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Avinash Apr 2021
I have a strong urge
to purge fallacy
of my own and others
of my kindred soul
and my brothers
the shackles you see
are barely there
But those inside
your mind
rattle your soul
Using truth as sword
Justice as shield
Martyrdom awaits
In the holy battlefield.
We are living in a world of fallacy at every level.
flamingogirl Nov 2020
While you might look
at the months ahead
and see feasts,
and shared tables,
and celebratory treats,
and memories made in the kitchen.
I see hours needed on the treadmill,
and calories needing to be logged,
and pounds gained,
and hours crying on the bathroom floor.
I no longer see the holidays
as a joyous time full of laughs
but rather as a 3 month long
depressive purge.
Kristin Nov 2020
We'd be on the list,
he said

In days past,
that list for VIP-s only
was for a screening, a fashion show
A red carpet, a gallery soiree

But days before the Election
he was quietly referring
to a purge list
A VIP of a different sort

We'd be on the list,
he said,
if there was a coup,
for being artistic dissidents

The sun sets in Hollywood
and I'm in the VIP Room
which is my living room
praying, hoping for peace
Maria Mitea Sep 2020
Eyes lost
in waiting,
looking in vain,
Despite it,
He kept them
widely opened,
He put it away
on the old
wood table.

his courage
lifting up
ferrous arms
a tinny piece,
rolling himself
in still noise
a cigarette of
a variety of
great purge
good reason,
one pack a day

It helped survive
the cold,
and everyday
toil when
soldiers and ants
of freedom.

looking in vain,
Despite it,
He kept them
widely opened,
-elixir- Sep 2020
The teardrops on these windows
of my soul, blur the view
of the pristine tomorrow.
My lungs choked with anxiety,
as the lasses tread gaily across fields
and soak the sun.
These tears block the sunrays,
binding me to the darkness
as I smash those windows.
The tears laugh as it tries to pin
me down in the gutters of despair,
as I beseech the sun to dry these drops away.
LeV3e Sep 2020
Oh god...
Please no, not this
Just breathe slowly and
Hopefully it'll go away, then
SHIVERS spark beads of sweat
The pain inside you'll never forget
Hot and cold, breathe in and out, then
   Oh God Why?? I'm
CH...Oking on my
       I n s i d e s
CO....UGH I can't FU....Cking breathe
My God is it ove.... Rrrrrrr...

Breathe... Just breathe
Spit and wipe the tears from your face
Sweat in my eyes burns like
The acid in my throat but
At least it's done...
At least I hope
Kaylee Aug 2020
Everyone has their addictions. I’m addicted to you. I’m addicted to the way you make me feel in control while you wrap me around your finger. I’m addicted to the emptiness.  Drowning myself in banana coloured pills as I stuff my fingers down my throat. I wash my emotions flush down, swirling away as my body cries for mercy. For me stop abusing it for a vision of perfection that I will never reach alone. I can’t stop, losing control is like a death sentence. You’re killing me but I love you all the same. Sometimes I wish I could be free. To go back to a time when there were more than numbers on my plate. Before the calculator in my head began to count. A time when I was happy. The only way to be free is to let go of you. But letting go feels like dying even though I’m dying anyway. I can’t get enough of you. This pain is all I know. I am nothing without you. I sometimes want to live but I can’t bear the feelings of being alone. I love you.
-elixir- Jul 2020
The drops of the past
Wells up in my eyes,
As my mind purges
my soul of the
heart stung with
That stains souls.
Which remain tainted,
In the bright cosmic world,
among the naive souls
In line to be slain.
Some late nights are different from the other
-elixir- Apr 2020
As I tread through the
murky waters,
The apparition whispered
the joy of pain as
we treaded further,
into the tunnel.

With just a quarter left,
to the end,
the apparition left me,
all alone and murky,
constricted in my own mind.

The tunnel, with time,
taught me the joy,
within me, hidden
as I whisked to the end.
To be soaked in the Love,
in the Universe.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2020
Buckthorn, as a med we ate
to ease a belly ache,
cascara sacrada, relaxative
pro-vocatuer, speaker to the gut beyond
first taste, you
buckthorn berry purge, my gut

for goodnessake

swallow whole, don't ever
ruminate and appear
not to know
cow stupid-blissity, duhll, un
to an honest cutting edge, behind
a persistent point
insisting on forming, con forming me,
the ego in main-mode, re

maining reasonable in face of facts,
liars prosper.

Good enough. Now, betting begins.

Will, mine or thine, one is free, the
other is me, a mind in a word world with

vectoring paths into any ever we image,
conversation, forms of words
filled with saliency,
line after line,
salutory aspirations to rise above the fray,
to see,

-- the lie exposed is the truth.
So simple a five year old knows when she's caught.
Willow bark tea and chamomile make me smile at what my grandaughter imagines knowing after a walk with me, in my dottage, in the purple phase of spring.
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