Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Abort mission, reboot, we’ve lost control
Where are the procedures, refresh the protocol!
It seems like this civilization has been deemed unstable
Question is, are we really competent and able
To protect our planet and all that we hold dear
No, we ain’t, unless, under duress, we fear.

This coronavirus was like a bull in a china shop
We were concerned about constantly being over the top
Performance, marketing, scales, and stakeholders
It seems we need to revise the strategy, dear readers.

So what now? Are we going to slow down and ponder?
On what we have to give up and offer to manage humanity
Or keep on being obtuse, dollar-oriented and benighted?
Decide to see inside ourselves and stand united?

‘Cause, guess what? When life as we know it will end
It isn’t the green note that you desperately clutch in your hand
That will save you from illnesses, grief, and sadness
Thus: We have to seek the pursuit of happiness
Which will always prevail, keep on smiling to the new day
All this frenzy will appease itself and soon be at bay…

Nancy, March, 30, 2020. Written from 12:03pm to 12:40pm
A whiff of perfume
Floating in the air
The sun reflected on your hair
An aura of untold fortune
I see right through you
The veil has been pierced
The path, long, lonely and fierce
Behind: The law of attraction
Beyond us, something set in motion
Holier than time or love or sense
I met your eye to your heart and hence
Mine you are for our stars align
A silent contract our kindred souls sign
No land can't stand to tear us apart
You have something of me and I a part
Of you. No matter the distance someday
You were you are you will, ours today

Nancy, November 26, 2019, 10:57 pm
Inspired by and written after watching the film "Earthquake bird"

The starting image in mind was "lens" and this title.
Written in 4 four minutes.
The Lemur is enthroned on the heights of an island
In a luxurious villa, complete with a sauna and a pool
The Dormouse holds, modestly, a small pharmacy
Where people can buy necklaces, gemstones and pretty threads.

Every Monday morning the lemur fixes
His hair with a delicate ivory comb
Asks about the stock market in overflow
Swallowing a pure white powder in a row

His orange eyes threaten to explode
So he sits down, eats lobster and sated,
He doesn’t have a care in the world as descends the evening
His paw resting on a black jade cane stolen from the dormouse

Monday morning, the lemur, operational
Goes fast, pick and pickaxe at the mine
Extracting, sweaty, some beautiful spinel specimens
Hoping that one day at the Lemurian’s he would dine

For a trifle, the latter bought him
His most beautiful crystals and this without paying taxes
He became the leader of the island thanks to his kinsmen
The exotic animals knew something was wrong…

His only friends were the rich and the bohos
Under the yoke of this monkey, the island was a hellhole
Their chef was addicted to coconut powder
Whoever dared to say it was put in irons

When finally, an evening he overdosed
Nobody buried him among his friends
The Dormouse humbly undertook to do so
At the hole where he dug, he found a stone

The moral of the fable, listen to it then,
Who shows compassion exists with reason
Do not judge too fast, because we're leaving too early
Nature often rewards us in her own way.

September 11, 2019
Nancy, translated on November 17, 2019
Fall train rolling through the landscape
While people dig the ground for gold
And weapons to poorest countries are sold
Ice water becoming scarce on Earth
We shroud pollution from our eyes to escape
The truth that nature is running out
We diligently put flowers and green in our hearths
To surround ourselves with virtual images of life
Hiding the truth that humans are running out

Yet money is made out of tree paper
And CPUS run thanks to extracted crystals
And sure Google has a plan if all else fails
Gas is waging wars but soon it'll be for water
If we go extinct nature will always prevail
There will always be higher oceans to sail
Grass with grow and outreach skyscrapers
Will your children ever see polar bears?

A pine tree of 42 years of age was cut down
What if your mother was exhibited 'fore town hall
To be decorated with garlands, lights and all?
Then ditched, naked without her verdoyant foliage
Once healthy, now dusty at 42 years of age?

If our universe was reduced to 14 seconds human time
We'd only represent 1 second, yet the hourglass
Is about empty, we don't have hearts of glass
Eternal we aren't, unlike a diamond or a lime
We are expected to not just make an impact
But save, recycle, protect, nurture and act!

Not anything too complicated
What a parent would do for their child
Humanity, now has come the time to be lucid
Otherwise, at the end, all that's left will be decrepitated!

November 9, 2019
Train to Lyon
themarsbeing Nov 2019
I don't know why it always feels so strange
Now keep wondering why I feel so changed
Everything is same but everything's changed
This writers block makes me feel deranged

I only do late night writes, my daytime's tight
My fate might shine but it ain't that bright
My heart's on my sleeve, my mind's a blight
I start, don't achieve, I think I ran out of might

I'm holding two crowns, fighting sable truth
Life's always in motion so it's unstable too
The vicious squall took away my gable roof
Still I am trying to write but I am not able to

Now my cradle is my tomb, vagueness looms
Born to be brave, I'm inhaling invasive fumes
Strolling on the waves, no creative spumes
It made me sleepwalk into a fugacious doom

Like a nebulous youth wondering why is it so
Infront of a canvas waiting to be bestowed
I am blank, in my soul the paint isn't stowed
Achromatic times turned me into the exode

Even in these odds, I'm supposed to explode
A nomad in this hell, unable to find an abode
I look up to the sky to see what isn't showed
Out in the dark through the skid row I tiptoed

Exposed to pain and love, obessed thoughts
Fall onto the top of my quill where dust rots
Then violent gust shows, silently, it just flows
Thrusts on, these pestilent sirens must stop

And my life is a freaking journey, it must go
On & on & on, I turn on my wanderlust mode
I'll go down the roots & untangle the bust-ups
So I put my pen to the paper, I only trust god
  Oct 2019 themarsbeing
I sold my soul to poetry
And never looked back
But now every relationship
Is a writing prompt
Every trauma, a metaphor
Some prose poems patched in his hands
Suddenly then, ecstasy or hypnosis faces him!
As he was reading, bathing in scents of cedar
She stands before him, disrobed, Phaedra-like and solemn!

He mouthed those lines while blossomed within him
A garden of secrets, rustling beeches
The mused muse came to visit him when
Every morning he read on, gold upon her head

He never put the velvety book down
The air heavy with laughter, desires, and rhymes
The Western wind gently rocked them as they held
Each other…Yet as the last poem echoed, she adamantly fled!

Translated on April 17, 2019
Nancy, France
This is a translation of a poem I wrote in French in early March, exposing the topos that the allegory of inspiration is a fe/male muse to poets

The theme, Beauty, is this year's "Spring of the Poets" topic and inspirational concept for us French poets. It's a sort of national festival celebrating poetry through gatherings, readings, conferences and exhibitions throughout France.
Next page