Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Zywa 1d
Under the dust of the boots
and the wagons of the troops:
the woodlice

moaning, bruised and maimed
by the weight on their peace
The war appeared out of heaven

bombed women and children
destroyed the houses and even the roads
you watch it online

not yet dressed
knowing it is real
put the coffee away for a moment

to let yourself go
in a few tears of impotence
and practical objections

it's too much trouble
to get into action here
and now, in your time off

if you close your eyes
you feel the distance
and you are gone
Collection “BloodTrunk”
Faith Jan 4
In front of my eyes
My greatest fears arise
Everything I thought I knew
Has got up and flew

To far away lands
It's all slipping through my hands
Plans I had made
Are now beginning to fade

My already broken life
Continues to tear me up inside
This news has left me trembling
And now my life is crumbling
Lately I've received some pieces of big news after big news and I'm caught in the middle of a war between everything. The plans from a few years ago have been thrown out the window. Can I get some encouragement maybe?
Zombies don’t make news anymore.
Hearing about them eating brains is such a bore.
Filming undead hordes for movies is such a chore.
Zombies don’t make the headlines anymore.

Zombies just eat blood and guts
That is delivered from Braindead food trucks.
Zombies now eat brains from cans
And no zombies movies ever show during the Cannes.

Zombies are just yesterday’s news,
Because everyone’s high on hearing vampires singing the blues.
When you see a zombie, you just shake its hand
Instead of running the other direction as fast as you can.

Zombies don’t get shown on the telly
As they are all perfumed so they are not smelly
So they can grab applications and jobs
Instead of plaguing the city in oversized mobs.

Zombies are now the dominant population
As there is no longer any fascination
About a group of corpses taking college courses.
Zombies just don’t get the six ‘o clock spotlight anymore.

Zombies are now the movie stars
Who now frequent malls, offices, and bars.
Zombies are now a fact of life
As I even know a friend who has zombie kids and a wife.

Zombies are now casually walking
So there is usually no point in talking
About a zombie who got elected city mayor
Who doesn’t promote stalking and terror.

So zombies are not stalking people
So even an op-ed piece is feeble
In getting the people excited about the walking dead.
There are no zombie hate crimes
Because the zombie onslaught times
Are over and done with as six month old bread.
So there’s no point anyway
And it’s illegal anyway
To make your friendly neighborhood zombie
Full of hot .45 lead.

All because zombies don’t make the news anymore.
Keiya Tasire Dec 2018
The question rings as a rattle on my cage.
"I am writing poetry" I answered.

He mumbled, "I thought you were playing Mahjong."

I exhaled hard, "I was. I won two games. " I said  with a little aggravation.

"Hum..." he said, then all fell silent.
I did not respond.

Only the sound of my fingers typing on the keyboard continued
Until he could not stand it anymore, "There's news today. The USA is pulling out of Syria."

"Hum, that's good." I said.

He said, "I am sure the families of the soldiers that are coming home are happy."

"Yeah, they probably are." I said halfheartedly as I continued to write.

"Israel is still worried about their borders."

Sarcastically I replied, "Maybe they will build  a wall."
The sounds of tap-tap-tap on the keyboard, continuing...

He said, "Yeah, maybe Trump will help them."
I stopped typing.
We laughed and I continued to write.

It was quiet for just a moment.
Then he said, "What'cha doing now?
We both laughed out loud!!!
And I finished this writing.
Humor goes a long ways in soothing rough edges.
Anya Dec 2018
There are certain words...
Like, depression
That become the mascot
For their particular affliction
An all encompassing bubble,
Doesn’t mean much
But liver cancer, now that’s a whole nother matter

Just simply using the word
Gives rise to panic.         Anxiety
It makes sense,
That non experts can’t know every type of
Illness or mental disorder out there
So they associate it with a mascot

It’s all the unessesary hype
And fear
The baggage that comes with it
Not as many, knew about zeka
But Ebola?
That was all over the news
Despite being far less of a threat
Simply because,
It became the mascot
Nis Dec 2018
Donde mis pasos resuenan
en el eco de mi mente
una mariposa se calla
y parpadea.

La luna me mira
y sonríe,
apiadándose con benevolencia
como sólo ella sabe hacerlo.

Me tumbo en mi cama
y lloro
lágrimas de amor
por ese alguien que no existe.

La miel de mis labios
es agria y salvaje.
Por eso tal vez cada beso que doy
y cada cosa que digo

Sólo nadie puede entenderme,
por eso estoy sola.
Sólo nadie puede amarme,
por eso te quiero.

Sólo la luna de mis labios resuena en mi cama.
Sólo aquí me lloro,
y el azabache de mis ojos
enturbia la realidad
con sus fluídos azulados.


Where my steps echo
in the echo of my mind
a butterfly shuts up
and blinks.

The moon looks at me
and smiles,
taking pitty with benevolence
as only it knows how to do it.

I lie on my bed
and cry
tears of love
for that one who doesn't exist.

The honey from my lips
is sour and wild.
Maybe that's why each kiss I give
and each thing I say

Only noone can understand me,
that's why I'm alone.
Only noone can love me,
that's why I like you.

Only the moon from my lips echoes on my bed.
Only here I cry for myself,
and the jet from my eyes
muddies reality
with its bluish fluids.
Maziar Ghaderi Dec 2018
Yes yes, my white friends.
Tear each other apart.
It’s what I want you to do.
It’s your civic duty.
Turn on each other until there is nothing left.
But a gaping hole, lubed and groomed for *******.
It’s not **** if you let me.
If you beat him, I’ll make you my house *****.
Oh, you didn’t hear what they said about you, man?
You cuck libtard.
You **** hick.
Starbucks vs. Tim Hortons.
Yet I own both.
My white friends.


- The Foreigner
B Sonia K Dec 2018
Sit Still,
Try to Relax
I’m only just beginning...
Tyler Matthew Dec 2018
Gunshot, blood pool,
black body, yellow tape,
white chalk, white cop.
"White America."

Tattoos, white hood,
tight rope, black hearse,
red flag, white stars.
"White America."

Blue sky, black sun,
bluebird, blue song,
black stripe, white light.
"White America."

Blue lips, white teeth.
"White America."
Red brick, green grass
"White America."
White coat, black button.
"White America."
I am CRITICIZING racist culture, not glorifying it.
Nico Reznick Nov 2018
Well, it’s winter.
Feels like it has been for
oh, a few years now, and there’s
not enough vitamin D in the universe.
I’m sticky with a low-grade fever I’ve been
running since forever.
My hands still sweat too much
gripping a steering wheel, heart caught
somewhere unsustainable and
treacherous between over-revving and
stalling.  There are
dead things at the side of every road; my
foreshortened sense of future is
written in the entrails of
creatures who never learned
to look both ways.  Incidentally,
I’m still off meat.
I’m not sleeping right.  I keep having this same
cold, lurching dream; night after night,
we’re boarding the dark, sinister hulk of a ship
squatting low in a hostile harbour, refugees on
an ill-fated voyage, borne by
violent winds and poisoned tides.
Awake, I make the mistake of clinging to
facts and reason, when apparently we’re
guided now by phrenology, comets
and hate.  The news cycle spins away like
some fairytale spinning wheel, one
poisonous ***** after another, until we all
wish we could sleep for a hundred years, or
at least until Brexit is over.  
I suspect my cat of being a
deep state agent and myself
of being a crisis actor (I’m always
showing up on the periphery of these
seemingly unrelated catastrophes).
In this house, we drink spirits when
a comrade dies; I’ve got a handle on the
drinking, but the grief
is getting to be a destructive habit.  Altogether
It gets noisy in here, in my
head (train station noisy; busy, but transient; cold
and ***** and full of strangers).
I look at butterflies, orchids, tigers, roadkill,
x-rays of tumour-riddled lungs, and see
only Rorschach blots.  Shrug.  It’s not like
any of it matters.  It’s impossible to take
this carnival of absurdity seriously anymore.  
In any event, while I thank you for your kind invitation,
for these and other reasons, I will not
be coming to your
New Year’s Party.
Next page