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sara Aug 2018
I'll see what I can make
out of the leftovers I have.
Although, it's never too long
until the milk turns bad,

until a love turns sour
in an online second;
since, an online minute
wastes a real-life hour.

But in a snap-shot moment,
I can find life for weeks
on my stash of sugar truths,
until I forget to eat;

forget to breathe;
'til I don't even need to sleep
because the lovehearts on my photos
sing such soft melodies.

And despite the fact
that often I can't sit at ease,
somehow this perfect madness
always tastes so bittersweet.
a poem about the addictive nature of social media
Jordan Rowan Dec 2015
I can say I'm sorry
But the truth is that I'm not
When things get dark and starry
You think about what you've got
I've got a lot to love
And a lot left to do
But I've had enough
I just fell out of love with you

When it all got started
I was happy and I was sure
But things fall apart
Things fluctuate and blur
I don't have a reason
And I don't have to explain
I can try to help you
But I don't care about the pain

Have you seen me since?
In a dream or on the street?
And by coincidence
You found someone to meet
I hope it's all good for now
Maybe you'll hate me less and less
And you'll understand somehow
How I avoided a bigger mess
Levi Kips Feb 2018
Natural disasters flow like Water.
Either naturally or what we consider to be natural like water from a faucet.
The nature behind the definition natural used to be so concrete like telling the difference between an earthquake and thunder but lately it bends so flexible that now
it’s like telling the difference between a 6 and a 9.
I realized my definition and vocabulary was about to be tested when I saw him.
Nothing about our encounter was natural except for our reactions.
Normally we're supposed to look at them Aurora Borealis
like their presence is a gift from God but naturally,
I look at him like a rooted tree looks at a thunderstorm while he,
He looks at me the same way a tsunami looks at a beach house.
I'm just trying to survive while he.......  
I'm trying still to decide what he wanted.
Was he trying to do what he sees as natural now or
was he trying to protect and serve God,
The Earth,
His Life.  
Either way, I know how natural disaster stories end and
I don't want to end up like Louisiana to Katrina,
like Haiti to the earthquake,
like Eric Garner to the NYPD.
That word natural is so abused and misused,
the word they really mean is normal.
It is normal for all kings to get taken down,
like King Charles the 1st,
like King Richard the 1st,
like African Kingdoms,
like Rodney King,
like Martin Luther King.
I want to keep having natural endings and not normal ones,
I rather want the debate of
"was that sound a heartbreak or an earthquake" and not
" was that the sound thunder or another black body hitting concrete".
In today's society, natural and normal trade blows and dance around each other so much
we ignore the chaos their tornado creates.
I can very much so be another victim of the normal slash new natural tornado
and hang my name up in the clouds next to a rip hashtag
and have it blow away the next day.
Instead, I hand over my genetic recipe to the elemental force
and hope that it doesn't return to the melanin back to the earth.
Normally the statistics aren't in my favor
nor is it in the favor for black bodies but today
nature rooted for me,
it didn't promise me a forever, but it helped me weather this storm.
Weather if you are looking at this situation as a 6 or a 9.
This shouldn't be the new normal.
Today I survive, and hopefully,
There will be a nature to help others do so too.
This is about when I was pulled over on a bike around the corner from home
I take care of everything in this world
They can’t stop me
Since I used to be
You know I could **** a million trees

These people on earth need me but
I don’t need them, if I throw disaster
In their mouths and their bodies shut
You know on this earth I am your master

You are just living on in the edge
A tsunami like an ocean of wedge
Don't try to play with me
And you know what consequences it may be
Messenge from our Mother Nature.
I loved you so much my heartbeat shook the heavens,
how dare you tell me I didn't love you hard enough?
This was supposed to be that soft love.
The kind that caresses your face like a light breeze.
It was enough to shake your soul
like it was rocking you to sleep.
I wanted it to soothe you
and leave you breathless
all in the same moment.
I wanted it to be as fierce as an earthquake
that shifts all of the plate tectonics back into place
like it was fixing a puzzle.
I wanted it to be as loud as a pin drop
in a dead silent room.
I wanted silence with you.
I wanted the screams to echo through your mind
like I was standing in the middle of
mountains and valleys
yelling to God all of the love stories
I wrote about you.
I wanted you to listen with your eyes closed
and your mouth open.
I wanted to feed you gentleness on a silver spoon.
I wanted to love you.
I wanted to be enough.
But your eyes were always as big as flying saucers,
and your heart only ever the size of a needle hole.
My love was never meant for you.
Chris Slade May 30
The Avro Vulcan, a majestic big old iron bird, sublime,
was to do a flyby for just one memorable last time.
Maybe with a jet fighter or a Spitfire on each wing, who knew?…
Unthinkable to miss it… almost a crime.
Thousands turned up every year, always a great day out -
but this year would be special, there'd be no doubt.
The last flight of such a legendary plane made it essential…
So, after the flyers’ break for lunch, the crowd filled out.

The entry fee to occupy the field was heinous. 25 quid!
That was for adults - and a fiver for each kid.
So, many more than those that paid, sat happily outside pubs.
Others found shelter in the perimeter’s trees and... kinda hid.
Now, to see a Vulcan fly anytime, anywhere, was magic…
She was a Leviathan of the Cold War,
that held players in the planet’s power games in awe.
And this would be her last time doing the rounds on the air show circuit -
Seeing this locally was hard to ignore.

Mark (a nephew) was a window cleaner by trade.
A regular, down to earth, happy go lucky guy.
…Saturday comes and the kids all voted "McDonalds"…
“A Happy Meal!” they’d cry.
He said that was fine - they’d all go after he’d nipped over
to the airshow to watch the Vulcan fly.
No idea whatsoever, of course, that just by going to Shoreham
just 5 miles away, for half an hour or so… that he might die.

He told his fiancé he’d only be an hour or so…
be back in time to take the kids for a burger and, "NO!"...
He wouldn’t stay. He was the only one in the family
who was bothered anyway…so he wouldn’t ****** up their day.
So, in haste, because apparently Chicken Nuggets & Fries
was much better for the kids than a load of old planes,
he cranked the best out of his bike along the 27 and,
once at the lights by the Sussex Pad,
he pulled over to the kerb to watch from the bushes.
Good view? Well not bad!

Andy Hill was a flyer of many years. His weekday job,
flying for BA.Taking holiday makers, business folk, transatlantic in Seven Four Sevens...
A flight deck maestro, soaring up, just under the heavens.
He’d done Shoreham loads of times… it was exciting, exhilarating... almost sport, his game!
He was off the hook,  became an ace. It gave him that 15 minutes of fame!
Free to thrill - a hero! Standing out from the crowd with every daring step. His aim!

He wasn’t just a petrol head… this bloke had aviation fuel in his blood.
Adrenalin on tick-over. Nought to 60 in 2.7 seconds with 22,000 Horsepower under the hood.
He left Epping full of fuel, just 90 miles away, so in two ticks he was with us, fully loaded and, the weather? It was good.
First up after lunch at half past one… he streaked across the crowded field.
Over and out and up, up, up… Little did the spectators know that Andy had forgotten he was flying a Hunter…
He thought it was last year’s aborted routine in a Jet Provost… The one they'd stopped part way through being, too risky.

"He’s not gonna make it… I can’t look!" There was a hush… a nanosecond’s silence and then the rush,
the whoomph that said it all… that hush! The ground shook!
And the eleven - plus others injured - went up in Andy Hill’s very own fireball!
No, of course, Mark wasn’t the only one to die that day.
Ten other ‘innocents’ left us in pretty much the same way…
Maurice, Dylan, Tony, Matthew, Matt, Graham, Mark R, Daniele, Richard & Jacob.
Mark T, our Mark, had the distinction of having two funerals, not just the one…
More remains were discovered, analysed and found to be his!
Even after he’d…already well... ‘gone’.

The injustice that eleven spectators or just passers by should die
when the survivor, the off target driver, who sped too low from the sky, should, after a suitable pause in this ghoulish game, be exonerated and not take any blame.
Well it’s all sort of things… It's ridiculous, pathetic, obtuse, a joke… who do they think we are?

But the great and the good deliberated, scratched their heads and worked hard to make everything look ’right’…
Tolerance for the bereaved to grieve, platitudes, condescending attitudes, a memorial service.
Thanks - genuinely - to the emergency services… Not just a little buck-passing… But the public often judged them. Arsing about - to cover their corporate backside.
They can’t insult me (or us)… intelligent people have tried…

Andy Hill was judged to be not guilty of 11 counts of manslaughter by gross negligence.
But he claimed he blacked out in the air, having experienced ‘cognitive impairment’ brought on by hypoxia … possibly due to the effects of G-force…. Of course!
The 11 were either hit by the plane or roasted in a fireball caused when the jet flew too low and too slow. But if it wasn’t Andy’s fault then whose was it?

Surely this can’t be the end of this travesty of justice!!

BUT, there IS a new memorial to the dead. And, trust this...it’s a good one too…  The best that money can buy - and that anyone can do.

But there's is also a very bitter taste, still today…
that somehow... just won’t go away!
This is a bit of a saga... But I think it's worth it...On August 22nd 2015 there was a disaster at Shoreham Air Show, West Sussex... on the south coast of England and eleven people died. A loop the loop, too low and too slow. The pilot lived and recovered from his injuries and was found not guilty of eleven counts of manslaughter by gross negligence.
Nova Sep 3
I let the plane fall from the sky.
Pieces broke off, and
Landed in forests nearby.

Now things are damaged;
They can’t be fixed.
Do all relationships end like this?

The pilot until the end
I let the plane fall
In it me and my only “friend”.
Maegan deme Sep 2018
Isolation within my mind,
Stuck in my kell, gasping at the heat
Working till death to finish my design,
Running late, borderlines to meet.
A hero of management,
An Hr call left at the tone.
Stuck in my cubicle fortress.
The place I'm forced to call home.
I don't wanna be stuck in the loop of the cubicle slaughterhouses.
Anonymous May 2018
He often asked me if I believed in love
I often answered if love believed me
see he was willing to fix the flame
that no longer burnt when the sun left on rainy days
he saw the flaws that I let escape
I saw the love that he yarned to give  
so I soaked my heart in his treasures
never fully understanding the meaning to
Love
So who the **** was he kidding?
Thinking  I could be open to love
Let’s reminisce
my heart was done when josh burnt his bridges
maybe when jose told me he never viewed me as
His Women
or maybe when I laid beside a man who never called me
He
told me he loved me
just to undress me
only to finesse me
just to say he sexed me
In mind he next me just to move on to the next me
you know the shy girl with the heart of gold
often eager to please that she misleads
in ends up
on a broken rode
So I often asked could he see his self loving
after his heart was left in a
disaster?
He just said
Disaster aren’t final destinations
I live alone, I live a lie
Awaiting the day I say goodbye
Whenever I turn around disaster strikes,
Pins and needles, knives and spikes.

Just when you think things couldn’t get worse
I’m smacked in the face with this curse
Whirled around till I’m miserable once more,
Shaken until my body collapses on the floor.

In my room I can escape
And mold my worries into shape
I cry in pain until I just can’t any more
And listen to music to ease the sore.

Knowing it will all come back again
Sunshine pierced by pouring rain
Like tears of sadness splashing down on joy
Emotions are unpredictable as a toy.

At its mercy like a puppet on a string
A trapped dove without wings
On my head, always alone
Maybe one day I can fly home.
Fly high looking down on this pain,
Maybe one day I’ll be happy again.
Read more at http://www.******-in-oncology.com
Lizzie Nov 2017
Silence... Violent... Deffening... Destructive...
Silence is, dreadful... Desolate...
Yet all at once, silence is, the rain pouring down,
ricocheting off this small towns beating heart...
Silence is, the sun, blinding... Beautiful... Bright... Just like you...
A reminder that there's light in the night...
Though it may come as a bite... Full of disasters, could I ask her?
The weight of it crashes down on me, silencing my pleas...
When can I be free?
Wrote this earlier today, it *****, I know, but that's okay.
Gem Palomar Sep 5
You can make the sun burn bright and bold,
leaving my skin thirsty for your touch.

You can make the hurricanes and storms bow down at your feet.

And I, a disaster you have created,
you continuously create havoc within me.

Go on.
I wouldn't stop you.
For I would never not want to break and fall apart, over and over again for you.
Wai Phyo Win Sep 9
Grant me chance to end
One Eight Seven less than ten
we'll be born again

~ Haiku ~
Wai Phyo Win
[ 9 September 2019 ]
Lyrical Dream Dec 2018
He possessed
the eyes of Heaven
and the heart of Hell.

He was a beautiful Saint
with a blackened tongue—
A blood-stained knife
piercing hearts like
a merciless dagger—

A lovely face
with a dark soul
reaching the icy depths
of the raging
sea,
dragging lovestruck
victims to his empty core
to watch them drown in the endless sea of shadows.

He was beautifully fatal
Carbon neutral
All turn
No car
but neutral

Carbon
Essence of life
and Helium's
son

10 May 2019
I used to play with Lego blocks and Barbie dolls
I used to jump rope and write all over the walls,
Now I play spin the bottle and 7 minutes in heaven
I party all night and don’t come home till eleven.

I used to never care, about what I wear
I used to sleep with a mound of teddy bears
Now I put on make up to cover up my face
Now I wear fashion, not pink frills and lace.

I used to always do good in school
I used to always think I was pretty cool,
Now I bomb tests and always slack off
My parents don’t treat this as so soft.

I used to talk about little puppies, and kitty cats
I used to gag at the sight of snakes and rats,
Now we spend our time gossiping about who’s a *****
Who the most beautiful, and who looks like a witch.

We used to play with toys
Now we talk about the cute boys,
Every second you’re on the spot and being judged,
Every time you breathe someone’s watching.
You try to smile but it’s all an act
Don’t you feel as if you’re being attacked?
By hungry eyes that are just looking for a flaw
So they can get you with their claws.

What has happened to this carefree child
Who used to enjoy being crazy and wild,
They grew up and developed some sense
They learned to be more mature,
Or maybe it’s the other way around
May they didn’t grow up, just down,
Into a world where nothing is what it seems
Our image trashed just like our dreams.
I’ve changed so much, if change doesn’t hurt,
Then why do I feel so much pain?
renée Jun 10
I’m capable of disaster—
Godspeed to the mother of disaster
Carpe Diem, Beverly Hills is ready for you, faster,
our minds are rupturing from these rapturous months
it’s all a little much for us
Surreality, angular surreality
We’re two-faced, defacing reality’s ideals
Because it’s up to us, that’s the veridical deal
‘99 can’t party, no—
Not like the kids
who can no longer feel.
indigochild Dec 2018
When millions filled my space, where were you?
You once were my echo in the hills
now silence rings back
Can we release these ropes
pulling us apart
and become beautiful
again?
- why am i holding on to something that doesn't want me back
RixusPrime Oct 2018
I've been burnt so many times,
and hurt with so many lies.
The path that I walk tells a tale of so many crimes.
And the scars in my heart hold memories of darker times.

Stupid, I was! I lived like a cat with nine lives.
Ignorant I stayed! A fool who accepted numerous lies.
Bedazzled by their smiles, who knew they were but deceitful wiles.
And for long I remained, a captive of worthless slimes.

For all the tears I shed and all the feelings I spared, I couldn't help but wonder if anyone ever cared.

As a tool for their filthy cause,
I wondered if this was a result of an unknown curse.
For neither was I pure of heart
or saintly in character.
This could be the reason for my life's disaster.
No one wants to see your face
She thinks herself such a disgrace,
She has no confidence and doubts her worth
She wants to remove herself from the earth.

She sees herself all alone in life
She’ll never have kids or be a wife
She hates herself, she hates her world
And this is how it ends for the sad little girl.

In the morning at sunrise
She lacks the strength to open her eyes
An empty pill bottle and note on the door
Her lifeless body on the floor.

No one should feel how she did
All alone and love forbid
All she needed was to know someone cared
And maybe then she wouldn’t be lying there.
Andrew May 2017
The teacher stands before her detained class
And from behind her authoritative podium
She equates abortion to the holocaust
A dangerous comparison in an educational garrison
But the other children nodded their heads in agreement
A benefit of having the ear of youth
Is being able to infect it with your own toxic ideology
What bacteria did this ear infection consist of?
Conservatism? Religiosity? Chastity?
The answer was depressingly simple
I was the only one there unaware of Fox News
I was a casualty of the confusion
The confusion engendered
By venom thoughts placing politic-colored glasses
on the entrenched masses
Entertainment
Used to convey anger and hate
Emotions worth conveying
But not living in
The intents and desires of their vulnerable receivers
become an incongruous disaster

What could I have done?
Minds as still as the pharaohs heart
We live in a society where we're all infantilized by one myth
Good and evil
Looking back on what I did do
I didn't do much
But I did do something
I didn't nod my head like a ******* syncophant
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