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Devika S Feb 2019
A ruffled heart, an unsettled soul
The Almighty's kept her off the dole
'Why are you silent, mighty Lord?
Assure me, the universe acts per your accord'

She sauntered slowly down the street
Smiling at her loved ones, keeping life's misgivings discreet
She could feel the pain gently seeping in,
A scathing body, and a dubiety-clenched heart within

Of lost love and dead men they talk
Her agony of vacillations is why then put in a dock?
‘Smile, my dear heart’, she cried
There ain’t no world for the dreary-eyed

As the achy moments turned into uncurious days
Like mayflowers, new truths radiated
In her anxious ears, He gently whispered
‘Told you so, my dearest; T’you I shall always give the best’

Her heart triumphed, as His misty aura slowly unblocked
And slowly she rejoiced with every new truth unlocked
On fresh green lawns, she now runs
Ahoy! See there - a fortress of faith and new spring suns
I wrote this when I was in a semi-anxious, semi-delighted state. I haven't written any poem since this day, but when I read this again today, I realised the power of my own thoughts and words to lift me up, and remind me to keep faith.
Max O Jul 2011
Alone in the meadow,
on a fog filled night,
the man sits in a watch tower,
looking onward into the night fog


Suddenly,
he sees a peircing light,
coming from a being in the distance,
at first it is unknown,
but as the being gets closer,
he sees


It's a person,
a woman,
walking in the distance,
walking closer to the tower,
all the man can do is stare


As she gets right under the man's tower,
he gets a good look at her face,
so beautiful,
she looks like an angel,
staring at her beauty,
he can't look away


The mysterious woman walks by however,
seems uncurious by the tower,
or by the man in it,
she just passes by


Little is know about this beautiful being,
all the man can do is watch her walk,
walk away,
the woman barely looks,
never stopping her stride,
she leaves the meadow,
leaving the man to hope,
hope she comes back to walk the meadow again
Nathan Box Oct 2014
Blissfully unaware of the world.
Ignorant to events beyond our shore.
Mired in the problems of our lives.
Uncurious about the pain of our fellow man.
Fearful of those who don't look like us.
Just American.

No second language.
No tolerance for the different.
No excuse for entitlement.
No apology for the pain.
No need to grow.
Just American.

Just God.
Just family.
Just family friends.
Just my job.
Just American.

Just a world without justice.
Just American.
Michele Bolden Jul 2016
Laying here lethargically
listless
remote
uninterested

My Heart cowers in the corner
Begs my Brain to fix it
Make it all right again

And it wants to;
It does.

When Heart hurts Brain wants to take up arms
To defend Heart's purity

But here we all sit
uncurious
apathetic
stupefied

Brain is callous to the world
But won't let the world take Heart.
She is still the princess in the gardens
Playing with the butterflies.

Heart will be protected.

So Brain sends out the anesthetics
To try and settle Hearts palpitations.

But when that happens,
The vivaciousness is lost.

And we sit here
dazed
detached
aloof

Maybe tomorrow Brain thinks,
We can try and bring her back.

Make her Lively
Spirited
SPARKLING, again.

But it must be a little at a time
These things can't be rushed

Where Heart is concerned,
They take time.

So for now,

indifferent
melancholy
torpid
is how she must be.
Sudzedrebel Apr 25
Compassion,
The path of all things.
To care about nothing
Would be to learn just the same.

Curiosity,
The drive of all things.
To have it about nothing
Would be to receive just the same.

And thus, we have our twins!
Two constants with reciprocal natures
In continuous flux, each a prerequisite of the other.

To coddle one too much
Means the deprivation of the other.
To neglect either
Means the neglect of each other.
That is,
To neglect either is to reject both.
To foster chaos is by either's rejection,
In that both shall neglect each other.

The incompassionate mind is not curious.
The uncurious mind is not compassionate.

As in, by our neural structures,
The ways we decide to go
Are like the paths which grow.
For you leave more than only footprints
Where no man has ever walked before.
Yet, that you leave nothing,
You constantly walk those roads.
Yet, that it is immaterial,
You still do so in the physical.
Yet, that it is material,
You still do so in the metaphysical.

For it's inbetween being betwixt,
For it's seperate & imperceptible.
For it's singular, yet collective.
For it's collective, yet individual.
For it's infinitesimal, yet infinite.
For it's eternal, yet finite in existence.

That is, existence like ice
Slowly melting into water.
That it remains the same,
But changes & fluctuates
Relative to any environment.
As like with the constraints of time,
Actions outward of the body.
Action of the outward body.
In relation to it,
Matter unchanged
But translated via a different state.

Celebrate.
To live is for life,
But we all die sometime!
Yet, is this change?
Transmutation by that of another order?

Something perennial, yet still coming into being.
Something endless, yet but only just beginning.
Something futuristic, yet which is already happening.
Maybe someone once called them Castor & Pollux? Lol
Cedric McClester Aug 2018
By: Cedric McClester

Like the 400 pound man
In a basement on his bed
Conspiracy theories
Run through his head
Though it was the Russians
Everyone has said
He’s going after
Hillary’s emails instead

Now it’s the Chinese
He wants to blame
For hacking our emails
So that’s what he claims
But the American people
Are tired of his games
Despite the pictures
His imagination frames

He gets information
Right off of Fox News
And he is so tied
To their jaundiced views
That it informs
What he tends to choose
And consequently
All of us tend to lose

Intellectually speaking
He uncurious
But that doesn’t matter
To his blind trust
I’m referencing his base
Not the rest of us
Whom he tends to anger
And causes to cuss









Cedric McClester, Copyright ©2018.  All rights reserved.

— The End —