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Nagual Nov 2018
Red, green, red, green
He treads to the pace
Of a heartless machine

Black, white, black, white
Her thoughts neatly fall
Into holes of delight

Grey, brown, grey, brown
They sink in the snow
By the weight of a noun
Colm Nov 2018
In the clutches of envy, or judgement, or denial
With eyes turned outward at another life
Don’t hide when the inkwell turns up dry
But accept the death which comes to life
And lets you pass by this windowed world

Fly
Fly into the perfectly natural
Die
You should look up E.E. Cummings on how Dying Is Fine
Danny Nov 2018
Dive so refreshing
Free of all inhibition
Pure without constraint
Maya Oct 2018
i like seeing people when they're sleepy.
completely real
unfiltered humans,
yawning in their baggy nightclothes,
worn blankets wrapped like shawls,
and soft smiles
as they claim they aren't exhausted,
no,
their eyes are just tired.
their low mumbling gives them away every time, though.

people are wondrously beautiful in a
natural, peaceful state.
hey you, you know who you are, i love seeing you sleepy but you should get some rest. sleep is good for you. i love you a latte. go to bed. <3
Our lives crumble and fail,
East or west more losses, we avail.
Our foods turned life-******* cocktail,
You got our revenues and livelihood to curtail.

We, the creators of the foodbanks,
Our lives now turned, mere votebanks,
You destroyed all our riverbanks,
Brought our lives to end with your loan banks.

Lived and cultivated happily, with self-reliance,
Demolished our self-reliance, with your idiotic brilliance,
Deliberately stole our self-reliant roots,
Through your money-minded ****** selfish loots.

Toiled ourselves to turn lands arable, through generations,
Your land acquisitions, put us under dictator oppressions,
Blood-******* *******, gave us all fright & plight.
It’s time we rise and say Our Land is our right.
Deceived us with your developmental illusions,
Pushed us towards suicide, under incurable obsessions,

You commented our farming, old and backward.
Taught us land-killing cultivation, very awkward,
In the form of food, we harvest poisons,
With our life costing mistakes, learnt worthy lessons.

We don’t get our deserving price,
Unheard and Weakened is our voice,
To the rulers, we are just a useless choice,
For them, our deadly weeps are just a noise.

We sold our crops to middlemen,
Rulers sold our seeds to corporates,
We sold our lives, for a permanent solution.

For media, we are just a hype.
To the nature’s wrath, our crops became unripe.

For livelihood, we are compelled to get loans,
To repay you, push us to reloans,
Lose our lives, helpless and incapable to pay our loans,
Leaving our families helplessly to moan and groan.

It’s time we raise a warning.
To you we won’t keep serving,
You will realize our value,
To the corporates, when you lose your revenue.

It’s an alarm, it’s an alarm,
To the businessmen we lose our farm,
To the corporates our ownership is vested,
From owners we have turned rented.

Your life would be on danger,
Then corporates would play with your hunger,
You can’t even own a burger,
To them your lives too would turn meager.

Let’s rise and fight,
Exclaim our land is our identity and right,
Let’s correct, where we lack,
To the natural farming, let’s get back.

Let us raise,
Let us determine our price,
If we become selfish and vice,
You will lose all your slice and rice.
This poem is written in a way farmer sings towards the government and people. In the final stanzas after warning, farmers sing towards people, who witness all their miseries silent. In India, farmers lost their self-reliant farming slowly. Its time they get to it, to save them from all their worries. They want the rulers to let them determine the price for their own harvest. The land is their right. None should take it from them.
insecurity is eating me
the world is showing me
that you have to be having it all
or you have nothing.
i should be happy
with my natural blessings.
my hair
my face
my me
because it all belongs to God
and i was made special in his image
and if he supplies all of my needs
then my natural self is okay
that is all i should need.
those people that i envy
those people aren't happy
those people are irresponsible
those people are temporary
because they waste their life
and feed on
on temporary things
and you are what you eat.
those people don't care
those people are full
of the gigantic meal called
themselves
their ego.
i see
but the would feeds me
a different meal
which i am the cook
they feed me my own
unsatisfactory.
wow
this is how i eat and be eaten.
what does the world show you?
Dev Aug 2018
When the moon finally meets it's ceiling
Ahh, I wish I could describe the feeling

The countryside gives me a terrific peak
Early sun illuminates an anacamptic creek

The cricket's intuition ends their rhythmic chirp
I can see the dew glisten on the grass and the dirt

All silence - besides the wind and the bluejay
They spin through the sky for a game the two play

Warm waves of air push over the hills
Goosebumps ensue but I welcome the chills

This is a moment that an artist might draw
but he simply can't because he's part of it all

This is a setting that our memories reluctantly dilute
Though recollection of chores are crisp and acute

Try as I may - I can not pocket this instant
For when the day emerges it all becomes distant
This was a response to a challenge:
Quickly jot down four verbs , four adjectives, and four nouns. Write a poem using all 12 words. (I used a random word generator)

Verb: Draw, spin, dilute, push
Noun: game, setting, intuition, moon
Adjective: early, warm, rhythmic, anacamptic
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
The pasture lays abandoned
The barn is bare
The fields grown overripe
Fences lay fallen
Roads returning to dirt
Not a single tool lifted
Nor a single human whimper
Nay a cry from any creature
Had been heard for many eons
And one may wonder
Of the perished and of paradise
For Earth lay singing
While all else is silent
And some long for music
And some long for quiet
And all long for something
And some long without knowing
And some long for things long gone
And some long just to go along with others longing
And some are just so winded from being long winded in longing
So longings lengthen,
Filling us to the brim with hollow wants
And this perfect paradox becomes
Pandemic
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