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Peace, a six letter word that is so abyss

a kind of thing that is so breezy and freaky.

The thing that makes the world go wild

and makes all **** so blind.

The one we aim to graveled evilness

and let kindness fight the beast for the best.

For it might be tight but if we fight

all of it will shine so bright.
Pauline Morris Jan 2016
Once upon a time in the days of old
There lived a very ugly troll
But her heart was made of gold

Her body was round and lumpy
Her brow furrowed and grumpy
She always stood all slumpy

She was abandoned as soon as she was born
For her mother had looked upon her with scorn
For with beauty she was not adorned

She was wrapped in a towel and placed under a bridge
Right up there on that little ridge
She was nothing then but a little smidge

The forest creatures insteed of eating her up
Raised her as a cub
They even shared with her their grub

The wolf taught of graces
The vultures, patience
The skunk, fragrances

The mouse taught of need
The crow, greed
The fox, speed

She lived in an ugly house of mud
Just like her the outside was a dud
But wow the inside of that hut could warm your blood

Late one night came a knock on her door
It was a knight in shining armor complete with sword
Battle weary, and badly gourd

She took him in and sewed up he's wounds
He looked longingly in her eyes, she thought loved had bloomed
But in reality she unknowingly sealed her doom

For he had seen her heart of gold
Please excuse me, this is where the tale turns cold
For this knight was not so nice, he had a heart of mold

Late that same darkened night
He unsheathed his sharpest knife
And plunged in the troll's chest just right

With a wailing mournful cry
Right there in her hut she would die
In that fleeting moment that sparkle left her eye

That knight cut out that gloden heart
It was so huge he had to put it on a cart
He didn't feel bad, what an ugly troll was he's only thought

The animals came to see what was that screaming sound
The wolfs smelled around
Nose to the ground
Off to hunt that evil knight down

The vultures did what they do, and ate her remains
The crows joined in and did the same
The mice and the fox just ran around all insane

The moral to this story is an ugly body can hold a heart of gold
But this world is very, very cold
So be very careful with your heart and to who it is you show
Cody Haag Dec 2015
Protect these children,
Who have grown up without care,
Knowing technological screens better than
Loving stares.

These children who develop
Perverse minds before even hitting puberty;
That type of parenting is a disastrous,
Sick sort of cruelty.

Raise your children to know human touch,
And radiating love that comes from within;
Don't accustom them to finding enjoyment
In the virtual worlds they play in.

Children are still developing and
It is your duty as parents to protect their innocence;
To safeguard their beautiful minds that are barren of
The world's filth; falter not in this for even an instant.

To fail this is to admit that you have
Poisoned beauty in one of its finest forms;
I do not care what social rules you have to break,
Never break or conform.

If you succeed, your kids' light won't go out,
Even when they age and the world gets darker,
They will remember the values taught
By those who would not give into slaughter.

Do not slaughter innocence, for it seldom peeks
Through the rampant corruption of this world;
And I fear sometimes that it will be quenched
Or become undetectable like water vapor tightly furled.
I can't get the voices out of my head,
they hide behind a facade of analeptic lies.
Their incoherent whispers make me wish I was dead,
and their noise seems only to rise.

There is no silence or truth,
never has there been since youth.
They promise a happy salvation,
from my arduous, caustic addiction,
if I were to follow their word.

They speak only lies,
the same in a different guise.

The sound is unbearable.
Their morbid speak of “****”,
but I don't think I'm able
to take my ghastly fill.

Their lies seem so sweet.
Perhaps its not bad.
Not bad to stop a heartbeat.
I’m not really all that mad,
like you tend to repeat.

The only one I can trust,
the one that seems unjust.
The one that speaks utter nonsense,
might be my only defense,
against this rising murdering lust.
It’ll take some time to adjust.

                                Maybe though, it’ll preserve my sanity,
                                      in this world of inhumanity.
I'm perfectly okay :P no need to get worried (if you weren't going to than ignore my ignorant comment).

'One of them has kept my pushing... With out this voice, I wouldn't be here today.'
         ~Mikyle (Kris)
ciannie Nov 2015
the jaded bird took his perch
in branches thick with voice
his song a croak, his beak quite broke
a lovely sight, though unlovely noise

a plumed up bird, dressed in furs
cut into his space
she sang quite sweet, high and neat
sang right into his face

the jaded bird, of course, was hurt
by that most spiteful act
he moaned in pain, never sang again
until a finger tapped his back

a timely toad, brown and slowed
eyes blinking with slime
opened his mouth, north to south
and took his merry time

he sang a sound that squelched around
his throat before release
then he bellowed loud, and sore and proud
and the bird fell to his knees

the toad taught the bird, who listened, who heard
who was patient, feathers bristling
they sang together, sung for forever
and never cared about who was listening
story ish again.
Gourab Banerjee Sep 2015
Ship's my worship

It's my bread

My livelihood

  " everything

After all,I'm a Sailor- 06.09.2012,Thursday
Gourab Banerjee Aug 2015
A journey along
Or well said alone.
We call it life
May bitter or bright.
Exhaustion at times
Giggles no reason.
To find a way
Towards the final submission
Doors wide open there
Through the alley of emotions
A land of never ending hopes
My lord let me bow before You.
To the eternal bliss of  your solitude
May my breathing mesh into silence forever-26.08.2015
http://gourabwithyou.blogspot.in/2015/08/bliss-of-your-solitude.html
Damian Murphy Aug 2015
In Ireland we had built a truly independent nation,
standing proud after years of strife and deprivation
But we yearned to join Europe, enticed by her charms,
and she was happy to welcome us, with open arms
Once we used to have pounds, shillings and pence,
when we joined Europe we adopted euros and cents,
We bought in to a single European currency,
and got loads of money, for everything a subsidy

Yes Europe proved to be extraordinarily generous,
the goose that kept laying golden eggs for us
Our government went mental with the money Europe kept sending,
it appeared this generosity was never ending
And our banks joined in with unprecedented lending,
we the people were happy, ah the money we were spending
We threw caution to the wind, it was pure insanity,
we paid ridiculous prices for even the smallest property

Mortgages and loans were given out like sweets,
credit cards with no limit for those occasional treats
Yes the borrowing and spending went on unabated,
sure why wouldn’t it, it was completely unregulated.
There was so much money, loans were so easy to get,
each one of us accumulated a serious amount of debt
Most of us were living way beyond our means,
had we sold our souls for a handful of beans?

Such was our success, other nations did applaud,
we bought new houses and cars and apartments abroad
Credit cards and loans bought so much other stuff,
one could be forgiven for thinking we could never have enough
We changed as a people, became quite materialistic,
we wanted so many things that were beyond realistic
we forgot what was important, which was really quite sad,
judging each other it seemed now by how much each had
A sad chapter in Irish History and a lesson for all nations
Robert Ronnow Aug 2015
Marines call to say hello,
impress. I'm over 35 but my boys
19. They could go: Hide!

One moment spent tying a shoe,
another dying, gunshot wound or poisoned food.
Events in their mere chronology
                                                      ­ make no sense.
And the details of yr dad's life don't either.
                                                         ­               Late night
quiet cigarette smoker. But next day,
the butts cleaned into the can. Who does that?
Lady in a skirt or overalls rolled up - cigarette smoke.
Now it's yr dad.
                            Yr dad who
                                                 watches for war.

Even if Uncle Sam disbands, dissolves
we the people will still be here and stay involved
with North America. The purple mountains majesty
                           and shining seas
little people, big people, brown, red, and white. Addicted
                           to action movies.
Perhaps there is no choice. One must sit, sitting still
                           as a buddha, sitting bull.
I can imagine myself and all others - drivers, voters, runners -
                           little fetal muscles
at first. Metastasizing. What's it called when the cell
                           at the tip of the *****
or organism, divides, and the ***** grows? It's called
                           ******* a bicycle.

I find I make no sense. Her ****, a practicality to her, is
                           delicious to me
a miraculous sea lettuce or snapdragon. You've heard it before.
                           A moral dilemma
wrapped in robes and silks and odors. Yet, come close,
                           and business beckons
work gets done, life goes on, hair grows in, we go on
                           vacation
the Marine Corps calls, desperate for new fetuses to teach
                           purposeful workmanlike killing
I'll do my own killing, thanks, when violence comes to the
      neighborhood
                           if I've got your back
your back's gotten and if I'm on point, the point's taken.

One world under God invisible with liberty and justice for all who
                           Art in heaven
what the hell's his name.
                                          Nemesis.
        ­                                                  Hysterical.
The small war of an especially inept empire. The world's too big
to swallow as the Krauts and Nips found out. Empire
is self-correcting. Them dark-skinned mustachioed *******
who can't fix their own electricity seem to be kicking our *****
pert good. As did the ***** before them. All to the good. A
good lesson to know and then we all become friends following
the brawl. We apparently cannot skip the fight. It must
be fought, and **** the girls.
www.ronnowpoetry.com
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