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Both my body and my mind have been grind-
- ing away with each, and every, passing day.
I feel, as though, I oughta go to find
- some lonesome mudhole within which to lay.
I haven't replied to my girl in four days...
- and when I do: I know not what to say.
"Hey- I'm sorry that I haven't been around.
The woes, in my mind, have piled to a mound;
- it's hard for me to stand it anymore.
Yes- my mind has become, so very, sore-
- from all o' the over sighted thinking.
Yes- the heart, in this chest, it is sinking-
- when I think of the current state of Earth.
I'm more aware & clear than upon birth-
- but, I must ask: with the bitterness brought-  
- What is the worth?"
Friday, December 2nd, 2016
Dibakar Ghosh Jun 2020
Life of millennials are so juvenile
A day they walk down the stars
A night they run through a beaconof light
Encircled by a drape concealing darkness
To baffle those minds with no clue left aside
With no hope to survive
Either to curb those filthy signs
Or to get chucked in broad daylight
Is this how those spotless minds
Keep their body & soul together
With lies and iniquity all together .

Life's so miserable and impolitic
All we do around is so hasty
With a bunch of ethics to live by
All we do to turn Equality upside-down
With a flock of literates heading through
Under the norms of monestry
All we do to be a cannibal out of misery
Is this how we dream of a paradise,
Where there's no humane ilk left in human minds.

What if a girl wants to live her life
And breathe the air under no ties
What if a lassie wants to be a bit sassy,
To fulfill every yearnings that come by
And to be around those masses
Who makes her feel devine.
What if a wife wants to outlive that happiness
Which she craves round-the-clock
Even after she pampers indubitably
Every requisite her spouse endures.
No matter what she contemplates,
Alas! Those desires land to oblivion.

This generation never fails to stagger
Even if she suffers and serves
Every needs of a man that deserves
And ease his pique even if he resents.
But a man never blunders to let her guard down
Frowns like a ruffian who got on the loose
Hit & slap her as if she's the lost cause
All he does to take control
Over his priceless possession
As if he enslaved a jailbird in his mudhole.

This mankind never rue
Slapping someone without a clue
Even if there's no rationale to go through.
Such a despisal is hard to ponder
Even if a girl neither hold out against
Nor cross swords against those odds
Till there's nothing left to lose.

Maybe it's high time,
One should stand audacious to those crimes
To stand tall against the ferocity
That beholds million lives
Maybe it's time,
To let go of those henious folks
That make their life miserably unknown
And oppose against those slaps
That make them devour,
As everyone's one and the same
In the eyes of the impartial law.
Hope this poem directs each & everyone towards impartial justice and seek out for a better tomorrow.
Caroline Shank May 2023
Act 5; scene 3

You shuffled off your mortal coil
at the wrong **** time.
The  denouement Is not here yet.  
Your death left
footprints into ,Dunsinane with
your Lady,  Me.

We had plans and schemes.
We didn't finish the play.
Dunsinane was ours. Your
birthday of will.

The rescue was sold out.  You
we're a hit.  The Scottish play
was untroubled. Your crown
cleaned.  You stumbled into
the play's last act.

That I must go on alone out of this
creaking pasture, this mudhole,
to be traversed without you
is a remarkable lapse in your
Ordinary

My hands hurt for the rubbing
of them.  I am alive because
you aborted the play.

Return to me. I have paid
Dearly

for this ticket that was

meant for two.


Caroline Shank
5.10.2023
Yenson Mar 2019
“Reeking pile of popularity ****** and bullies”
5/11/18

First off, the site manager, E Y, is about as useful as **** on a bull as a webmaster. He does not respond to member issues. He does not enforce his own guidelines and he allows bullies and popularity seeking trolls to run roughshod over the site... the key antagonists call themselves "the home guard" when , in fact, they are the most vile, wicked and spiteful group of self loving maggots on the poetry internet.

These so called "real poets of Hello Poetry" maintain control over the site by using multiple accounts (some of them have up to a dozen different personae) to grant themselves popularity and to gang up on those whom they choose to chastise and humiliate and , eventually, run off the site. It boils down to sociopaths with narcissistic personality disorder, who envision themselves as elitists and gifted writers, while they are basically poem repeaters , plagiarists and drunks and drug addicts with failed lives and a grandiose sense of self esteem and importance.

Should you question them, or get too popular, they will create lies to convince E to remove you from the site. They pay him quite nicely for his "troubles"..and they maintain their reign of terror through attrition and inboxed harassment and death threats..including blackmail...and willful defamation of character.

They would rather be tadpoles in a mudhole than be fish in a potentially much larger pond. If you value your reputation and your writings, do not taint them with the indelible stain which Hello Poetry will leave upon you...
Satsih Verma Apr 2020
For whom the bruised
fingers tap the door of
invincible death?

When the water will
touch the feet of dying earth,
to pay homage?

Man stands in mudhole
watching sunflowers to wilt
with waning sunlight.

— The End —