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Ken Pepiton Jul 28
Why factors

Why do the hopeless die?
Factors the programing called for,
quired first,
ere ever
were required.
(re, once more, locked in place after first.)

Why called for
why do what you can't do alone

Never heard, is a discouraging word
on the range

where home was. Why not?

Nobody who came this far, carried that dis-crap
in our corazone
past Sisyphus, laughing at gravity,
and our struggle to face
eternity as mortal
hopers for more.

Discouraged folk die out here,
beyond the effect of discouraging words,
on uncloudy days, developing
negatives from
imaginations linked in to blurry, tearstained

Look here.
Yes, t'day, in tight bundles of hows,
tied with memory string,
bound to be better
stood up under by

why factors helping you along.
Reason is

your heart is a phor of the amphora ilk,
round, pointed bottom meant to
easily and snuggly fit,

into a square slot on the inner hull
of the ship, below deck.

If the amphora is emptied of any earthly spoilage,
scrubbed and cleaned by the fuller apprentice,

songs come to fill it, virtually,
to over flowing,
trauma drama on an oceanic scale Himalaya high

time goes
logical and we are other wise,
absorbed in being able,
as our voice crys out to cain, it's okeh.

This ain't hell,
it's now.
Live or die.
The last trauma drama bit wase only the tail on this.
Zizile Tantsi Jun 13
I had a dream last night, one where I was whisked away in the arms of a love.
A love so pure even angels envy it, Sweet like honey,
dripping from the top of my head, capturing the essence of my soul,
in doing so, moulding me and gently teaching me how to feel
A love that completes me and makes me whole. Listen, I dreamt of a love
An unconventional, but familiar kind of love.
One that doesn’t need to conform to what’s supposedly normal
But a carefree kind of love that is not subjected to rules but governed by free will, the will to love.
One that gives me hope and rids me of my burdens and in turn gives me peace and blissful happiness.
A love whose mandate is complete and utter contentment.
An unfamiliar yet pleasant warm feeling, I must confess.
But as the sun wakes to caress my skin in the morning, I slowly realise that it was just a dream, mere expansions of my deepest desires, longing to be fulfilled.
SilverSpoon Oct 2015
We are absinthe-soaked days.

We are mountain dew-drenched *******
And grass-stained t-shirts.

We pull spindly, spidery veins from the palms of our hands.
We let the cuts of the world kiss our lemon juice lips.

We flip off the moon
And say ******* to the skies.

We devour mermaids by night.
Leila Valencia Jun 2015
The mountain clearness
Isn't going to shift the mountain's vagueness
The steering eyes cant dip into another cloud
And we cant walk out again on their lives
A bitten howl has struck another chord in humanity
Freedom is the security that creates insanity
The Fickle hearts that smear threats on the infants hands
I believe in humanity
I don't believe in a single human

I wish for a night that the mountain's grip can hold us over
I shrink into a flower to be plucked because I am afraid
I think blood is an excuse for violence and violene is an excuse for war
We don't look in our eyes to find light
We turn the night into a fire under cars
Beeping. Burning. Bursting. Buzzing. Blasting

Fear and terror thickens the lump in my throat and cuts a circle from my organs
It is scary to think we are just humans, the same humans capable of the exctition of ourselves.

I wish to all of those out there. In fear. I will help.
I will do all that I can.
These are not just words. This is a promise.
Im dedicating my life to help others.
Tara Marie Dec 2014
Although I haven't witnessed
Darfur's eyes run red.
Rivers full of skeletons,
and bodies torn and bled.

I've read about the pigment
of fearful hearts so lost.
A dreaded world within a world;
there are no lines to cross.

Money paid for power.
Power, bodies, bills.
The Janjaweed at noon,
are cleansing for their drills.

Washing down stern orders
with blood on unclean hands.
Babies and their mothers
decomposing in sand.

Weapons worn like diamonds.
Lust and **** colliding.
Torture becomes normalcy.
Living only hiding.

So long as Omar al-Bashir
sees families as roaches,
death is understated.
In greed, he people-poaches.

Pity is for damsels
parading in a tide
of much needed attention
with ego on the side.

To you, my friend
who listens, but fails to comprehend:
Those who live for nothing
are nothing in the end,

I ask you, pray for Sudanese
fed horrors for their lunch,
their bones becoming rubble,
under tires they will crunch.
Darfur, Sudan is an authoritarian state run under the rule of Omar al-Bashir. Not only is the political makeup a ***** dictatorship, but ethnic cleansing is normalcy. The United Nations is a trusted alliance that constantly excepts donations and aid. Follow the link for more information..;=31208&;=EA6A14&gclid;=CNLaqozApcICFc1_MgodoigAqg&gclsrc;=aw.ds

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