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Shlomo Oct 2018
Emerging economies.

What they’re emerging from I don’t know.

My guess, the depths of ****.

From the frying pan, right into the fire, or worse; a well.

A deep hole stronger than gravity, the force.

To be forever under the thumb of remorse.



A modern era of endless acts, policies and bla bla bla.

Shut up with all your platitudes.

I see what’s really going on. Aha!

You speak of sustainable development.

Nice to know that you’ve led by example.

Carried the mantle for all these years.



Centuries of ruthlessness, now veiled in sheep’s clothing.

But you won’t shut up. Because you don’t speak.

You never have. You just do.

Each day that goes by, you carry on anew.

Behind all the talk of hope, equality and more progress,

it seems the wolves are lurking.



Cooking up the next tool to subdue countless.

This time, not behind closed doors. But in plain sight.

It’s scary to imagine such spite.

Each year that goes by it becomes clearer that you never cared.

You sold guns, drugs and all kinds of war.

And each time, you kept coming back for more.



You’ve built up antibodies that ensure your survival.

But sometimes I wonder if you’re alive at all.

But what do I know?

Maybe you’re more alive than ever.

Doing what you do best but always more clever.

That not even the most stable of geniuses can evade your pressure.



A strong enough foundation that each break makes you stronger,

So strong that not even the Gremlin can take you under.  

Against this dreary background, foregrounded is nothing short of magical.

Beyond hope, prayers or a thoughtless radical.

Or maybe this is all just fake outrage.

An attempt to evade the boredom of this endless monotony and baggage.



Or maybe, the term is out of date.

Like every other, that makes me increasingly more irate.

In which case, this poem is at least ten years late.

Or maybe there are too many maybes’.

And I’m perfectly suited for this time of vague uneasiness and indifference.

In which case, my imagination probably needs more sociology and less a lesson in rhymes.
Piano backed narration @ https://anchor.fm/shlomotion/episodes/Emerging-Economies-e1s1a6
Pauper of Prose Dec 2018
Why do you persist?
Do you have any idea?
What I’d do
If passion pricked my chest
I’d move a million mountains
Still the seven seas
Drench the deathly deserts
Fling flames in frosted forests
Slay Hercules in his sleep
In order to cradle
You a little closer
And nip at your neck
cope with all the greed  injustice and brutality
we learn about day in  day out

with some luck
these are not part of our own experience
but second hand  from news and media

this does not make it better  though
when trusted public figures fail

how to react
    to priests and teachers
          who abuse the young
    to presidents  dictators  populists
          leading astray their countries
    to our elected politicians
          unable to resist the lure
              and money
          of those special interest groups
    to ruthless powermongers  businesses
          that only work for profit
          not the common good
    
resistance is not easy
the choice of weapons in this conflict difficult

yet if we not resist
not make the global and the smaller perpetrators
accept responsibility for their misdeeds

our living years will soon grow fewer
and we shall hasten our journey
     to the end of all our needs
George Sep 2018
I first feel it around the edges of my soul.

Like fingers on my shoulders.

I know him.  That one constant for my entire waking life.  An old friend saying hello.

He is charming and ruthless.  When you try to move, you feel claws not fingers.

He is the protector.  His is the menace.

He is the beast that did something when everyone else did not.
Em MacKenzie Sep 2018
I told a story as a Roman a clef
for years the conflict plagued my mind,
I confessed that I've always been half deaf,
but you showed me that I was also blind.
How many jumps did I fail to leap?
How many catches left me with open arms?
I lost count when auditing the sheep;
I wish they'd just remain in their barns.

Unfortunately for poor me
I am cursed to never forget.
It's torturing to know what could've been,
if the future just had the stones set.
I'm nocturnal, banned from sleep
and I dread every new dawn.
It's so diurnal counting the sheep
'cause they just keep moving on.

You burned a bible for a statement of stand
for days my mind peaked at the thought,
so I examined every single grain and sand
and never questioned why the surroundings were so hot.
My tongue can tell a thousand lies
but my eyes and cheeks will always tell the truth,
for we share a mind while we share the skies,
to the elder seas from the drops of our youth.

Unfortunately for poor me
I am cursed to never forget.
The earth is scorches as far as the eye can see
and my dear the sun has permanently set.
I'm nocturnal, banned from sleep
and the pillow cases are mismatched and wrong.
I'm drowning in these thoughts so deep
and rewriting sentences that are far too long.

It's always easier to pretend it was nothing
than to ever admit it was everything.
I went from swimming in luxury to a life I've been roughing,
I've went from hearing birds to hating the bell's ring.
But that's all packed up in a box I labeled fragile,
and in smaller writing "never open again."
And the insomnia increases my headaches and stomach bile,
when all is broken where do you find the time to mend?

Unfortunately for poor me
I am cursed to never forget.
My new addiction is now gambling
on the one place I should never place my bet.
MoonBunny Aug 2018
I have decided to forget,
All the misconceptions we used to have,
You forfeit all the love I gave,
I have to know what you gained,

I don't know if you still love me,
My inner thoughts are confronting me,
Yelling at me for I never had a place in your heart,
They said I have to be someone new,

I went to drown in the sea of love,
But I accidentally died in the sea of lies,
I survived but with so many masks,
You couldn't even tell who I was,

I grew into a statue of fake emotions,
They seemed real though,
Crystal clear halfheartedly smiles,
Not ruthless lies.
mc ish Aug 2018
tampering with my unruly undecidable fate will result in your damnation
i am flowing with estrogen and auburn flames
shoot me with your attention?
and i will burn your name
you can not could not and will not control me longer
as quickly apparating as your fleeting joy
you do not own me
your vicious sneers and ripping of walls has only made me stronger
my little deaths are not your toy
i dont blame my wrath on your ruthless black magic
just as you cannot blame the sun for crashing into jupiter
nature has a way of making itself known
being angry has resulted in my newfound power. thank you.
Gray May 2018
I wake up, it's already almost afternoon​.
My face looks like a gross greasy spoon​.
Now I'm hauling myself out of bed​.
I think to myself I rather be dead​.
I just don't understand why​,
My eyes just feel like they want to cry.​
Immediately I am collapsing down those wooden stairs​.
I feel like I'm descending into my own personal dark eternal despairs.
Now I am eating expired corn flakes​.
Here's another tally mark to my list of headaches​.
To answer your burning question​,
Yes, that's right I do have depression.

I'm on my way to my boring average school​.
I can already tell the day will be cruel​,
Just by seeing all the other loud students​.
Oh, heck I think I forgot to take my antidepressants​
I think I rather pass​,
On heading over to math class​.
If I don't finish all these problematic math equations​,
I'll be forced to take even more medications​.
Finally, the bell rings​.
Everyone else starts to pack up their things.​
I do the same as the rest​.
That's right, I am still depressed.
This one was meant for an ELA project i did awhile ago.
It's meant to be ruthless, but in a 'funny' kind of way.
Bethany G Blicq Dec 2016
My friend said

that only the tigers survive;

I ask,

what if a tiger helps all the others survive;

will the tiger remain as a tiger;

will the tiger still survive?

I will find the answer.

……….

Maybe my friend was right,

Maybe tigers cannot help anyone.


Maybe,

To get to the top,

You have to be ruthless and brutal.

I am not aiming that high,

I am just aiming to help others survive.
Written in 2016.
Bethany G. Blicq

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