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Poetic justice Jun 2020
The world shall sink its fangs into the neck of social media,
where we as poets have injected our emotions deep into its veins.

Hungry for a taste, and thirsty for a need, every readers click ****** the skin, leaving the words from our hearts to freely bleed.


We donate a little each day, until we're all dried up and have withered away.
Poetic justice Jun 2020
Along with pathetic and quite sad, I find it **** strange, that some people have given up what they had, just for the taste of a change.

Now I'm not talking about "honey.

I am tired of the country, let's move to the city".

no !

No, hell What I am referring to are the few that just do as they want to do.

even though it makes you feel ******.

The liars, cheaters, and manipulators who are always searching for the new, and if you're one of them. I have no use for you.
Poetic justice Jun 2020
Words set my skin on fire, i feel my eyes about to flood, Breathing heavy from desire Bleeding ink instead of blood,  Gentleman poet Eloquent prose, Reducing me to become Another Bleeding Rose
Poetic justice Jun 2020
Like ****** fingertip quills tapping upon keyboard parts, poetry starts from the bleeding inkwell of modern day poetic hearts.
Poetic justice Jun 2020
Seeking perfect rhythm in tune,

a poetic chorus of thoughts

begin singing,

just waiting to be written in

perfect harmony.

Words on paper, orchestrated for

the readers eyes to hear mentally,

they read the sounds of a poets

mind, silently listening ever so poetically.

Sights and sounds, never seen or heard, all created word
by
Word.
Poetic justice Jun 2020
IT'S NOT WHAT YOU SAY,

BUT HOW YOU SAY IT.

I'M SICK,

AND TIRED OF THIS ****

OF YOUR TEMPERAMENTAL HISSY FIT,

FILLED WITH IGNORANT

DRAMATIC SARCASTIC SPIT. !
Poetic justice Jun 2020
Yes, a writer's blood is red, but we also bleed in a multitude of other colors as well. Our blood oozes red, black, blue, and 50 shades of graphite.

And we all tend to our wounds differently.

Some mistakenly try to cleanse their wounds with alcohol.

(it only burns, and delays the healing process.)

Some try to protect their healing wounds by concealing them as they try to stop the bleeding and avoid infection.

And then there are the writers. We leave our wounds exposed allowing them to be aired out, and willingly risking any and all chances of infection.

Yes, writers, we expose our wounds to the world, but only in the hopes of helping those who cover their wounds to know that they are not suffering alone, and to try to heal ourselves in the process.

Yes, writers bleed openly non-stop; in multitudes of colors.
Poetic justice Jun 2020
"But what if you don't struggle with your darkness?

If you sit quietly and let it wrap itself around you for long enough

Maybe you'll get a glimpse of all the stars In your heart.
Poetic justice Jul 2020
All this hyped up glam and glitz
  giggly girls break down in fits
    these mascara clad boys devoid of wits
The shallower they go,  the deeper it gets

Sillouettes lacking inner angles and lines...
The substance goes absent when the light shines...
Plotless drama without direction, still winds
These tragically bad fads spread like vines

Overrun with Reality shows depicting what's REAL
  A mass zombie audience digesting their meal
Not In, but outside, this box they soften like veal
  Staring at a screen that numbs how they feel

When did the war on intelligence start?
  Losers not knowing that losing's not smart...
Cable providers gladly doing their part
  News channels selling half-truth ala carte

I will be a rebel and fight for your mind
Hiding remote-controls where they won't find
Trading entertainment for knowledge in kind
  Giving books out to the voluntarily blind


It's gonna be a BATTLE!!!  WHO'S COMING WITH  ME ?
Poetic justice Jun 2020
Look deep in the mirror And say: 'I LOVE YOU"

And immediately

An electric current will Ripple throughout your soul

And burst through your eyes..

Like shooting Stars

Dancing across the skies.

In ecstasy

Te tell your soul you love it.

Is like remembering

WHO YOU ARE

After being in a coma For a hundred years.

Your face will beam the light of a hundred galaxies.

— The End —