In the middle of this picture perfect frontier,
I take a gander at those living deluded days.

These consequences lure the ward
into the slinking night air.

I fly off the castle wire
taking only half.

Can't breathe like I use to,
I'm a wreck in a new suit.

Dylan Piper
sch 8h

Please stop with the ads.
My bank account can't handle
all this temptation.

"Happy" Black Friday.... I will not be spending a single penny today, unless it is on local businesses.

There was a boy,
Who was waiting
For love
And
He died
People blamed him
I blame the lover.

Its just pyramid sorta thing. Idk if i can call this a poem

Poor kid tho :'(
Chris Neilson Nov 11

Don't get ill in England
your poor health will endure
the nasty party's after you
and your pride for sure

Don't be suffering in Scotland
you MAY get personal independence payment
if you apply for dignity removal
judged guilty as a claimant

Don't have health woes in Wales
to keep wealthy accounts swollen
the rich avoid and evade taxes
while your DLA has been stolen

Forms, stress, pain and humiliation
these are no twisted fairy stories
capitalism contorted beyond belief
by 21st century torturing Tories

I hear accounts of the additional pain and suffering that long term disability claimants are having to endure to claim the new deranged "personal independence payment". while the already wealthy continue to evade the tax needed to help contribute to society's most in need
liv Nov 9

i could be the poorest person on earth
i could be homeless under a bridge
but dear as long as you're by my side
so long as my heart is fuller than my bank account
i may as well have won the lottery

you make my heart full.
Toby Nov 5

Looking through jobs because I am scared of not having enough.
It doesn't matter where you work.
If you have no degree or certifications, you don't qualify for a good or any job really.
Applied for a job, didn't know that I didn't have the qualifications.
They responded, "Thanks for wasting our $$"
I haven't felt that small in awhile.
No matter what you do, it never seems enough.
I'll be the joke of the day.
Really it's everyday and every hour.
I'll just work until I no longer can.
Any job that pays the bills.
Maybe I'm not meant to do anything more.
Though I wish I could.

Look at a person
with dignigy and respect
Be kind
accept
Build  bridges with less
Unfortunate
Help
Support. .
People are a community ..
We need each other

Zan Balmore Oct 27

I stopped caring.
A view of the world outside
escapes my morning eyes.
I eclipse you.
A view of the world outside
reveals wire frame in black.

The sky is wide. I'm just beneath heaven.
Have you ever felt as close to god there?
On the Earth turned cement dry?
In the dregs where lines divide?

I stopped caring.
A view of the world outside
escapes my morning eyes.
I eclipse you.

I regret that I see lines, instead.
One triangle on its head, risen
above the sun, above the moon.
The sight of you, deprived,
drives me back inside.

----------------------------------------------

Felt mostly alone.
Never deprived.
Unhappy with life,
still overjoyed.
My mama stole my name.
My sister got her's took.
Pass the line from child
hood into adulthood,
looking like,
I know, I'm sure I know
I can't owe you money, yet,
I've never lived
on my own.

That's still true, too.
Don't know the sound of silence,
so when it's been most quiet
staying with roommates,
I take my chance at pretend.
I wake up dying, laughing
and crying at ghostly degrees
floating with motes of dust
on the sunbeams
crossing my mattress
in the living room.

Felt mostly alone.
Uneducated.
Contented by kicking cans, though.
Contented in stinky briefs,
and the shirt that's food
for my closet moths,
looking for cheap ways
to express the illness,
the anger I hide.

I believe, that some use our backs
for stacking currency. For work.
Invisible work, deep under the radar,
pack mule to their nickel,
fifty-fucking-cent pieces
and dimes.

I'm staring at pennies
they leave me to roll,
already rolling, like
they expect me to catch up.
The secret is:
they want it
so badly --

So game over. I ain't playing
no more, when the piece I play
climbs the backs of friends,
my brethren of the low-low,
one space at a time, with dice
cooked, favor to snake eyes

I'm not chasing pennies
if I'm so close to the floor
I'll always be carpet,
I'll part the lint and braid
to love what is free.

I'll always be base
to love what is free.

maybe I'll go wild, change my whole style

love what is free.
people miss it.
Joshua Haines Oct 25

White Interceptors illuminate, cry, and leave ribbons of red and blue,
  accelerating north on Featherbed. Streetlamps hang like midnight ornaments.

It starts to rain, turning the tar streets into slick mirrors.
  I can see my lights lead me, sweeping the asphalt.

Kent is still too dangerous to gentrify. The trashcans are spilling
  cereal boxes and empty two liters. I imagine a two-thousand year-old
mountain of trash, corroding and forming this neighborhood.

  Barefoot children walk around aluminum cakes, reaching for the rain.

Skinny cats trot across the street, green and yellow eyes,
  leaking through the dark. I name them after sicknesses.

The humming of my Camry grows louder as I squeeze by
  dripping, patting hands. I now recognize the moon.

Buildings swoosh by faster and faster. Minutes go by and I
  find myself on the outskirts; the trees sway, dodging rain.

My phone rings like a frenzied roach. Picking it up,
  'Hello.'

'Sure. Yeah, I'll be right there.
  'Nowhere.
    'I'm going nowhere.'

The phone bounces on the grey seat. A screeching.
  Coming to a stop; my chest almost touching the center
of the steering wheel. All becomes still.

  A buck with velvet antlers stands in the rain.
It runs into the dancing forest. Much like me.

The Dybbuk Mar 2

Molotovs explode, windows shatter
But to them, it doesn’t matter.
Their sheltered lives are bliss, while little children die,
They sit in their bubble baths and let out a sigh.
They burn their coal to heat their homes,
While warplanes fly from aerodromes.
They clink their flimsy wine-filled glasses,
While the earth rots in a shell of gases.
They talk of truth, peace and love,
While praying to the skies above.
They ask for good things, for themselves.
While kids, teenagers, join cartels.
They “Save The Seals”, but they are blind,
The thing that needs saving is mankind.
A thousand cry out, but they claim to be powerless.
How would they feel if they were towerless?

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