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Shlomo Oct 2018
Emerging economies.

What they’re emerging from I don’t know.

My guess, the depths of hell.

From the frying pan, right into the fire, or worse; a well.

A deep hole stronger than gravity, the force.

To be forever under the thumb of remorse.

A modern era of endless acts, policies and bla bla bla.

Shut up with all your platitudes.

I see what’s really going on. Aha!

You speak of sustainable development.

Nice to know that you’ve led by example.

Carried the mantle for all these years.

Centuries of ruthlessness, now veiled in sheep’s clothing.

But you won’t shut up. Because you don’t speak.

You never have. You just do.

Each day that goes by, you carry on anew.

Behind all the talk of hope, equality and more progress,

it seems the wolves are lurking.

Cooking up the next tool to subdue countless.

This time, not behind closed doors. But in plain sight.

It’s scary to imagine such spite.

Each year that goes by it becomes clearer that you never cared.

You sold guns, drugs and all kinds of war.

And each time, you kept coming back for more.

You’ve built up antibodies that ensure your survival.

But sometimes I wonder if you’re alive at all.

But what do I know?

Maybe you’re more alive than ever.

Doing what you do best but always more clever.

That not even the most stable of geniuses can evade your pressure.

A strong enough foundation that each break makes you stronger,

So strong that not even the Gremlin can take you under.  

Against this dreary background, foregrounded is nothing short of magical.

Beyond hope, prayers or a thoughtless radical.

Or maybe this is all just fake outrage.

An attempt to evade the boredom of this endless monotony and baggage.

Or maybe, the term is out of date.

Like every other, that makes me increasingly more irate.

In which case, this poem is at least ten years late.

Or maybe there are too many maybes’.

And I’m perfectly suited for this time of vague uneasiness and indifference.

In which case, my imagination probably needs more sociology and less a lesson in rhymes.
Piano backed narration @
Diana Garcia Jun 2018
If I had taken chances with all those advances we would of met under different circumstances.
But in the end where the river bends
Turns out we’re all friends

I’m sorry for being so sorry
For being weak
For watching
Too much Maury
I live in a fantasy land
I get sad
Cause my reality is ******
I want so much
Just to touch
The heart of
Of he who hasn’t
Had mine for lunch

It’s my fault
It always is
You would think by now
I would be used do this
I don’t want to ruin anything
I don’t want to get in the way of what the future could bring
I need to get out before my soul begins to cling

I’m sorry.
For being lonely
For falling, low key
I’m sorry
I’m weak
The love I receive
Is much too bleak
I’m sorry
I wish I was stronger
I should just leave
Over and yonder

My only worry is
The farther i go
My heart will grow
That much fonder

I try my best not too
All this uncertainty has me

I never felt so worried
Over an ending
Of a story
Only before ours could be read
It always already fuckind dead

Before I go
I just wanted
To let you know

I’m Sorry
If I could give away my ability to FEEL, that would be great
spacewalker Oct 2017
no rules allowed and chaos ensues
alcoholics start hitting up the *****
teens start trying on Holocaust shoes
men in black suits keep signing off on paper
no regard for woman no they just **** her
people once in power now cry in the shower
but at least they can't feel the fear on the streets today
people still fearing to be gay
people still fearing to say hey
no way
tired black suits just sign away
People people
                         they go around like pigs
                         showcasing their fancy suits
                         proclamating the biggest trend

Jewelry, then food, then them big fast automobiles

Those are the priorities by order

Getting greedy
Getting fat
Gettin' Gettin' GETTIN'
                                 In a monstruous ball of meat!
                                 With a monstruous will of plastic!
                                 Monstruously stupid!

I'm­ gettin' tired
But I'm afraid,
They are just getting started.
august 17, 2017
3:31 a.m.
Holey Nov 2016
You call me when you need me
not because you want me
you say goodbye when you want
not when it suits me

What happened to secrets?
now my life's out in the open

What happened to love?
You gave your heart to another girl
now I am stuck in the dirt
begging at your feet

Do I need to cry myself to sleep?

I will not take this pain
there is no gain
so just let me end it hear
this is my last call
Goodb.. Silence.
Why do they call them bathing suits if you're not supposed to be bathing in them?
Interesting how we coin terms in this silly world
But i guess i shouldn't call it silly due to some of the silly things we have done and i've done.
They should just keep it one term- *swimsuits
L Marie Apr 2016
You always called me your Queen
And said you would be my King
But in the end, I was just the Joker;
I suppose that makes you the Jack-***,
So please kiss my Ace goodbye.
Advait Feb 2016
In sooth,
A suit suits me not,
Nor does a suit soothe me a lot.
I am no snoot,
But it makes me feel like a brute.
After a pursuit, I did find out that
a suit is definitely not smooth;
Oh, shoot! It feels like a layer of soot,
Probably like a bag of jute
Without the color of Groot!
I shall no longer hoot about my suit
As I always scoot up to fruitful roots,
But y'see, this poem bears no fruit.
What is that you say? Season 6 is en route?
G'bye, I'm off to watch the Suits.
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