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Mathieu Jul 26
Everyone marches in a single file down the street.

Then those people chant
La Revolution! through the street.

So revolution comes for them,
and blood runs through the streets.

Then they scream for peace,
the ivory tower of deceit looking down upon the street.

And then they scream for truth,
and the truth beats them to their knees.

Then they scream for death.
the realization they wasted what they had.

They wasted the chance to be free.
I watch in awe of the Sydney protests, that nobody took their freedom seriously until it was taken away. Now their past lives are rendered inconceivable and their future uncertain. They fight because they've had nothing to fight for. They punch aimlessly because they've never felt threatened.

The beautiful demise of the greatest time in time human history...

Has come to pass.

We were given it all, we wasted it all. And a new era will separate the living from the living dead.
Merlie T Jun 8
Vibrant greens dazzle
like Aventurine
to remind me
opportunities await
outside in the air
love, kindness, pain wind
all call my name
in the brush petals sway
side to side
I am carried away
into the bright
white light
Nidhi May 29
Everyone says there are three doors
Each one worst than the other
But what if there are more than three doors?
Like 5?
Hell, maybe there are infinity doors.
I'm not sure which one should I pick?
Maybe I should pick that one
Daisy, in a field of weeds,
    What have you come to see?
    You hide all of your beauty,
    Like a bare wintered tree.
    Scared to stand alone,
    So you blend with your surrounds;
    Even when you never speak a word,
    I still love the way you sound.
    Daisy, in a field of weeds,
    Give me one chance to show;
    That I can nurture you without risk,
    Of allowing all these weeds to grow.
    Soon you will tower,
    and these weeds will begin to shrink;
    I give, only to you, this water,
    Please, my dearest Daisy, why won’t you drink.
    Daisy, in a field of weeds,
    I know it’s hard to see your worth;
    But to me, my sweet Daisy,
    There’s nothing quite as beautiful on earth.
    Daisy, I see the battles you fight,
   These weeds take more than they give ;
    Please, Daisy, won’t you just give me one chance,
    For it is only you, of whom, I want to commit
How do you interpret this poem? What do you think I was trying to say?

I think I was grinding some thought, ah, what was it about. ? Well anyway, what else should a sage visionary besides how to make possibility of all impossible cases. Making peace and building humanity. It was my only goal to make the world a better place for you and I and every breathing thangs, that walked the earth's surface. Dreamers don't sleep. Sleepers never dreamed. Achievers lived dream. Life's but happening dream. Life is live. woolgather. Wake don't sleep !
Fed-up of ordinary life
Free opportunity on line
Facing onslaught of lust
Finally out of luck
Four FOOLs make a fool!
My Dear Poet Apr 3
Why are the things I want the most
found on the highest shelf?
I question why others can reach
and why I can’t reach myself.
Are my legs too stout or small,
or my arms too short to love?
Is my heart too low below my head
to reach so high above?
I learn not how strong or tall
or how high up a thing is stacked
but how smart you are to make it fall
and secure the bottom rack
Charlotte T Apr 2
Tender, outstretched hands — a gentle invitation for the touch of acceptance, of which I have waited patiently for. I now not only hear affirmations of growth; I feel them too. Through the blessings of beautiful opportunities, I have grown fruitful, which I pay for in eternal gratitude. I seep into the earth, the trees, wind and sun, and slowly slip into a warm oblivion.
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