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#winners
Life in the clouds drops like rain Light cuts darkness Love cancels pain humanity born humane .
0
Jan 27
Jan 27, 2026 at 2:49 AM UTC
Pain
Do the fates know which way it goes? In many ways fates is a foe Those ****** goddesses know They pick the winners And the losers And those they hold in limbo Everything is predestined In a particular way To what unfolds day-to-day Fighting fate will do no good Because everything turns out as it should
0
Jan 29, 2024
Jan 29, 2024 at 1:23 PM UTC
Fates
Place your bets, you’re just in time for the game, the fix is in. What a thrill. Is it a crime to cash in? The winners do, and that could be you. You’ll be a witness, as wise guys smoothly step in - it’s basic greed - and never a sin, as long as they win. Mr slick ricky, you’ve got to be bold to win gold - winners never just fold - betting never gets old. The winners will add your few spare bucks to their *** - let’s admit, all that you’ve got - isn’t a lot - it won’t fuel a yacht. Place your bets, you’re in the front row all the time, don’t be lame, be part of the game, the greasy bigtime.
0
Jan 26, 2023
Jan 26, 2023 at 12:09 PM UTC
game on
To win every argument Kindles feelings of triumph Delight in obtaining a small victory Thrills over getting the better Of a friend, acquaintance or fellow-being There is a warmth of self-satisfaction Fueling persistence To be correct Regardless of fact or fiction Simple daily discussions become Debates, disputes and sparring That must have only one outcome You prevail! There must be a winner And it must be YOU
0
Dec 11, 2020
Dec 11, 2020 at 11:32 AM UTC
Game, Set, Match
I don't want to win I want to live In a world where winning doesn't matter What is this competition That I did not sign up for? I don't want to win I want to live In a world where winning doesn't matter
0
Oct 30, 2020
Oct 30, 2020 at 9:17 AM UTC
Winners & Losers
my life is like a stopwatch just tallying up the time i choose the downward spiral over that vertical climb i tried to go the mile to keep up with my kind i lasted just a while then i fell behind when my descent is final who knows what i might find maybe the top is topnotch but the bottom is all mine
0
Jul 4, 2020
Jul 4, 2020 at 9:40 AM UTC
top notch
We don't all have a choice A selective voice Some get what they get No being upset They are the losers Others are choosers They pay to play And have it their way They will always win With another spin We all have to learn That an extra turn Will put you on top No matter how much You want the ball to stop
0
Feb 6, 2020
Feb 6, 2020 at 7:26 AM UTC
Roulette Wheel Of Life
There are two kinds of people Sharks and sheep Sharks are winners They never look back Because they have no necks Necks are for sheep
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Dec 4, 2019
Dec 4, 2019 at 4:48 AM UTC
Necks
So I've been going this way or that, "Searching for someone with the answers," All my life I've simply been searching for a Simple path, of trails that can lead you to realistic love, Beggars can't be choosers, winners won't be losers, We're all here for the same reasons, under the same sun, Different homes-with different worlds we come from. So we're all human beings, a great big human race, A family of love that keeps building walls And finding wars that just pop up From out of the dark for someone's Fear or another person's hate. I've given in to temptation by your ideals, Sure!  Given the moment I'd try my fate With lady luck! My only question isn't where did this all Come from, but instead-how does it all add up?
0
Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 6:53 PM UTC
Going Places
I began this evening wordily armed rhythm and rhyme controlled but as I've passed one moment too the next what once was hot now cold Lost the ground no way profound tumbling from my mind not published and/or a sound nothing remembered and/or signed History written upon the page winner's words deep, unsound passed too another age the loser's underground nothing left, but rage The books remember only words champion's have said not all the lines or phrases lost from thoughts and prose given up for dead
0
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 9:45 PM UTC
Historically incorrect
Come on, darling, let's get old together, let's braid ourselves a wreath from shy flowers, for just next to each other we could be winners, to the destiny, we are now indebted to. For thousands of hours. Let's never be lame with our feelings, let's gather them into a fine globe of crystal, let's live now to the fullest our grand moments, let's raise our love on the proud pedestal. Let's resist the bad and ugly weather of life, by painting the walls in a magical arch of the rainbow, for your cheeks to be coloured by love, as my wife, to our eyes, the passion has to give it a glow. Come on, honey, let's hold each other tight, let's cancel the bad and censored emotions, let's not pant in the slime of regrets, but fight the destiny and just breathe slowly our youth. And live our kind of truth. Let's not pretend that everything is by the chance, for I know that we have not been randomly chosen, let's set up bridges of clear thoughts by our dance, it's the only way we can cross the past's ruins. Let's leave it frozen.
0
Nov 30, 2018
Nov 30, 2018 at 2:34 PM UTC
LET'S BE WINNERS
Beggers cant be Choosers, Winners won't be Losers, Early birds can't be Snoozers, Dont'ers won't be Do'ers, More or Less but jus not Fewer, Ugly is ugly.. It won't get Cuter.. If it's Old, it ain't getting Newer, Roses are red & Violets are Blue'er, If you give them an Inch..they will take the whole Ruler This world is Cold And just getting Crueler .
0
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 5:04 AM UTC
Er, es, and er's
The Luna moth is “born” without a mouth. Because of this, the moth lives only one week. It’s sole purpose is to find a mate and reproduce. Now, some see this as a beautiful love story. A heroic, single minded search for “the one.” Yet, couldn’t it more accurately be described as a frantic race against death fought by a starving creature unable to vocalize, to speak, or to eat only to fulfill some poorly understood animalistic urge? Where is the beauty in that? Is it still there? ... yes... Truly this insignificant creature can then be a representation of the live of countless lost souls who cannot seem to speak or nourish themselves. For aren’t all souls, in some way, malnourished mutes? Simply wishing to connect, To share, To be whole. And, just as with souls, do all Luna moths succeed in their mission? No. But the beauty is not in success, it’s in the often futile fight against insurmountable odds, Fatally flawed design, And the grim reaper itself... time. So take flight and soar. Continue the futile battle. Make greatness out of the struggle. And maybe, just possibly With enough persistence, Skill, And luck You could be one of the few that reach their goals. However, chances are you are like me... One of the countless souls that failed. Continue we shall, for if we don’t, our lives are utterly meaningless. For even if we never reach the summit, we still try. We become inspiration for the others, some of which succeed. So in a very real way, we can achieve some level of glory through them. We are the foundation. The ground on which the broad shouldered giants stand. The ground that nourishes the the flora which feeds the grubs whom become Luna moths. Who will take our place and ... occasionally... succeed.
0
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 9:37 PM UTC
Bedrock
The Luna moth is “born” without a mouth. Because of this, the moth lives only one week. It’s sole purpose is to find a mate and reproduce. Now, some see this as a beautiful love story. A heroic, single minded search for “the one.” Yet, couldn’t it more accurately be described as a frantic race against death fought by a starving creature unable to vocalize, to speak, or to eat only to fulfill some poorly understood animalistic urge? Where is the beauty in that? Is it still there? ... yes... Truly this insignificant creature can then be a representation of the live of countless lost souls who cannot seem to speak or nourish themselves. For aren’t all souls, in some way, malnourished mutes? Simply wishing to connect, To share, To be whole. And, just as with souls, do all Luna moths succeed in their mission? No. But the beauty is not in success, it’s in the often futile fight against insurmountable odds, Fatally flawed design, And the grim reaper itself... time. So take flight and soar. Continue the futile battle. Make greatness out of the struggle. And maybe, just possibly With enough persistence, Skill, And luck You could be one of the few that reach their goals. However, chances are you are like me... One of the countless souls that failed. Continue we shall, for if we don’t, our lives are utterly meaningless. For even if we never reach the summit, we still try. We become inspiration for the others, some of which succeed. So in a very real way, we can achieve some level of glory through them. We are the foundation. The ground on which the broad shouldered giants stand. The ground that nourishes the the flora which feeds the grubs whom become Luna moths. Who will take our place and ... occasionally... succeed.
Continue reading...
38
Tell me again Brave Kate the battles we made it through Tell me more, and keep the score comrades and loves, we bid, adieu Tell me again Brave Kate our scars, proof of bitter tales We survived our many fates as always, strength of will, prevails Tell me yet again sweet Kate when all the conflicts, fought and won Will there ever come a day no dire clouds, and simply, sun
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Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 2:42 PM UTC
Brave Kate
The UK General Election has run its course. A “win” for the Conservative Tories With most votes and seats Though they lost their parliamentary Majority, And can only govern By doing a deal with the Northern Irish DUP Who oppose the rights of gays and women And want to bring back hanging. Yet Labour too are celebrating a win: Halving the gap between the Tories and themselves And winning loads of votes and seats. OK they finished fifty odd seats behind, But hey! And then the Libdems “won” four more seats. Plus The Greens held Brighton by a merry mile. The Scottish Nationalists still got thirty five seats, In spite of Nicola Sturgeon calling for Another referendum on independence. Sinn Fein in Northern Ireland got more seats too. And the Welsh limited their damage by Labour. “Winners” all, except for UKIP. That’s politics. Until the next election. Which might be fairly soon. Paul Butters
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Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 5:48 AM UTC
Winners
Tripping at the line, faltering at the goal missing the last time, blocked, by the pole Triumph but a un-missed fate, a faltering of faith loss of proffered bate, an interfering wraith The agony and ecstasy, we know from start to end winning so god **** heavenly, and to the victors, lend Spin me a song, my minstrel Make it sweet, and smart Remind me that the winning is not, the greatest part
0
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 8:54 AM UTC
Thats what the losers, always say
You’re eyes are black and white They make me think you have an old soul They remind me of classic films, Of the dusty keys on our piano Different races but no winner from competition. I wonder What these sunglasses will do for you
0
Dec 21, 2016
Dec 21, 2016 at 1:08 AM UTC
Shades
A trophy doesn't designate A winner Anymore than swearing denotes A sinner. Think Attitude, Not Platitude, And Wear a ribbon.
0
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 8:36 AM UTC
Just Wear a Ribbon
You keep shaking at the branches just like money grows on trees. I been dealing in these cheap clichés just like they'll help me leave someday. And--easy! Easy! Easy.-- We can't let 'em hear us scheming at the bottom of their hill while their victories are streaming. I can still remember days when sane folks always laid bets on us. With our mortarboards tilted all smart and God left sorting filters, we tilted, tipped all windmills and we smoked through all opponents. You'll tell me I once loved you. I'll reply that, once, I could. And we'll keep on telling stories 'til our voices clear the woods and drift on up their hill and through their windows to their ears. I'll tell you you were beautiful. You were! I ******* swear! So tell me I was beautiful and that we can repair this broken clumsy story that ****** us all up and brought us here. Up there atop their hill, those thieving ******** sip their wine, while below them, our white facepaint runs. We plan ahead for better times. I keep shaking at the branches as if friendship grows on trees. Just as though they might accept me, when the dollars fall with Autumn leaves. And you been dealing hard in hollow hopes and flimsy dreams. But I still think you're beautiful. So tell me that I'm beautiful. And then let's clip their flimsy wings. Those ************* 'crost the town are eating **** and grinning.                Cackling,                orgasming, while counting out their winnings. But their music plays too loud and soon their eardrums will be bleeding. If they can't hear us breathing, babe, they'll never hear us scheming.
0
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 12:11 PM UTC
Origin Stories
You keep shaking at the branches just like money grows on trees. I been dealing in these cheap clichés just like they'll help me leave someday. And--easy! Easy! Easy.-- We can't let 'em hear us scheming at the bottom of their hill while their victories are streaming. I can still remember days when sane folks always laid bets on us. With our mortarboards tilted all smart and God left sorting filters, we tilted, tipped all windmills and we smoked through all opponents. You'll tell me I once loved you. I'll reply that, once, I could. And we'll keep on telling stories 'til our voices clear the woods and drift on up their hill and through their windows to their ears. I'll tell you you were beautiful. You were! I ******* swear! So tell me I was beautiful and that we can repair this broken clumsy story that ****** us all up and brought us here. Up there atop their hill, those thieving ******** sip their wine, while below them, our white facepaint runs. We plan ahead for better times. I keep shaking at the branches as if friendship grows on trees. Just as though they might accept me, when the dollars fall with Autumn leaves. And you been dealing hard in hollow hopes and flimsy dreams. But I still think you're beautiful. So tell me that I'm beautiful. And then let's clip their flimsy wings. Those ************* 'crost the town are eating **** and grinning.                Cackling,                orgasming, while counting out their winnings. But their music plays too loud and soon their eardrums will be bleeding. If they can't hear us breathing, babe, they'll never hear us scheming.
Continue reading...
49
History is written by winners Their story's the one that is told The loser's are like dust in a zephyr Blown away by the wind and the cold A battle is waged on a hillside The armies are dressed in chain mail One side is left battered and dying So...which side will write down the tale? A submarine sinks in the channel It's just off the Dover coast shore No one survives but the story of sailors we'll here from no more Villages destroyed by a virus It spreads through the town really quick You know that the story gets written By the survivors who didn't get sick Pompeii was wiped out, that's a given A volcano did wipe out the town The people were burned to a cinder So who writes, when there's no one around? In the movies the cowboys and Injuns All fight for control of the fort Do the Indians spread tales of their losses Do they write it all down just for sport? As years changed the stories came forward Of the armies and people who died They were defending their loved ones and country It's too bad they were on the wrong side. As time lumbered on to the future The winners were not just the ones Who told what had happened that day They were not just the ones with the guns Bystanders came and told what they saw This would change how stories were told There was now a new player with stories to tell And the winners did not look so bold Things now were written that no one did know Of the other sides battle attempts They were not heroes or winners but, losers no more For these writings now made them exempt They spoke of their battles, their loyalty, grit To stand strong and fight for their lives Even though it was futile, they still thought they would win Thinking only of children and wives Now history is written as quick as it comes Television has surely changed that You can watch things at home on your big screen tv And you can feel like you're where things are at. Deception is gone and the truth now is told In seconds, not years like before You see things as they happen, and the final result May shake your soul to your core. So....now History is written by winners and by losers as well just the same And no matter, whatever the story You now know all players by name. Regardless of whatever the story Be it ****** or sports,  games or war We can now see just how each one has ended And their honor, and that's what life is for...
0
May 3, 2012
May 3, 2012 at 5:04 PM UTC
History Is
History is written by winners Their story's the one that is told The loser's are like dust in a zephyr Blown away by the wind and the cold A battle is waged on a hillside The armies are dressed in chain mail One side is left battered and dying So...which side will write down the tale? A submarine sinks in the channel It's just off the Dover coast shore No one survives but the story of sailors we'll here from no more Villages destroyed by a virus It spreads through the town really quick You know that the story gets written By the survivors who didn't get sick Pompeii was wiped out, that's a given A volcano did wipe out the town The people were burned to a cinder So who writes, when there's no one around? In the movies the cowboys and Injuns All fight for control of the fort Do the Indians spread tales of their losses Do they write it all down just for sport? As years changed the stories came forward Of the armies and people who died They were defending their loved ones and country It's too bad they were on the wrong side. As time lumbered on to the future The winners were not just the ones Who told what had happened that day They were not just the ones with the guns Bystanders came and told what they saw This would change how stories were told There was now a new player with stories to tell And the winners did not look so bold Things now were written that no one did know Of the other sides battle attempts They were not heroes or winners but, losers no more For these writings now made them exempt They spoke of their battles, their loyalty, grit To stand strong and fight for their lives Even though it was futile, they still thought they would win Thinking only of children and wives Now history is written as quick as it comes Television has surely changed that You can watch things at home on your big screen tv And you can feel like you're where things are at. Deception is gone and the truth now is told In seconds, not years like before You see things as they happen, and the final result May shake your soul to your core. So....now History is written by winners and by losers as well just the same And no matter, whatever the story You now know all players by name. Regardless of whatever the story Be it ****** or sports,  games or war We can now see just how each one has ended And their honor, and that's what life is for...
Continue reading...
60
Some may have stood here better than me, there were winners and losers fading history, some were so good - they brought a tear, they brought laughter, beauty to everyone here. I've tried to keep up, tried to go beyond, amazing what comes when you wave your magic wand, stardust becomes a must - something you can trust, the result may not always be right but just. Strangely fair that you should arrive at a solution, in the beginning there was light beyond evolution; I salute my fellow writers, their determination, their bravado pursuing heights for so long. I am with you - will be forever, you know me, and one day you may achieve immortality.
0
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 1:55 PM UTC
THE OTHER PLAYERS
Ring toss, you know, where you try to get a small plastic ring to cling to the top of an empty bottle? I've won it twice. Both times, took home the biggest prize. DUI's. I've had some close calls. Passed a field sobriety test once, but maybe she was just being nice. Dice games; I've only played three times in my life. Lost a lot once, but won big twice.
0
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 3:17 AM UTC
What are the Odds?