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Kenneth Gray Oct 2020
Mystery faces veiled with fear. A worldwide masqeurade.
Faces hidden disappearing in this maniacal charade
Suppressed panic spurts of manic
Just let this virus fade
Fingers crossed and prayers uplifted
We all hope to evade
Depression strengthened anxiousness
The foundation has been laid
Masses herded like they're cattle
All because we are afraid.
Weaponized death in full effect
Mankind has been enlaved
My thoughts about life during this pandemic.
Hussein Dekmak Oct 2020
Is your worth:
The bread you eat,
The clothes you wear,
The car you drive,
The vacation you take,
The house you own,
The money in your bank account?

Or is your worth:
The rainbow of people's dreams,
The catalyst of positive change,
The smiles on friendly faces,
The gratitude from an individual's lips,
The Mecca of someone inspirations,
The crown of human hearts?

Hussein Dekmak
Edited 2
A human
has many
petals of
faces,
when
in love,
there is
only one
face, in
the center
of the flower,
once it is accepted
by another,  
love is found
human petals faces love flower love poem
Hammad Sep 2020
Why do you wear so many faces
that you forgot
which one you wore last time...
Jordan Gee Aug 2020
A swollen sun descends upon us.
small children at play with painted faces.
time is not an endless tick, one and then another
(the plague nearest our dwelling)
but a single broad and present moment stretching
out and on forever.
sometimes i feel my heart will burst
scattered about, then gathered up in a world of rag and bone.
seeds for the great harvest are but a payment for a
karmic debt -
a purple heart sacrifice of my broken hand -
a slice from stem to stern.
my eyes they sink into my head.
the world is a deep grey beneath the deep stars.
the constant chatter in the skull -
a fallen angel named Moroni.
my sunken eyes watch me lift the bad hand
the heathen of my good intentions -
the purple heart of a bad apostle
the shackles of my station
the facing of certain destruction within the grim Hallway of Anubis.
a single moment stretching on forever and a balancing of the heart.
a swollen sun descends upon the third circle of Hell -  a place where I no longer live.
written 27aug2018
Breanna Lowney Jun 2020
As we sit here and strain our brains
Imagining, how could such inane things
Be defined, as anything other than profane
Could it be I'm just insane, or
Are the details only but a distant memory
Traces of strange faces
Faint images of kinfolk, who joke
An old trace of what's unseen by thee
Estranged behind the smoke
Take it in then make it float
And now they're awoke
Weather welcomed or snook in
No matter if they mock or mope
They maintain the design
Between an invisible line
Called what they let us see
And what we spoke
How astonishingly wicked it may seem to be, to recognize such hard to explain queries
Transmitted from one form to the next
Disintegrate, then reshape and rise as planned
Organized thoughts followed by polluted fog
As it settles in the middle looking back at us
Either their sinister or they giggle
as we gaze into their crystal ball of vapory expressions
Process of breakdown tries to take you down
With impossibilities hard to even speak about
Safe to say we all agree to keep it in order
Leave it be so recovery won't need to be
One two three, therefore you see
This design ranks mighty high somewhat like glee
Major factor in this, isn't the higher I get
It's as I inhale each hit I am being equipped with heightened senses Relentless against outside interference
Considering element of time restraint
Likely to influence hindrance on today's to do list
Which will warrant such mental analysis Wit thought intelligence, hah
Being is such a mere fragment of life
Inside imagination, any privileged would and will see eye to eye while undercover Patiently waiting for the perfect exit, or is it entrance
Be it coming or leaving its a secret
Shh.. please aint no repeating this
Yes you're on the guest list
And I suggest you stay in line
There is no set order, in which we smolder
To set trapped souls free as we breathe

Breeze May
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