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Brody Blue May 2018
Sunday's bell broke the recess
And three times, as professed,
The gavel rapped before the rooster's caw;
The horn was blown, the drum was beat,
And in the top of ev'ry street
We swooned with the wounded at the wall
And we said nothing but our prayers
But if someone's heard something,
Nobody cares

And now, with the yellow moon
Fix’d beyond the clouds that loom,
It soon would be a day the devil owned;
High on horseback, thru the mud,
They came an’ bathed their hands in blood
From the thumb up to the funny-bone
And we said nothing but our prayers
But if someone's heard something,
Nobody cares

And, by and by,
We will crawl
Before we fly
High above
The Middle of
Utopia

Lightning made the thunder ring
Until the dawn, when suddenly,
Light divided darkness in the east;
Thus, once more, the wheel has turned
And prov’d itself a vip'rous worm
That gnaws the bowels of the beast
And we said nothing but our prayers
But if someone's heard something,
Nobody cares

And, by and by,
We will crawl
Before we fly
High above
The Middle of
Utopia
A song about a bright cold day in April
sara May 2014
the words we softly whispered
in a language of our own
as we silently ruled our kingdom
from our pillow thrones

i'm cradled in your arms
and the room is dimly lit
as my soldiers lay down their arms
and i begin to let you in

novels of dreams and childhood years
tales of sleepless nights
reports of all my irrational fears
which i confessed by dim candlelight

thoughts that my mind had never before heard
tumbled from my mouth- i was choking
on the brutality of all my honest words
and the ideas which you were provoking

like birds in a cage,
my feelings trapped for too long
and the dust on this page
had been there all along

the first time i was hurt
i swore it was my last
but i begin to revert
with my red wine filled glass

as we slowly drift off into our peaceful slumber
both enveloped by the night
i did, in fact, begin to wonder
if i should confess love by dim candlelight
inspired by and loosely based on lamplight by bombay bicycle club
Deb Jones Sep 2017
Dying
She came to me to die
The last words she said to me
Were as she reached
To cup my cheek
"My baby"
She lay on her side
Facing me
I cried for her
I could see the awareness
in her eyes come and go.
When I knew she was looking at me
I gave her strength
And the words
Let go mama.
John is waiting for you.
Bill is waiting for you
Ashley is waiting for you
Grandma is waiting for you
I smiled as much as I could
Fed her my strength
Her eyes searched mine
Begging me to make it stop
This dying
I gave her stronger doses of morphine
Her kids gathered around her bed
Her children and grandchildren
Every one of us there because she gave us life
They surrounded her bed
But I made sure she could see me.
When the awareness faded I cried bitter tears
But every time she needed me to see her
I looked into her eyes
Encouraging her
Showing her that I was with her
Walking her home
Holding her gaze as I urged her on
Her children that weren't there yet
Called on the phone to tell her she was loved
She begged me with her eyes
I gave her more morphine
Did I give her too much
When she took her last breath
I vomited.
When everyone left the room
and the hospice nurse had come and gone
My sister and I bathed and dressed her.
Her favorite clothes
Then when my sister left the room
I washed her hair and braided it
One last time.
At that moment alone with her
I felt at peace
This woman that had ruled my life as a child
Ruled my life at a distance
Always in my thoughts
Always seeking her approval
I never raised my voice to her
Never cursed in front of her
Listened to her sometimes fantastical stories
Laughed with her
Emulated her
Adored her
Never was annoyed at her rewritten history
A woman who asked me for advice
Who trusted me
Who loved me.
Who bore me.
I am glad I didn't avoid her eyes as she died
It was the last thing I could do
For my mother
Tommy Randell Oct 2016
I am the Poet Refugee
Now living in a world of Prose
Accepted yes to some degree
But never quite sure of my role.

Should I be the way I was made
Speaking in metaphor and rhyme
Or must I give in to the page
Ruled by its adherence to lines?

May I speak out in an attempt
To urge us to be reconciled?
We Poets offer no dissent
To justify being so defiled

Always to be read with a sneer
Not given the due we are owed
That whenever a Poet is near
Truth will be camouflaged with code.

Ever to be judged out of turn
An object of pity and fun
Looked down at with frequent concern
Poems may be suicide bombs.

You want Poets locked up in books
Kept in churches not out of doors
But that is where logic gets stuck
In the fight of rhythm and words.

We're the same Poets and Writers
We both say what needs to be said
Both to ourselves and to others
Without us meaning would be dead

Without us there would be no songs
Graffiti to make Peace not War
And it really wouldn't take long
To wonder what Language was for.
I wanted to write about refugees and immigrants, although I am not one. I wanted to write about being a poet who isn't mainstream or modern, on the outside? Why is poetry still a novelty in this world?
Terry O'Leary Apr 2014
In times gone by, now recondite,
Neanderthal, *****, upright,
spoke softly, tones so lily-white,
and tried to put the world aright.

He taught us how the flame ignites
that wearing furs will warm the nights,
just why the rolling wheel excites,
and how the beveled flint stone bites.

Before the days of dynamite
he fought his foes with spit and spite,
and swung big sticks with all his might,
and rendered death with stones in flight.

Engaged in never-ending fight
(arenas were a global sight)
he forced his forces to unite
to sate his oily appetite.

To quell rude thoughts that may incite
he ruled the realm with fly-by-nights
and culled the winds of words in flight,
and darkened minds to anthracite.

With fairy tales of evil sprites
and how the fist of freedom smites,
he washed the world with flames alight
to vanquish hoards of parasites.

Each dawn the damage brought delight,
the foe was bent, a bit contrite…
yet battled on with no respite
until the dusk and evening light.

Encamped beside the firelight
Neanderthal, that shiny Knight,
awaited morn while sitting tight
assured the end would be alright.

Yes, conquest seemed his sacred right…
Forevermore?… well, no, not quite…
Neanderthal's extinct tonight
and lies beside the Trilobite…


MORAL
The Oreo is round, not bright:
while rolling near the candlelight
at first the searing seemed so slight,
the molten cream an oversight…
This screed has nothing to do with the noble Neanderthal (whose brain size exceeded our own).
it has nothing to do with' times gone by' (though who knows what future beings may think)
it has nothing to do with anything…
and even less to do with something…  
unless of course, you think it does…
Umi Mar 2018
Gather in a dark night, impurities of the mind caused by poisonous emotions from loss and envy, of spite or jealousy, forming misery.
Love fades, ahh once so innocently precious, yet fragile in structure,
Leaving the servants of it in great despair and even darker hate,
Where affection ruled supreme once the scars of misery are causing a heartache from leftover rampage, a riot now presented. Ah, phantoms
Swaying back and forth between sadness and anger one gets lost in his own blindness, destroying and bringing himself into ruins,
This lingering sadness seems eternal as time passes painfully slower,
An enlighting realisation should do the task and let the soul lost inanihilating, irritational despair grow once again strong and happy,
A spark illuminating the dark, with patience and hope for the future,
But until this event is taking place, a personal **** is what has to be crossed alike a bridge made of anxiety, depression and self doubt.
But worry not all you lost souls who are waiting for light!
After all, every winter and every night find their end and ensure the dawn of a blooming spring dream.

~ Umi
Umi Apr 2018
Down like an anchor,
Vision is shrinking as your eardrums burst through the grusome pressure, increasing the deeper you go in the deep, blue, merciless sea
A match unwinnable, a fight to the finish, to ones very last breath,
Tackled something so much greater, it has pulled back, after capsizing we made the decision when it came to swim or sink, that we drown,
Swallowed by the ocean,  these great unfathomable depths, taken away our last breath of fresh, salty, stinging, yet very pleasant flavour
Our blanket is a billow, a stormy night which caused this tragedy,
Darkness under darkness, where light upon light once ruled supreme
Until our bodies have been taken apart, by this greedy sea and its desire to take us in, make us a part of it's glorious wide spread self,
Never to see the glassy surface once more, or will we be ship ghosts?
All lies and all sin, all dreams and all majesty, are swept away by swelling waves of the expanse someone may call the pacific ocean,
All ego and all deception, all freedom and all light is lost in its dephts
But we quietly, gently rest with pride in our hearts.


~ Umi
CoolLen Aug 2018
O blessed night I am feared
For I am a black man who can't shake spears thrown at him on the daily.
High courts let us get clipped by Brutus- clipped by brutes in fact a loose noose can hang you from any platform
Oxygen doesn't transcend class
Eric wasn't the first nor last unable to Garner breath
I... Cant... Breath.
Bill Cosby's first words after sentencing
Sandra Bland's last thoughts before being propped up
I ride around my city feeling Gray inside, DEAD inside wondering if convenient transportation is worth my life.
Othello ruled this nation for eight years yet noble souls are still treated as peasants.
I mean if all the worlds a stage, then why do they play us only when we're players or when the play, us.
You conquered my heart and ruled forever..!

Timeless,  Priceless, Period..!!

Sparkle In Wisdom
Dec 2018
My admiration of my favorite film star.
God!
Why do I have to freak out?
You notice
and ask me what it's all about.
I tell you, "it's nothing,"
you say, "******* honey"
and then i explain
that I hate my existence,
without you in it.
I want you for my own,
without anyone else.
I wouldn't ever cheat,
lie,
or be ungrateful
to my elf.
You are better for me,
than I am for myself.
So today
I will write about the freak outs I have,
because this depression I feel,
isn't all just bad.
It's just fueled by jealousy,
and ruled by hate.
But only for the boys
you stay with til late.
I love you more
than I could ever show,
more than I could say,
more than you'll ever know.
And this is what you fail to see,
is that life could be better,
if you were just with me.
Less hearts that you
would worry about breaking,
less people's breaths
you'd be accidentally taking.
And you wouldn't have to try
as hard as you do.
This love that I feel,
That I wish you felt too.
Because I would come home
every night to you.
To rub to your feet,
give you kisses
and hold you
til' you slept
the whole night through.
Andrew May 2017
Somebody call Ben Affleck
We got phantoms in this *****
This endless haunted mansion
Their presence pervades
No company
In this lonely labyrinth
Only phantoms
The only figures resembling humanity
Are the corpses of those before
Who couldn't navigate this torturous structure
And of course, the masquerading phantoms
My soul they aim to puncture

I tried closing my eyes
But I just kept running into walls
I tried sleeping through it
But I just sank deeper into the basement
When I attempted to join the phantoms
You were there
You waited until I was hanging there
On the rope
And eviscerated everything
Lycanthrope
The rope in shreds
Your heart then fled
Leaving me alone again
Lying in my exhausted blood
The phantoms sensed my desperation
And took advantage of my disorientation
So I ran to the darkest recesses of the basement
To retrieve my blindfold and sledgehammer
But is my hammer powerful enough?
Will visual impairment abstain the trickery of ghosts?

I put Sisyphus to shame
With the determination I utilize to demolish these walls
But the phantoms are devious
They ***** new facades
Thicker, sturdier, with odder textures
I destroy them all the same
It just takes a bit more time
And time means nothing
To a man who's sole purpose is knocking down walls
And cowering from apparitions
Yet a man means nothing
To a time ruled by phantoms
Riz May 2017
lets be the new old fashioned
and whine on the internet

as we can’t change the -
or maybe the word is
won’t

it is tricky to trust
the government
and those who hate the government
                                    yet wish to govern

i apologise for intruding
on your ideology
but money is the play

can you hear
the one-armed fascists
clapping
        the sound ringing

then comes their dialogues
without meaning
just a noise
unsatisfying
our questions

greyness in the divided               kingdom
since budget day austerity         grows

the wise
predicted
this

tell the treasury i don’t
treasure them

explain the inequality to me
is it
where you laugh
                      at the idea
                             of the walk
                                        of shame
                                             but does a ******* laugh
                                      at the idea
                             of the walk
                      of shame
or is it different?

mr osborne
many brainwashed to think he was
a political conqueror

a man who rules yet
has never really
ruled
now slipping and sliding
into U turns at every junction
bombs up his sleeve
shards of my wages
smuggled in his pocket

i’d say **** me
but he’d get
too happy

disgusting disrespected
determined to defecate
my life
his life her life

injustice declared
in the green chamber of
fundamentalist *******

tea party later
            pinky’s up
petty snobs and knobs
              wimps and chimps

rah rah
yah my course at uni
holds the record
for *******
the most first year
birds

rah rah
yah i flashpacked asia
                         gap year
was going to 'find' myself
but instead
found a ladyboy
             giving me a blowy

rah hah
hah rah
yah

tea party invite
to the taxman       lost in post
                                        stay away sir

endless pits of poorer parties you can attend

ok so
mr osborne

don’t tax us for ostrich or
crocodile
meat

or the national lottery
or
jaffa cakes

but do take our blood
for a ****** treat

would you rather spend that money
cleaning the seats on the tube
                               didn't think so

ew aren't women so gross
fit a padlock on my tongue
stop it running loose

you assume our existence
is here for your mockery
imprison us within our ****** processes
               imprison us in vindictive convictions

our economic burden
cut taxes?
you cut
we bleed

     clotting blood

watch your animations
of sexist continuation
cartoons and frosties
three teaspoons of sugar

privatise my practice
privatise my property
privatise my private              

does it apply to all my juices?
charge me for a **** of my ***
and watch my baby cry

malevolent
     misogynistic
          mother-*******
                        mon­sters              

osborne is
‘backing people who work
                                    and save’

applause

but who is
backing people who work harder
                                     and can’t save?

...

he’ll rest now
on his comfy sofa
and second home

ravenous vultures
feeding on the helpless
          destroying cultures

capitalist realms
serving
monetary expansionism
                pecuniary longing
mechanical violence
                 hierarchal dominance

disabled benefits
tainted with his
poisonous thumbs
            disabled suicides kept out the press

no more deaths from esa c -
        - ut to some standard bbc news

propagandise their
suffering

trapped in
his money teasing schemes
                       subsidised by
              chi chi chicken ****
                   two bit
                           fascists

osborne, let's
forget the gbp
for a sec

how about the feeling
of being deeply
unwanted
by your own country

living a dependent life
imagine the depression
then the rejection of
any help to have
an independent life

wheel a mile in my chair

imagination without
involvement is
impossible for deadened tories
a bit like
arousal without
**** is
impossible for deadened hearts

he evicts those labelled
mental health
and
lack of wealth

it reeks

is it hard for him
to hear those in wheelchairs
and those with minds
in wheelchairs?

government gang culture
mr david icke
may be
right

do we live to
flee panic
and die
in a man-made drought
of thoughtless clouds passing
                                   above us
whilst we're
waiting and
waiting for
the drop
   just a drop will do

stand up
or don't,
it doesn't really matter
This is in response to Osborne's Budget 2016.
JMRS Nov 2018
Why is it so easy to write about pain & heartbreak
Rather than happiness
Well when im in pain I  feel it
When I’m happy I  also feel it
But above all
Im  so busy living it and expressing
The way I feel through actions
There’s no need to express myself on paper
When im in pain I feel it
Heartbreak, I feel it
Rather than making tracks on my wrists
I create beautiful tracks on paper  
The words become my savior
Cutting thin powerful lines into my wide ruled composition book
Filling it with new cuts
Looking back at old scars
That’s the beauty of pain
I look back and all I see is
Growth
Chris Neilson Jul 2018
"There's only one way forward
and that is peace, there is no other way"
so said Nelson Mandela after 27 years in prison
the majority spent on an island
governed by a brutal apartheid regime
borne out of a hatred for another's skin colour
no one is born hating
it's learned through the teaching of bigotry and fear
Mandela was no angel
he wasn't immune to human weakness
forfeiting his first marriage
for a struggle for equal rights
turning to violence when all else failed
his long lonely walk to freedom
began with that life imprisonment
after escaping a death sentence
a journey which ended in forgiveness
for the minority who ruled by oppression
and demonstrating that a new South Africa could be taught to love
as love comes more naturally
to the human heart
whatever the colour of their skin
Mandela was born just over 100 years ago and his life and legacy remains hugely significant.
cupid Jan 22
this empire, a tragedy
I.
i have built an empire
under a million rules extended by thousand people
under my protection

II.
blood runs off my hands
my hands clad in gold rings
gold rings clad in chain link and regret

III.
i am fearless
i was fear
he is nothing
he was powerful
we were kings
i am god
but we thought vice versa

IV.
bruised knuckles that bleed ambrosia
my gore to feed the deities of long time gone
i remember what it felt like the first time
a million lives ago they ripped me apart
they fed off my insides

V.
before becoming god he was a king
and before that a beggar child
weak, beaten on the street screaming
he screamed until his throat bled
remember that the one you crowned once lay at your feet
and while he lay there he threw up blood and choked on tears
one day you will be the one begging him for mercy
your tears on his sword

VI.
YOU ARE NO LONGER WELCOME
poor thing
banished from your own kingdom
no longer next to the highest in power
poor, poor thing
you are no longer welcome here

VII.
the old gods took the form of wolves
the took their apprentice to the woods
they ran
they burned their lungs with cold air
they ran
they attacked him from behind
they ran
they ate his flesh and drink his blood
they ran
they rebirthed him into an emperor
they ran
they promised to speak to and through him
the old gods no longer take form

VIII.
in he dug his dagger
down into his wrists and thighs
down into his stomach
he painted his silver pale skin
with his own blood
he tugged open his lips to lap up the ichor
he ripped out his human teeth with claws
in place grew in wolf teeth and fangs
his wounds healed over with fur
all human left of him now, his eyes
still blue

IX.
little red riding hood
no longer loved by god
god just as vicious as a wolf
empires ruled by gods
ruled by wolves

X.
***** went a rope
***** went a gun
***** went the thunder
one died one his own
two died in a fight
no one died in the storm
only wept
a fanged inhuman hung from the stairwell
two boys lay dead in the street in the wake of a lovers quarrel
two funerals held in the same hall
buried in the same storm
only two funerals, only two dead
he killed me twice
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