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They were my creation
My responsibility
Yet
I cast them aside
Left them alone
Discarded
Destitute
Unwanted
No more than names on paper
From my crying pen
As i moved on
With reckless abandonment
I put them in an orphanage
And
In time
Wondered
If they were adopted
But considered
That if i didn't truly want them
Who else would?
I felt guilty
Then mourned their loss
I decided to track them down
Eventually found
That they were still together
Their names
Kept in a floder
Titled
The orphanage
For my unwanted
Poems

by Jemia
Sometimes
When time seems
To be constantly
Hurtling forward
Into the future
It seems to stop
As though to catch
It's breath
And as it glances
Over it's right shoulder
It can see
All the time
Left in it's wake
Floating
Suspended
In it's own essence
But then time
Realises
That it must not
Stand still
Or go backwards
As it's quest
Is to forever
Forge ahead
Into unknown destinies
Time then
Moves on
For it has not
The time
To stop
One day
I will wake up dead
And for me
At least
Time will cease to be

by Jemia
Memories lay
Deep within
Their myriad roots
Their soiled souls
Hidden echoes
Of their past glories
That nurtured future generations
Of growth
But things had changed
As trees
Were being slaughtered en masse
As creatures
With razor teeth
Tore into their flesh
And down they fell
This was only the beginning
As soon after this
They shed sawdust tears
In disdain, and screaming pain
They were tortured
And torn
From mother earth
They told each other
Of a similar tell
Of trees, that once stood proud
Now, that fell
At first, a great mourning
As trees shook their limbs
In disbelief
Followed by
This terrible grief
At hearts, that had been cut to pieces
Then, as one
They uprooted
And marched up into the sky
And carried along
By a kindly wind
Moved to another world
Planet Earth became bare
As its inhabitants
could no longer breathe
Clean, fresh, life giving air

by Jemia
Someones murdering nature again
Cutting down habitats
And sources
For insects, butterflies, and bees
Just so they can
Make everything
Look neat, and tidy, and controlled
To make it look nice, and pretty
Whilst destroying
The natural beauty
Muting the birdsong
As feathered friends
Go into mourning
The only sound
Is of man, and machine
Now the beautiful wildflowers
Lay decapitated
Hung, drawn, and quartered
The only nature left
Will be the pretty little flowers
Marching like soldiers
In rows of disdain
Clustered together
And coerced
Into organised ranks
The noise has stopped
The one sided battle is over
The dead
Swept away
The kerbside
A balding green
Any survivors
Now destitute
And trodden underfoot
I grieve

by Jemia
At half past twelve,
  i was simply a different self
At half past one
  the moon shone, as bright as the sun
At half past two
  i quaffed a magical enchanted brew
At half past three
  i danced around a fairy tree
At half past four
  i entered a secret oaken door
At half past five
  i kissed the blade, of a wishing knife
At half past six
  i opened up, a box of tricks
At half past seven
  i entered a kind of seventh heaven
At half past eight
  i ventured through the maiden's gate
At half past nine
  i read a secret runic sign
At half past ten
  i entered the purple dragons den
At half past eleven
  i became the fairy queen of Devon
Until finally again at half past twelve
  i became an half past the hour, kind of elf

by Jemia
After visiting the lava-tree
I washed my hands with toile-trees
The weather outside, was sort of win-tree
Affording me no pleasan-trees

As my thoughts become arbor-tree
But hear no words of bigo-tree
So studied the elemen-trees
Looking for some asymme-tree

I sat within a conserva-tree
As i pondered on the fores-tree
Wishing to write something complemen-tree
It all became a mys-tree

I thought for a while on trigonome-tree
And the sciences of chemis-tree
Got completely lost in microcircui-tree
So sent myself to Coven-tree

So i'll finish this piece of coque-tree
As dwell upon my ances-tree
As i delve into lost his-tree
Then return again to the lava-tree!

by Jemia
Hidden souls
Inprinted on the wall
Within a dragons den
No smoke
Or fire
Or gold
Just skulls
Now hanging
Empty eyes glare
At life
No longer there

by Jemia
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