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Midnight skies above
It's beautiful
It's wonderful
It lets me forget
About yesterdays struggles  

I forget about feeling numb
Forget about my soul being poisoned
Perhaps that isn't true
Perhaps my vision is blinded
By the light
The light those wicked
Or maybe both
I don't know

I wish I was out there in the stars
Exploring many different possibilities
But here I lay on Earth
Stuck with a bunch of zombies
Who never chased their dreams
Their mind brainwashed by screens
Spending all day on their i-phone
Until its too late
When their family gathers around, crying
Right next to their gravestone

Gone are all possibles
As well as dreams
Just like that.
How tragic.

Yeah, this poem is ironic coming from me
But it is what it is
And that's how it's gonna  be

From me to you, the one who sees
In the dark, In the light
And everywhere
In-between.
Yeah, this poem is incredibly ironic. i'm well aware.
I remember the time when little Timmy was getting beat up
A group of them kicked and stomped on him till he bled out
It's pretty graphic but his skull was fractured like a broken chestnut
The world is a ****** place, dog eat dog out there and little Timmy
Well he never liked it out here, he always said that this world was corrupt
This world with evil, vile, inhumane people who think they are important

If you ask me, those group of kids are no different than the government
Don't even get me started on the people who are above the government
They are **** of the earth who want nothing more than the universe
Nothing but a bunch of predators who find bliss in watching those suffer
Curators of false truths and disasters, one hand over the eye and another over a dagger soaked in the blood of the innocent
They may be worse than tyrants but they sure as hell are intelligent
I suppose that isn't true.. maybe society is blinded by their brilliance

Society, going from one place to another like hollowed-out drones
Dreams lost into the ether, living in sorrow with both hands on their iPhone
Leaving what could have been to the Unknown, milestones never reached
And nothing remarkable on their gravestone

Don't let that be you, take control of your life and chase your dreams
Become the better you, believe and keep your head held high
Your time is nigh and you will succeed.
Created by me on January 23rd, 2020
Em MacKenzie Jan 2019
News headlines talk about
people attempting
“The Birdbox Challenge.”
When in all reality,
we are all stumbling through life
blindfolded.

And the real irony here
is that,
people are too blind to realize
they are already blind.
Just a thought on the most recent, idiotic trend.
Luna Jay Dec 2018
Don’t you get it?
Can’t you see?
It all makes so much sense to me.
It makes me frown when I look around,
Sheeple all in lines,
All looking down.
Blindly following the ones walking
In front.
Society executes this daily stunt,
And no one looks up,
No one says no.
And no one changes their minds
About the people that they follow.
And no one seems to notice,
And no one has the time
To realize society wants you
Trapped inside of your own mind.
Sam Apr 2018
When our battle comes from within,
How will it be possible to win?
Our left is tearing away from our right-
How can we win? How do we fight?

We try clawing our way out of this hole,
But only effortlessly, losing our soul.
Lets fight to be heard, let's all scream-
"We need to wake up from this dream"!

Nothing makes sense anymore,
And we are left empty to the core.
Let's rise up from this pit
And tell the masses as we see fit
So all can become aware of the lies being told
To trick you into the mold.

They turn us into sheep
So we can make comfortable the elite.
There is no life in being a slave-
They want us to keep digging our grave!

And there is no heaven or hell,
That a big fat lie as well!
Money and religion go hand in hand
Making sheeple of every man.
Controlling you, and certainly not caring
If your life is worth sparing.

We have to wake up and realize
That our ship is being captized!
Teamwork will be the only way to save it,
That is, if you even give a ****.
My dear friend wrote this and asked me to post for her.
Brent Kincaid Jun 2017
Thermometers say you are wrong
But you believe greedy businessmen
Seismographs say you were wrong
But you believe religious charlatans
Electrocardiograms say you're wrong
But you believe the words of bigots
Encephalograms tell you you're wrong
Geiger counters tell you you're wrong
Microscopes tell you you're wrong
Yet you believe the Big Oil propaganda
Telescopes tell you you're wrong
Yet you believe the lies of Big Pharma

It is such an unforgiving task to talk
And know there is nobody in there.
Inside your head, soul or heart;
It’s pathetic to know under your hair
There is the kind of sad mentality
That rejects reality if it disagrees
With something another fool has taught
And though you ought to learn reality
You keep looking for more crazies
To say things that match your philosophy
And that perpetrates the tragedy of today
Which may take decades to go away.
It did the last time.
ALC Dec 2016
Oh my goodness, am I going crazy
Because my head is spinning and everything is hazy?

I am standing up, testing the ground
Making sure I’m not falling down.

This world is spinning and I can’t stand it.
Its falling threw, taking everyone with it.

My eyes search for faces
But everything’s washing away
Rains hitting the ground
We’re all slipping away.

We look to one another,
But what to say?
We’re hopeless communicators
We’re drowning away.

We left this world, letting it slip.
Left it go for a simple click

-ALC (October 22, 2014)
Brent Kincaid Sep 2016
You go to church on Sunday
And then you've done your part.
Instead of saying “I hate that *****
You just say “Bless her heart.”
Monday starts the week anew
With dog-eat-dog intention.
Live and let live and the like
Seldom rates a mention.

Help the poor and needy
Doesn't pull too much weight
When measuring by dollar signs
To decide what is truly great.
The Bible verses get changed:
“Do unto others” is rewritten
To “Do what we can get by with.”
Thus is the common man smitten.

So you allow the Congress
To do whatever they want:
Outlaw our rights and rob us,
Laugh at us and then flaunt
That nobody can touch them
As they bleed the land dry.
We're just to bless their hearts
While the watch us slowly die.

We can keep on pretending
That everything is just,
Then go to church on Sunday
And brag about “In God we trust”,
Or we could wake the hell up
And start to participate
In what used to be our country
Right now before it's too late.

But that would mean standing up
And not just going along
And not following on party lines
Not singing the downtrodden song.
It means questioning our leaders,
But, you see, right there is the rub.
If we stop ourselves from being robbed
We can't belong to the Hypocrite Club.
Liam C Calhoun Feb 2016
When the “100” departed,
Four turned ‘round,
To carry on and away
From that bloodied dusk,
Sojourn and sought last Saturday.

It was a solemn evening, for even I,
Upon the scent of spent beer,
Soiled socks and job well done,
Albeit, half-assed, but good for me,
Since money’s the modern paradigm.

Beholden gallant, I returned to rebellion,
This satiated dish tantalizing the four,
And only four – painted traitors,
An opposition to the flock christened
“Listen” and assumed safer skies.

Souls atop intrepid –
The “4” would learn alone,
So whispered, “insurrection,”
Savoring a certain comfort in solitude,
A stiff chin come rules abundant others,
And freedoms never realized.

I’m sure they’ll fly, they’ll mate,
I’m sure they’ll die and fly once more
Whilst I smirk, smoke
And take note of the next fool
To forget the heavens and allowed,
Became the heathen’s promised.

It’s an epiphany’s echo as
The fall’s a salvation in and of itself
And the four’d that opted flounder,
Beyond an already withered earth,
Bet on fortunes unknown,
When they, themselves, were gems,
And certain paradises, lay in wait.
Are you one of "the Four?"
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