Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Sign out
End it all
Finish that last level

Complete your purpose
Finish your  task
End it  all

Final push
Last effort
Used to capacity

Why dont you just call me disposable
The man  said to himself
I watch the waves
Crashing down below
I see the lighthouse
Lighting up the snow

I watch the sunset
Slipping out of sight
Silhouettes before me
Boats drift into the night

I watch the stars intently
As colour fills my eyes
Tears released by beauty
By natures own surprise
Can you feel the hate
It's storming our gates
Picking up a gun is easier to do
Than seeing another's point of view

A rational mind
Is getting harder to find
Hate is everywhere we look
Can't you see what all it's took

Our children are afraid to go to school
Where hatred is now the Golden rule Bullied and battered
Kid's pick up guns and make things splatter

No where is safe, not the movies,  night clubs, or malls
We are left with the consequences,  and do nothing more than bawl
People are trying to fight hate with hate
Isn't that just great

Can no one see the writing on the wall
Love is the only way to stop this squall
Stupidity and hatred will be our downfall
As we look upon our fellow humans laying in that death sprawl

All we do is cry and wail
Thinking the ship has already set sail
But we can turn it all around,  if we only listen to the call
When will people realize, love is truly the answer after all
She hangs on by a thread
Becoming old and tattered
Knowing soon it will break
Unknowing what will happen after
All her dignity her grace
Wrapped into this thread that's worn
Her strength and fortitude
Teetering on the edge
Fingers numb and bloodied
As tight as she has wound it
Just hanging on for sanity
Pain letting her know she is alive
She wants to say enough
Just let go
But her will is stronger
than this thread that binds
The thread will not break...
Sweeter than the song of a nightingale 
Gentler than the whisper of a spring wind
Quieter than the murmur of  summer  grass 
Softer than the symphony of hyacinths 

Hypnotic like the splash of blue seas
Tinkling like a stream that flows 
Mesmerizing like the cadence of rain 
Enchanting like the hush  of snow 

Like the faint breath of a scarlet dawn 
The rustle of clouds on a turquoise high 
A duet of  night and an ivory moon
A Capella of  stars in the sky

A hymn, a chant, a choir of angels 
Singing  on a rainbow of time 
Celestial is the serenade of love  
A tune and a note divine.
************
Thank you for your wonderful responses and I am so happy this poem was selected today. Means a lot to me... :)
Constantly dreaming. Yet, my body continues working like a machine, keep the pistons steaming and clean.

One day we will awaken to the reality of it all, and take one giant leap for mankind, yet still so small.

When will we learn that our minds are the true source of work, not the hours of constantly bending and scooping filthy pounds of dirt.

While necessary and a dream to some, working for them ignores the membership to the new Country Club, but a fight for chances to escape hell, their homes, the slum.

We take for granted how easy we have it, sitting behind our constantly evolving superficial habit, chasing pre-determined dreams so we will Just Do It, even if we must illegally grab it.

I hope for a day when work aiding the greedy is no longer, and we can finally concentrate on the true goal of developing our world and mind together.

Without the ****** conflicts, what will slimy men above do? They will shake at night in their beds, worried to death that their defeat is in the population's collective heads

Knowledge is power, and power in this century is undefined; materialistic riches lose their value quickly when you can create things with your mind.

Open the floodgates to creativity, and finally use the power of connectivity. We must step up, and stand together, when we begin developing the future for our new century.
 Jun 2016 Tatiana Lasky
abs
6/21/16
 Jun 2016 Tatiana Lasky
abs
**** your flowery words
they, just like you,
don't mean ****.
i am a mere word of this page
and you are the phrases i admire most that i can't have.
at least give me a proof of sentence,
that i am still part of your paragraph.
i've never thought that this boundless sea of whiteness
can be so lonesome.
the large gap between us and other words,
feels like the vastness of the ocean,
drowning me in and out of the pages.*

©IGMS
the untold story of the lonely word
Next page