Lin Apr 11
I wanna write a great poem
but I can't just sit down
and "write a great poem"
great poems
tap on my shoulder
in the check out line at walmart
they violently shake me
awake at 4:27am
they sing to me
through XM radio
on my way back to work
they only appear
when my mom is calling me for the 4th time
or when there's no pen or paper in sight
so i end up repeating it
over and over in my head
so I don't forget it
maybe i'm forcing a guest
to move in  
who just wanted to stop by
I wanna write a great poem
but maybe I should just
Sunayana Apr 5
White fades into black,
black fades into white,
and somewhere in between,
in quiet revelations
I meet them - the greys.
I cannot fathom the blacks or the whites.
Those that I know - they masquerade
in red, orange, and yellow,
with shades of grey within.
I know why the caged bird sings.

It's not because his song
is as vibrant
as his feathers, that he plucks away
each day because he doesn't
feel beautiful.

It's not because of the majesty
that exist in the freedom
of being able to spread his wings
though he knows
he'll never rise to the occasion.

He sings because he believes
that this cage
was made for a king
because he has never tasted
freedom with a side order of skies.

He's never flown past the sun
on a cool morning
or hung with the moon
on a warm night.

He's only ever known
the comfort of a prison
that his thoughts have
become accustomed
to calling home.

He would never venture
beyond the "welcome" mat
because what's beyond the threshold
holds no promise
the way these bars and metal locks do.

He sings because he knows
that no one is listening
so if he makes a mistake
he doesn't have to live with the regret
or embarrassment of knowing that he missed his note.

The caged bird
never believes that he's caged
because behind these walls
he's safe
and he prefers it this way.

I know why the caged bird sings.
A twist on a title by one of my favorite authors...
Orange Rose Mar 12
Heart of sadness cease your tears.
Save the rest for all the years,
Of pain, of shattering on the floor,
Of empty promises and closing doors.

Heart of gladness dim your smile.
Have some left for every mile,
Of laughter, and the rising sun,
Of adventure, and of having fun.

Heart of grieving dry your eyes.
Lift them now up to the skies,
Of gentle blue and cotton white,
Of sunny days and starry nights.
Indigo Mar 5
Apperantly.. Nobody is who they seem to be.
The loving, protective boyfriend.. Is not actually protective
The asshole with the worst reputation is the sweetest, most insecure person
The girl who throws stones in her words is in fact as tender and fragile as a flower
That friend that thanked you so much for being there, is a fucken psychopath that want to ruin you
Your bestfriend for years would choose her new boyfriend over you
The friends you met a few months ago would choose you over their family
The group that brought you in with all the density of love, but turned out to be using you.
That mother, that disturbed her child in the mind
That father, that raped his daughter
That innocent seeming child... who molested you
That boy you swore was only your friend..
But loved
That same boy who swore it too but loved you back.
What a world to be alive in!
What a life you have had?
Where Apperantly.. Nobody is who they seem to be.
In my mouth
It’s sweet,
But in my stomach
It’s bitter:
Every word –
Every judgment –
From a God
So holy

Those words
For me –
They make
Me sing!
But those words
For them –
They make
Me weep…
The love we once
Had has been
It’s been abandoned…

Yet this I know:
With patience
You endure
Through the fire

When evil men
And Artemis
Entice you
With their fruit

You do rebuke
And seek the truth
You shame
The fools and liars

This you do well
But now,
To your First Love!

To the One
Who holds the stars
In His right hand

To the One
Who walks among
The lampstands

To the One
Who plants
A towering Tree of Life

To the One
Who has conquered
As a Lamb

There is a River
Whose flowing streams
Make glad
The holy City

Come away, my Bride
Come drink
Forever Love


ConnectHook Jan 27
Another false prophet, another beast --
Another peace process for the Middle East . . .
Another massacre, a newer war;
A bright new scarlet global whore.
Another poem, another curse
A further plunge from worst to worse . . .
Another sociopathic brute,
Another bitch in a business suit.
Another smiling psychopath;
Another angel's bowl of wrath
Another data-driven plan
To twist yet further fallen man . . .
A bolder data-driven lie
As LUCIFER ascends the sky,
Another depression, another bust--
In MAMMON we supremely TRUST !
€£¥$ all hail MAMMON
lol take a selfie !
Just leer at me and put your finger on my lips as I slip into the mists.


Tis New Year's Eve and one hour left t'avail,
The blueish shadows, tire tracks winding thence
From here to out of sight, and white snow dense
Upon the landscape are all buried, pale
Within night's blacker shroud, as no detail
Save distant, muffled shots is't? own a sense
Of what we thought to know, yea, that pretense
Mair hollow as the Scriptures tip the scale.
Ya, Revelation and the end in tour
Of Babylon sets all our fete as due
Now on its ear,  the festive note we stir
Less than its vaunted echo, listed to
Effect as burned up in a moment, poor
As freighted joys.  And what is left to do?

Three guesses on how yours truly spent New Year's Eve, and the first two don't count.
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