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Kwamé Jul 2018
Prisoner without a cage
Soul forever trapped
Confined to a lifeless shell
Devoid of emotion
Slowly I waste away

Endless nights dreaming of escape
For this is not the life I chose
I don't believe in that higher power
For who would trap me here
Like a caged bird
Doing tricks for crackers

I'd rather be exploring Astral Plains
And wander lusting for knowledge
Than stay here another moment
Around people sippin the Devils potion

For this brew is awfully potent
One sip fills you with wrath and rage
As you begin to rattle my cage
All their minds filled with green

As they do anything to fulfill their greed
And begin to gorge themselves
Like glutinous giants grilling in Grenada
Never getting their fill

Lusting after thick thighs
And supple *******, doing
Anything for that 2 piece meal

Envious eyes eying everything in sight
Boasting that selfish pride, as your
Inner voice says that can't be me
He's talking about
You yes YOU

As you sit smug with your
Body shaped like a circle
Due to years of sloth like behavior

Don't worry about me I know
I'm different, I don't belong here
I know that
We are nothing more
Than temporary beings
Gone in an instant

Seeking the meaning of
Our existence
What is my purpose?

I guess I'll never
Know why I'm on this craft.
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
I come home again and there you sit
On the couch under the tvs grip

You never move, complain when I leave
I have asked you to come and join me

No you say, you're to tired for that
You rather go take your daily nap

So you escape to the room with bed
There you are laid now resting your head

Off you go having those horrid dreams
Keep this up, it'll be reality
Cedric Apr 2018
I fear the unreasonable indeterminate,
Anxiety that gushes over like a fountain.
My body is trapped in lethargy,
Naught an ounce of motivation to move.

I begin to step and prove,
That my anxiety has turned me petty.
My thoughts trap me in my pain,
I begin to question my fate:

Why do I fear the unknown?
Why can't I escape?
Why haven't I grown?
Why is there a hole; a gape?

I enter into another phase called apathy.
It turns into blatant antipathy.
It exhausts my soul until I become empty.
I get filled again due to hypocrisy and piety.

I wake up; wanting to go to bed.
I can't sleep; my anxieties cover my head.
I get frustrated and I ache.
I give into despair and break.
I get fixed; inescapable, I said.

~

Repeat.
...I can't escape
A Feb 2018
Lust is for the weak of body,
Wrath is for the weak of control,
Pride is for the weak of mind,
Gluttony is for the weak of soul.

Greed is for those who want more,
Sloth is for those who want less,
Envy is for those who want all.

Those are the seven sins, the sins
That break souls like a bug underfoot,
The sins that are uneasy to break,
Even when all your heart's at stake.
Each line has seven words.
Jessy Feb 2018
I can’t get out of bed
I can’t swing my legs over the edge
And place my feet on the ground
My mom says it’s because I’m lazy
But little does she know

I hate going to school
I hate walking into the building
I hate walking the hallways
I hate getting up to go to the bathroom
My teachers say it’s because I’m lazy
But little do they know

I won’t do my homework
I won’t try to focus on a sheet of paper
I won’t try to type of a three-page essay
I won’t spend hours trying to figure out what they’re asking of me
My friends say it’s because I’m lazy
But little do they know
Jeffrey Ford Sep 2017
I ride a bounding tiger rampant in a field of shame. His fur is made of razor wire; I grip it all the same

He tries to throw me down to the cutting grass below; there to lay me open there to lay me low.

My teeth they grind and gnash, my gut turns and knots; he twists with might beneath me, muscles clenched and taut.

I know that he is hungry, his teeth sharp to bite, still I ride the tiger, heels and hands they fight.

The tiger takes his toll as we roll and bound in strife; my will to stay aboard, his to take my life.

Our yen and yang are tied morning noon and night. I go where he takes me, I dare not stop the flight.

For some the beast is anger, others lust or fame, but each ride their tiger though others know not its name.
I started on this when i saw a Clemson Tiger tire cover on a Jeep
Brent Kincaid Aug 2017
I know there are millions of you
That do not want to think about things
Like politics, politicians and rules;
The boring stuff those discussions bring.
You’d rather watch the game and while
You drink your beer and sit and cheer
And love whoever you want to love
And hate who you like to hate and jeer.

Hey Hey Hey
USA USA USA

But the big problem in this country
Is that there are people out there
Who will take advantage of that and
Steal every dime you have to spare.
They will lie to you and steal from you
And legislate away your rights gleefully
Because they know what you are feeling
And use it against you shamelessly.

Hey Hey Hey
USA USA USA

They are very happy that you don’t
Want to be bothered with all that.
So when this country slides down
Down the tubes we'll all tip our hat
And remind you what you did to help;
You did absolutely nothing. You played
While adults around you did the work.
Now you raise your kids the same way.

Hey Hey Hey
USA USA USA
Rachel W Aug 2017
my procrastination
it's a funny thing
only applying to the things i love
when they are forced upon me

give me a packet of mathematics
burden me with backbreaking tasks
hand me a bowl of poison
and i will gladly get it over with--if only to cease its hold over me

yet compel me to read
oblige me to complete my part in a choir
and i will fight
languidly stubborn until i am forced into compliance

to do what i should love
but hate
simply because it is forced on me
i will fight it off

it's my own funny little brand of sloth
Gabriel burnS Jul 2017
Sugar is bad for you,
especially,
saccharine maple thoughts
that you cannot afford
due to the hazard
of overweight ego
dense with the aftertaste
of adipose fantasies
clogging the arterial bonds
that tether you
to solid ground

Stop the caramelized madness
from carbohydrating your soul
into victim obesity
causing the full
arrest of your spirit

The sweet is guilty,
distorted in mirrors,
a negative image
of a past feeling,
present reflection
born of the collision
of intentions and consequences
Not a part 2 of "Note to Self"; even though the first lines are the same.
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