In our fast-paced world, many things have become easier:
   communication, information, food preparation, even study.
We have the internet, smart phones, tablets, emails,
   Google, Wikipedia, fast food, and instant coffee.

But have we ever stopped to observe just how
   things being easy make them seem more trivial, too?
For the things we’re after, we no longer know
   how to sweat, sacrifice, aspire, wait, persist, endure…

Maybe it’s made us cease to dream as well
   as everything is merely thrust upon us to take.
We have lost the values that only hard work, toiling
   and fighting through insurmountable odds can make.

And even then we never seem to have enough of what we desire,
   not enough sleep, time, knowledge, money, or power;
We find no contentment in what we already possess
   as our seconds, minutes and days are spent wanting more.

Perhaps we need to re-examine where we’re heading,
   take instruction from the numerous generations past.
That it is only that which we strive for, that which we cherish
   with all our hearts and everything we have, that can last.

Marsha A Jul 7
10W

You don't have to buy me things;
You are enough.

I don't need you to give me anything, having you is already enough for me. Yes.

Nothing to be done
Everything to imagine
A mind to unravel
Gentle hands that open the navel and feed me slices of sweet flesh
This man is gone
I cannot forgive him
For he has done nothing worthy of retribution
He hides behind the ability to block
Out of sight
Out of mind
Your height has lessened since we last met
The unspoken word, one day you will regret
Chances to resolve with a solvent and a moment worth my time
But no longer worthy of me
I give no more to the damaged soul
Nothing to be done

You will miss the screams when the world falls silent and you are truly alone.

I loved you for two years too long, now it is time to rip you from my life, despite how much it hurts. You can never relinquish this, for the gate that closes with this poem was the last door open. Goodbye, mystery man in the library, I will forever remember the blessings you bestowed upon my youth. I am alive because of you and I thank you, but now you are killing me, and it has to end.
Joshua Haines May 12

Solo, like Star Wars or women's soccer
I sit on a dirty chair with pure liquor
sealed from the rest of the world

Numb, like Linkin Park or lithium
they hold my wallet like it's a gun;
want to use it to gauge my meaning.

If you want a dollar, babe, then
you gotta work to separate
yourself from everything sane
or how else can you gain

the feelings you see on t.v.,
what E! says is reality--
because you're told that's
what matters, entirely.

Identity; conform to be something
marketable -- or, at the very least,
conventional. I want my insides
to be considered pretty, but
I'd have to hope someone
would give the effort to
cut me open and ignore the joy
that my bleeding out would bring.

She sits,
Her pencil quietly pacing along the page,
Left to right; left to right,
Pacing through her work with the consistent monotony of a swinging pendulum,
Left to right; left to right.

Her mind wanders,
Flying with the color and speed of a kite curving through the air,
Left to right; left to right,
Vividly weaving through carnivals, old romance movies and young ladies dancing,
Left to right; left to right.

She sits alone,
Her mind quietly vacationing off to a calmer place, her body sways,
Left to right; left to right,
Feeling lonely there, thinking of the oak trees outside of her window, swinging,
Left to right; left to right.

Her eyes are the color of the trees,
They twinkle and flash with the rush of the circus, and the old movies,
And the beautiful music playing its melancholic, nostalgic tune,

She is the young lady dancing, dancing through her life with love in her heart,
And even when she feels lonely, or sad, or afraid,
She needs nothing more than to remember the world's unending, growing love for her.

As she continues her work, she hums to herself,
Her mind painting pictures of indescribable beauty, matched only by that of her own,
And if she listens closely enough, she hears the whole world humming back to her, gently, across her heart,

Left to right; left to right.

Ian Woods Apr 15

if curiosity awoken
or confirmation sought
your gold becomes a token
that’s valued less than nought
seeking cash equivalents
you’ll lose the core value
defining to ambivalence
just what things means to you
asking what's the worth of this?
is a question posed by fools
remaining ignorant in bliss
my friend,
your world stays full of jewels
so leave those words unspoken
don't vocalise those thoughts
your beliefs they might get broken
your forevers get cut short.

A whisper, shhh.

If you tell gold it's worthless,
It might believe you.
But does saying that
Make it true?

Is worth defined
By what's verbalized?
If you criticize
Does worth minimize?

Words are words,
Not always true.
But gold is gold!
And you are you.
Don't weigh your worth
On what you're told.
Despite it's value
Even some dislike gold.

I see through a fractured glass
Never will I have the option to ask
What do you think?
When two lives split
So do two minds
And I'm left wondering
What do you think?
Events, they pass
Moments in time
Love never lasts
But your opinion was mine
To value and crave
An intelligent mind
So brave
Curious
Sceptical
Blind

We fell in love
I gave you lies
And in the end
You stole my eye

I'll never again know the thoughts that you conjure and it is this, my eternal punishment, that haunts me.
langlo Feb 23

Love is such a heavy word
I think it's thrown around too much..
too often, that over the years
it eventually lost its true value.

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