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Nigdaw Jul 2019
There is a voice that’s very clear
Talking to me on the verge of freedom
Its sound is warm and reassuring
Stating simple obvious facts
But danger lies within such sentiments
Fear and anger have no place
Like,
Walking on the cracks in the pavement.
Rafał Jan 2019
We praise the broken pictures
And hail the holy scriptures
Inhale the superstitions
Stare into shiny mirrors

No matter what your fear is
Let me guide you by appearance
As the place that we live in
Is bleakly mysterious

A mistful satisfaction
I’m shivering from the tension
All by myself I’m dancing
In futile comprehension

Does that make make you anxious?
Under the microscopic lenses
All we are is a fairly transient
Bunch of aliens, barely sentient

Is this a worthwhile desire
To seek for a world to admire?
Is this what I want
Or is my brain a liar?
So I keep up a smile
And it’s been working wonders
Whether I’m feeling content
Or I’m hiding in dark corners
Brent Kincaid Nov 2018
JESUS IS A FRIENDLY GUY

Jesus is a friendly guy.
Such a very friendly guy.
Lived two thousand years
Didn’t care for queers
And he has a painful tale
That brings us all to tears.

Jesus is a loving guy
Doesn’t even have to try;
That’s why he was born
To have his body torn
So it’s not a total loss
We get colored eggs on Easter morn.

Jesus is a groovy dude.
Don’t let this song get misconstrued
He’s god and he is man
We do everything we can
To beat and **** the fools
With anti-Jesus attitude.

Jesus was Caucasian man.
He was so much better than
Any Jewish kind of guy
That’s the reason why
The televangelists and stuff
You buy from them began.

Jesus needs your money now.
So sell your tractor and your plow.
Your preacher’s gonna show you how
To fill the check out while you bow.
You go to heaven with no doubt.
Jesus needs your money now.

Brent Kincaid
11/27/2018
It's a parody of what may be a YouTube parody song called JESUS IS MY FRIEND.
Blade Maiden Sep 2018
A naked tree in winter
my bones are always bare
I reach inside this
tree crown ribcage
pull my insides out
and press them on this page
I make a lovely composition
of red and superstition
I don't care
about how ***** it gets
I dare
you
Let me share
with you
You can do no wrong
Watch me
as I pretend it's been you
who touched these pages
all along
Haylin Aug 2018
it’s crazy how superstition works
any belief, sometimes even religion
can make you go completely bezerk

it’s 23.10hrs in the night
i’m lying here and thinking
it’s really, nearly time
ironic how I write this
for my mother always told me
it'll only come true
if you keep it a secret

but,
I just have to write this
and pray that you see it


It’s 23.11 in the depths of the night
I wish you were here.
nish Jul 2018
it’s crazy how superstition works
any belief, sometimes even religion
can make you go completely bezerk

it’s 23.10hrs in the night
i’m lying here and thinking
it’s really, nearly time
ironic how I write this
for my mother always told me
it'll only come true
if you keep it a secret


but,
I just have to write this
and pray that you see it


It’s 23.11 in the depths of the night
I wish you were here.
I always wish on 11:11 instead of the stars. Time isn’t real but the stars are there all through the night. It just feels more right to use 11:11.
I may be superstitious,
But it's a life I wouldn't trade.
Do I have a witness,
Of this cursed day?

Those glorified wishes,
Honestly seem fake.
A touch of intuition,
Has made me feel afraid.

No! Why? Did we have to say goodbye?
Please wait! Did it have to be today?
I've tried, To distract my mind.
But my brain, Won't seem to move away!

The pain makes me ambitious,
But I hope it doesn't stay.
Now my heart is in stitches,
I'm crying tears in vain.

Dignified or vicious,
Is she grim or grave?
My mind seems so twisted;
To it I've become enslaved.

No! Why? Did we have to say goodbye?
Please wait! Did it have to be today?
I've tried, To distract my mind.
But my brain, Won't seem to move away!

The cold light doesn't seem to fade.
Can't stop time and these endless days.
Despite the promises I've made,
I find my world has turned to grey.

No! Why? Did we have to say goodbye?
Please wait! Did it have to be today?
I've tried, To distract my mind.
But my brain, Won't seem to move away!
In memory of my dear beloved Sigyn.
empty seas Apr 2018
There is a story I was told
about a sickly girl who thought
in her feverish, superstitious mind
that when the last leaf on the tree outside her hospital window
fell and died
she would too

Her friend was horrified
and tried to convince her otherwise
as the doctor said
this pessimistic attitude
would **** her
and when her efforts didn’t work
the friend stood by her side
through the night and the storm
that shook the tree outside
to comfort her

However
that last leaf outside
never fell
surviving even through the worst storm
and the sickly girl
became sickly no longer

And as the friend found out
while helping the doctor
gather one of his dead patient’s things
this sickly, drunkard man who had died
she learned
he had heard the sick girl’s story
and
this stranger went out that stormy night
(even though it would guarantee his death
sooner than it would’ve been)
and painted that last leaf on
so that sick girl
would have hope

So I ask you
Are you the sickly girl?
superstitious and waiting
for your last leaf to fall
Are you the friend?
Desperately trying to give your friend hope
but being there when all is lost
Or are you the stranger
Realizing that you need to do something with your limited time
and expecting nothing in return
I don’t know who I am, though
Ankit Bhardwaj Mar 2018
I live in a nation where the cow is worshipped,
and there is no king regnant,
but it’s funny, how the cow feast on crap,
and the farmer becomes a peasant.

I live in a nation of aye men,
who say aye to a baloney,
of media which protects the cow,
but let the peasant starve slowly.

I watch daily, the television debates,
where logic is razored by bigotry,
and no talks about the peasant,
gagged into silence by the authority.

I witness a bathtub getting sensationalized
when a mid-aged celebrity died,
the debt he’d laden of the dried crop,
no rain never did the sky cry.

He later worked as an indentured laborer,
for a landlord who drinks the cow’s ****,
as a saffroned monk says it’s healthy,
way to the eternal bliss.

A student who sloganed for freedom
from the maw of poverty.
My media says he is a traitor,
and so is the entire university.

At least, let’s agree to disagree,
that is essential to a republic,
let freedom of speech not be seldom,
and never shall it cease to exist.

The peasant must die soon,
and no more shall he crouch in dread,
may someday he incarnate as a cow,
roams free on the city streets, and feast on free bread.
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