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Jayanta Sep 2015
Philosopher once said
“Everyone is involved in constructing their own world!”
But what I will construct..... ?
Listen!
“At that time,
We are playing in the courtyard,
My sister cooking on Coconut cell
I was a fisherman, catching fish
( it was a world of imagination where sand were the rice
Leaf of pumpkin were the fish)
All of a sudden father’s voice is come in
He is running towards home from the field
and outcry “again it is coming, get out and
Let’s go to main road”;
My mother was almost pasty,
Elder sister pick up important things in a bag
along with some utensil;
In a moment all of we run towards the main road,
When we reached there it was full of fallow villagers
My father searching for my uncle in the crowd
and get him;
He took us to a corner along the side of the road,
It was small shed made out of plastic sheet;
Uncle said to ‘now we have to stay here until normalcy come down’;
We sit on the floor with my sister,
Mother and aunt both are crying,  
Father is looking towards the habitat;  
Water flowing in.....  everything immerse.....
Only the areca nut tree and bamboo indicates
Where our home was;
All of we are waiting for the moment to water goes out
This it is second time in the year,
Last year it was once,
Year before last year my younger brother was washes out;
.......................
‘Can you tell me how we stop this?’
‘Whether I will create my world far from the river or construct a wall?’
Devastating flood in our state sprak same question to everyone .
Julie Grenness Sep 2015
History of the homeless,
Society does not bless,
So unlike birds homeless,
Flying afar and so free,
Nestling into any tree,
Waking up so chirpy.
Not like humans homeless,
Society does not bless,
All these homeless young,
Did they get enough hugs?
Or was it too many drugs?
Or ****** abuse of their youth?
What's the history of the homeless--
Society does not always bless.......
Feedback welcome.
Katlyn Orthman Sep 2015
Where am I to go?
I wander but have no home
Where am I to stay?
With no pillow, my head to lay

Where am I to sleep?
With no bed of mine to keep
Where am I to go?
When I wander all alone
Francie Lynch Aug 2015
The pain wasn't evident
When you queued;
Nor discernible
When you extended a hand.
Your frayed coat needed attention,
Your legs bowed in the wrong direction
As you moved, frog-like.
I never recognized the shame
Behind ribbons you wore;
An imperceptible guilt
For lack of control.
But your eyes,
Downcast or averted,
Tried hiding the despondency
I once witnessed
In a naked girl,
Running,
On fire.
harmony crescent Aug 2015
I am the Child playing in the puddles
made by the stale water
dripping from the castle walls
covered with moss and grime

I've memorized the rooms inside
and I still play inside them
even though there is only one object of worth
amongst the cobwebs and ancient wax

A shattered mirror
with half the shards scattered on the floor
I found a boy inside those shards
The perfect one for me

I also found a girl
***** and free
the complete opposite of the boy
who stares back at me

after sitting in that room alone
examining the glass
I'll wander down the silent, mournful halls
and wish that my life was different

that I had hope
and love somewhere out there
waiting for me
maybe my boy in the mirror
or maybe it will always be
*just me
Death-throws Aug 2015
Dance to the little drum beats.
Skipping through city streets in **** boy cleets.
Dancing  like its no little feat.

Crawling through allways filled with weapers
I find myself at the top. I might be one of the leapers

Dancing on skyline roofs in my freshman hoofs.
I don't have enough proof.

Just this wide blue roof
Falling upwards with a passion  
No distractions.


Black bag blankets and broken tracking anklets
Desperate situations  call for unecasarry fixations

Ive spent to long wrapping myself in ellation
To notice the devastation beneath me.

I see it now

As I fall


So slowly towards the sky
So I took a walk through my city.  It's amazing what you feel when you feel like nothing at all
Steff Aug 2015
I hope to one day rid you
Of the darkness that has
Plagued your life
Be the light that leads you
To the end of the tunnel
I won't ever give up on you, you can count on that.
mk Aug 2015
shuffling feet & carry-on suitcases
walking through countries
temporarily nameless, faceless, homeless
in the middle of nowhere
cut off from society
people who, for the time being,
don’t really belong anywhere
a mixture of nationalities & cultures
thousands of different languages,
different races,
different colors
just passing through the terminal
one country to another
some with a final destination in mind
others finding meaning in the journey itself
a lack of permanency
a lack of belonging

i must admit
there’s just something about airports
which *makes me feel very much at home
// but these places & these faces are getting old, so i'm going home //
Carsyn Smith Aug 2015
My grandpa always told me
“being a war veteran is scary.”
You sign up for a life of piles of
empty bullet shells and hollow bodies,
both equally as tall as the other.
A flip of a coin decides whether
you’ll kiss the ground one more time,
or be buried beneath it.

Every man and woman who
has ever faced evil is a hero,
regardless if their heart beats or sleeps.

Don’t tell me you’ll set a table
for a man who’ll never come
but not give five dollars to
the man on the corner with a sign reading
“war veteran. Help. PTSD. HELP.”
Don’t you dare look at
a marble block and cry,
but look at a homeless hero
in utter disgust.

Where has humanity gone?
Where are we now
that we shun the survivors
and immortalize the dead?

We don’t need another big shiny rock
to carve the number of good people lost:
We need hospitals, psychiatrists, therapists,
real people to help real heroes...
not cookie cutter doctors
paid by a government too worried
about being the world’s #1
nuclear weapons producer.

If I ran for president, I’d win with the slogan
“**** our future, I have a big gun.”
After thought note: I would never suggest that the people lost in war are worthless or not worthy of your respect. I'm simply upset at the neglect towards homeless war veterans who were in the exact same place as the fallen, but fate declared the bullet missed them. My grandpa is a veteran and I respect him above all others, but he was blessed with financial strength when he returned home whereas some heroes are not.

I'm beginning to develop my own opinions on things. I hope HelloPoetry is ready because I won't be silenced.
No title yet

~CESmith
Brent Kincaid Aug 2015
If you are advocating
The eliminating of humans
Assuming they are less
Than the mess you are, then
You are, by far, among the worst,
The first level of devils living
And I am giving you the name
And the blame for the horror
And am all the sorer that you
Insist I must take it silently
While you slice them, bleeding,
Leading them into the jail
Wailing, calling them names
Then maiming, beating and killing
Even when willing, and agree
To cooperate in your travesty.
In your majesty, you feel you
Are the one true and decent
And as they are your victims
Inherit all the ills that go with them;
Your prisoners that you call *******
And beat their insoles and bare feet,
Drag them off the streets for being poor,
Call the women ****** and trash,
Smash them around and then you
Say they fell down, and your boss agrees
When the prisoner’s knees are broken.
Just another token of how awful
And how stinking terrible they are
Those without cars, or jobs, or houses.
Just human louses in stained blouses
And raggedy clothes. Break their nose.
Nobody cares about them.
You are real men, they are not.
They get what they deserve.
“To protect and serve.”
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