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A B Faniki Aug 5
I say I will leaves the debate of great matter
to the great thinkers of earth-those that can
walk on water and those that walk on moon;
for their both equal to the challenge of keeping humanity
safe: from the clutches of change that make things mad,
yet when I see the state of my generation
my heart leaps into my throat,for fear of unknown.
when the debate between these thinkers get heat it makes
me sad for slender is what both will resort to.
When religion feels call upon to act for humanity sake
and the constitution feels call upon for justice for humanity
and both could not see face to face- the sentinel
should be call upon to guard peoples lives. when this
two are at each other throat again it mean- death.
© A BFaniki.8/5/2019 I have wrote this poem three days ago is part of my book Banal tell enjoy it all right reserved. The work is about the seperation of law and religion in every society . The work is in sonnet form.
Relahxe Jun 12
My soul is grief. My soul is call.
Because I am a bird picked off:
to death is doomed my wounded soul,
soul wounded by the love...
My soul is grief. My soul is call.
Tell me what are meeting and send-off?
I tell you: there are hell and woe -
and in the woe there's also love!

Mirages are close, distant - the streets.
Surprised she's smiling with the joy
of ignorance and youngster's greed,
of sultry flesh and airy ghost.
Mirages are close, distant - the streets:
when she is standing in aureoles,
she never hears who calls and grieves, -
she - flesh and airy ghost!
A translated poem by the Bulgarian symbolist poet and revolutionary Peyo Yavorov. He was inspired by two women, Mina and Laura, and he dedicated most of his works to them.
Mina was his true first love, but she died a painful death caused by tuberculosis.
Some years after Mina died he met Laura, who was a strong, jealous, and sometimes mean woman. Though married,
they were intimidated by the institution of marriage.
She died of gunshot wounds. Some say he shot her, some say it was suicide.
Yavorov attempted suicide himself but only managed to blind himself the first time. He finally succeeded in completing the job 2 years later.
Ylzm May 12
Dust, dust, infernal dust:
Mocked! Mortality mocked!
Toil, toil, burdensome toil,
procrastinator born.

I don't see, it's still clean.
I don't see, I don't care.
I don't see, just the wind.
Oh no! Now I see,
I cannot unsee, woe is me!

Dust, dust, infernal dust,
with vacuum be gone!
Toil, toil, burdensome toil,
Adam's curse, is there no escape?
alexis May 2
woe is me,
who dies so much, so often
my black, strangled of oxygen
walking with my life-rosy color.

woe is me,
who cuts the black with a knife
sometimes scraping a bit of the life
with it
a daily funeral
for the betterment of the beast.

joy is i!
who is reborn again,
without need for the womb,
and from the tomb
i do not depart.

joy is i!
who has exit from woe
a door manifested from the material
of my many deaths.

joy and woe is i!
who is living
and alive.
annh Apr 6
O, feckless dart of immeasurable delight!
Wouldst thou direct elsewhere your flight,
And refute my rival’s gentleman claim,
That he be immune to Cupid’s aim.

His smug sobriety remains intact,
His pages blithe and matter-of-fact,
Where my poor pen is inked with woe,
And ****** to hell by quiver and bow.

O, mischievous boy do grant my request!
Whether modest maid or comely *****,
His downfall ensured by one bold kiss,
Shoot low, shoot high, but do not miss.
‘“Oh, did you expect me to play fair?” Cupid laughed. “I am the god of love. I am never fair.”’
- Rick Riordan, The House of Hades
Midge Apr 3
In a place full of terror
All I can see is the darkness
Black as the raven flying in the midst of nowhere
All I want is nothing but the blinding beam of light from the sun

I hear your voice shouting my name across the mountain of shame and hatred
Where I lay stuck with my thoughts of suicide
Catastrophic wails not heard from that mountain
No one, no one is there

Can I have at least one day more
To be delightful instead of feeling distraught
To see the sunshine kissing the clouds right before the twilight
To be happy, that’s all I ask for

I am close to abandoning all hope
And entering the ****** gates of inferno
But one striking light dawned upon this destructed entity
And saved me from the ocean of despair

Until I woke from this desolation
Realizing everything was a nightmare
For life is just a cycle of bliss and woe
All you have to do is have courage and fight your deepest fears
this is another impromptu creation from my inner state of being
alisha Mar 12
though a joy, a laugh,
for lonely forms.
on grim evenings,
he craves control....

his soul threaded to countless strings
all tugged and ****** by his woeful skin
after several flawed attempts
his burdened psyche
gives a clamorous roar

for he believed
he had been, the puppeteer
Muhammad Usama Dec 2018
I sat by the window,peering into the street.
That street I had seen too many brawls in,
And had enjoyed the people celebrate,
And had seen people leave and come,
And had known those kids,who played there,
Fading into the nothingness of adulthood.
I was one of them too,perhaps.

In that tattered dress of life,
I sat by the window,
Looking into the past.
And tears came out paving my cheeks,
For a stream of unchartered emotions.
And those emitions welcoming a whole stampede,
Of memories,killing me inside out.

While by that window,
Whose glass had been blurred by the ruthlessness of time,
I hesitated to face myself.
I had regrets,too many to name any,
I had done myself wrongs,
But quite fortunately,forfeit was to be paid,
And was to be paid the next day,by myself to me!
pistachio Dec 2018
I am your hostage
You locked me up inside a rusty, quaint cage
I can't move, I am tied
My heart's in hysteria, I could have died
I can't even utter a single word
My body's numb from this tight prickly chord
I have lost, I let myself get captivated
By romantic trifles that will never be reciprocated.
But still, I don't think I can get out of that cage.
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