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Kellie Gray Apr 17
I can't move in this dim room for the crowding of spirits
Each hustling and tussling, engorging the space
In all their gluttony and false exchanges something beyond their crassness changes
The air, it lightens at last
And in the corner, permeates your glance.
eva Apr 16
She walks up to me curiously,
Head-tilted; her innocent eyes stare into me.
Constellations on her face - I count one, two, three blinks followed by a grin.
A child sees herself for the first time.

Now she’s taller, her face a little broader
she looks into me;
a smile replaced by a frown, she pulls back
inspecting every line that marks her skin

then returns with paint which she brushes over her skin.
It marks her eyes, her lips; her cheeks
full of pink as she admires her work.

The paint never washes off, you see, it stains.
She returns to me regularly, rivers of ink running down her face,
her eyes clouded; the illusion of beauty hangs in the air.

Society’s product stands before me, reflections of her.

-thelostpoetjournals
William Woods Apr 16
The swamp, pre-dawn, has come alive! An owl lands fifty feet away. I swooped down to catch a better glimpse. —In that moment, I noticed movement. A distinguished couple, out enjoying the swamp as I was. —I noticed them earlier, gathering gear in the darkness, preparing for their trek. They approached with much respect, and I motioned them onward. Oh, the stories they shared with me, from this very swamp. In that moment, societal chains were broken. You see, they live nearby and frequently visit…Nature bringing us closer. I sat listening,  encouraged by the kindness of them. As I walked away, well wishes flowed freely. They had shared much with me about the swamp, things few others know.
William Woods Apr 16
It stands motionless, reflecting, only what we see. The glow of the  moon, the sheen of the sky, or the treetops covered in buds. The resounding stillness awaits us, —as we ponder life, I notice the empty stare
William Woods Apr 16
I Stood in the swamp, absorbing the deafening tone, its vibrations echoing through the forest floor. Embarrassed and sad —for what society has done… All I could hear, all I could feel was the earsplitting thunder….Jet engines, screaming by,  practicing for war that has not yet come. A place for solitude, momentarily destroyed —all of this, only to feed mans unconscious wit.
William Woods Apr 16
Progress, -always onward. -Victims of the system, —Without knowing. I will protect you any way  necessary... The endless cycle, always consuming, always forward, constantly —taking —taking—taking. —Only giving that which is desired. Ego, once defeated, lives on in peace.
Zywa Apr 15
People's wishes can

quite easily lead to a --


major short-circuit.
Comic strip #80 - "Tom Poes en De Kwanten" ("Tom **** and The Quants", 1958, Marten Toonder), tier 3443

Collection "**** & Lord"
LinaM Apr 14
Spoon-fed lies all your life

Manipulation is one hell of a bloodied knife

Blindly believing those who stepped on others’ backs  

Will protect you from invisible attacks

The thick veil you hide behind

Keeps you living inside your mind

Putting your trust in this money-hungry world

You sealed your fate with one word

The many poor and the few rich

A secret they'll hunt me down for like a witch

Just one more video, one more photo, one more post

They'll turn you into a ghost

Mere distractions from the destruction of democracy and dreams

The more you act like the perfect puppet, the better

With the red winning territory in the west no one’s safe

The rift between classes suddenly becomes a gorge

Terrifying and ever changing, the evil takes over

Under all these ashes who would find the lucky clover?

It turned into a race against time

It’s time to see the lies you were fed all life
The disenchantment with the world around
Does a thick woman ever feel her patience wearing thin, while
her man wears a beard, ready to take her every mood by the chin?
He’s dating a girl named Erin, who hates it when he cuts his hair,
and runs errands. She made him ink a tattoo on his neck, declaring,
“property of Erin’s,” then she decided to shave her head, but she's
now wearing a wig— a real bold choice. While her man is plagued
by countless voices, but he himself, doesn’t have much of a voice.

She swiftly cleans up her act for the public eye – she's a minute maid,
with a juicy figure that could turn any man to pulp; and she’s also
self-made. And he’s like an empire of ants, bearing more than his
own weight. But he’s not much of a saint, his mischief thrives when
she’s far away, and it can never wait. He keeps a side piece as a
thought to chew on, always clearing off his plate.

They picture a relationship, but lack the means to truly relate –
just a ship; claiming they’re on the same boat; being each other’s
bait.
“Plenty of fish in the sea,” but they leave hooks in one another,
after they hook up. Never pausing to Google for their worth; it’s right
there, just look up– to the writing on the wall. "We’re all crumbling
on each other"; if these walls could speak. As countless feet trample
on each other’s toes, in these crowded streets of Love, we seek.

Paved in toxicity – a toxic city, where toxic lovers inhale toxic fumes.
Easily fuming when being called out; the headlines of these daily
romances, all spell bad news.
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