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Adam Hebda May 2020
Legislators of social stigmatization
hand out identity before child birth,
reluctantly judged by your pigmentation,
you're given a name
and a pew in a church,
assigned to a gender with implications,
while ATM balance determines your worth

Bugs will certainly inherit the Earth

Disguised as your neighborhood
privacy invaders,
cops kick in the door
at your mother's front porch,
enforcing law written by legislators
for a routine seizure and search

Police brutality couldn't mask the depravity
of their warrants nomenclature
Capitalist crusaders terrorize Americans,
but can't keep the bugs
from their Earth inheritance

Men will shroud their evil nature
Malicious intent hides below the glacier
Camouflaged vindictive behavior
is electing dictators across the equator

Truth serenaders lobby for
congressional persuaders
to pardon these murderous
capitalist crusaders,
fitting agendas with tailor made suits,
who infect Mother Earth deep in her roots

Antibiotics couldn't heal or stop this
infection these players gave her
Pray for fire and fury
to burn away worry
when bugs surely crawl from the dirt
to inherit what's left of our Mother Earth
I pray for the glory
of our future bug overlords
amaya b Mar 2019
i couldn't stop staring as the coffee dripped from her lips
she hooked her thumbs under her belt loops, resting her palms on her hips
i admired the curls that fell atop her forehead,
feeling the glowing sensation as my cheeks burned red
her name was sweet, like chocolate on my tongue
and the only thing i could compare her to was our everlasting sun

-PJM
based off of a fan fiction i was going to write but never finished. i really want to though...this poem was supposed to be by the main guy in the story, who's an aspiring poet in college, talking about the main girl, who he'd just *formally* met in a barnes and noble starbucks cafe. i don't know, maybe it's cliche, but i'm just really into that kind of thing. thought it was pretty cute.
Poetic T May 2018
Every footstep is a
                metaphor
of our journey.

Until our last breath
           everyone a line
of creation.

We're sentences always
                    adapting to
our changing storyline.
Pauline Morris Apr 2016
Another day and they say "it's a new begaining"
But is it really, it feels more like an ending
An ending of time
In a life that doesn't rhyme

An unending march to the uncertain
Like the droping of life's stage curtain
Another day closer to the end
But I'm still waiting on my life to begin

I'm tired of this life's storyline
I want a different out come this time
I want happy, not sad
I want the good, not the bad

But there is no off ramp
And my disease leaves it stamp
I feel like a lost ***** *****
And my life just goes on like a vamp

Over and over the same music plays
A sorrowful song, for long anguished days
But I want a change in the beat
An uplifting melody to get me on my feet

Will you be my new rhythm
An escape from my prison
Are you my golden key
Will you try to set me free

Will you hold me tight
When I'm a sad sorry sight
There is no cure from my depression
But will you help the darkness lessen

Or will you run for the hills
Or jump in the sea and grow gills
Just to get away
From a disease you can not sway

And leave me counting the days
Till this clock like heart's hands stand still
And in death will I finally feel real?
Purple Rain Dec 2015
"Before the overdose"

*Liars and fake friends
Im undesirable to only them
Tear drops mark the floor like Broken glass,
Broken glass mark the scars on my arm
Like the friends of the past

In the present
My brain is wired to the never-ending thought
Of why they hide their face behind a stone cold mask
Of why the endless thought
Makes my heart feel like
shattered glass

Till this day I'm popping pills,
Making sure no friends will ever come my path
Till this day I walk lonely marking the path to God
Swallowing down all these pills making it my last
These pills already swallowed down
will **** me fast
2015 Isabella-Rose "Holding On"
AW May 2013
Remember, being young, you used to love those posters
We’d look at them for hours, got addicted to the game
Of trying to be the one, who found the most new details
We searched for all the features that none had seen before
And every next disclosure would shed a whole new light
On the storyline we thought had nothing new in store

Where along the way did you lose your sense of wonder?
What was it that blinded the eye for detail that you had?
Was it time that rusted your fixation on what’s known yet
Was it life that happened and robbed your curious mind?
‘Cause though still friends forever, the magic slowly faded
The picture got familiar as if holding no more surprise

Now just take a moment and imagine that we’re standing
Looking at that poster that you still know by heart
The one that tells the story of two best friends forever
And spells their lives out since the time that they were young
All the ties that bind them, the obstacles along the road
All the precious moments that gave colour to their lives

Imagine that this picture, etched inside you memory
Holds one little detail that you've never seen before
Would its revelation bring back your imagination
And hold the hidden power to change the story line?
Would the boy hidden inside accept the great adventure
That a few small brush strokes invite him to pursue?

This time, let me tell you the thing that you’ve been missing
The detail that’s been overlooked in all the years gone by
The painter of this story line that sketched our lives together
Signed this valued work of art with the truest signature
If you’d open up your eyes and see the artist’s message
You’d read there in my handwriting “please let me be yours”

— The End —