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Pieces of me
thrown away
like trash
Never consulted
Never asked
The direct result
of another’s conviction
or more commonly seen
from blind ambition

The fix is in
But no invitation
for me,
former me
or forever me
and all of my imitations
beset by my

Forwardly I lean
step in between
lines upon lines
can’t be seen
Falling ill
Now trapped
by its machine
And from my vein;
My blood I spill

A still surface
with sticky sheen
amber tones
from which
I glean
a reason
What it might mean
A hunger
can not be filled

Nothing but lies
giving me chills
A shell
with values
not instilled
it’s dread
Their words
I’m fed
to fill my head

My outer skin
Its layer
Not to attacks
No single act
or prayer
could patch
and fill it in
A hole
that’s black
is my first sin

A game
in which
no way to win
and no ending
once it
With opened eyes
commence to see
The dorsal fins
surrounding me

Head starts
to spin
What could have been?
It doesn't matter
in the end
there's nothing
here for me
A demon-like reality

Where what you seek
Placed at your feet
The icing; sweet
Choices; not three
Have cake or eat
One choice not two
But want to eat
and have it too

All efforts
to retrieve the treat;
An outcome that
ends in defeat
A princess swept
off of her feat
But this feature
a creature
Spirit of
a soulless seeker

Deceitful speaker
he’ll eat ya
Offers pain
Can’t heal;
life drained
Then reaching out
to use
but with each ring
hope further wanes

An answered call
done just in time
The chills
running all down my spine
Stand tall
just like Douglas-fir pine
With racing thoughts
filling my mind
I will be saved
Free from it all
God must exist
No time to stall
In battle
may fall
but no man's ever left behind

Only to find
With said spent dime
A dynamite kind of answer
A type
that might
cause strife
Can't plan for
Needed answer
like cancer
New chance to live
Worldly romancer
On planet Earth
A tiny dancer

A romantic thought
to think
fight fought
Instead a sinking ship
just dropped
This life?
If could
an ‘OUT’
would opt
No more
can take
Just make
it stop
Written: April 17, 2018

All rights reserved.
Spenser Bennett Sep 2016
All that broken, all that beautiful
Left lying on the floor of your one room apartment
And ever after more, a senseless crime against the southerly divinity
Burdened heart like hopeless iron hides shy as the clouded sun
A quiet finale no longer true
Gunpowder plots like burial mounds half full of ashen skin
Asleep in this living war and the alarms are booming
What power holds in absence of clarity becomes windowed amongst the stone
Newly ancient, flesh to bone, blood and that which you call your own
Power lines slice green arbor air and my veins seek no end
Purposed elegance packaged and sold to greed soaked hands
Vanity for Vanity's sake, patients in a waiting room
Furniture, people, shameless sin unspoken but in need of no forgiveness
Can you feel the war in you;
This silk is eager for damp skin.
It clings greedily to the peaks of
your topography, obscuring, like
fog, only the depressions.
I am a basin filled with fluid,
eager to capsize,
to spill out over this tile floor
like so much vanilla bath water.
At your heat, I boil.
I billow out from beneath
cream and sugar taffeta
with the whispered sigh of
softly hissing steam and
in tendrils, my tempestuous
mist and moisture form
settles lightly into your
April 2019
babygirl45 Jan 4
If I showed my  true colors,what would society think?
Would they laugh,show pity,or read the ink?
I am exhausted from smiling every single day
When i know the pain won't  go away.
Every night i cannot sleep
Because my thoughts run so deep.
They went for a stroll
But got ****** into a black hole.
My focus is no longer there,anymore
I don't know why I am like this, I swear.
Caro Jun 2016
You lied about my sweet weight,
And you lied about my arches,
You lied about your love for the depressions in my skin,
You faked that sincerity
Of course you lied, because how else
Could you make love to my demise?

You lied about your moon and my tides,

But you tread upon on my land,
Cheer as my salt beats my rocks into sand, I never flinched at your hand,
I never quaked at your voice,
But I should’ve,
I would’ve if I had known that you would run my rivers dry,
That you would lick your lips and sigh

You’re sick in that the only thing I hold dear,
You craved to hunt.

You rip into the throat of my wild and reckless stag,
Watch it bleed as it cranes to see by whose hand it falls,  
As it breathes its last breath it catches sight of your thumb,
It knows, but consciously it forgets, because
It is with this abandon that I die for you daily,
And you **** me anyway.

I should’ve quaked at your voice,
Hearkened to the screaming that ripped away my choice,
You never loved my mountains, fountains of lies I threw back and back,
You lied about my ocean that you don’t care to explore,

It was critical and fatal,
You lied about my sweet weight and that I cannot forgive.
zebra Sep 2016
i constantly feel the need
to express to you
my inner unreasoned
masturbatory stream of consciousness.
and i want you to know
i consider it an immense privilege
for you to be so kind
as to stand
under my ghastly orchard

my darkest poems
blood letting streams
are a kind of ******
fetishy cognitive inventory
malformed denizens
of the subconscious
a well of torments
soup of Salmonella
the souls gut
its cauldron
yet not with out lurid enticements
and voluptuous supplicants
like an eight legged woman
with beautiful feet
drooling **** lips
drunk on sacrificial rituals
of blood black tongued kisses
and hideous contorted pleasures

exquisite archetypes
gods and goddesses
are now
cellar dwellers
moaning in nature bed crypts
of rock, stone
and engraved sigils

because honest pure desires
became fragmentary
and are now gimping amputees
by legions of primal disappointment

while faces blare in the world
like super bright L.E.D.s
shinning paths to others
our deep self
remains patinaed in tears
a black box pox with a lock
the skeleton key lost
in arcane seas

out of utter disgust
for those dark crawlers
that live within us
revealing them selves
as anxieties, depressions
and myriad quiet despairs
we appear undaunted
to others
and they to us

muffled ticks
and splintered sticks

my poems let my demons out

yoo who its me
my name is spray snake z
with my hooks and cries
and dark blood skies

in the misty night
i dragged out their earthen coffins
legends of the despicable
resurrected them
fed and loved those darklings
had every conceivable union with them
their healing, my own

ive sexualized them
and found love
albeit twisted

to be adored
in a hidden embrace
i bestow upon you a poetic fantasy
while obsession takes hold

bind it not
nor let it bind you
My poems remain explorations of the subconscious ******
If i where a film maker or a novelist  you  would see me telling a story not judge me  although i admit to my paraphilias  
These poems  are lunar anamorphic streams of consciousness from the deep chaotic subterranean glitz of transgressive  impulses we all share
Read them if you dare...You might find that part of yourself that you don't want you to know about
Samantha Marie Jul 2018
I have learned from a young age that I would attract a certain kind of attention. Prepped for the stares I would receive for being more well endowed in the areas that spark lust in men. From a youthful age sexualized, only sought after for one purpose. One glance and thoughts are shifted to fantasy. Never asked about feelings or emotions, just questioned about how I can satisfied needs. I am only looked at as a fun time never a long time. They all believe that because I look a certain way, that I must have all these men in my bed, and that I am only in their presence for pleasure. My sanity is often questioned, once they realize that I am not a seducer or temptress that falls in to the hands of multiple men. But they also have the mentality to wonder why someone like myself is distant, guarded and closed off.
(Looks gone to waste in their eyes, tainted in my own)
I have never learned self love in my life, still haven't
I have had multiple voices telling me how I should look, what I should show or not to show, how I should use these(looks)
My body& looks have never felt like my own, they are loved by many but hated by the keeper.


each groan
each longing
each nightmare

the semantic fluid
my teeth, my face,
no erasure endures,
tracks of my tears,
skin etched everlasting,
beyond camouflaging.

the weights owned,
that the scale
does not register,
stones of stones,
add to a total
that has no
agreeable total
but is a totalitarian oppression
of all day tongue depressions

oh god,
mercy from the weights
I have impressioned and digested
of own free will,
to misbalance my posture,
crook’d, my soul ever reciped,

stains collected,
each stain
see my markings internal,
you have never seen
until you have seen me
athena Oct 2016
the five days was a constant battle
between all the things
that ever existed

your thoughts were strewed
and your legs were too skinny
your arms can be measured
by your thumb and pinky

that stream of verbal consciousness
uttered nothing but prayers
between the dusky hours

i lost a limb on the fifth day
that empty hallway with dimmed lights
and the realizations with frustrations
the machines stopped working

it was more than tropical storms
and depressions, more than
mayhem, it scares me more than
the turbulence hundred miles
above the ground

it was an inestimable amount
of tragedy and heartaches
you begged for him to live
and yet it wasn't given to you

i cannot be angry at God
he wants you back
all i can really do
is wait for you
and **still pray for you
Leonard Green Oct 2017
Beastly is this monster state yet many damsels cannot avoid
Some may call it disturbingly conflicting and become annoyed
Where rationality coexists with irrationality in an unstable realm
Pretty monster states navigate this journey as captains at the helm

Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states
No need to disguise your fury or depressions
Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states
This is just part of your amazing expressions

Wonder is this monster state since the inception of Adam and Eve
Men can only hope to be compassionate, steadfast and never peeved
One moment, pretty monster states can be loving and best friends
Next moment, challenging one’s good nature and spirit to extreme ends

Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states
No need to disguise your fury or depressions
Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states
This is just part of your amazing expressions

Frightful is this monster state like a suspenseful thriller or mystery
Only those who are not faint of heart can sleuth this case history
Where a profound will of character serves to stabilize one’s constitution
Bringing the monster state to an uneventful but amenable restitution

Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states
No need to disguise your fury or depressions
Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states
This is just part of your amazing expressions.
Michael Smit Nov 2018
I hear the voice of depression
Maybe you should **** yourself
I know it's not one of my confessions
Don't listen I advise myself

I know what I've done wrong
It plays continuous in a song
I am a prisoner inside my head
I believe the lies I've fed
Every terrible thing said
I've made my bed
Now it's time to lie in it

I am played by my mind
All the bad memories rewind
The thoughts I tried not to find
Are now in my bind
I am left behind
In my own cyclical hell
I've tried so hard but I fell
This is the story I'm to tell

Imagine being a little boy
Still obsessed with his toy
But then discovering a blade
And the feelings that doesn't fade
Singing a song that's been made
He finds delight in the cuts of his razor blade

Before he knows it he's addicted
And suddenly conflicted
This isn't what he predicted
The pain self-inflicted
The cuts are getting deep
And the climb is getting steep

Emotion is taking over
And I am barely sober
I remember October
When I thought it was over

I was bleeding and internally crying
Probably half way from dying
All I remember was the lying
Saying I wasn't dying
But then I really started trying
And I thought peace I was finally finding
Only to be left here reminding
Depression is still in my sighting

The illness never left
I can charge it with life theft
But my battle still goes on
While I try to sing my song
Stand tall be strong
They don't need to hear the wrong
The fight has been long
But I am strong.
Michael Marchese Jun 2016
I write still to show
The flaws I've corrected
Before I must go
Here's some I've perfected

I’m breakable bones
My weakness is real
You can crush them with stones
But my spirit is steel

I've howled depressions
With lone wolf confide
I've roared at oppressions
With lion king pride

I rose unforgiving
From indifferent graves
To haunt those unliving
As apathy's slaves

I council with silence
Keep quiet rapport
With deafening violence
Of thoughts waging war

I’m pop country's menace
Funk you profanity
Spit-venom vengeance
And breakdowns of sanity

I’ve sung innuendos
Love's chorus revised
By symphonic crescendos
Two beats harmonized

I’ll never stop trying
To save this blue sphere
Our mother is crying
Apocalypse tears

I move hyperactive
My sprinting brain sped
Beyond the distractive
Outrunning my dread

I’m tempests emerging
Typhoons kept at bay
And now my storm surging
Will blow you away

I’ve fearlessly gazed
Upon Grim's complexion
The hell that was raised
Was just my reflection

I channel my hate
As my anger stream grows
Into rivers irate
Then tranquility flows

I form nations in clouds
Above law and border
No star-spangled shrouds
In my higher world order

I’m heat-seeker lines
Poetic napalms
Metaphor landmines
And ticking rhyme bombs

I've warped my perceptions
And force-choking grips  
And Death Star conceptions
From jedi mind trips

And I’ll leave you assured
My crusade will not yield
Until peace is ensured
And these wounds have all healed
Incurred as the ward
Of my muses concealed
Now commanding a horde
Of the furies revealed
I have severed accord
With the fates I have sealed
  I've matured and endured
On this life battlefield
With this pen as my sword
And this pain as my shield
For I am the lord
Of the words that I wield
Aztec Cathrine Dec 2018
Depressions back for a visit.
It caught a Hold of Me and my fragile heart.
Once again-
Staring at the ceiling.
Wondering if my wounds are even healing.
Oh no, caught a Hold of Me.
Trying to fight it so my friends don't see.
Don't wanna lie.
But when they walk by-
there always asking if I'm OK.
I say I'm fine even though I want to die.
It Caught a Hold of Me.
Calling for help.
no one sees...
Except for you.
My one true friend-
Need help with depression? Reach out to your friends and family. Don't try to hide it or fight it on your own. Your not alone.
Madison May 23
Don't be sad, depressed or lonely.
"Follow me!" they say,
Belivieve us we will show
you the way!
The cures just an arms reach away!

Well joys just a little sniff away, you can even puff if you'd like!
"Look at you, all grown up!"
Depressions easy!
Meet the lips of a bottle to your own, till you forget you're down!
"I think you're getting it!"
And if you're lonely,
Just find another body to lay with.
"See! You can take care of yourself just fine!"

Oh honey they never tell you,
The sniff becomes necessary,
The drinking nightly,
It's only lust,
Never love.
but it's just a little to late,
You drank their Kool-Aid.
does anybody get the kool-aid reference?
Mishka Wayz Nov 24
I was bored, so was you,
We were sitting on the bench in the empty park, staring at the blue,
I was depressed, my life was over,
I told you my depression, my troubles, but all you did was said, "Go get a four-leaf clover."

You laughed, I didn't. It wasn't funny,
For you it was like the topic of money,
For me it was the topic of life,
But all you did was said, "I got a win in a game, high five."

I said nothing, there was nothing to say,
I wanted to go home, if yet may,
I wanted to leave you, leave the breath, leave the life,
You paid no attention. Before you had been my best friend. It was like I had been stabbed with a knife…

I stood up and said, "Take care."
All you did was said, "You're so dull. Don't stumble upon a hare."
I did a fake smile, knowing nothing is worth to live.
Lost everything. Friends, you, lost the power to believe…

All the love, all the tries,
Buzzed away into the air like flies.
How many times I had been deceived, broken, lost,
Nothing is worth now, not the cost…

The thoughts kept sailing, over and over.
My depressions atop my head did nothing but trouble me and hover,
The rain poured endlessly while I stared at nothing but the dark,
My mind kept saying, "Die with a growing spark."

I pulled out my pistol, in my hand,
I had no bullets, but they appeared as of magic hand,
I placed the weapon to my head,
I saw you grinning, "You were never my friend. You are worth nothing, but to be lifeless and dead."

I had no strength, I wanted to die,
I knew that my Mother had said a beautiful white lie;
"You will have a great life and will be full of joy."
To me love and friends are something that I can't explain the importance of, but the others I cared for used it like a toy…

I let my last sad tear drop,
And squeezed the trigger with no stop,
Right away my world faded, and I saw the dark, I saw a hand,
The Death appeared, holding out it's skeletond hand, "Welcome child, welcome to the end."

Welcome. I appeared in Hell,
Time for my pains and depressions  to fade away that I hid so well,
Nothing but dark. And then it slipped away and faided,
I appeared in the humongous void of space, leaving me lost and unaided,
Nothing mattered  now, only the darkness and the vastness of the dark pit-ful space,
The tears, the shattered memories, the hatred, and the pain, washed away my oh-so hoping face……

-Mishka Wayz
I had created this quite a time before when I had a depression, so I decided to share it now. It isn't meant to be a thing, but let me just say, the poem is not true. Even I agree with that. Everyone deserves love, trust, and friends. Everyone has a second chance too. There is no such thing of a person being single forever. He or she will find the perfect match sooner or later. You need time. Time is everything. Everything is time ^^
Tara Nov 2018
A generation filled with hate,
fueled by our elders,
every decision lies in their hands.
The perpetrators of our demise,
is not ourselves.
It’s the world that’s been created for us,
what a surprise.

A generation filled with pain,
depressions an epidemic
that others don’t always understand.
A world created for competition not salvation,
or finding inner peace.

A generation filled with love,
society has taught us to suppress.
Who's the best? Who's the most powerful?
Redefining love to something people can barely express,
swimming in an ocean of fear;
fear of rejection,
fear of failure,
fear of ourselves.

A generation filled with so much,
That was always told:
"it’s not enough".
CKute Sep 2
Is it real or is it fake, whatever it is, it's a mistake.
Am I still living or am I just barely alive.
Everything seems so fragile and dangerous like the edge of a knife.

Do I make the right decision or should I just submit to total submission.
Do you value my words or will anyone else, what even is that question if I don't even do it myself.

There's nothing left to lose and the emptiness inside me is still growing, which might be a good thing, cause it makes it easier to choose.
I could search for something or someone nice or just continue to live in this world of disguise.
But I really feel like it doesn't matter, I just hope that it someday gets a little better.

Despite all this negativity around and within me, I know that life can be worth living and just as breathtaking as watching the sun sinking into the sea.
Dealing with depressions and mood swings isn't easy and sometimes hard to explain, I just pray that my last bits of hope for change will still remain.
I just want my feelings to be free and finally get rid of this aching agony.
Sara Buzz Sep 2018
Open your eyes,
put down your disguise,
humans may fall for it but God will not.
Haven't you had enough?
Of running to keep up,
with the lie you told yourself?

Don't you know you're beautiful?
Don't you know you're worthy?
Don't you understand that He wants to let you feel free?

And when will you realise
that each time you hide,
a piece of you dies?
Just let Him come home,
into your soul
so you can feel like you finally for once belong.
He will never leave you even if you leave Him.

Things can be "fine"
but depression always lies.
Maybe the goodness only feels wrong because of something bad attacking your mind.

You can't see the invisible, but still, it betrays you.
Isn't it about time you tried putting hope into something new?

It's alright to pray, to give in, scream, to cry all day,
but don't let it hold you there forever.
If you do nothing, depressions chains may hold you as a hostage for your whole life.

There's things you can do,
I promise, its true,
take a look at all you've been through, all you know, all you've seen.
A happy life isn't just a dream.

I know how it hurts, I've been there before,
many times I wasn't alright.
I went through years of being alone
but one day God told me I am welcome in this world,
and it gave hope to last each night.

I've got scars, I've been burned,
I've felt hate and thought I'd learned.
But if you keep letting it consume,
the better life you could have will fall into the tomb.
Along with you, and everything you could have become.

And it just seems so endless,
walking forever on the same road,
but that's not where you must continue to go.
Even though you have told yourself it is.

So let in hope, wave out the dark smoke, let in a light through all the cracks.
"It's only chemicals"
they all promise that you lack.
But it's seriously so much more,
we know inside you theres a soul,
and souls can't be touched by medication nor poison.
It takes something deeper,
something unearthly, to give life or take away.

When He reaches inside you,
what He needs to complete your heart can't be obtained through a syringe.
So look deep within, and just give your control,
He who heals all things, please look upon my soul.

Don't forget why you're here,
You'll change the world someday, my dear.

Do what you can to make it alive
He already sees what you'll do,
He already knows the truth.
He understands what must be done to survive.
Through voracious eyes devotees, peruse writings, clever literature all styled to thoughtful poetic ways
eloquently, exposing wounds of body and soul, discovered distrust, anger much regret, sadly even fear,
thereto shortcomings in life, of people, their actions, loves and lies promulgated in illuminating phrase.
Technology endows contributors with outlets for venting suchlike occasions using artistry is here.

Passionate poignant experiences most well written, some not are duly shared to attracted communal eyes.
declarations of 'I have cared so much I'm wounded mortally', some bask in lost or unrequited loves last kiss,
several employ inner strength 'whatever happened, I don't care, I'm resilient, I survive', shared with poetic pride
concise verses rework obvious reminders, may motivate suggestion that opportunity shouldn't be missed.

Modest words abundantly profound begin remarks that reassures, with the - I'm here for yous'- symbolic embrace,
in support it is written, 'I know what you mean' and from a great distance - empathise, but I have little to say.
Health issues aren't fixed by artistic pennings, only face to face professional advice forms the strongest base,
Writings from the poetic inner self  may become positive steps, for futures not, staring in depressions face.

Much is written with sensitivity oft-times is judged by content, overlooked is why and how it is composed.
For instance suicide  educes fear however. dubiety invites, is it fiction or truly despair?
Writing as an art observes, describes, creates imagery, of sadness and joy, escapism, fictional or no.
Poetic creators who web-wide commune through stories, thoughts, secrets, ideas, dreams, let the poetry be shared .

Poetry www    Michael C Crowder 12th  January 2019 @scorsby
my thoughts about poetry its content and writing skill
Mishka Wayz Nov 24
Hey, my name is psychopath, nice to meet you,
I believe it's better to be one than two,
I'm made of meat, basically of flesh and bone,
But my mind and soul is something else, which made me be alone…

I don't have a name coz I don't deserve to earn one,
I had a golden self of mine before,  but now it's gone,
I was an angel before, but fell to the depths of madness and hate,
I'm now a ghoul who deserves a cold and a heartless fate…

Before I used to smile, love, and adore the light,
Before I used to try to make others happy and do what is right,
But now I love cruelty, and a gory fist fight,
Now I love cuss words, love darkness, and love to walk alone in the middle of the night…

I agree I'm nothing but a *****,
I agree others on me should slam the door,
I always knew I was not enough,
Everything was broken and not needed  after I touched the stuff…

I entertained myself with darkstep, metalstep, and brutal dubstep, those evil songs,
They added depressions, stabbing me without warning like sharp rusty prongs,
My mind turned cold and twisted, alone and lonely,
To be my so-called friend, you gotta hate me only…

-Mishka Wayz

(Not Finished)
I had nothing to do, and I won't be finishing this poem. I might add a part 2 Lol.
It's lame, and it's a random one, one I never thought of to make. Lol
Bryce Oct 25
In the valley,
It is grassland and heat--
And God cooks the worms and the water beneath
Hides from his sight.

But there you are with me,
The smell of flesh and insence
The perfume of love and word
And this valley is no longer
Than a longing for you.

Would you step with me on these
Quaking soils
Laughing along warbling streams
Dancing on heated sands
Tracing likeness in the leaves
With me?

Hidden beneath the cloudless sky,
The air breathes life into this valley
And leads towards the sea.
You and me,
We together know where these
Sorry summits go--

To the sea,
You and me,

We trace our paths along the floor
Depressions and empty spaces where our legs were raised together
Where we moved together
Where we touched down to earth
Were we felt safety in its breast
Enough to clasp our hands as one
And not be unbalanced

This valley
The pathways
The mouth that ends our gaze--

This is but a grain of sand
The love I have for you
Is that ocean, cooled and new
On our bare skin it will tonic
And find rest in every section of you

And me,

I will be warmed by your body
I will splash between your fingers
I will glide along your hips
When you push against me

Fall into me and know that between the alien air,
Stand the safest sands
You have place to rest your feet
And buoyant,
Float your greatest vessel along the tip of me.

I love you.
It is this.
Tamara Walker Oct 28
I am as free as I want
Like a daydreamer of today
Gently a breeze carry’s my wonders
Pass night cityscapers, and
      over desperate busybodies
Then settling in brain depressions
Imagine tomorrow being the same
Paused In a Haze cycle

Is there a difference
Between love long lost or
Hate newly recognized
Can they be balanced, maybe
On a crystallized degrading iceberg
Topped off with couples joining
Cheering on and crying out
But never heard by a mountain’s

Stalling the defining problems
Of what love is and who needs it
Akin to Swirls of Florida clouds
Not unlike heart guts spilling out
Let’s be free to choose
While ditching Fees for dreams
I want you to live in wonderland
With my body you can be freedom
Being Free is a luxury for some and just dream for others. But love rather if lost or newly found is choice we could all make.
Unheeded the warning
To not take to leading
An empire fleeting
Succeeded in meeting
A global trade quota
In breeding consumers
Like coca and cola
Place orders for new world
Neighbors in anger
Like free-raiding slavers
The ones who engrave
On strangers
Enflaming the tensions
Like Union secessions
Reclaiming your pensions
Like dispossessed peasants
Then pleasantly selling you
Greater Depressions
Inflating the price
Of each stock
Market crashed
As they’re harkening back
To the Gilded Age past
Mistakes made
By the master class
Fascist gas mask
Clasping racist ace cards
In their draft-dodging grasp
And enrapturing masses
Like pastors on acid
As faster the natural disasters
Leave gasping
The aftermath zeros
To sift through the trash heap
As scraps keep providing them
Something to eat
And that “just so it” psyche
No shoes on their feet
To compete in a race
To the top
Of the bottom
To watch it all topple
Like Hillary Rodham
Back down to this limitless growth
Swinging rope
And a hope and change slogan
In some brighter future
Where data-brain-drainers
Collude with polluters
And looters
To root out the suitable
Next active shooter
As losers keep playing
To win
Movin’ in
To the city
Of opportune sin
Get some skin in the game
Make a name
For your lack of fame
Minimum wage
And escape from the cage
That was sub-standard living
Conditions before
The New World Bank
Uplifted the poor
With more freedom to choose
Than a grocery store
How to rot the core
Of this for-prophet war
Against forces that still
Settled the score
Quieter than a hurricane,
quieter than economic depressions,
quieter even than quiet pain,
yielding no gun, blasting no bombs,
having no outline, no face, no target,
no sizzling newspaper topic,
it crawls, though no worm appears,
it envelops the years, a series
of habits, tendencies, memories,
it crawls for years, so long
as to seem a long-familiar friend
or cozy room one never quite leaves.
All those who hurt us in the past
have long become shadows, they have died
or changed utterly or simply
have been swept away in distant currents,
simply never seen again. Yet
these shadows still glow, sometimes blaze;
the circumstances which once had
brought us low, degraded or stifled us,
though seldom thought of, leave us
circling, circling in habitual ways,
the seasons themselves growing lusterless,
devoid of the leap of love. It's all called
prudence, caution. This safety encloses
worlds growing narrower, narrower,
as busy millions slowly, quietly die...
Adriana Cruz Aug 2018
Hey mom, this my last letter home.
Sorry I never answer the phone.
I'm sick and contagious if talk you might get it.
I'm plotting to end it.
Hey dad, I keep dropping the juice on the table do you hate me for it.
I hit my head a couple times, but I can't get the right channel.
Hey brothers and sisters, do you forgive me because I'm not strong enough to beat it.
Hey friends, the depressions back and it harder than ever. Please hold my hand if ends up cold.
Hey lovers, beautiful yet tragic endings in my world.
Please don't report it please dont text me i need to vent and i cope by writting and right now i need it
Put out your hand,
Lift your heart.
Let’s make moves to neverland.
See me with your eyes,
Blue and yellow.
  Play something sweet.
Soft and mellow..
Unplug the plague and adjust your focus.
I want something real but see hocus pocus.
I smell the air of burning worries.
I feel the confusion of depressions illusions,
It’s all in your head.
Hocus pocus,
Remember the light and adjust your focus...
I sense you’ve come to conclusion
That the things we see are just pure confusion,
The things to be are just out of reach
The human stars don’t know how to preach.
It’s 2018 “hey kids drink bleach!”
Like I said it’s the focus.
Not on the screen or one humans race
But your soul to my soul.
Or the stars up in space.
  They say you’re dreaming and dancing to grace.
But the way that I see it is
you’re perfect in place.
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