People

Our World

Folder: 
Poetry

Let us, in many years time, not forget the world we helped destroy,
the way of life we helped eradicate;
when we sit and wonder where everything went,
may we remember that our complacency and laziness,
and our inability to think for ourselves took away our freedoms;
We built the cages for ourselves.

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Some People Are

Folder: 
Work, work, work

Looking in
And see the wonder
The diversity
Of the character
Of the people
I have meet.

You see the smile
That did not reach the eyes
And then hear the snare
When you are not near.
You feel the hurt
That burdened the hearts
Of those who became
The target of wrath.
You feel the pull
Down the pole
When you are up
Just to make you sad.
They don’t forget
Of your mistake
And ground their feet
Happy to see you defeated.

But these are only a few
Some people are really true
They don’t talk aloud
Seldom joined the crowd
They will stand by you
Accept you for what you are
They are just around the corner
Standing by your side
Waiting to help you up
When you stumble upon your path.

These people I will ever treasure
And forever to them I will be grateful.

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Gone

The time is approaching,
Things will change,
Ill be gone for a while wishing the world stays the same.
Death in one hand,
Hope in the other,
Doing my best fighting with my brothers.
Staying in rhythm with my surroundings,
Never forgetting this is only temporary.
Thinking of a time when I was with you,
Happy and forgetting misfortunes chaotic tune.
Wiping away the smudges of sorrow,
Maintaining serenity although others will die tomorrow.
The cruel reality to which I'm involved,
Holding onto your memory,
Helping to forget the insanity,
More precious then gold.
Try to remember the good things I'd say whenever your down,
Because even though I'm gone I refuse to let you frown.
Whatever happens,
Don't listen to what they say,
I love you,
And that will forever remain unchanged.

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Model Home Provisional

Yes, your rooms are clean; pristine -
but think of all the use they'd have
if you'd live and love, above
the empty carcass of your home.

----- The lofts were caskets made of dust,
----- but they looked so good in spite of us.
----- And just you think, had we settled,
----- the carpet whites may blemish brown.

Be that as it may, were they
worth the price of eggshell taps?
Haven't you come calling forth
and sat upon the couch and wept?

----- Not within your many realms
----- of understanding, sure, but please,
----- obscure your fraying niceties
----- and look at all the lovely, frozen.

----- I fear your squalor's bit your brain
----- and settled into thoughts inflamed
----- by the very way you live, or breathe;
----- but please do not divine by me.

Expenses spared at age's turn,
Formica on all your logs to burn;
the poisoned fumes make air seem thin
but settle in decor and shimmer.

Each chair has seen no ass at all,
tables set for guests beholden:
no friends arrive to feast with fellow,
for all your manners pinch so shallow.

But I suppose it's not my place
to judge you or your statue's merit.
Everything so quiet, clean, and
bent beyond all aging quarter.

----- See to it we've come no clutter.

I'll see to it your home stays bright.

----- The brightest thing you'd see all night?

The brightest thing you'd see, all right.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Weird.

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The Things

Funny,
The things in life
That make people stand back
And really look at you
The things that make them
Open their eyes
And come to new realizations
The things that make them
Go "Oh, shit"
And finally understand
The things that make them
Look back
And wish they'd seen it sooner

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Hard to tell what this is about at this point in my life, but I think to each person this will have the same, yet personal, meaning.

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Facsimile City

Curbs are kicking back,
roads haven risen, fallen,
the avenues are tarred
and feathered thick with quills.
Quickened are facsimiles
of those who used to walk
the streets' uneven pavement,
leaving trails of trodden,
slickened slime from vats
where they'd been produced
to stand in for the dwellers.
Skies lit red with meteors
which we are ignoring
by means of screen and covered ears,
and all the shrieking billboards.
The day draws the shades,
the sun begins to plummet,
and beneath the massing shadow,
we do battle with our facade:
concede to maintain,
and continue on our way.

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Stone Gutter

Muttered words in gutters of stone,
passed along the incline down streams
of melted snow.
With every split across the hardened pipe,
somebody will paraphrase and fail
to communicate.
And as the wind licks at the pavement,
and the skies yield to none;
the words find the sewers.

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Rebellion

TV flashes on.
An aged newsman sits behind an oak desk with images of fire and contempt blinking behind him. People in the street, fists raised and faces covered. Blind anger built on blind knowledge. Furious at the system that’s been instilled and followed by none other than themselves.
A Molotov cocktail cracks on a police car. A news van crashes onto its side. Rapture jumps on the van’s passenger window. The glass shatters and blood is bled. The man cries agony and blames anything but himself.
Young field reporter stating it’s senseless, reckless, and anything but justifiable. Notwithstanding the bottling up of oppression over years from profit hungry animals. Insurrectionary joy has surged through the people like a sudden pulse of energy.
The media quells the uprising. “It’s just a few pranksters. Go to sleep. You’re safe in your homes.”

Author's Notes/Comments: 

No comment

My favorite things

There's a part of my life
That means the most to me
I get away from strife
To people who can really see

They know me, they love me
They care about my needs
And when i really need it most
They're the ones who help me succeed

The teenage life
Is highly affected by peer review
We trust those around us
To tell just the truth

Not often are they
The ones we can trust
But with my friends
Their help to me is a must

They know me, they love me
They care about my needs
And because they're the best
I KNOW i'll succeed

The best part of my life
All my favorite things
Are the people who help me through my strife
They're teenage human beings

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this for a themed contest. But it didn't end up getting entered. I had a hard time getting words out for this.