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Greg Jones Mar 18
Yet again I zone out on these back streets
Guided by the instinct
Of my former self.
I can see the past now,
Pretentiously smiling back.

There’s things I can’t escape,
But everything else, I just ran.
My eyes were focused on the clouds.
I can remember seeing the places that I’ve never been
For the first time
And the last time.

I was swinging for the moon.
I knew I would see it soon.
Did I oversleep? Did I overdream?
It still thinks about me to this day.

The past is something I wanna eject from my brain.
Then lock it in a box and never ever see it again.
But the past still thinks of me to this day.

I was swinging for Mars
Or at the very least, the stars.
Couldn’t hesitate, no time to delay.
I’m still trying to find the best way.
But I think back to in that classroom asking myself why.
Why can’t I just walk away?

It still thinks about my everyday.
I still think about it to this day.
Payton Hayes Jun 2018
You are the pioneer
after the fire,
with silver-grey and
blue-green leaves,
pods filled with seeds,
and brilliant yellow
flowerheads.
When you lived in the
mountains, you were
dressed in white-
lichen and snow.
Brian McDonagh Jun 2018
A pioneer
Is one to plunge its own nature
Into the unknown unnatural,
Such as Daniel Boone and the woods,
Or a **** sprouting
Between the crannies of gravel.
Andrew Saunders May 2018
If I'm wrong, I die.
I cease to exist.
But I know what it's like not to exist.
Or at least I can imagine.

I didn't exist before I did.
For billions of years.
And Mark Twain was right.
It didn't bother me in the slightest.

But I'll give it a chance.

I will read Awake!
And I'll visit the Hall.
And I'll use your name for God.
Jehovah.

But what if you're wrong?
You feel joy, love, peace.
Meaning, purpose, certainty.
Those things elude me.

But what else?
Fear? Guilt? Isolation?
A hatred that you call pity?
Those things are beyond my reach.

An education cut short?
A marriage too long?
"Don't talk to her.
It's for her own good."

What if it's not?

There will always be people trying to hurt you.
It's easier when they have God on their side.

"Two eyes saw this, but two others did not.
I'll take my reward now.
Did I mention I'm good with kids?"

What if you're wrong?

Sure, your Tower is tall.
It dwarfs my cathedral.
And it does.
I stand in awe.

Your Tower is tall.
It Watches all things.
And it does.
But is it tall enough to see Clearwater?

You know, Celebrity Centers and personality tests.
Cruise and Travolta.
Your names are different: Michael Jackson and Prince.
But the songbook is the same.

Leadership is accountable to no one.
Dissent is a **** that must be eliminated.
The world is out to get you.
And critical thinking is a trap.

Families are vital (until they aren't).
Our authority will not be questioned.
We make no mistakes.
But we do become more perfect over time.

"But it's not 'disconnection,' it's disfellowship.
And they're not 'suppressives,' they're apostates.
And we live in no bubble.
But we'd rather not debate you."

"Besides, they're new.
They're small and they're few.
They have strange beliefs.
That's what matters, right?"

But it's not.
It's not what matters.

And it's not in my nature to hurt people.
I can **** when it's justified.
But I don't know that this is justified.

And consider the life of a poor, worldly soul.
Fear is no friend.
Guilt is a memory.
(Guilt for things that warrant no guilt.)

We see the world as it is.
Science is no threat.
Solitude is a choice, not a lesson.

Education is full.
Abuse is reported.
Families talk.

We are slaves to no Slave.

Of course these things are foreign to you.
Your book precludes them.
And your book is infallible.
But so are all the others.

So thank you for visiting, but I'm hedging my bets.
I wish you the best, but I'd rather take death.
I was raised religious but am now an atheist. This poem depicts an imagined conversation between me and a group of Jehovah's Witnesses. The content is informed by a very dear friendship with a Witness and a personal interest in cults and other high-control groups.
Tyrel Headley Dec 2016
I look up into the deep blackness
A kind of dark that swallows your soul
Makes you question your existence

The thrusters shake the ground and scorch the earth
Inertia holds me back as the shuttle propels me forward
The feeling of weightlessness and peace

Interrupted
Engine failure
Pressure drop
Eject

Alone surrounded in the darkness
I look down at my blue home
I see the answers to my questions
A cry of regret goes unheard
K G Dec 2016
There's a war through the kitchen and out by the lake
Close the door, let my footwear flick off the roof
Determined to get rid of the dust from my eye
I'll go for a swim, think, and ****** a gaze
Of gusts of wind that would impair my stride
If that spider happens to bite on the thigh
I'd use my left hand as cannonballs
And a pill to reality as my right
KG
Dellawhere Jan 2015
And I live walking amongst your old path
I am a continuation of what you once were-
The pioneer of where you failed to head
I bear the heavy load of tear stricken goodbyes
The memories of softly fleeting lullabies
I am a lost spiritual savant reaching down
Kissing earths luscious soil with a frown-
By virtue of separating myself from the whole
Yet-
From you I've developed an individual soul

Strip me of all of lives riches-
And I am but an impression of everything that's alive and dead
Death and memories... Continuation of the deceased from birth, like everyone else- no matter who or what everything impacts you and stays with your mind. Our ancestors live within our thoughts and memories. I don't want to disappoint them. I am never earthly grounded, but it may be necessary in order to live for them and for myself. Communication and socializing- spending time with those I love is my top priority.
Sy Lilang May 2014
You’ve moved a step forward
And life won’t be the same.
But after the round of applause
Your daydream is abruptly ended.

Now, take your turn
To walk the stage
After the microphones echoes
Projecting your name.

(3/21/14 @xirlleelang)
Sy Lilang May 2014
The woman is perfected
She wears the smile of accomplishment,
The illusion of a her Greek-necessity.

Flows in the scrolls of her toga,
Her bare feet seem to be saying,
“We have come so far,
Now it’s over.”

Each new-born being coiled,
Black auras, black all over
One at each little pitcher of milk,
Once empty,
They’re poured out
With enough knowledge
From where they were fitted.

She has folded it back
Into her body as petals
Of a rose close
Her desire, her dream
They’re all in hand!

When the garden stiffens and odors bleed
From the sweet, deep throats
Of the night flower
She’ll remain awake.

The stars shall utter her name
Staring from her hood of victory
She’s used to this sort of thing
But it’s the grandest as of now.

(3/21/14 @xirlleelang)
Sy Lilang May 2014
You can hear the voices of our peers
Being silenced, ignored, shunned and distorted.
Staggering out of their bedroom doorways
To the street corner to score a dime bag.

Bright, insightful kandi kids freezing
In search of warmth from something to believe in
Hopin’ those will encourage them
To look forward to see another day.

Where our economy has made financial prudence clear
The price tag of university tuition’s skyrocket
The refused, the ones with hope
But no money or scholarships;
Tread the streets
With the echoes of electro-house
Pulsing in their skulls.

Those who strip themselves down
And shred their own morals
To scraps just to find themselves
And to see their own limitations.
Searching for answers to the unknown,
To ascertain what they are,
Who they are and why.

The bewilderment of adulthood,
The abundance of pressure and responsibility.
Awakened from nightmares of lost opportunities,
Missed trains and lost contacts.

Everything went astray
But hope crash in
They wear the armour
Facing the giants of their lives
They conquered
Became champions of this new generation!

(3/13/14 @xirlleelang)
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