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 Dec 2014
jackierutherford
Born Jamaican, to a single mom
Watched her struggle, in that land
Day and night through stress and fears
She worked real hard building tiers

For years, she was our founding rock
Teaching, preaching, assuring with gust

Yeah, she complained
She's only human
That the man wasn't there,
to help us move onward

Now, I'm grown
Facing life
Mirror image of her past life
Struggled with my kids in kind

Hoping for a life devine
 Dec 2014
nivek
hatred is a reflection of self
 Dec 2014
aviisevil
Tim wasn't the only one infected,
But he was the only one who wasn't turning into a duck.
It had been more than two years of horror,
And almost every part of the world had been struck.

This new disease was carried through the shiny electronic devices,
That had gripped the world in a photogenic way.
Every wall and post reeked of the self centeredness,
And all that led to this last man standing scenario today.

Tim was resisting his fate by throwing away all the devices he could find,
But his hope was slowly degrading, as they were scattered everywhere.
He was experiencing what scientists called as a celebrity syndrome,
The last stage before he would give in, it was almost too hard to bear.

His soul was being crushed within his hundred dollar shirt,
But he was far more inclined to break the mirror in front of his eyes.
The disease was spreading through his arms and hands now,
And in sometime there would be no place left to hide.

Everyone at his school had turned into a duck the other day,
He had seen it from his own eyes, as all his friends got stuck on the web.
Scientists were baffled how it spread impervious of one's religion or faith,
They said the only part recognizable after the infection spreads is the head.

He found his moms name last night too, posted on the wall of lost people.
Tim could only rub his eyes, she was only fifty -five.
He had no clue of what to do, he was already feeling so miserable,
His father had already died, lost sister at twenty-five.

Tim was growing restless by the second, wrestling with his own arms,
But it was too much to handle and finally his hands got free,
He flashed the electronic device at the mirror, it felt warm,
And that's how Tim became the last casualty on earth to catch a selfie.
Notes (optional)
 Dec 2014
Muggle Ginger
The dinner table is crowded.
There are bowls of gravy, potatoes and greens -
Plates of meat and stuffing...
Don’t worry it gets better.
Juice and cider instead of wine.
Clean crystal cups and thick napkins,
All trimmed in blue.
Surrounded by loud elephants
Dancing on the words we don’t say.
The elephants slip on peas,
And sip my drink.
My relatives give glances
Instead of embrace.
The conversation gets heavy
As our stomachs get full.
The dinner table is a stage
Instead of a refuge.
We all wear our masks and pretend we’re OK.
The actors are well paid in self-loathing,
And pain;
Solitude.
Relationships that don’t fit into pockets
Because our phones are too important.
We are broken and shattered,
Unwilling to be fixed.
The elephants dance in gravy,
And pretend it’s a bath.
"At some point it doesn't matter who was right and who was wrong. At some point, being angry is just another bad habit, like smoking, and you keep poisoning yourself without thinking about it.” - Jonathan Tropper
 Nov 2014
Nickols
This town is crumbling.
With dust turning into ashes.
A judgmental life built
to the apparent lackluster rhyme.

Trembling lips, forced proximity.
Eyes on fire, the vile toxicity.


Trouble.
A simple motto to live by...
Mockery of shared stupidity.
Continually circling
to the timeless tune
of a love struck fool.

A fool, within the rubble.
A fool of love, scavenging for a heart.
A love-sick-fool, standing with empty arms.

Love, it can't be held together with gum found on the bottom of a shoe.
Nor can it survive with lies told by you.
 Nov 2014
Poetic T
She said she wore me like a used shoe
Said I was uncomfortable, my
Soul
Weak
Holed
"What the  hell"
Said if she could of, she would of,
Have strung me up long ago,
Tied me to the highest place
And watch me just hang,
Motionless,
Silent,
Swinging,
She would tell children I was
A piñata
Go on kids hit the F#cker harder,
I was an odd pair,
But even though she hated those shoes
She said she had worn me
For so long that even though
"I hurt her"
She couldn't wear anything different
Some shoes however unconfutable
You can never truly hate
And she said
"As long as you let me wear you"
"No matter how painful upon her feet"
"I will wear you for a life time"
Even though I hurt her
Never meaning too, but such is life,
She said I smelt funny sometimes
But she would wear me everyday if she could.
 Nov 2014
PrttyBrd
I see those words of trite frivolity
Words of surface anger and childish spite
Words written to hurt others instead of relieve their own pain
Defended by your words of seeming righteousness
I see your words that seem to propagate
The overinflated egos of the tedious, tiring, and mundane
Yet attack just the same the differences that make life interesting
I see the truth in your hypocrisy
I see the lies in your delusions of grandeur
I see popularity has been mistaken for true friendship
You lead your flock of insipid sheep to decimate the poetic landscape
Without acknowledging the beauty in the jagged rocks
Words hurt just as much to read as to hear
Even when they are not meant for my ears
I feel those words that have been seen as heroic
I feel their truth in an honor perceived by the selfish and vapid
There are no apologies for defending those who have already defended themselves
It breeds a mob mentality that works against what you claim to stand for
Freedom in all things
Free speech, free love, free artistic license
Yet censoring the unwanted by force feeding your opinion as fact
Spewing repeated derision, contempt, and disdain
That is not peace in poetry
That is not an honorable act
And it is not an oversight, sadly
I prefer peace and tranquility
To an eye for an eye
Vengeance has no place here
112914
think for yourselves and follow your own drum
 Nov 2014
Kim E Williams
The digital exhale
Pushing out
Content creation and idea regurgitation
Outfacing ideas, concepts
These things become the shell, the defined exterior of us
The fodder for perceptions
Of others
About us
We update, share, ideate and create
We post, pronounce and proclaim
We share with trite exclamations
Cute cats
And clever #hashtags
We spray forth our digital exhale
Hoping
Believing that we will be, become this feed
Of me
Until we are
Out
Of breath
And then
We must, gasping
Pause. Stop.
In the momentary emptiness of ourselves
The frightening hollow
Of our millisecond of solitude
Touches of singularity
Haunting, taunting us
With ourselves
Too much screen time makes me want to scream
 Nov 2014
Marian
Lanterns swing lonely
In bitter howling wind
The howl of a distant wolf
Flames flicker in the night
And she is lost—lost
Never to be found again

**~Marian~
It's Been Some Time Hasn't It?
This Was Written November 25, 2014
And I Decided I Wanted To Share It With You!!! :) ~~~~~~~<3
I Haven't Felt Very Well Today, As I Am Coming
Down With A Very Bad Cold...I Have Never
Had Such A Sore Throat Before In All My Life
As I Can Recall!!! :/
Still, I Hope You All Enjoy This!! ~~~~~~~<3
 Nov 2014
Archita
Thinking of the mountains in your heart that you try and hide so consciously,
Making it a point to return to them in the midnight,
A walk through the cragged surface again and a dream of the starry sights,
2 A.M in the night, dark outside, darker inside.
The slightest hint of light that catches the eye be an excuse for the sleep-deprived.
You dream,
You toss and turn.

The thoughts that meander through the lives you live, the alternate realities.
The right and wrong of every decision you’ve ever made tortures, you’re never safe.
You can see the slightest mistakes, the lumps forming in your throat.
You let your demons win, your mind an evil lair.  
The devils take up the spaces, the light escapes.
The eyes are sunken, but the mind still reckless,
Unapologetic  to the poor heart.
You toss and turn.

And when the heart pleads mercy,
Your body complies.
Curling up further under the blanket,
You give it another try.
Night after night, the same routine,
This life a long, lonely suicide.
The flashback, the memories, the love lost finds a space.
You toss and turn.
 Nov 2014
daisies
It's been a while since I've written anything, and I'm starting to wonder if it was your presence that was my only source of inspiration.

This is not good. This is NOT good.

Months passed and I have met so many people that I thought the loss of a person, no matter what it was we had and no matter what it is he meant to me, should not haunt me constantly as it is doing right now.

This is not good. This is not good.

It has become scary because my only getaway from this gruesome, cruel world is sitting down with my cat in my lap contemplating former thoughts of you.

My goodbye was unexplained, and despite the numerous amounts of poetry I've read and the numerous amounts of poetry I've written, I cannot, up to this day, fathom my own goodbye.

This is not good. This is not good.

I sometimes wonder what would happen if I showed up at your doorstep and then I remember I would never really have the guts to do that.

I am petrified of you. I'm still in love with you.

This is not good. This was never good.
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