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MOHAMED Mar 2018
Before his teen age
turns the pages he dies
a life through years
of neglect for the frail
bony frame drowsy feet
dark sunken eyes
wandering the street
craving white pure
pleasures and dreams
sores moon crater arms
tributaries of ****
star marks parched skin
dry bloodied screams
of glorious pills injecting
intoxicated stuffs
forbidden fruits
trappings of worldly heaven
addictive octane ecstasy
tiger terminator of
a young man flourishing
now depleted sad
youth corrupted by a love
pursued but lost
eyes vacant trailed tears
pleading please forgive
me mom and dad
A life lost through drug addiction.
Tommy Randell Nov 2014

In each of two cities
While one is burning
The other waits
For the call to help
And the quiet night
Is split only by the world
Flowing by on the motorway
Between them.

No flame is visible
On either horizon
And no alarm sounds.
No wonder is felt
In either city
Of the quiet destruction
Taking place in the streets
Or that no help is forthcoming.

So, Friendship and Love,
The twin cities burn
Where two new towns
Ignorance and Bliss will be built.
And two people,
Lives once charged
With hidden energies
Will holiday in distant lands.

Quiet cities are a sign
Of silences about to flare
As all silences will
Into flame
But something seen into
Cannot be unseen
A city alone
Cannot burn uncared for.
Another Jul 2018
Why am I telling you this you’re probably wondering, even though we have only just met and I’m entrusting you with my life story. I think it is knowing that we probably won’t ever see each other again, for only this near second we’ve known each other, I have given you all that there is to know within me. So just for this moment you could carry this burden of mine until we part our ways and then you could let go of it such as you would a memory that no longer has meaning to your life. uncared for are our first encounters, no one gives a second thought that any of this means anything, to give weight to the notion that this could lead somewhere, is nice, as comforting as it may be it to know this, it isn’t actuality. knowing that isn’t what it seemed, I feel nothing but nostalgic.
I love to entertain these kind of thoughts that amount to nothing. nothing from what you expected could be meaningful, only impermanence contains the importance of meaning. Especially if it did not materialize how you thought it would have.
dreaming is about enough that we do have though isn’t it?

I’m tired of editing my messy imperfections. I hand them over to you like a homeless might hand over crumbled pieces of literature, put them together to feel what he is feeling. word by word I mean everything.

Feeling has no sense of array, it’s fluid and messy, perfectly. such is the way of my own expressions.
melissa rose Jan 10
It is an anchor thickened with age
tiny fractures induced by love
do not lance its hardened core
scaled with the red rust of rage
it ensures I am uncared for

Infrangible are these chains
that have rendered me confined
interlocking coils I can’t seem to break
have inflicted immeasurable pain
and a lifetime of heartache

There are moments I believe I can soar
blinded by realistic illusions
I expand my wings and take flight
shocked disbelief as I crash once more
I lack sacred truth and simple insights

Do I give in and embody the tethers,
surrender to my self limitations and
buy the lies of this mortal mind?
Or stitch my brave heart back together
forever detached from the ties that bind?
Harriet Cleve Jun 12
'What will we do with the contamination?'

'a place has been located, Earth, at far remove from our own'

'Where did this contaminant come from?'

'It has not yet been confirmed. Perhaps a bacteria has found its way into our soil. You will recall our last voyage to recover nutrients from stars orbiting planets similar to Earth. Collected samples had to be destroyed. They were hazardous to our life span expectancy.
Brain thought process diminished by a factor of 1000.
'Regression of behaviour to a primitive stage'.

'How many are infected?"

'We know for certain it is 775 from sector 84'

'What will happen now?'

'Even as we speak they are in transit to Earth'

'We will continue to observe and see if they survive'

'The good news is they will not enjoy life, in the majority of cases, beyond one hundred'.

'Such a tragedy'

'Would it not have been better to cull them into obliteration'

'No, this was decided against in the interest of science'

'Perhaps we can learn from the regressive behaviour'

'It may be necessary to retrieve a sample from time to time'

'Cut them open and dissect them for analysis'

'If this contagion hits us again we will need an antidote'

'Will they survive on Earth?'

'It is uncertain and if not uncared'

'The main thing is that the threat of extinction has been removed
from our own planet'

'less than a hundred years of age? It is nothing'
'Why they will barely be mature before they are aged?'

'Yes, a tragedy however their brain size and wave activity shows a highly diminished lack of awareness'

'Is there no hope for intelligent progression in time'

'None what so ever'
Mary Gay Kearns Nov 2018
Poor little thing unwanted
Uncared for by knowledge
Wondered at how it could be
Such cruelty allowed to be
To be given out to victims
Nothing ever improved
Since time began.

Only a few years of vision
After the 2nd World War
Claimed by a selfish
Generation of smartphones.

Love Mary

Love Mary ***
Harriet Cleve Jun 19
'Yes! It is is my considered though humble hypothesis that we are of any consequence in the great scheme of things.

Professor Larkin looked studiously down upon the assemblage of young men and women; many who sought to challenge his views on the Creation versus Evolution theory of Mankinds existence.

'How dare you?! ' came a startled cry from the audience.

'Yes, young man, do you have a question?

'A question? After what you have just pontificated upon'
'How dare you'? '

'You incredulous excuse for sanity!

' Not once! Not once have you given any serious commentary on scripture or our divine inheritance' said the young man.

'My dear fellow' the professor replied

'We are merely the uncared for gnat on the windscreen of the Universe'

'That is an outrageous statement!' came the young man's reply.

Suddenly and so swift no one had time to draw a breath.

A huge, monstrous, absolutely tyrannosaurus in scale, panel of glass hit the entire room!

If anyone was in a position to observe the Earth they would have seen a colossal vehicle demolish the entire globe.

Inside the vehicle a voice said 'Good God! The gunk on the windscreen! Get rid of it Harry!'

Harry turned on the windscreen wipers.

Clunk! Clunk! Clunk!

'It's okay' there I have put on the screenwash!

'It's all gone'

'Ugh! Insect life is gross

The vehicle drove on; oblivious to Professor Larkin's great hypothesis.
Merope Angel Aug 2018
He clipped my wings
Then, opening my cage, placed food outside it.
Still warm from his pocket.

If I exited the cage I’d be unable to fly and die in the next days to come.

You left me there for 8 days.

No food or water inside the cage.
Sitting outside alongside safety
I waddled and went insane
I found crumbs beneath my feet

I shoved my beak into small places

I pulled out the feathers of my right wing.

So you’d no longer trim them for me.

I accepted defeat and you closed the cage. Placing some small rations inside it. Just enough to prevent death.

And so has become my life for the past 24 to 36 months, I lose track now of suns and moons.

I feel it is uncared for;
My life.

The stars no longer shoot outside my cage for me to see.  
The always open window baits me.

The porch light creates false light all night and is the only thing I see.

Sometimes I pretend it’s home and imagine flying to it.

Sometimes I try to convince myself.

I’m waiting for my last breath now
As my chest rushes then slows down
I lie at the bottom of the cage and food is losing interest to me. I cradle my only good wing and remember how you used to sing my name.
Just a short story!
No be sad plz</3
BR Oct 2018
I am sixteen, ⁣
walking down winnie in the middle of summer⁣
heat waving thick fingers in the air, taunting ⁣
I am wearing sweatpants and a hoodie ⁣
all my layers of self and self defeating comfort eating are not enough to cover me ⁣
I have the hood pulled over my hair ⁣
*****, too short, uncared for⁣

I am carrying a novel, something cheap and badly written ⁣
a friend from school passes by me, waves, I turn away ⁣
pretend I don't see them ⁣
I stuff my hands in the soft pockets, grab a handful of hip meat, it feels like that scene in Lord of the Rings where juice runs down the chin of a false king⁣

I wear anxiety heavy around my face, I don't recognize myself without it⁣
but depression is not a word I can touch⁣
it doesn't fit me ⁣
it doesn't belong in my charismatic vocabulary ⁣
I don't know that I am drowning ⁣

wet mouth smacking and finger tapping make me feel like my mind is an experimental horror film ⁣
how are small sounds so loud? ⁣
how do they crawl into my ear canal like an animorph alien? ⁣
I was always so afraid of those books ⁣
and the sounds outside of our tent when my brother read them to me ⁣
I am so afraid of everything ⁣

I am sixteen ⁣
It's 98 degrees outside ⁣
and I am walking down the street in three layers of winter gear ⁣
and fear ⁣
and self hatred ⁣
and I cannot identify it ⁣
I don't know that I will be beautiful ⁣
I don't know that I already am ⁣
I don't know that my hands will pick wildflowers out of words ⁣
and that my life will be a practice of arranging bouquets for kitchen tables ⁣
I don't know that my hair will be long and easy to twirl around one finger, without thinking about the action ⁣
actions won't always feel like eyes watching me in and of themselves ⁣

I don't know that I will pull on jeans without thinking about the way they don't lay flat against me ⁣
I don't know that curves can be custard on the tip of a finger, sweet and nostalgic tapioca, ⁣
gritty and dimpled and perfect for sundays⁣
and mine and plenty ⁣
and pretty ⁣

I don't know that I will be beautiful ⁣
I don't know that I already am ⁣

SassyJ Sep 2018
It took me a decade of toil
years of experience and expertise
to learn that men are happy scoring
ecstatic when he bags and trashes
that short win he has not earned
Sometimes as women we steam
trimmed with seams of emotion
awaiting to open hearts unreserved
Yet he don’t want this vulnerability
he wants to be ignored and uncared for
denied and kept at the deepest ledge
for when you give yourself easily
he will devalue your inner-self
blocking and tantalising from afar
Men are still immature within
afraid of closeness,scared of love
afraid of the emotions,scared to trust
and when he chases,he is fast as a cheetah
preying closer and closer to his price
and when he lies, he sugar coats the facts
so that he creates an illusionary promise
Yet deep within he is like a baby
strained with automatic reflexes
unable to make an emotional dialogue
on how to make the woman really happy....
Lesson learnt over the years....

— The End —