Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Julia Hones Jul 2018
Your life is made of distant springs and falls,
a straight route is not
what you own
for hurricanes and storms divert your path
to new horizons.

Will you find horseshoe *****, mussels, clams
on the stopovers?
Food awaits you
if the shores are not ravaged
by human greed, ignorance.

Your resilience is written in B95's ordeals,
a mosaic of adventures ingrained in his own cells.

The threads of your trips assemble
the places of Mother Earth connected in its roles;
nothing is detached in the collective harmony of souls.

Red knot shorebird,
peaceful messenger,
icon of strength without rage,
your story is the universal flight of awareness
waiting to be heard.
Red knot shorebirds are endangered birds due to human greed and ignorance. B95 is a survivor who has traveled the moon and halfway back in terms of distance.
Mystic Ink Plus Mar 2018
She is the one
The best species of mankind

I am skeptic,
if she is best for me.
Genre: Observational
Theme: Good for one may not be good for all.
low poetry Mar 2018
we ridiculously young
as species
we just child's here
and what you know about youngsters
yeah
these ***** are selfish and stupid
so do we are
as species
on this mysterious planet
we named Earth
we named
we may name it Dirt as well

we counting ******* years
from the birth of some cool guy
from past
who makes wine from water
**** him
you can learn to do the same
if you want to

**** your self-importance
**** your empty words
**** your manipulations
**** your overdoses
it's all nothing
if you can’t sleep well

you actually can be healthy
without even training
you can understand
without monologue in your head
you can die
with no doubts
you can fully control your life
and you know how
but you too stupid and lazy to do it
so do I
but I will try my best
it’s my ****** oath
to universe
guardian of the lucid heart
bequeaths her soul to Lucifer
in exchange for life of the Sun
to remain
savage is the shadow world
where deals are made for our very lives
in darkness whilst we sleep
and should the balance tip in favor
of greed and indifference
towards the mother of all that is light
then her soul shall have been vanquished
for naught
we are the last semblance of humanity
capable of this salvation
all life, all spirit, all vestiges of our species
shall be scattered to the winds of time
our origin lost forever
Gabriel burnS Jun 2017
first contact scenario
close encounters of the third kind
well how many
kinds are there anyway

a peaceful delegation
or an alien invasion

because alien we are
under threat of war

your burning desires
my best intentions
a clash
of unspeakable dimensions

this is not a game
we are
one misinterpretation
away
from mutual annihilation

you’d better tread lightly
I know I will
Druzzayne Rika Mar 2017
Women are not a different species
They do not need a special day
Why can't you respect and appreciate her ,
love her and treat her equal everyday?
JR Rhine Oct 2016
Theses on species
and their feces,

people ******* and *******,
Bukowski sneers and spits.

A cycle traversing through time
unbroken and unchallenged,

meaningless,

thoughtful yet dubious
of their divinity,

if any at all.
Äŧül Oct 2016
Pikachu is not totally fiction after all,
There's this cute rodent called Pika,
This Pika is Pikachu's inspiration,
Found in the foothills of Sikkim,
But the scientists think it's new,
Pika is one tiny Indian rodent,
Its standing posture, its ears,
Have been the inspiration,
Not just now but for long,
Since antiquity it's there,
Only now got discovered.
HP Poem #1164
©Atul Kaushal
The Judge May 2016
This world is broken,
shattered into a million pieces.
The future of our species,
does your god release.

We are left alone on this world,
left out like insects to die.
"Everything is fine."
Why would you lie?

Am I the only one who can see
that we are past saving?
It is chaos and destruction,
that our species is craving.

The world is broken,
but we can make something new from the pieces.
And if we do that,
our success of survival increases.
Cody Henatt Feb 2016
Humans are fragile creatures,
Swept around by gusts of wind
Like autumn leaves that are brittle.

The gusts are the words of others,
Battering us into submission.

We allow society to torture us,
To decide upon our development,
Like we are the book and
Everyone else is the author.

But I want to be my own author.
Don't you want that as well?
I am not a ******* leaf,
And neither are you.

Have strength, take some from me.
Some days I have little but
Would happily give it to you.

Have strength, it is worth it,
To be your own author.
To shape your own tale,
To live life deliberately.
Next page