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Amazing how a text message conveying
Regarded as a few lines of dejection
Amazing how a photo of joviality,
Regarded as a—fallacy
Amazing how a video of life's best moments,
Ignites a fire of jealousy, a ring of volcanic
comments surging with scorching words

Amazing how my likes and comments strikes
another's conscience,
Belittling their importance since being popular
means everything
Having the most followers means being a valid
member of society
Amazing how the fame of being a social media
phenomenon is the best thing in the world,
Nothing could replace the missed connection that
you and I share

Among the shared posts and counterfeit feelings of
We lose what it means to connect to one another
Rather than living in life's moments selflessly,
Everything is about me, me, me
Not you, 'cause my posts matter more for my

A missed connection of what reality means,
Above the ubiquitous screens emitting blue light,
Fill in all of these captured memories
Not through a glowing device, but through eyes of
Experiencing what it means to cross the bridge between
an idealized world to mundane

A missed connection of what reality means
For once, put down that screen and live in reality
with me
It's not very fun conversing with someone in-person when they're on their phone.
Matt Sol Jan 31
Demurring dreams
In solitude,
A feeling came.
It came too soon,
With feeling due.

Annex the black
To white to blue,
And dormant truths.
To ones "forsooth".
She came home
Still in her school outfits
She hugged me tight
With tears rolling down her eyes
She was filled with fright
'it happened so fast,
' This is all i have'
She mumbled as she cried
Apparently there had been a strike
Students burnt down the dormitories
And refused to attend class
The teachers to afraid
Were out of sight
The police had to intervene
Causing a clash
With rubber bullets, mallets
And tear gas
The police squashed and beat
The students hard
With stones, sticks and any tangible object that could be held
The students retaliated
Just to ******* the armed blue men
Thumping of boots
Shouting and screams
Bullets fling
There was circus in school
The students were sent home
Suppressed without giving
Them a chance to talk
A conflict resolved
With no interest in the
Root cause
Two nights are long
Another school catches
The dormitories are down
Then you'll here them ask
Where have we gone wrong?

Akwana Wa Odera
© 2018
School fires in Kenya were so rampant last year
Johnny walker Dec 2018
Can It possible for
love to strike twice
In a lifetime, could
It be possible to love
again when you've
won and
Can It possible
to win again and
win the heart of
another, would never replace that of your
first love
but to help
with the loss and the
pain Is It Possible
to love
Is It possible to love again after losing that of your first love can one be a winner again
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2018
strike my eyes lovely

for S. B.

by way of introduction,
when you have gone to confession,
freely admitting you have nothing left for others to harvest,
no seed to plant a new crop, and lies and laughter, interchangeable,
there is no poetry left, not even raisin scone crumbs,
one good friend informs that a forgotten five month old poem,
a computer has selected & resurrected, for distinction

so months later you snicker for you have been seriously
self-kicked away from writing, all your vocabularies,
trite and yellowed overused, and you read
really good poetry and are
slapped-seen-outed by the impoverishment of
your own no-winsome word-smithy,
no delusions, even this, but a-quick script, more a thank you note,
and it’s the only lasting quality is the
genuine nature of its intent
but the poem itself falls bottom of the cliff, short on quality,
a victim of your dissatisfaction

let me explain better

she messages you while the time difference works in her favor,
she reads while you sleep the sleep of the soul-exhausted,
she, scoffing at your claims of motivation deprivation,
as she cherishes this forgotten one,
with words that cannot be ignored

the poem

                 strikes her eyes lovely

daggered, this morning phrase cannot go unchallenged  

for this a compliment that any poet would
weep for, be inspired by, stung into action,
provoked, ego flattered and challenged to-do more-better,
what writer could want for anything more!

who can own this ability  
accept this ultimatum of success, a cross-word crucification

to strike down lovely
the readers eyes, almost all once,
almost excuses me forever
for trying and failing so many times

you smile
but not in the chest where
needs to strike you

for if you cannot strike the readers eyes again and again, then...
let the moment gleam, and then disappear,
again and again, stored but not restorative

Seanathon Nov 2018
A lance is such a different thing
In a different age
Perceived by those who turn and ride off, away
But best?
What is the best way in modern day?
To avenge unrest, to strike and sway
In a time when the world throws words away
Catch truth and cradle it in trust
Till the strike rings true
Till the passive armor falls and is stripped away
Rui Rosa Nov 2018
There are those who wear masks to hide,
Those who wear masks to show us what they stand for,
to inspire,
to unite,
to define,
to strike fear,
There are those who wear masks to protect themselves.
And there are those who wear masks to protect us all.
Which mask you wear?
Brynn S Nov 2018
Blood has risin
Fallen under the demise of gluttony
Throats shutter in a flourished gleam
Spilling out their smokes; the evil stream
With closed eyes the horizon did strike
I was the one who favored spite
Invisible to eyes the mind grew thin
Wearing down from the mask of sin
Oh sweet child have you strayed so far?
In the final moment did I become a star
Ripples of triumph
I have fought death
Swimming towards light
For one last breath
Decrepit old sun burnt out and cold
Heart wondered beat less
Fortune favored the bold
Leah R Oct 2018
longing in my chest
aching at the thought of you, come to me. I
need to be held,
touched, felt.
understood by you.
appreciated as I am.

the small of my back, my wrist, my neck, all of
my flesh is yours (for the taking)
my nails in your side, you nuzzle my hair as
I breathe you in
your feeling lingers on me for hours.
run and hide from me before
I give you all of myself.

what I can become is limitless,
for you give me what I need
to grow. reaching towards possibilities
borne of darkness. we lie in wait
for the time to strike
soon. before you know it
"the time is now."
Mary Frances Sep 2018
I am afraid.
Afraid that the lightning
will strike me;
that I couldn't bear to listen
to its thunder.
Afraid that no matter how hard
I try to protect myself,
I'll still end up hurting.
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