Fresh air
Beautiful trees
Seeing native animals
Hearing the whistling of the birds
Mountains that seem endless
This is peace
Life as it should be
Engeli Jan 8
between the mountains and rivers
the city grow before my eyes
a tornado of dust crippled the forest
a monster of garbage swallow the seas
ignorance blinds the eyes of mankind
greed eats their hearts
they care not the mother nature
but power and egoistic desire
what is there left
for the next generation
when fish dies
before their mother's eyes
when animals are hunted
and gone extinct
trees are cut down
and left the barren land
what is there left
for the next generation
what is there left
Raise Awareness for Wildlife conservation and environmental protection
When the chest grips,
When the breath gets shallow,
When the jaw tightens,
When life casts a shadow,
That’s the time, my dear, to take rest.
To hear the soul sing a song of disharmony,
Of climbing a tall peak, of swimming upstream.
The clenching, the closing, is oh so seductive!
It’s familiar, we know it,
It’s validates our need to protect and own it.
And the only way through is the moment of pause,
The moment we remind ourselves what this unenlightenment does,
That separating and severing only tightens the grip further.
That the way to melt the protective armor is to invite it to dinner.
In stillness we find a way to come back,
A way to relax, rest, acknowledge the stack,
Of layers, of self, of needs, of love.
It’s in this vessel, we have the courage to open and be hugged.
Tony Ortiz Dec 2017
Finding decent Fathers from the hood is a losing game,
Where one dad's skipped out, three blocks full did the same.
Every time I see my son, I think about his name.
His name isn't his title, it's a gift from where he's came.
He's a growing boy, one that has to feed.
I break my body, mind and soul to make sure he has what he needs,
And if I can't provide it, then it doesn't exist,
Because I do anything for him; even with a broken wrist.
I remember the first time I held him in his bundle,
I felt nothing but responsibility that humbles,
Joy, and pride at my newfound seedling,
I swear, before then I had never had that feeling.
But a few months later, his mom and me split,
She ditched us, and didn't seem to give a shit.
She stopped by maybe once a month for him,
Never brought supplies, like her visits were on a whim.
I raised him myself, and taught him how to speak,
When his first word was "Dada", my joy hit its peak,
I taught him how to clap, and how to high five,
And when he took his first steps- towards ME- I felt glad to be alive.
I felt the dark thoughts dissipate with every hug,
And his cries turn me to a cheetah, from a slug.
I'd break down the walls of hell if it meant keeping him safe,
Or build an entire city myself, at whatever pace.
But the she-demon returned and she wants to take him from me,
Why she wants him now is something that's stumped me.
But I'm determined to get custody of my son, and first born,
And doing this would turn me from just a dad,
Into the Unicorn.
Please repost, i need this to get as far as it can!!
Single fathers with full custody are almost as rare as a unicorn.
If you'd like to help me keep my son, and make me into the best unicorn out there, sign this petition here:
https://www.thepetitionsite.com/takeaction/908/846/529/
Nicole Dec 2017
my walls are built tall and strong
from the previous glass shards of my many broken hearts,
melted together to form one strong shield,
i cannot let anyone as close as them.
and as this portrait of a man lingers by my side
i feel my walls fortifying.
and i know this harmless painting has been deemed
a weapon of mass destruction,
something so deadly that once it has infected my system
there can be no escape,
only a slow and painful loss of the air in my lungs
as my heart begins to crack and ultimately shatters far beyond repair,
the shards too small
to add to my wall protecting me from the poison of humankind.
love
is not worth the pain to me anymore.
Isrella Uong Dec 2017
you’ve got the most delicate hands
i’ve ever felt on my inner chest.
i’m breaking apart,
completely shattering to pieces;
it might be a release, it might bring me peace,
bits & pieces, put them back together.
my legs are shaking from the cold;
you passed me your jacket.
but, this is no ordinary jacket,
it’s like a band-aid wrapped around my soul.
and maybe for a moment or a glimpse,
i let go of the past and thought,
“maybe it won’t hurt this time.”
but, i’m still shattered
and breaking to bits & pieces;
i’m breaking apart,
maybe so that i can be put back together…
properly, so that i can birth out nations & stories.
no matter how much this hurts,
no matter how much my heart is aching,
the sound is echoing,
“i want to know you more.”
i freaking want to know you more!
should i surrender?
is it even possible for me to surrender?
you can see through my skin,
you know that it’s like a storm within.
but all it takes is a hurricane –
you’re that hurricane –
to overthrow me.
is that too much to ask for?
can you shake me?
can you slap me out of this?
slap me out of my skin!
but you said, “no, i’ll do this gently.”
are you gonna tell me that it takes time?
i know you say i’ll be fine,
as long as i’m wearing the soul jacket.
ugh! surrender. surrender. surrender.
you said, “healing takes time.”
sometimes the truth hurts more than the lie,
but do i want to be lied to?
the truth doesn’t hurt!
because change is necessary.
and what i’ve dug myself into,
i know you’ll drag me out of my pity hole.
“stop hiding your heartburns and
the holes screwed in your heart.”
soul jacket, this is one heck of a special jacket!
feels like protection.
it feels better than muscular arms around my waist
from a guy who’s three-four years older;
feels better than beer chugged down
trying to pass for stronger liquor;
feels better than trying to numb myself
with “don’t make me sad / don’t make me cry.”
don’t get me wrong, i still love the song born to die.
but maybe this time,
i’ll have to cross out that line;
and instead i’ll write:
“born to thrive.”
because that’s how your jacket makes me feel.
December 9, 2017. Yeah, jackets are great.
polyratic Nov 2017
The crucifix eyes
all in sight
leave my side
in hellfire, you'll lie

  Bubbling tissue
  filled the sink
  warm and ready
  for the damned to drink

Quiet my child
he created my snake
the only sin you make
are the sounds that escape

  Will I sin
  or will I survive
  this strife
  with a soulless life

Abandon your culture
you have the book
ignore the past
keep on your boots

  The time is near
Your redemption is there
  I swallow the fear
you won't tear
  Any God I had is not here
Fear not my child, father will save you
  Fear not Father, I’ll save myself

  When god is the killer
  And man his own saint
  How can you judge my reaction
  To this blood in my sink
This is not a personal story, just a scenario on my mind.
Timmy Shanti Nov 2017
We’re motes of dust and stars that sparkle,
We’re cherry trees and busy bees,
We’re rays of light when it gets darker,
We blossom, finely, in the freeze.

We shimmer, warmly, in the void,
Defying odds and making friends.
We build when others are destroying,
We guide you past unlit dead-ends.

We’re rivers winding through the deserts,
We’re oceans, gentlest at the shore.
We are the snow, we are the claret…
When earth is parched, we let it pour.

We are the night, we are the morning,
We are the ticking of the clock.
We are the comfort in the times of mourning,
We are the feathers mild when you sleepwalk.

We are the sky, we are the thunder,
We are the sun, we are the rain.
We put the rapture in the wonder,
We put the slow in the fast lane.

We are the truth, we are the spirit,
We are the numbers and the runes.
…So take your life and boldly live it
While humming all those merry tunes.
23-xi-17
Edith Leal Nov 2017
You're the kind of boy my mother warned me about.
She told me to look after the boy with the nice smile.
He will want to be all around you, but that kind of commitment will only last a while.
The one with the kindest eyes,
You would never think he would be so good at telling lies.
You will want to change him, and  my god you will try
But that boy only finds satisfaction in seeing you cry.
So mother I'm sorry I lashed out when you told me I was wrong,
I just thought that together we made the loveliest love song.
At the age of 17 I thought I had it all planned out..
Next page