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Michael Mar 13
When your muscles are starting to let you down,
When your hearing what is not being said,
When the staircase at home turns your smile to a frown
When the shopping fills you with dread;
When kids use words that you don’t understand,
When on trains and buses you’re offered a seat,
When you feel that your life’s getting quite out of hand
When you fear the dark in the street;
When people ignore the advice that you give,
When the young deign not to notice you,
When every thought sours the way that you live,
When you can’t see the point of the things that you do;
When it’s all too hard to comprehend,
When there seems no point to even try,
When all you want is to grasp that end
When its finally time for you to die.
Tony Tweedy Mar 13
I am told I see my glass half empty
I should see it half full when I look at it
Empty or full either way I see a glass containing ****
pessimist or optimist? Can you honestly change real?
maureen Mar 7
you're the certain type of blossom
that needs no such weeding out;
even sunrises and sunsets are enthralled
to make their way into your mouth.

while there's me who doesn't hold anchors
but keeps sinking deeper into the ground;
me who lights torches into flames
only to eventually blow them out.

i figured it takes a strong heart and soul
to look forward to rainbows during a downpour,
to see the stars through the thickest brume
and to endure life like it's just an adventure.

but i simply cannot see the world as perfectly as you
because rose-colored boy, no matter what i do,
we just can't all be like you.
M-E Feb 3
Open a window to the unconsciousness
Sun rises on broken lamps
In the city of slaughtered lambs
With nocturnal jobs and diurnal breaks
Red, red, red lights
Pen bleeds on paper leaves
Paper cries and streams to you
Penciles sketched a naked Plato
Shadow cave imprisoned Aristole
Once right and true, now hyperbole
My room of fallen dreams
Smells of eggs and smoken beams
Triple *** and Triple 666
Sold books and bought a Twixt
Watch yoga beggard with red lipstick
Hands that wrote, punched a face
Threw anger with a victory fist
For playing on a piano of benefits
Pray a prayer and Trust In God
Pay justice for In god We Trust
It's a treasure trove out there!

So many faces
And hands
And bodies
And words
And voices
And conversations
Of love
And deceit
And growth
And defeat
And it's all ******* happening

Right now
Old promises mold as
Bitter lights fade
Revealing new destinations
Waiting on horizon's edge

Is it love and lust
Or a lust for love
That drives me
I can't tell which is which

So I break bottles
On new sentiment
Exposing sensuality in prose
Give way, give way
Give way, all you saints

Tensions build and release
Emotions escape
As old promises mold
Revealing even more
Of the same
Kate Bethanie Jan 15
We are royally ******!
At last!  Something that we can all agree on!
Life is a poorly written sonnet
A prelude to an ode called death
Authored by One who sketched the skies
Published by one who fetched the lies

T'is a poor art etched by a quill
Inked with fermented tears we feel
On a little fragile paper
Embroidered by Time and Change

T'is a poor poem robbed with rhymes
And metaphors rooted like thymes
Its lines were crooked and bended
And its words had gone off the trail

T'is a poor song sang by weeping guitars
And chorused by sobbing sitars
T'is a poor hymn chanted by whining violins
And warbled by lamenting mandolins

Life is a poorly written sonnet
A prelude to an ode called death
No wonder no one made a claim
To a mirage shadowed with shame
James LR Nov 2018
A drop of rain upon the glass
A second, third, and then at last
Pouring in a sheet of spite
To soak and slick and chill the night
Darken, diminish, **** the light
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