded voices were more distinctly heard… Pouring wonders for my eyes flutter more than that beautiful bird….

Innocence blinded me to see hidden malice…Building Avenues for hope is the only solace… Well, this hope also doesn’t hold any promise!!


All that’s Lurking my mind uninformed about the time… Life isn’t a meritocracy of counting days it has got meaning even if there is no joy with the loved ones all uncertain in its own ways !…..
Like a cusped dandelion spores are blown… I choose to stay away for it’s okay to feel alone rather to be felt thrown….though I mourn and mourn…

Time is passing, days are crawling…. Life is moving… But the sand in the hour glass isn’t falling…
Michael Jun 2020
in a dream my mother ran into a field of flowers
each one lit ablaze by the last ray of sun
red like her lips
red like her hair
at war with the deep green sky
they dipped and bowed their heads of fire
offering a dance to their queen
fragile emptiness still with silence
no hand was offered
her Mona Lisa smile has never held me
I was swallowed up by the oncoming storm
whipped up into the clouds by rain
I watched her tip her body against the wind
and fall into the sway like a burning petal
Tony Tweedy Jun 2020
Sometimes I remember just how my heart did feel,
and it reminds me how, love used to be something real.
Back in the days my heart and mind were still young.
When I could hope and dream of sharing love with someone.

It seems so long ago and oh so far away.
Years ago before I came to despise each day.
Back in the days my heart and mind were still young.
When I could hope and dream of sharing love with someone.

So many lonely hours trying to find out what went wrong.
When did I become deaf and to afraid of life's sweetest song?
Wish I could go back when my heart and mind were still young.
When I could hope and dream of sharing love with someone.

Life is an empty thing without a love to share.
And a future is nothing without someone to care.
Wish I could go back when my heart and mind were still young.
When I could hope and dream of sharing love with someone.

Once I had a dream that I would know loves embrace.
And love would take us to our own special place.
But my mind and heart are no longer young.
And mind and time tell me there will be no one.
I pictured this to a soundtrack of mournful lament... violin, piano... and sorrow.
Cassy Jun 2020
How can I forgive myself for all the things that I didn’t become?

How am I suppose to burry the happiest version of myself?

How can I find back my lost hopes?

How can I mourn my own death?

Is there a place for the tombstone of my dreams ?

Would someone pray for all the people walking around as if they were already dead ? Would someone pray for me?  

I feel like a ghost.
And I haunt my own bed since you’re gone.
Malikah Awan May 2020
You are forever gone,
leaving me to do nothing but mourn
the death of someone held so dear,
made by the world
to seem so mere.
As if you were just another statistic,
By the next day, they'd forget
And be having a picnic.
Whilst my mind struggled to comprehend,
how to deal with the loss
of such a close friend.
How to honour your name,
in a way it would feel you were here,
just the same.

People die every day,
bringing more pain
than words can say.
Every day, people are forgotten,
as their corpses rotten,
by their loved ones like the world taught 'em,
to grieve and forget,
forget they ever met.

Your death becomes another story,
Even though you meant much more to me.
Your memory fades,
by the passing of the days.
I worry that I will forget your face,
I worry someone will steal your place.

As the days pass by,
they expect be to accept your death
and be okay.
But my heart still aches for you
in every way.
I vow to grieve for you
every day.

For acceptance would mean saying goodbye.
Acceptance would mean taking away
what's left of your life.
Elaiza Banasig Apr 2020
Ayos lang naman Le
na sa panahong ito ka nasaktan
Sa panahon ng kawalan
walang kasiguraduhan

Hindi mo naman kasalanan
na ngayon ka nya iniwan

hindi mo naman masisisi
na hindi ikaw ang pinili

tinanong mo kung lilipas rin to

baka bukas?
siguro...


baka sa susunod?
siguro...

baka sakaling mawala




bumalik
ang sakit o ang pag-ibig?


ano ang pipiliin?
wariy parehas lang din

ang sakit.

puno ng kawalan
walang kasiguraduhan
walang patutunguhan
Aniseed Mar 2020
There are still nights
Where the frequency in my head
Pierces the silence,
And every face I thumb through
Looks like yours.

Your ghost breathes heavy
In this house
And you still manage to
Be the center of every conversation.

Part of me hated that about you.

There's something inside that says
Remembering the fire and the snow
Is both betrayal and therapy;
You were not,
In any sense of the word,
Perfect.
But the blood dried on your face
Once ran in your veins
And your heart beat with
How fiercely you fought
Against the world.

In retrospect, you were my
Biggest muse.

Part of me loved that about you.
Quite a bit of my writing had been - and still is, I guess - inspired by my late sister. It's been one year, three weeks, and six days.
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