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Clouds in shrouds and thoughts aloud
Entice you far too soon,
For she who thumbs unseemly sums
Contributes to the gloom.
Chasing pleasures caustic measures
Risking all to play,
Ensures the visions quick incision
Forfeits what you say.
For thee, my sweet, this game complete
Enhances what you are,
To soar so high in crystal sky
Emblazons you....a Star!
M.
Reaction to Miss J L Smiths' searching little poem "In the Clouds"
If we must worship a Deity,
we need look no further
than the mighty mountains
around us, the glorious deep
abiding oceans that surround
us, the nurturing forests of green
that provide the very air we breath.

Our mother Earth is the GOD
we seek, from her all life, hope
and blessings flow and repeat.
No supernatural beings,
no off earth solutions,
this blue orb is all we need,
The ancient tribes knew this.
How is this fact not crystal clear
to the modern, so called educated we?
Sepia sown as best it can
Where you and I, as one, once ran
Across, beyond a savoured sea
Where lust became reality.
Where spiraled lust, intwined, entrenched
Left you gasping, pale, enbenched...
a figment of a thought, now lost
Forever..at what cost, what cost?
M.
Invasive maneuvers
reprisals, unrest
parched repercussions
defiled battle quest.
We are the pawns,
slaves of the universe;
baby makers, builders, drilled in reverse.
for the rich we become a new silken purse.
We sing and we dance,
get ******* for no money
while they salivate over the scent of new money.

The young and the strong
are among the most prized, ,
confused and abused they don't realize
that no one will come to answer their cries.
Do they think, no they dive off the brink
and slowly flounder or drown 
digging grubs from subterranean ground.

Knuckled under, we hunger
a beast that grovels and gropes
the emptiness eating away all our hope.  
No heroes unsung
to feed what we crave
all are beaten down
there's too few who are brave.

While the old folks get strung
with a life taking needle,
the sick cry out loud
until their mewling grows feeble.  

Lies swept under the rug,
can you feel the tug?
It stands to reason,
equality is dead
now it's power and politics
and the rich interbred.

The menial man is the ox of today
a senseless illusion
as he kneels to pray.

We have no control
although we think that we have
the rulers in government
judge us and laugh  
Behold the matrix
it's here and now,
and we are the animals pulling the plow,
scraping for scraps with rough blackened nails
and small slurps of liquid from rough metal pails?

Beware the wind whispers

as cities fall down and we march to the beat of
maniacal clowns.
Enjoy what you have
before the world turns gray
it's not real life that you're living,
but dreams slipping away.
 Apr 2017 Terry O'Leary
Adele
Maybe if I step on
enough flowers
or break
enough  
hearts  
I just might forget
I'm made of broken parts
my fave piece </3
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