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Emily Mitchell Mar 2020
Our beautiful world
Voices her wrath through thunder
Clouded eyes rain tears.
I think I started this one around June last year but I finally finished it today...
It's fun to personify the world but the truth is in it's great mysterious vastness it really feels no emotions... not How We Do ...nor is it a single entity really ...from the way I look at it...it is an impossibly complex woven web full of all the life that it contains and supports.. or like a harp where each strand sings its own song whether it's heard or not whether it's appreciated or not independently all notes come together into a song... it's up to us, the ones who can feel and think, to make sure that our threads are not irreparably Tangled with the ones around us or the notes of the song are not discordant to the rest... then maybe our unseen weaver / conductor will smile and sigh in contentment...
Cable Mar 2020
Listen
Can you hear it?
Through the calloced,
Burned eyes
Of the carcass.
The flame
Thrown unto them
Like a ball.
Caught
With deadly force,
They fall.
Cooked
On the earths grill
Of hot ground,
And plants
Light up
Like burners.
The melting tears
Of a childhood home
Kills their history.
No mark left
To signify they lived,
Even for a moment,
On this planet.

Can you hear it?
The dogs screaming bark,
The crackling cackle
Of a fire ruthless?
Burning anything it touches
Including itself.
As it’s a destroyer,
It’s dug it’s own grave.
Just as any carnivore,
Or herbivore
Takes life just to die.
Just as plants
Take nutrients
From the dead,
So they die.
It’s all a cycle
Of death and decay,
The melting eyes
Bring sight
To the living.
We take knowledge
From the minds
Of the old,
They pass
For the sake
Of your mind.

We bleed on the inside,
Our heart gives us this,
A blood flow
That’s so beautiful from the outside,
But so necessary inside.
Our heart kills itself,
Bleeds out,
For us.
So one must question,
How much have I destroyed,
How much have I taken?
Do I deserve this,
When all I’ve done
Is taken form others lives?
The answer depends,
On how you’re spending
Your life,
Have you used it in honor
Of those you’ve taken
Life from?
Or have you slain
And brutalized.
Given pain
For your own dishonor?
Martyred yourself,
For the world
Is too much for you
To bear.
Remember those who care,
Remember the life you can give
If only you try to.

Be careful what you give
To the world,
For it will come back to you.

With a heart of vengeance,
Wrath
This poem is very fiery, enjoy.
anya Mar 2020
it has been a theatrical performance
a greek tragedy, one might say.
everynight i celebrate
praying to dionysus
and resting in his temple
drinking the fruit of pleasure.
i’ve been drowning myself with anger,
aphrodite is not on my side
didn’t get her blessing at all
it has been so awful
my life could be as compliated as the iliad
i harvest from hegemone’s plants
the leaf that makes me at ease,
a form of running away slowly.
the story of my tragedy
will be engraved in all of your memories
soon enough i will be in hades’ realm
perhaps grow some flowers,
with persephone blooming them easily.
but in this life,
the life that imitates an art form
in the form of a tragedy, a theatrical one
will be remembered
as a great performance, by me,
and myself only.
—poems i wrote on my notes; 3rd of October 2019
L Feb 2020
My creature– My creature can only be from the Wood, from the lake in the heart of it. He must be the ember in the cabin dying by fire, he must emerge from it; and his eye must be red with passion, burning in wrath.
Indeed, my babe can only have the eye of the Wrathful Lamb.
He can only be blade. Tongue wet with Passion.
Heavy with divinity. God-defying. Nothing less. Nothing less.
Daisy Ashcroft Feb 2020
He tilts his head
To the girl walking past.
She diverts her eyes, she is smooth and fast.

His lips turn down
He takes a glance at the floor
And when he looks up, he is human no more.

In a second, he transforms
Hurt man to seething beast.
His minds are raging storms
And his hate is ready for release.

It takes only a suspicious look
Or a slight misstep
And his wrath is unhooked.

You ought to watch out, girl
For he'll get you, too.
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