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This is such a place of agony.
Why is everyone so angry?
I wish fists would stop clenching.
"Hate" should have no meaning,
Nor voice.

If the Devil were real,
He would be too powerful.
Fed with our anger
And this endless rage.

We could have been so much
So much more peaceful,
So much better.
Why did we have to start a war?

If only the people could smile
From deep in their souls.
If only darkness did not leak
From the corners of all our hearts.

If only smiles rang true true,
And demons stayed under beds;
Out of our lives and our days,
Out of all our minds.

If God does not smite you down,
The world will.
we should've understood definitions.
"Human" is not a compliment or gift.
Humanity is the curse,
and it's closing in.
Shooting stars and candles,
eyelashes and full moons;
it's not a bowl of lucky charms,
but wishes for us loons.

So break a wishbone if you must;
throw a penny in a well,
but know my dear that in the end,
a wish is but a shell.

You can blow the dandelion seeds,
and watch them float away,
but don't waste your time on wishes child;
go out and seize the day.
Duchess Ry Feb 2015
I'm not bitter
I'm just a realist
I'm not a hater
nor the meaniest


I don't believe in destiny
nor in eternity
I don't believe in true love
nor in trust

I don't believe in hope
'cause it's the truth
You can say I'm bitter
but I'm just a realist
Lennox Jones Dec 2014
The pessimist says, “What a crap day, we can’t do anything in this rain.”
The optimist says, “Look, there’s blue sky over there.”
The realist puts on their dancing shoes.
Tajia Williams Sep 2014
Me
I'm a realist.
I'm indecisive.
I'm unromantic.

And that's about it.
My teacher asked us to write down three words to describe ourselves today. This is all I could come up with.
Emm Aug 2014
Looking down at everything through a knife sharp analysis
Shaded with logic and facts
Before the world disappointed us
Or we disappointed we
Then we ran away and created a world of our own
A world that is much more simple and happy
Full of possibilities
A carefree one
An illusion some say
Somewhere more inhabitable than the reality we realised

We used to be the realist weren't we?...

Do you want to be again...?

Do you want to go back...?
wes parham Jul 2014
I think about it, *******,
And it leads me to this place.
Teeth all clenched and aching now,
From shouting in your face.

I told you, I ******* hate poetry.

But you poets listen, and then you don't.
You can't, you never will,
Touch me with your sentiments,
Dropped at my windowsill.

******* your muse,  her wells of eyes,
Just **** the ***** and be done.
Stiffen readers with the tale,
But don't count me as one.

Your Dulcinea's sweet and, well,
(She's better than the last…)
You're dying for a future now,
Not living in the past.

For sweet Art's sake, a nest of lies,
The poverty of self,
puts You up high and lost, in shadow,
and Pining, on the shelf.

So speak your mind now, if you must,
Aloud, to no avail.
Your nature blind of clever words,
Is always bound to fail.
I'm fortunate that some of my friends despise poetry but still seem to tolerate me, personally.  One of these wrote to me recently, "WES... I ******* hate poetry...  Make that the title of one of your poems..."

           ...so, I did.       This one is for her.

She will never read it because she cannot abide poetic verse.  
I told her that I'd be sure not to share it with her.  
She replied, "GOOD".  
She's the best.
.
Read here by the author:
https://soundcloud.com/warmphase/i-*******-hate-poetry
Ashley Williams Jun 2014
A voice echoes through my head--
My name, sounding
Over and over again.

A thought flits across my mind,
And a smile alights on my face.

"Maybe it's my soulmate,"
My heart thinks.

My head shakes,
Dispelling the romantic fantasy.

Because hearts don't think,
And a stranger's voice can't speak in my head.
Clem N Tine Jun 2014
There are dreamers
and there are realists in this world.
You'd think the dreamers
would find the dreamers
and
the realists
would find the realists,
but more often than not
the opposite is true
You see ,
the dreamers need the realists
to keep them from soaring
too close to the sun
and the realists...
well, without the dreamers
they might never get off the ground
Shane Oltingir May 2014
Wonderland has an alleyway you know,
said Alice to her grandson of three.
It's not all shoes, and ships, and ceiling wax,
unbirthdays and cups of tea.

Where the white rabbit is on time for once.
From South Africa he ran,
To be tried before the red queen -
for shooting Mary Ann.

It's where the buildings are not simply filled
with cakes and cups of tea;
They explode - not from happiness -
but planes and TNT.

Where we need not paint the roses red
nor support the white knights plight.
For recently he lost his head -
Now they're painting England white...
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