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“An ill of greed has befallen the land,”

“A quickening sickness which seeks to prey…”

“Where wealth accumulates and men decay.”
I WANT TO BE VERY CLEAR HERE..I DID NOT WRITE THIS. IT WAS WRITTEN ON A TWO THOUSAND YEAR OLD PIECE OF STONE ON DISPLAY IN JORDAN BELIEVED TO BE PHOENICIAN. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez

All I did was change the synonyms to make them modern.
Shin Dec 2013
I don't know how to write happy poems
because I don't really believe in them.
I thought angst would die with adolescence,
but alas I can still feel its cold dint.

Perhaps like virginity this goes too;
no longer a creep standing idly by.
Plastic smiles taped to our cardboard faces
and yours alone I felt the need to prise.

That's okay, because the teenaged rosebud
that we claim to be so very unique
is beginning to wither, can't you see?
And now it's the thorns society seeks.

So look out over yonder cityscape.
Your mask shall be shed only by the moon.
Until then, a cartographer of love;
yours that is, we'll still pathetically swoon.
Tea Dec 2013
He is that high, dazed and alive
When you spend hours stealing
Glimpses at the stars
Like keys wrapped around a promise
To free you from these bars
Limitations placed so certainly
On top of you on top of me
I seek my way out
Like a star gazer seeks understanding
I’m planning on playing my hand just right
Putting you next to me
King of hearts at my side
Or maybe you are a joker,
Either way put on your poker face
We have life and space, set no pace
Like untimed steps under
A fall to far

Sing to me a jazzy song
From a time that’s far,
Dance with me
Dance along, move your feet
Make no promise you can’t keep
Just feel it
It’s like freedom but on fire
Like trust without certainty
Acrobat without a wire
Like letting go
A grand release
Like fearlessness
A found voice to speak
Passions pushed blood to cheek
Blushing past shades of pink
Pull you in, close to me
Fearless in you and me
Just fearless
AS Aug 5
Strength in the way we invent,
   To splendour in our achievements.


No longer the reaping of belief!

                                               Confusion!

Delusion!

                     The insecurities fighting
                                                 through!


The fire inside,
Mightily spinning,
Flooring expectations.


          Following our own set of rules,
                      Becoming the true truth.


Transcending out of our youth,
Travelling miles,
In moments travelling mentally a lifetime.


                         Today is where it starts,
                                Authentic to bloom.


Swaying away from the others who stray.

                                            The boxers,
                          Lost in a world of labels,
Disabled from what they've remained,
          To continue the lacking game.


Sprung free,
This life is not what you need.


           No satisfaction to this slippery
                                                          grease­,
                                  A body growing old,
     A mind misdirected and betrayed.


In your way,
Divert your gaze,
Away from the same.


          Accepting the strange ways that
                                                         appear,
                          But once you get in gear,
                              Let your soul appear.


A complete,
A connection to the right direction ignored.


     To be what you've always meant
                                                             to be,
                                            A controversy,
                                                The heat.


Beats living a life in which depletes,
Creating defeats.


                             Take hold of destiny,
                                                          Unpin,­
                            An essence not in grief,
                But retrieving what it seeks.


© 2018

Abigail Sheard
About being yourself no matter the expectations of life you shatter, be what makes you happy.

X
Mellow waves Apr 7
Trust is a golden key to one’s heart
It is so strong yet easily shattered,
It is so pure yet easily blemished,
It is as strong as the howling of the wind,
It is truly, the craving that everyone seeks.
K Balachandran Feb 2014
Inebriated blue cloud,
I know you well enough
libertine ways you have
make you a lover of
deep thunder and meek rainbow
and also a chit of a lark
that loses itself in a song
be it is in grief or mirth.

Strange is the ways of my heart,
how much I long to fall in love with you
and proclaim this to the world scheming
to disrupt the pleasures one seeks
without any reason at all
"Look! love has no limits, no reason even
the lovely cloud, softness personified
caresses my foliage with sensuous abandon
kisses me with her wispy lips of moisture"

I know you understand, though unmindful of
my unbridled passion
making breaches in the limits,
I have no illusion about our improbable union.
True, how can we live
happily ever after?
I envy your gift of wings
though you have none visible,
you borrow it from the wayward wind,
too willing to carry your sweet load around.

I stood on the hill top,
wistfully thinking
that you will come and
take me within your soft folds
though I am a tree with deep running roots
that has become a restraining thing.

Freedom without any limit
gets you inebriated every minute,
your love for love,  makes you desirable
you live in the present, suspend thoughts on time to come
as it is hypothetical, you say.
You are in a hurry to roam
wherever lovers lead you one after the other
do you have an urge to dissolve and pour-
as water, without any remorse?

Do you know my  penitence for your love
on this hilltop is a true sacrifice?
My love for you doesn't bring anything
except my wilting hour after hour.
Let me be on your blue breast for moments
when my boiling love will seek
your shining center that melts, melts
we'd freeze as one, how long my darling?
Time would simply stand still
to a distance, i'd be transported,
where tree or cloud means nothing
we are an incessant rain lasting for ever.
Dania Elmayer Jul 29
A dismal , dystopia.

A -dissociative - place
pure ,pure
panic!

Abducted; from normality
suppressed my thoughts , cunning
immorality.

In a dark , dark ,dark world .
My ,mind -craves-
insanity

Reached.
An eerie, valley
streams beyond the tide .

In a place were birds do not fly .
I crumble in my , desolation
pleading , for my, time .
My , time seeks urgency.


Heinous voices arise ,
I resuscitate , revive.

LORD.
If this was pre -determined
why does my -fatality- never, arise
The pages dripped,
As so the time of the lover.
What seemed so pure,
Gone the distant time another.
From tears to blood,
Pleased and fitted the seeking lines.
This writing love,
Above all the pure soul he whines.
Somberly eased,
One seeks a fine place to rest on.
Of all chastised,
Left a soul requited and blessed.
Run forgiveness,
Placed heavenly upon his chest.
What you know...
Vrushali Jadhav Oct 2017
Where nowhere to go,
But somewhere to be !
My heart seeks for you,
As a bird searches its tree !

Around you I could be me,
As you felt like my home!
You made me a wanderer,
With the courage to roam !

All the pain,
That my heart holds!
Suddenly diminishes,
As your love for me, unfolds!

As I walk with you,
And stand by your side!
I promise to be your half,
Through the storm and the tide!

Shine like a star,
For my vulnerable sky!
As I show you,
How my love gets you high !

Together then we will see,
What feels like a FOREVER!
As you tight my hand,
And I leave you, NEVER
Pax Jul 1
What makes a poem
- a poem?
Does it express your
emotional life and
the selfish deeds
it contains
.... then you shamelessly
Share it...

Does it really matter
someone might
read it or not?
Someone might
understand you or
not, does that really
matter?

In the world
we live in
many hearts
have died
for they don't
know how our
pen works.
How it does
- what it does.

When a poem
does all the
technicalities,
it may seeks
the power of
fame and fortune
but does it really
matter?

I may not understand
fully what makes a poem
- a poem. But behind all
of it, I'm just here
trying to write a poem
whom my heart
spoke out loud
like he never could.
"How many have to die
so that you can feel loved.
by Florence + the Machine"

you know her music resonates my darkness.
her music really tugs some heartstrings I
tried to hide.
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