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The Ancient of the Days,
can you see what he is wearing,
Cardinal shoes made of children’s skin
wrung out from the veins
Last drop of blood that remains
overflowing tankers

Come through the secret bunkers
Descend to the underground
To the cities of gold
The gardens in diamonds adorned
Hotels palatial
Death camps infernal
Where thousands of children abducted
Cry in the clutches of the devil

They will invite you to dine
Pour adrenalin into your wine
Baby roast on the menu
Bones burning in the fireplace just for you

They will forever be returning
Rejuvenated with blood, rejoicing
to walk among men in shoes of cardinal skin
Stepping over dead bees just the same
Compassion they’ll say is their name
Whilst from those cities underground
From their laboratories
Millions of bacteria and viruses
Are killing your world mercilessly

The poles and icebergs they are melting away
Torrents will bring you to dismay
Tsunami will crumble the cities to ruins
Earthquake will shatter graves and dreams
Everything you have they will turn to dust
Drought will ablaze crops to crust
Of hunger millions will die
Poisons are raining from the sky

To the bones of children cast thy eye
to the bottom of the sea where they lie
look inside the savage eyes,
yearning for demise
gleaming with innocence
of the fallen victims’ cries

The Ancient of the Days can you see
The Heavens are yearning for equity
Without the soul void is poetry
Let the world,
That endures the humiliation silently
Frightened of camps and lethality
- be free.

Saša Milivojev

Translated by Ljubica Yentl Tinska
GhostCat Apr 16
Have you ever had one of those days...

Where you just feel sane?
No reason to why
The clouds just withhold all their rain
And you're sailing on your way...

Where you want to punch everyone you meet in the face
To sort of justify your head state, and put your feet back in place?

Where everything feels strange?
Like nothing is original;
And passing thoughts cant be tamed?

Where you.....where you just don't really know how you feel?
Those days seem to be the ones when everyone asks if you're okay
And you are
But the more that you're asked;
The more it grates against the grain, driving you insane...

Where you plan everything out
Write it all down
Feel confident you'll act it all out
But instead you find yourself glued to the couch?
Lounging about...
In your pants
Eating cheesy Doritos for no apparent reason?

Where the suns rays penetrate and renovate
Invigorate your being
Leaving you feeling as though you can touch the highest of ceilings?

Where everything doesn't go your way...
As though someone's just taken the biggest of ***** on your parade?

Where everything thing happens all at once
One minute your napping
The next your arms are flapping
Getting stressed and restless
Relentless flitting decisions causing sticky dispositions
Narrowing tunnel vision
Hearing that's constantly shifting
Contracting and relaxing
Entangling webs and...

Have you ever had one of those days...

Where you just wanted to write about it?
A certain quality of softer light prescribed, two points in the day are offered to allocate.
Regenerative from the back of each eyelid,
heat fed into the veins as it self designates, this heavenly state settles our frame of mind.
You can pause, vacate or choose to meditate as reflective thoughts are caught through play.

Seconds lost merge into magical moments, when there is no cost to slip away outside. Pupils dart and dilate as we contemplate, bright beams of yellow turn amber red on sight. Watch in wonder at the view from our third eye, helping transport and connect us to the divine.
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
girl diffused Oct 2021
Hello old friend,
With your tall sweeping evergreens
Towering almost endlessly
Into a blue clear sky
The endless swell of traffic
Cars peeling down the street
The smell of roasted coffee beans
From some hole-in-the-wall cafe
The obvious transplant donning an umbrella in the Autumnal warm rain
The light sprinkling of water enough
To nurture the verdant green

Hello old friend,
Mt. Rainier, she greets me,
Looming ever majestically
Over expanses of tree and road
Her white peaks cresting over
Fields of blossoming flowers
The tulip fields scattered across the sloping
Skagit Valley, her vineyards spanning for miles and miles

Hello old friend,
Seattle's grungy nature
Masked by her streets of trendy
Cafes and farm-to-table restaurants
Her mom and pop cafes
Her canvas gray dress marred by graffiti
And street tags
The busker on the street corner panhandling for change
The homeless sheltering under a cardboard blanket outside of a Starbuck's
The transplant with the umbrella stopping down to drop change in their jar
The crumpled dollar
The locals who pointedly ignore him on their way to work, to school, back home, to somewhere...anywhere...
The constant dazed bustle
The stench and pungent odor of ****
Curling around every seedy corner and
Affluent street crossing

Hello old friend,
It's been a while
Let me nestle into your newness
A new coast greets me across the horizon
Replaced by homespun everything
Pastoral fields where the bovine and equine reside

Hello old friend,
I suppose you're home now
I suppose you're home...
A/N: I moved to Washington State. I secured an apartment and new employment is in the hangar. A lot everything. I shoddily put this together and I feel as if it regrettably shows.

Well, I hope you find some solace in the awkward virginal writing. Moving strips away everything that's routine and gives you a blank slab of concrete with which to make your mark. I suppose then...the writing was unintentionally intentional in its awkwardness.
Ken Pepiton Jul 2021
The stones in the stream now,
we are not water,
we are not clouds,
we are like

minded men, wombed and un
running rock to rock
laughing and laughing and laughing

until nothing hurts.
Nothing hurts
the stones in the stream now.
Good morning, bit by bit, this is the next day... following the stream
Trigger warningVery disturbing
Dear sir, I write to you at a time when
Bloodshed has become a trending hashtag.
When genocide is another word for good morning.
When a mosquito bite has resulted in a bird flu
and the bird owner has been quarantined.
"The bird should be discarded" you decree.
On its wings it conveyed passion, ideas and businesses.
A confidant, a pillar it has become.
A pillar of support no government parastatal offered.
I write that you reconsider for from my little knowledge, no one can cage a bird.
It is meant for the skies so let it fly.
Yours faithfully, a very lazy youth.

Nigerian government has banned Twitter. I say this with my two hands covering my face in shame. While deaths are occurring thanks to terrorism, all he can think of is banning Twitter because his tweets were deleted.
Spriha Kant Apr 2021
Self-love is a zone prohibiting the entrances of painful solitude state and inferiority complex.

© Spriha Kant
Winnalynn Wood Mar 2021
Simply put my life is ruled by numbers  
Digits by the dozens in screaming color

People asking how was your SAT, ACT?
Don’t be shy, go on tell us
You better have gotten over a 30
Or a string of numbers 1500 above

The concept of clocks striking six, twelve, perhaps one
Stressing to be early has already begun
Alarms ringing, time frames narrowing, dictating much of my seeing  

Algebra, geometry, chemistry galore
Maths of all sorts are sometimes a bore

The weight of a newborn, hoped to be a seven
A timely occurrence, the baby down from Heaven
A social security number
Rings out like a thunder
While the hospital collects its plunder
they're living in flowers
up high and across the sea

while we avoid potholes
and bugs just to scrape by
John McCafferty Jan 2021
Wood burns from blue flames
Air drawn in does change
Prepared for events to unfold
Stationary held for take off
Past the count of numbers out
Breathing easier now
A transient being announced
Green lady elevates state
Orange eyes merge, lights diverge
Lifted into what seems to be
A tunnel of colourful multiple Vs
Pleasant fate when identity dissipates
No pain, no pressures, no claims
Just white space
Until pulled back into this place
To live a life again
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
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