Culture/Society

City, Here we are.

Alleyways feeling so lonely

                          'I wish you could know me

Poor man with a frown

                   'We ran you to the ground

Vacant lot where did you go

               'I guess we reap what we sow

empty malls without a store

          'its true life must mean more



.....Old place. New life. Here we come, Here we come



Lights go spinning, Lights go by , I'm walking, I'm running, I'm saying goodbye

City turn, City burn, City take my heart , throw it and learn

I wanna leave you, but I can't. Kicking dirt, Kicking Cans, City in the sand



Smiling man with a twisted sign

                  'your a victim of your time

empty bottles on the asphalt

                  'they're telling me its all your fault

cardboard box under the pass

                   'look away, it won't last

bullet on the school crosswalk

              'not enough to create a shock



......Old things, New hope.  There they were, There they were.



Lights go spinning, Lights go by , I'm walking, I'm running, I'm saying goodbye

City turn, City burn, City take my heart , throw it and learn

I wanna leave you, but I can't. Kicking dirt, Kicking Cans, City in the sand

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Never To Exist (Final Version)

Time is dancing around the clock

as the rejected and missing begin to knock

its the hum of nothing that makes the sound

of the days we lost and never found



Its a knock on the door when noones home

and the footprints of those who were never known

it's the distant words that were never heard

and the laughter of life which now seems absurd



It's the fallen tears that noone will feel

and a warm hug that could never be real

its the cold morning air that reaches noone

and the days of work that will never be done



To those who were never born, we remember

the innocence lost in a moral surrender

we now say goodbye to the never existing

but we will all remember, time never stops dancing

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem is based on the topic of abortion.

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Khanjar

Folder: 
Thought For Food

when you render your Strike of the Sword

and you swing aimlessly, with intent

your responsibility dismissed

put all the blame on the weeds for using the flowers

as shields, in this desert garden

may god protect them from you both

when you cut down the trees with the weeds

and the seeds you crush and the seeds you sow in this aborted scene

that will be, as your operation begins

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Another Face

Folder: 
Thought For Food

all you could do is crack jokes,

never look at the evidence

now that he's dead,

you grieve like you ever cared



about this famous face i'd prefer not to write about

that was just another person, there's so many stories untold

around the world hundreds of thousands died today

around the world hundreds of wrongful different ways



but strangely what i can stomach least right now

what's truly the top story this moment

is all the living hypocrites

all the living hypocrites



cause all you could do is say gross,

when ever the name was mentioned

now that he's dead,

you grieve like you ever cared



yea, he's just another face

just another face that revealed us

for whom we are

like poor souls have to endure in our daily lives

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Make Your Choice

Are you going to the Washington polls?

To clean up these city streets and holes.



Let’s make them bring our men back from the war

To live our everyday dreams and so much more,

And help collect money to provide and free the poor.



Vote for a change to keep a reputable name.

Stop all this bleeding that so long remains.

Dispute the narrow minded and childish games.



Are you going to the Washington polls?

To clean up these city streets and holes.





Writen by: Melissa Domenica Mason

Cowriten by: Richard Racaza Starkweather


Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem was writen in Las Vegas at the Hilton Grand Vactions Clubs...Pool side we sat in the hot sun and with a little goofing off and seriousness...this is what we came up with...hope u enjoy...

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Mr. Roger's Hood (back in the day)

  



There is no class - like

The class of all classes

No school - like

The school of all schools

The school of love



The school of love

is the thread of Unity



With the thread of Unity

we weave the quilt

of neighborhoods

within the quilt of neighborhoods

we find patterns, designs - creation

the touch of motherhood



At the seams of the quilt

we find security in the

double stitching of fatherhood

within this parental guardian-ship

we find the treasures of motherhood

gifts unto fatherhood

the treasures being

brotherhood and sisterhood



Beneath these hoods, drapes...

the adorning cloaks of knowledge

within the cloaks is hidden

the pearls of wisdom

within the pearls

we find the essence

of their value



We find that very light

which gives them

sustenance to retain substance



The class of all classes

The school of all schools

yes -

we find

The school of love

(won't you be my neighbor)

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This Girl I've Known

Folder: 
Nessa

she believes in things that

have been proven wrong

long

ago



she hasn't learned her

lesson yet

and she's not

about to

(and i feel she shouldn't have to)



is she innocent or niave?

is there any space between?

does it really matter to me?

cause it's her love we all need



i want to be around her soul

...no matter how many of those thoughts come along



she percieves these things that

she'll say to you so strong

but

so soft



she sits and listens

hasn't seen through them yet

and she's not

about to

(and i fear the way she may find out)



is she innocent or niave?

is there any space between?

does it really matter to me?

cause it's her love we all need



i want to be around her soul

...no matter how many of those thoughts come along



and she doesn't force them on you

she holds her ground but holds you close

she's always there when you need

no matter what you believe



and believe me,

there's things we see the same and things we see so differently



i could listen to her all day

we could talk about anything

we'll kid around about silliness

and i'll hide with her in fantasy



and we'll come back out again

she don't need to be dragged out of there

just give a little more time

god, you know i tried

to stand in the way

and show her the way

at the same time

like glass so she could see from the outside



is she innocent or niave?(was i strong enough?)

is there any space between?

does it really matter to me?(did i break down?)

cause it's her love we all need



i want to be around her soul(again see her face)

...no matter how many of those thoughts come along(full with an innocent smile)



it's not as much what you believe as your character

that utlimately decides this world, it's your love

Author's Notes/Comments: 

dedicated to Nessa

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02-26 Limited Time Offer

Folder: 
DailyPoetryProject

i can’t stand this melancholy for another day

can’t be dull or dumb, balance my work n play

whatever this message in my head has to say

it’s about time I really tried to find a way

to rise with the new day n break through the fog

liberally spillin out of the lethal exhaust

of all these stopped, standing, and parked vehicles of loss

in a tow away zone, chokin out growth without considerin costs

to the eco from the smog gettin thick

particles of carbon buildin up into bricks

It’s a symptom of the system that’s lyin sick

on a deathbed table getting another facelift

so nobody knows the full extent of the crisis

the damage is under control by the nicest

goverment corporation supersecret agents with license

to kill, steal, cheat, n lie until it entices

the world to buy this story that we’ve been given

by anylysts with worthless positions earnin a livin

where if they ever actually did their jobs they’d be driven

outta business by themselves and a world that’s unforgivin

and cold and it’s growin more frigid every minute

like step-sisters who would steal your heels if they could fit it

so forget the big-headed world wisdom n outwit it

people are wrong and they know it but they just won’t admit it

cuz if they did, they’d get it in an epiphany

a revelation more orchestrated than a symphony

that all we gotta do is treat people with sympathy

history could live in peace instead of infamy

always repeating itself in all of the worst ways

slavery has been replaced by a wage without a raise

think we’re outta the dark? just give it a few days

to realize that these kind of sayings are more than cliches

cuz it doesn’t matter how much stuff we can make per hour

if most of the people don’t have any of the power

while kids are fightin wars, makin their own mothers cower

we’re more worried about the products we put in the shower

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02-20 Try Conventional Wisdom for Treason

Folder: 
DailyPoetryProject

Since when did it all make sense?

Puzzle pieces left a mess

across the table with a careless gesture,

cast off to join the rest

unwanted

beneath the couch,

behind the dresser,

trapped inside the vent.



So what if a few strewn pieces

still need filling in?

We can clearly see the picture for ourselves,

our minds can figure out

a detail here

minutia there

the little things that draw the line

between a black and white

or color photograph.



It’s math by colors,

shading in the missing numbers

with a box of fifty crayons.

The rest are gone,

used up or sorted out

in factories of knowledge

where workers set about the task

to simplify the traffic

zipping through our minds in daily disarray

and streamline every way of travel

for the safety of our thought society,

as if our thoughts would pile up collisions

every time decisions fly beyond the atmosphere

selected colors disallowed for fear

we might see true and clear

the reasons we should commandeer

this vessel, and control it for ourselves

with reason at the helm.

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