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SøułSurvivør Aug 2024
A million people drinking
Their lemon-flavored tea
A billion bottles floating
Upon a poisoned sea

Within each bottle there's a note
To peeps who find the plastic shell
It's just a slip of paper
From the manufacturer from hell.

The water pipes in old Detroit
Are poisoning kids dead
Because the linings have worn off
And underneath was lead

Pollution will run red as blood
The sun as black as coal
While the fat cats who caused it
Relax on sandy shoals.

How can we prevent this?
Is Recycling the way?
Hasn't helped much that I see

I prefer to PRAY.


SoulSurvivor
November 2021
V
Brett Jun 2021
How do we spend the days of our lives? What slice of the pie do we leave,
for our parents eyes? Add the time spent driving,
going to and from. Divide that up and, you get
about three hours every six months with the ones you love.
Imagine that.
                Life’s a laugh track
Like a re-run sitcom that will never get its air back.
That’s why I spin in circles at the square dance.
If the water is wet,
Then I am diving headfirst and swimming laps.
Rivers turn to roads and,
there ain’t no coming back. I slip out a straw and,
Sip the sun.
Inhale and expand my lungs until I float above,
The streets. Here lies the stoop kid,
Who became a balloon on the breeze.
How much time do you spend with the ones you love. Cut off the fat and truly add it up. How many minutes wasted on the faceless. If like is what you make it, I am building a bridge to ensure I can always get to you.
Jme Love Jun 2021
Some say the mind is a terrible thing to waste.
But being stuck in my head....
Well....
I hate this place.
We all do it from time to time. Something so crazy about the mind.
Raven Feels Jun 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, listen to you when you speak or scream ;not me who said that:)

I wonder I ponder freedom bright
if what people read upon my sights

do they feel me in the ravens
because when I view others' dimes its a haven

even not poems on stones
novels have their power to sensate my bones

sour attachments I prize I pave
something to my heart to a  sweetest cinnamon save


                                                                                   ------ravenfeels
Leone Lamp May 2021
I was up to my shoulders
Down in the hole
uncovering waste pipes
Outside your home

I said please don't flush!
Stop up all your drains
I told you I'd know
I thought you were sane

The pipe was wide open
Some water came down
A few little turds
And some paper came round

I asked you twice more
One time per occurrence
Each time it was gross
But I got your assurance

We got the job done
But it sure was a ******
The moral of this poem:
Don't **** on your plumber!
Seriously though.

~05/14/2021
Raven Feels Apr 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, my heart aches for the wounds:\


is it when a matter is in the faults???

the puts of the words and the spits of the secrets

moon I swore the hells to I would never say loud

it's like the repressed in her

in her stashes

her hidden ashes dancing in the rests

fearing of the miss

of the outs of the mists

too much of bliss or not

deprivation an official ****

when my chest aches

blessed with the silence

cursed with those disgusting chaos of a waste

transforms to the addicting

an incredulous taste

menaced to me on her fazes she spills

psychotic on the egos what is this???

drown me in an ocean of misery

won't matter as much of the mockery


                                                       ­                       ------ravenfeels
Raven Feels Apr 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, don't rush into things:\


waste before you taste

I refuse to believe the understands of this maze

or maybe I do in an unhealthy tunnel I pace

plastered on my thumb

can't hide can't delete

abandoning the louds from above even the beats

of my heart not the need

of the rhythm that I feed

of the sorrow that I plead


                                                                               --------ravenfeels
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