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Progression is two sides colliding
Sometimes you’re the wheel
Sometimes you’re the road
Cause a wheel without ground
Is only worth falling in the sky
With no conclusion to show
Believe me as I stay
Unbroken and lost from all grace
As fighters embark on what is all faith
Untouched by hurt that molded my heart
Believe me as I stay.
Unwilling to beg for love from peers and liars
No matter the lost I may face each day
Believe me
For every woman I grow into
Has loved unkindly the role she plays
And further the whistle I blow
The louder my role goes.
Believe me as I stay
For origins no longer confess our sins
And contention stays in our will.
Claudia Tapia May 16
I've grown into the type of person that says "I will go on with or without you."
Into a person that loses people left and right, but knows that as long as I have myself everything will be alright.
So, why is it I still check everyday for your response?
Andy May 13
Words at the tip of my tongue
At the nib of my pen
Refusing to step outside
And see the light of day
I nudge them a little
Encourage them to see the world
They don't have to be perfect,
They just need to be my vessel
My messenger
To contain and carry my thoughts
I just need someone
Or even something else to know

I don't force them outside
If they refuse to obey
I just **** them gently
Day by day
A scribble at a time
Until the words tumble out
Ready to come outside
Each step easier than the last
Tripping less often than they used to

Maybe on some days
The words become more stubborn
Revert back to their old ways
Refusing to be written
But it's alright
They just need a break
Give them some time
And they'll get back to their groove
Words dancing on paper
In perfect harmony
In sync with the rhythm
Of what my heart
Wants the world to read
NC Burch May 9
Ah, intergenerational envy!
I think we've all been subject
to that impulse now and then.
Like paying tribute
through ritual can change our fate.
Like we can right some cosmic wrong
that left us displaced decades or centuries.

Oh, child of the past!
Gird yourself with books
and records and films.
Barricade the way
leading your present to your future.

Abandon all hope ye who enter here!
For the past is a dream differed,
ripe only for those who pluck it
with a backwards glance.
And the future is grim.
Progress
by Michael R. Burch

There is no sense of urgency
at the local Burger King.

Birds and squirrels squabble outside
for the last scraps of autumn:
remnants of buns,
goopy pulps of dill pickles,
mucousy lettuce,
sesame seeds.

Inside, the workers all move
with the same très-glamorous lethargy,
conserving their energy, one assumes,
for more pressing endeavors: concerts and proms,
pep rallies, keg parties,
reruns of Jenny McCarthy on MTV.

The manager, as usual, is on the phone,
talking to her boyfriend.
She gently smiles,
brushing back wisps of insouciant hair,
ready for the cover of Glamour or Vogue.

Through her filmy white blouse
an indiscreet strap
suspends a lace cup
through which somehow the ****** still shows.
Progress, we guess, ...

and wait patiently in line,
hoping the Pokémons hold out.

NOTE: This poem is almost entirely fiction. There was a Pokemon craze when my son Jeremy was a little boy, and I did see birds and squirrels foraging in parking lots from time to time (and sometimes fed them myself from my car’s window), but everything else is fiction. On the rare occasions that I went to a Burger King, I would go through the drive-in, so I wouldn’t have known who the manager was, or how much time he/she spent on the phone. I think the poem probably started with the image of birds and squirrels squabbling for scraps of food in a parking lot as I waited in a line of slow-moving cars, then evolved as I imagined the hassle of going inside to “speed things up.” Keywords/Tags: America, Americana, American, culture, society, vanity, youth, progress, fast food, video games, Pokemon, MTV, music videos, glamour, models, supermodels, fashion, transparency, see-through, bra, breast, *******
Amanda Apr 29
To make something change must fight
You aren't born a champion
But made
Just have to push towards the light
To the day weakness delayed
Only you have the ability to make change out of the large bills life gives you
What is this sense
between my eyes
Do we aim to do our best
Imperfect form
Intentions less
Creative flows
Mixed in with work and rest
See the signs laid out ahead
Connecting lines in time
Progress starts from the chest
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
EmilyBatdorf Apr 29
black lines on my skin
to track this pain
resist the pull of the knife
sharp and sweet teeth
on the softness of skin,
a caress, ominous
a promise, of relief
and regret.
black lines to cloud it out
to reel it in
progress in pain.
Marina Apr 25
Let yourself go
with all the doubts and losing battles
there is no way we can win them all

the cost of learning
we will learn to fly again
when we fall.

we also cannot lift bodies that
do not want to be rescued;
never settle for less when you can settle for more.

take it slow with process
and process will come to you,
maybe even greater
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