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Who invited the instigators?
I didn't,
Did you?
They don't work,
They don't write,
Unless it's a comment made out of spite.
Social medias were built to throw around blame,
If you like spreading rumors, may I suggest Facebook?
Wherever you do it,
Don't do it here,
You're one poem,
Can't be a line attacking people you've never met.
I'm sick of all the strays,
If you come here, come for art,
Come to write.
I am so sick of all the random no post accounts leaving angry untrue comments on posts, just stop you're not getting anywhere with this.
I just found out,
Hp lost a good one today.
Their account is a 404,
Page not found.
It was all good work,
Until it was all gone.
This one's for Billy, dunno what happened but I loved his work.
I can make a career out of this,
Right?
I can do this for a living,
So many people do.
I'm paranoid,
But I think it's reasonable.
I've done this for so long,
Who will I even be,
Without it?
I
Laokos Feb 23
my writing is a blunt hammer,
a white void pounding
at the keys,
breaking off little plastic
bits of life.

this room’s full of them now,
the debris of dead thoughts,
ancient relics:
dinosaur guts,
fern dust,
fossilized failures.

the sun’s clawing its way
up again,
after all this time.
what a *******.

can you wait
for morning to sink
its teeth into you?

can we
stand five feet apart
and still meet
each other’s eyes
without flinching?

can I write something
that outlives me?
sure,
that’s the easy part.

but writing something
that lives
without me?
now that’s the trick,
isn’t it?

silk canisters and
ribbons marching like fools,
a casket dressed
in bright roses—
pretty little things
for the spigot,
the *****,
the inevitable hole.

wait another year.
or ten.
or twenty.
hell,
spend your whole life
waiting.

go ahead.
see where that gets you.

it doesn’t come.
it never does.
not like that.
never.

stop waiting
for:
someone,
something,
some sign,
some break,
some moment
to crack open
like an egg.

stop praying for it.
stop hoping.
stop wishing.
stop.

the work,
that’s all there is.

live for it.
breathe for it.
burn for it.
die for it.

if you have to believe
in something,
believe in that.

I don’t know
what that thing is for you,
but you do.
and if you don’t,
then maybe it’s time
to stop,

and ask—
what the hell’s stopping you?
I starve myself of sustenance,
I work better hungry.
I refuse any drink,
Thirst is what drives me.
Without my drive,
I have no purpose.
Without purpose,
I am just as good as any stray stone.

I stay hungry,
I achieve,
But if I stop to eat,
I satisfy,
Then my work halts,
At a point of content.
I'm no where near as good as I could be,
So I'll keep pushing.
A hungry person works twice as hard for food.
Saman Badam Feb 16
It's winter time and I am frozen still,
Like meat in fridge, my body heeds me not,
With will like crushed and salted ice, oft lull,
And face like cracked berg with drying snot.

But, I've to drag myself to work and earn,
To keep the meat in fridge and heater on.
And only want to curl in cold like fern,
While envy each and every snail at dawn.

It's summer time and I am leaking sweat,
And smell like egg gone bad left out too long.
While craving indoor cooler, filled and set,
A drink in hand and toasting bygone songs.

But I've to drag myself to trim the lawn,
In summer sun that cures and dries like speck,
To show the worn and hidden cobble-stone.
And forget scarf and hat, so burn my neck.

It's autumn and I am sneezing again,
And strong enough to dust our attic clean,
Enjoy a cup of apple cider glen,
And sleep on couch while facing down in jeans.

But, I've to drag myself to rake the leaves,
With no respect for me to fall at once,
And slowly one by one a dance it weaves,
While wriggling branches at me like I'm a dunce.

It's springtime, I am splattered full of mud,
While inside stuck because of vernal rains,
And want to walk the outside blooming world,
While smelling daises near the creeping vines.

But, I've to drag myself to clean the porch,
As all the boots from outside track in sludge,
Against the many insects, stand the watch,
And soak and rub the stains as they won't budge.

And want to roll and make the angels snow,
And want to **** the mango flesh from seed.
And climb the golden tress so girls could wow!
And run through ankle deep of grass and ****.

But I've to drag myself to shovel yard,
But I've to drag myself to clean the pool,
But I've to drag myself to paint the wood,
But I've to drag myself to oil my tools.

Another year has come and gone again,
While want to do so much in little breath,
And want to change my ways to freedom gain,
To hide my craggy, jagged edge in sheath.
m Feb 15
in dishes made for food
in cups made to drink
***** hands will hold them up to block the sun

like people forced to work
to soften clanks against their plate

a stair rail forced to break
sits kindly beside it’s well
exactly almost where it’s meant to be

like mom starts her shift
beneath her wheels will turn
and turn and turn

a worn down walking cane
pushed through door handles
assigned to keep it shut against the wind

a woman limps across
with all her weight she leans
between the handles, against the creaking crane
exactly almost where it’s meant to be

like when i go to work
the pull of chatting with a friend
you feel the forming group
exactly almost where i’m meant to be
exactly almost
exactly almost where I’m meant to be
Sudzedrebel Feb 13
Are you a good person?
Are you good men?
Are you good women?

Are you a mature adult?

Because only a child
Believes bedtime stories & fairytales.
Go to sleep!

I get it,
You'd rather a fantasy
Outside of reality.
Get to work!

Things still haven't fallen in place,
You feel out-of-step;
You're crawling
And you feel you should at least
Be walking.
Wake back up!

It's *******, I know,
I hear you.
But, here among us,
This is our daily regiment
And the butter of our sustenance.
Eat your oats!

I hear you, I get it,
It's a lot to swallow.
Get it down or choke!
Bedtime stories like the glories of battle & the honor in war.
m Feb 12
the office sits still  
the tremble of it's hands  
the glitch of days within

i walk down some hall  
and a man passes me by with a mop and bucket
i feel the water lick my leg, i feel the grip of hands on it's handle  
though it stays where it is

someone drills an unreadable sign to the wall and i feel the screws dig to my bones  
though they stay where they are placed

i walk through my office door  
they're dismantling my computer  
a piece within it cracks  
and i fall to the floor  
a tool
Gravedigger, gravedigger,
Why do you spend you evenings,
Dredging in the yard?

Gravedigger, gravedigger,
Does this break your heart,
That nobody else wanted to do the ***** work,
So they left you to shovel through the mud?
I might've used up my inspiration yesterday.
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