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Jackie G Jul 2018
Some say life is like a box of chocolates.
I say life is like a PUZZLE
You and I
Are the pieces
If one piece is missing the picture is incomplete
Making things(relationships,disappointments,let downs,set backs,loss) a little harder to solve
who would think
a piece so small
could make such a difference
Or a
IMPACT I SHOULD SAY
we need you
it is time to get into your position
To figure out what part you are or where you belong
GET THERE
because you matter
you are a piece to the puzzle.
NOW PLAY YOUR PART
This was inspired by me just thinking of the world we live in today & how people are separated and unwilling to help and judging because they are strong in a area where someone else may be weak. We all play a part and my weakness can be your strengths and vice versa. With that being said there's no need to push on someone like they don't fit because we all do!!! we all have purpose!!!
Mystic Ink Plus Jun 2018
You know it’s not easy
But you are not alone

Remember that
Genre: Inspirational
Theme: Together we can
Purcy Flaherty Feb 2018
Set us free

Rise up and step across those borders,
For together we must stand as one,
Put aside those old traditions;
Let us sing a song or freedom!

Every woman, every man,
Everywhere, throughout the land,
Sing out loud, your heart’s desire,
All five senses are on fire!

One voice, one heart, one soul,
One world, One Love, One Goal,
Let us sing in harmony!
Brothers!
Sisters!
1
2
3
Love
love
love
will
set
us
free!
A song of freedom  I was inspired to write this song after spending three days in Berlin and going to see Nina Hargen
Song link below
https://youtu.be/P67iCpx1tkg
Ilion gray Jul 2018
If the endless invoked me
”come”
I would leave these days
Without me
the solidarity of hidden deserts
Under unfounded skies
Will still be resting;
If I remain
Amidst the swaying morning
by earth
Inside your space
my hands
Dark as shadows cast
From holes burned
through walls
behind heaven
Eons dripping
billions all at once
Trying to keep every drop of you
In my hands
But you are a quasar
Even breaking atoms
collapsing everything
And lowering yourself
back to earth
Tonight
inches equal aeons
Here in this place
Where no one ever goes
I watch the universe
crush
In my palm
I witness
the strength of megallactic clouds
I am alive
Because I
snatched only the essence of the galaxies
bleeding
your skin is perfect
You having been born of tears
Of the endless face of God
Racing back
Down through
Darkness' unnamed
And unnumbered
Rushing down
Leaving every empty space
Stained with the fingers of your
Flames while you
escape heaven
I will reinforce
Every constellation
Else the ether
could never hold you
for a moment
Your skin was placed
superbly over
bones
and flesh
Veins endless
And all the tender entrails
in its time
Sat suspended
Remember my love Forget
all other things
But this
When your Hours finish
It wont be day
nor December
There won't be rain
And stars will not descend
From the space from which you came
you woke up in childhood
You have learned to dream in mirage of minutes
Be Silent in the shaken shadows
Of hours
just once you were called by the finite
But do not be afraid
My love
Because the caverns of my heart
were forged in the thickest charms
In darkness
Reclusive
In the unchanged
Spaces of gods thought
I'll tell you now
Spill everything
from your fury down
inside me
Because my emptiness can not be filled
when there was a real light
in the days of the day
I sat with the wicked
In kingdoms where light can not pass
In repentance

I will save a calm battle
Until every atomie of my skin has perished
I will rage against the black angels
In the clouds Behind your eyes
Until the ice
Until innocence
When they lay you in the empty space
soon you will be the bones
and the flesh unexcited
The unexpected veins of the earthstar
Your scent goes away from the moon
Your breath on my skin is gravity only you could be born once
as a single kind of dust
drifting with Silence
violently Bubbling
and Spinning-Recklessly
Endlessly
forever
1981

They came in like diseased eagles; mutated
forms of those they wore on their chest and
with the change once again in the weather,
the ZOMO swooped in to quell what was
‘wrong’, what would bring them down. They
run in the streets as well as the miners,
running for different reasons and different
aims. I look down, out my window and see
the army helmets littering the street like rats.
            Police.          Rats.
I could no longer see a difference. My father
went to work that morning. I clutch my doll
knowing the chance of seeing him again is
            Miniscule.   Poor.
There is no more cereal in the cupboard;
there is no more cereal in the shop; there is
no more shop. The ZOMO set it on fire when the word

                          Solidarity

appeared in the window.
“We are closing the border for the safety of the People”
            Incorrect.     Unjustified.
For the safety of You, the Elite.
“Nine killed in mine shooting”
Which side?
Only the ZOMO carry guns.
            Fascism.       Communism.
I could no longer see a difference
Carter Ginter Jun 2018
You say you love me,
Then threaten to leave me.
When does this love
Become unhealthy?

When you tell me that
After this
I can't have any more partners?
As though I had any say in yours.

When you enforce a set of boundaries
While completely disrespecting
Those I ask of you?

When you don't want to hear about it
But you do want to hear about it
And if I don't tell you about it
Then you're just as upset
As if I'd brought it up?

When you call me while I'm working
Yelling because you say I ****** up
And you want to hear me cry
Because then you'll know
That I still care about you?

When you're telling me
How in love you are with me
And how you love when we connect
While telling your other partners
That I'm really just immature
And a horrible person for
Trying to hold your hand?

What about when
You're trying to control
Your partner's and my behavior
By telling them that
They can't hang out with me
Or be my friend anymore
Since it's a choice of solidarity
And it breaks their loyalty to you?
Completely disregarding that
We are best friends too?

Or when you expect me to call into work
Because you aren't satisfied with
The way our discussion ended
And you think that you need to be
Always my main priority
Over even my financial security?

When I'm expected to be present
Whenever you want to talk about us
Or about an issue we're having
But if you don't want to talk about it
Then you'll just turn your phone off?

Or what about when
You boast about how
Open and transparent you are
Then turn around and
Expect me to know what your feeling
And how to fix it
Before we even talk?
And if I don't know
Then I guess I'm just ******
Which only makes you more angry

And lastly,
What about when
I'm trying to talk to you about the things
That are causing me pain
But you can't even listen to me
Because you just get angry
Because of course I'm just demonizing you?
And even if my feelings are valid
So are yours
And you think I'm wrong
So nothing ever changes

When do I draw the line
And walk away from this "love"
That I honestly
Don't know if I feel anymore?
I gues today
See them standing on the podium of promises
Tickling us to wed them into power
As we stand under the burning sun, sweaty as ever
All ears to their flowered words of which they caress
And powdered our minds with.
They donate maggi, salt, wears and the root of all evil,
To further blind our minds and instinct.
Like goats following a hand with a palm fruit,
We chased them with high hopes to the polls,
Like Esau of old we repay their donation with our votes.

Their desires were met, now in power
At serious battle against their promises,
Our faith getting lean, our hopes bleed in response to their policies.
The opposition jubilant for the failure of the electorates.
Soon, they awoke into reality, spur to abort incumbent reign.
Some took to bombs, guns, cutlasses, few to the streets.
The opposition soldiers are thugs, always hungry to ****.
The masses weapons are their mouth, placards,
And solidarity songs, they walk and sing.
They say when elephants fight the grasses suffer
I wonder who are the elephants or the grasses indeed.
A  place that suppose to be our home now a battle field
Where everyone fights for self survival
Forgetting the unborn, our toddlers, our heroes past.

It is high time we talked and sack the thugs
But who will moderate
Who will faithfully give audience, who will sincerely talk?
The elite, the elected seems like they are war ready
They have well set up their political troops
A war they won't stand to fight
But escape through thinning air off our sight.

In a molding  state
Pigs dare to preach sanity
In a world of questions, ignorance remain the worst cancer
And the apex poverty.
Let not fold our hands and live to die in this doom
If your lips are scared, let your pen speak.
Let not throw in the towel
Until we justfully elapse the reign of the unwanted in one peace.
The inspiration for this poem came from the power struggle in my country and how  we have been very unlucky in getting a leader that all can fully accept. Our leaders here barely keep their promises.
Dita Oct 2018
I could find a way to make a voice so small become loud,
         loud enough to influence hearts and minds with words.
We are routed in love,
         yet our structure does not embody unity in full.
Empathy is lacking and eyes burn with ignorance,
         peace can only be found through pure intention.
Time is a gift while everything is a choice,
         choose to create moments that are a reflection of honesty.
Beauty exuded by the synchrony of our souls is captivating,
         rich reminders to care for one another.
If I blend my thoughts with your thoughts,
         you and I should feel safe-
           we are all one.
Jostin Mendez May 2018
It has been a while since my lips uttered words of wisdom.
My mentality changed once you broke me, My words unable to escape my mind with the absence of your soul.
I lived with death on my mind and a heavy heart weighing me down to my inevitable demise.
After my death came I realized that you werent the cause of my downfall, it was my mentality that rushed the destruction of my beautiful heart and words.

So I said goodbye to the poetry spoken before my death and introduced a mentality of solidarity.
Dutch Jul 2015
The spoken language of my indigenous tongue is unfamiliar with composing a complex signature of words. I am a justly man who only possess a singular thought at a time and my current thought comes unto me gravely. This note should be pretty easy to understand.
     My evangelizing does not bound a union between a man and amen. Those fabricating words I once preached are as false as fish on grass. A paradox forms within myself. I am structured alike the absolute truth but I surely lie a fact. But I can no longer carry a deceit intention. Fool’s gold was at the end of the rainbow. And like a loyal dog, I followed with a wagged tail.
      I believe hindsight is merely useless, now. I attest to seek truth as it appears but my eyes are blind with fury. I mistakenly remembered that vision is of faith rather than sight. I become a precise and selective balloter. I either speak its erroneousness existence upon them or become a subject of harsh matters.
     The genesis Armageddon is occurring. Man falls to a higher sky because the mind of the body cannot outthink its own thought; therefore, it is the last transcendence. I kneel in solidarity amid the row of pews. Peace, be steel. For it will all cease, follow by a great calm.
I wrote this poem to bring life about the man who played the preacher in 7th Heaven who was allegedly sexually abusing younger women off set. This is particularly interesting seeing he played a preacher and righteous husband who can do no wrong. But in fact he didn’t live up to the word of God. Therefore the spirits forced him to face his wrongs and he kneels down in the first row, killing himself in his church.
ConnectHook Sep 2015
[Infernal Dialectic of Ongoing Struggle]

Spoke Mao Zedong to Kim Jong Ill:
We languish here in deep red **** –
Let us confer and analyze
What factors revolutionize
The contradictions still.


Replied Lil’ Kim: The running dogs
Beguiled by class and capital
Have overdrawn and overspent.
They bank on debt, and make lament
And flounder in their fogs…


Kim chee does stink, but tastes so good
Do have some more, oh comrade Mao.
Fermented cabbage goes so well
With Hennessey and blondes (in ****)
when
Juche’s in da hood!

The Fearless Leader (now a shade)
Responded thus: Just give them time.
Our doctrines spread, their God is dead
Their sons shall sing ‘The East is Red’
Our party’s got it made.


Ill Kim displayed a wicked grin:
Our rocket-launches make them fear
They scold and cluck, and then they duck
While Hillary tries to pass the buck
I think we still could win…


The Chairman thought and sipped some fire
in communistic reverie, and feeling very clever, he
Replied to Ill: This place we’ll fill
with dead reactionaries still –
fifth columns to inspire.

Now let the thousand flowers bloom
And let one thousand thoughts contend.
Remember **? Remember ‘Nam?
We triumphed over Uncle Sam –
He’s limping toward his doom.


A wizened ghost now drifted in
Because his name had been proclaimed
A wispy beard (as yet unseared)
Revealed the mastermind once feared:
Old Uncle ** Chi Minh !

** ** – old friend! Draw near! Draw near,
Spoke Mao: In solidarity
We hail your work upon the earth
You showed them what a war is worth
You’re always welcome here.


Ill Kim and I were wondering
How best to make the forward leap –
conspiring ******* their cow
and smoke their duck and drain their sow
while they are buying bling.

** Chi, old warrior, why the frown?
Upon your wisdom now we wait.
The forces red you bravely led
You staked your claim until they bled
And brought their nation down.


Old uncle **, the sage revered,
did smolder with his cigarette.
Viet Cong thought is hard to grasp
It slithers like a jungle asp…
** paused and stroked his beard:

You speak without the people’s light!
I criticize in strongest terms
Your revolutionary thought.
We need to ask our friend Pol ***
How best to steer this fight.

Such gradual change, a halfway measure
stalls the Bourgeoisie’s demise.
Our true Khmer Rouge was not a stooge
of Kapital. His fame was huge
for plundering their treasure.

True, he had to purge his nation
such is revolution, gents…
The traitor classes see the masses,
through reactionary  glasses.
Death or re-education!

We ought to sow his rural seed
for pure agrarian reform.
The bodies in the rice can rot
to fertilize the harvest plot –
the people’s mouths to feed.


When Pol *** heard his tactics lauded
he flew in to join the jabber:
Take a tip from Kampuchea!
Listen well and I will teach ya!

Kim and Mao applauded.

City folk are useless eaters
glasses-wearing foes and cheaters!
let them ***** – and always save
their corpses for the fertile grave
Until they love their leaders.

From the barrel power grows –
(I don’t mean kim chee barrel, boys – )
Now learn my way.We’ll have our say
Their weakened states will wither away.

The Red dictator rose.

Prepared to ramble on for hours
(the way Fidel so loves to do)
Pol ***’s harangue now fired the gang
like rockets falling on Da Nang
emitting sparks in showers.

**** is known for lack of stasis –
Sudden throes of quaking fire;
fitful flares from from Satan’s lairs
and constant similar affairs
the population faces…

Thus Saint Pol ***, still naming names
along with Mao and Kim-Jong Il
while ** Chi screamed, and then blasphemed
were swept en masse, and unredeemed
into the surging flames.

Yet still they plotted in the blaze
with dialectic deviousness.
Philosophizing, strategizing
stinking sulphur brimstone rising;
ghosts in the yellow haze…

        ☭ END ☭
http://tinyurl.com/q6uyx34

Take Me to the Highlands of Joy where Cascades of love flow.
Take Me to where Manifestations of Beatitude grow.
Take Me to where the Cool breezes waft Positivity.
Take Me to where there is Abundance of Kindness and no Desparity.
Take Me to where Melody of the hearts sing in Empathy.
Take Me where the Angels Abide in Solidarity .
Take Me where the door's open to PROMISE LAND , baring  the Key's to the Vault's of My DREAMLAND...
©Mrunalini.D.Nimbalkar
Certain daily life events leave a significant mark for us to think ,the poem is an outcome of one such small incident.A roller coaster of thoughts where you are supposed to take a pause and thank the almighty for his gift of life, where in the balancing act of gratitude and sympathy is the crux 2019.2.23
Lady Ravenhill Aug 2018
Amb’r dawn glows warmly
In the m’rns swirling mist
Phantom mem’ries a whispering
On our long depart’d bliss

Flowing from the mountains,
Sweet reminiscence carried endlessly  
By crook’d streams to the open arms
of the lonely restless sea

Finally we found a place to rest
Our woven st’ry's branches
Like the sparrow weav’r’s nest
Intertwin’d and then forsaken

Our passions did breathe in solidarity
Now a hushed loss lament’d, yet
Looking forward to our apogee
The nurtur’d hope of new mist in the ‘m’rrow
@LadyRavenhill 2018
Emily Oct 2018
Emptying one’s wallet for the family fee,
Joining in linear solidarity with the crowd,
Dripping profusely under the blazing sun,
Creeping forward as if slower than a snail.

Arriving at the moving beast’s head,
Receiving envious glances from the tail,
Stepping boldly forth at last,
Following instructions.

Strapping oneself into place,
Shooting forward like a rocket into space,
Spinning endlessly until quite dizzy,
Screaming with sheer delight and fear.

Dropping back to earth,
Speeding faster than a thought,
Leaving stomach far behind,
Enjoying the absurdity of its apparent disappearance.

Exhilarating, yet much too short,
Seeking to repeat the thrill,
Joining the waiting horde,
Staring impatiently from the queue’s tail.
I personally have never seen the appeal of amusement park rides, possibly because my inner pessimist is sure I’ll break my neck on one. How was my description, given I’ve never even been on a roller coaster ride?
Stu Feb 15
Who do you call when your brain is on fire?
When sunshine strips
begin to fade from the bed sheets,
And you find, yet again,
That you've allowed a day's worth of stability
To deconstruct itself.
For a while, a silhouette you will remain,
Chasing the origin of light,
Only to fall into the one thing blocking it.

What happens when a brain is burnt out?
Drawing out breaths that latch to the cold air,
When you stand with weary muscles,
A title wrapped around your forehead,
And a frustration festering.
Holding close to the last remaining memories,
Of security, of solidarity, of purity.
Losing yourself to yourself,
Costs less and less each time.

When do you decide a brain needs fixing?
When the ride home is full of regret,
And your legs cannot stop shaking.
A miserable night will be swept under the rug,
So dogear the scripture you spoke belligerently,
And the world will suddenly seem small.
A breakdown happens when most needed.
A breakthrough happens when least expected.

How do you fix a brain?
Probably, the day without questioning it all,
Will be the day you figure the most out.
If we can get a mixed up mind to settle,
Then the first thing to learn would
Be the acknowledgment of a new, better life.
We will all survive our demanding brains,
if only someone will show us the way,
Will someone please show us the way,
Before another brain is reignited?
For an old friend.
TD Nov 2018
We are enslaved by acceptance. Who cares if we are the sore thumbs...who really cares if our identity is a blight or a fist raised in solidarity.
And yet—-
and yet—-
I milk these words like they were nuggets of wisdom..Rumpelstiltskin and his straw. We trade in our straw for bricks and build a Sphinx in our search for acknowledgement. We create what we cannot understand and lick our chops while being gobbled up by our idols.

Touche’ reflection..
touche’!
Dennis Willis Oct 2018
Look it
the **** up

I just did
"archaic"

Feel that
like an angry poem

crawling up your
esophagus

it wants out
and into

your ear
cover 'em

retch into night
small words

their letters
spread

and you know
these hands

don't you
know this soul

wannabe wretched
in ease

solidarity

a sandwich
only i can eat

you
you are not

here
may never 'ave been

here

I will be
here soon

i only hope
for you

to someday
be struck

as i've been
become bereft

as i am
of yesterday's content

Copyright@2018 Dennis Willis
Akira Chinen Sep 2018
The world is a stage and life is a tragedy / and a comedy and a romance gone bad / and a love gone right until it has gotten away from us / and it’s **** and cruel and its strange and beautiful and it twists and it turns / and we all got something burning inside of us /and we all got something to cry about / and we all got something to regret / and we all got something to smile about / and we all got something to sing about / but we move along like background actors afraid of center stage / afraid to feel all of our lonely rage / afraid of what will the audience think / afraid of stumbling on our lines afraid of tripping over our own heart beats / so afraid of dying in the limelight that we hold our breath and close our eyes and sleep without dreaming / and stay out of the spotlight and stay off in the wings / and what is it we’re living for by not playing the parts of ourselves / nothing but a shadow of who we could be / when will we all realize we can make our hearts into something bigger than a fist / that our heart can do something more than just beat / that we got the whole universe inside of us / and all we got to do is let it spill out / we don’t have to wait for our turn to be heard / we don’t need the permission of the director / we don’t need the applause of the audience / this is our life / this our stage / we got our own light dying to get out of us / we got gasoline running through our veins and we’re ready to burn from the inside out / and keep on burning and keep on burning and keep on burning / and dance along the fires of eternity / we don’t have to hold back who we really are / no matter how awkward or weird we may seem to be / there’s a beauty only found in those who find comfort in being strange / we don’t have to give in to normalcy / we don’t have to be complicit to the script of human cruelty / we don’t have to play soldiers in the war of wealth and greed / we don’t have to play the blind to the homeless and hungry / we don’t have to pretend to not hear the cry’s for help from those stricken with poverty / we don’t have to play the part of the enemies enemy / we can rewrite the script  /we can turn the world around and stand in solidarity and find our way to unity / we can stand center stage arm in arm and let no one move us / we can tear down the facade / and open up the cage our minds have been living in / and fly free and fly too high and kiss the sun as we burn hotter and brighter and not melt into nothingness / and nothing can bring us down when we make our hearts into something bigger than a fist / when we open it and let all this love spill out and let all this love come rushing back in / simply by just opening our hands and reaching out to one another / sister to sister to brother to brother to mother to father to daughter to son to friend / and to stranger / and write everyday with compassion and kindness and empathy / and throw away the old script of human misery / and all take a bow / after we have made our hearts into something bigger than a fist
Corey Feb 6
Drifting across the sky
and falling into darkness,
the sky turns slowly
and effortlessly,
I watched the miles
traveled by the moon,
watched the stars
glide in solidarity.

I allowed
them to fill the darkness
with bright light that didn’t
radiate, but was contained
within a speck; I watched
as they disappeared
and reappeared as I drifted
in and out of focus.

There were never enough—
a dusting of white dots
like splattered paint from
a brush that had nearly
run dry.

A painting so simple
yet so immaculately detailed
with pictures of heroes and
goddesses.
A puzzle
asking to be seen
through wondering eyes;
long forgotten.

Impossible
to capture the painting’s true
beauty
I am the ME within MYSELF
I am the ONE , I reach out to help .

Erratically I strive to care for all ,
Yet I am the One I care for in all !

Being at peace with MYSELF , I  parole MYSELF to ME .
Like a poet consumed in Me , I strive to write a thousand words and the only ones I write is ME !

Being wrapped up in MYSELF,
Laden with Self- Absorbing , self -Obssesed ,self-Solipsistic jewels .
Consumed in the beauty of MYSELF,
I  surrender MYSELF to ME !

Being self- seeking and in solidarity with MYSELF ,
Loving MYSELF  and letting ME be ,
MY whole world surrounds only ME !

Unconditionally possessive of My stature,
I am a self-centered creature !
Not an element of pain , nor a element of gain .
Being Incarcerated to ME , I  Yearn never to be free !
© Mrunalini.D.Nimbalkar
Being so self absorbed has its pluses and minuses...To be selfishly selfless or selflessly selfish !!!!!narssisist#self obsession#solipsistic#solidarity #incarcerated#09-03-2019..
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