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Sethnicity Oct 2016
I know this like the Black of my Hands
because to ignorance, truth is profound
but to Experience, Truth is an *** Round
found in Leadbelly trying to run down
Freedom Ring crt. tied to a pair a shoot
or hanging
on the last rung
of this corporate splatter
Truth is not as profound as we'd like to believe such as,
"My *** weighs a ton", a line so well versed that the reality of it all seems to have missed the mark. It's like explaining Planetary motion to a person still convinced the world is flat, or that Race is actually false to a society that pits man vs man where the only variation is skin tone and character, which is more pertinent to humanity (their actual race). In this I want the reader to grasp that the real tragedy is that Truth is Painfully obvious once the reality as happened to you.
b e mccomb Jul 2016
it doesn't have to be

you're cutting demos
not diamonds.

i'm creating paragraphs
not parachutes.

she's drawing pictures
not pistols.

he's constructing bookshelves
not buildings.

we're making differences
not disasters.

we don't have to be
to be
Copyright 12/10/15 by B. E. McComb
Where collects the thoughts of the paraplegic
sitting alone in thoughts
of a past no longer perfect ?

The glowing red sun sets behind the hill
as life flows by against our will

Every step has a purpose
even when we are running away

Each cause has effect
but once motored
it is here to stay

Tell me of the sands of time
how fickle they stand

Against the winds of change
a dead man's hand

Everyday , so much the same
never the moment to be again
Such a little word
that means so much , "never" again

Blessed yet all are the same
taken for granted , a dance of denial
Catch us before our great fall
Parachute us . . . or we won't
be even able to crawl
Ezra Nov 2014
Wind blazing
Cheeks soaring
Lips burning

Mamma mia;
Here we go aga-in

Up there in the clouds
It's always big murky shrouds
'Till I meet your frown

One look; a bell tolls
Two looks; the hourglass falls
And I jump back down

Oh, Mamma Mia;
Here we go aga-in

The drop's great fun and games
'Till you reach five-nine-ty feet
Then you pull the latch and strings
And the canvas swirls its wings

We enlace
A deadly embrace

Broken feathers

*Oh, Mamma Mia;
Here we go aga-in

Wind blazing
Cheeks soaring
Lips burning
liz Sep 2014
"I miss you though."
Is what you say to me
when I suddenly cross your mind
after all this time.
Time passes without parachutes
guarding these seconds.

Little do they tell you
about this thing called distance,
it's like a game of Telephone.
And I believe
that your last two words got lost in translation.
"I miss you though, not enough."

— The End —