3We're driving again.3 by DylanSeto
The silence hurts
More than the the sound
Of gun shot. A phone call.
Whenever someone dies
grandma is the first to let us know,
She's the closest to death,
She has tea with him every
Sunday. He informs her that
Another black man was killed
By the police today. Unjustified.
The news just said
Noir a mourie. Black has died.
Color is dead...is it over?
Silence turns to awkwardness
Which turns to laughter.
We just want to celebrate the little life we have left.
this is what it all amounts topoetry is dog's breaththis is what it all amounts to by creativelycliche
beaten blue and red,
worn like the edges of these sleeves,
so many years
and I still can't step in time
with san francisco
there are birds outside the window
and I can count them
when they fly
(1918-1991) ::miracle-mile and in the darkness of desire(1918-1991) ::miracle-mile by creativelycliche
you came and said that you
were fire, told me you'd not
know about me long, said this
"cannot be longer, no
arrows in a darker sun
moonlight on the river"
1982 and the coded printer
says you broke me and got
through the cave, did you
know this was kobayashi;
did you know this was not
sixteen years before you died
of spanish flu. we raised wall
after wall. the buildings fell
AccidenceAccidence by srinath-ste-v
We're victims of accidence
Of birth and of name
Should that profess hence
Our future, our fame
Should in privilege we bathe
And wear shoes worn out
Our in poverty we blithe
And have shoes torn out
Strike a match alight, spark a fire
Neath the dark & hind shadows.
From ashes and urns rise higher
Unto new heights no one knows.
Of brickbat, take every brick
Thrown to deter you
By every critic,every cynic
And build yourself anew.
Stage your dreams in session
And Script your story
For life is but a collection
Moments melted into memory.
Let them scribe your diary pages -
Your legacy through the ages
ClocksI wish I could cup every wordClocks by FierySpark
You've ever hurled at me in my fist;
They would writhe, like a half-alive bird
Caught in the shadows tendrils
of their own reaping.
I like to think that I would
Open my hand, slowly,
Let them drip out,
The sand filling the hourglass
Since the last time I spoke your name.
However, I have the constant compulsion
to bring my cupped palms to my mouth
and swallow; to taste these balled up fists
and let them slam against my ribcage;
Let you destroy me from the inside out.
Dear ticking clock,
Thank you for teaching me to fall down
and forget how to stand back up.
The Soft-Hearted DevilThey say i'm a soft-hearted DevilThe Soft-Hearted Devil by Ghostjay55
Violent but hoping for peace
You can try all you want to my dear
There's no hope of changing me
I've burned buildings out of boredom
Watched as lives turned to ash
And yet felt compelled to run in again
To save a little girl for her dad
I slay thousands because I can
And for that I'm told i'm hopeless
But the guilt inside is unbearable
So to each family I leave a dozen roses
This softness is unwelcome to me
But I know it's because of you
Your love for me is a curse I can't break
but I don't think I would if i could choose
You're an angel too good for this world
And too good for a monster like me
But for some reason I dare not imagine
You haven't yet decided to leave
But you're beauty and love can't cure me
I'm a monster and I will always be
This violence inside just can't be quenched
Until the world as we know it has ceased
You know I will always love you
But maybe now you'll start to see
You can take the Devil out of hell
But you can't take the devil
peaceandlove inc.soldered into the creasespeaceandlove inc. by creativelycliche
in your collar bone,
the lightning in the air says
"hello city limits",
and the clouds darken in cadence
you screamed - text based and
bones scream 'fuck you' to
the march of zinc-less pennies
and the sound of every clasped hand
heaven, help this unwatered seed
dream$$$$$$$$the american dream is deaddream$$$$$$$$ by drugstabbingtime
(shot in cold blood under the cold stars)
and what remains is
fate's inevitable revenge.
you are a docile, law-abiding wife of a
middle-class man with a name like
jim, mike, or
who you don't really love but
married out of desperation
and you're never really satisfied with your
but you don't think too hard about it
so it doesn't worry you.
and you have children,
grandchildren, who suffer
from the same mediocre fate as yourself.
you die of old age
and have a medium-sized funeral.
you are buried in a velvet-lined coffin
and when grass covers the dirt of your grave,
you are forgotten;
you are nothing,
you have never existed.
(tremulous, tremendous)Some years removed, I return:(tremulous, tremendous) by UnreliableRuth
again, a stranger
––again, Other and, yes, Unknown––
in this land overlaid
with faint, mushroom fingerprints
dappled shadow of occasional devotion
through spider’s lace.
Some memories turn away
from me, but others
remain. So, the sensation
of a sudden, early-
November Renaissance, followed by
an obsession with Boy Who Wasn’t
Really There crouching
in the mouth of a gigantic, sometimes swaying oak tree
for smudging time across
the corner of a desk.
(And always) I wonder
if I ever belonged
in that polite, pastoral dream.
Unbolted SnapeIt's those brief thoughts of....Unbolted Snape by ScarletQuill
or am I just fooling myself?
It is easier than -
finding mistletoe on a shelf.
I'm freezing staring at the stars
while they are warm inside.
Why am I still hanging around
when I would rather hide?
As a pirate who looks for a thread-
which will undo the hangman's rope.
It is the thoughts of damned soul...
there is still an impossible hope.
It's said nice guys finish last
and in the end there are debts we pays.
I will hold you in my heart -
for now... forever ..and for always.
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