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Evie G Nov 2020
Once upon a Christmas eve,
A family sat round a fire
Dad’s he’s late, he’s blaming Steve
Some cables needed to be rewired
A house he finds,
Is full of smiles,
So off he goes on his way.
Grabs baubles from the attic,
and also, grandmothers ****** investigation files

The child, eager with a sparkly blue notebook, rushes to peek inside
Crowe, it reads, Age 33, with thirty-three stabs to her side.
Oh how dramatic, Oh how fun what a wonderful thing he had brought
As seen on tv and on the big screen but never in this way before.
She stared at the words and pondered and scribed and found a new area of thought
Thinking of A Woman Dead!
But not that way of course, in the fun kind of way.
Didn’t think of the dead woman.

Now and then, the blue notebook sparkles out of the corner of my eye
I cradle the crumpled pages in my arms, the notes that I took.
The notes, cold, combined with my father’s colder memories
The good Damsel murdered by a bad ex-lover
An unfortunately common situation.
Another woman lost and alone,  
Another statistic.
Oh well.
This was something I wrote during a poetry workshop about my grandma but it kind became about more than that- I wrote this a while ago
Carlo C Gomez Oct 2020
High above this
destiny

I can see your private
mystery

Mechanical wasp controls
the hive

Its sensors are buzzing and about
to go live

Over the shoulder, around
the bend

The naked you is about
to trend
Alienpoet Oct 2020
Deep in a forest of fake news
Where headline games are people’s views
where pandemics become plandemics
where anti Vaxxers avoid vaccinations
and billionaires avoid taxation.

The forest of fake news
didn’t just spring up
watered by raining lies
governed by media moguls
and Facebook spies

Google and the internet shows us what we want to see
inverted mirrors of reality
each showing trees
a forest for all
with no clarity

How do see the forest from the trees?
or the trees that are fake?
life is forest full of trees but they are increasingly on the make
or plastic
or diseased
or just tricks in our sight
digital trees born out of spite

then cut down into newspapers
there’s no one to save us
we want to see the truth
that wasn’t always hidden
but we’d rather see the fake that’s not guilt ridden.

Truth the tree of life is now overrun
No one can see it
It’s been over come
and in the dark all trees look the same
it’s you and I who are to blame
We allowed them to plant
there fake news trees
and lies and untruths are a disease.
Amanda Hawk Sep 2020
I cry these days
When I read positive news
Something shatters in me
And I think it is hope
Apathy has become a bedfellow
An unwanted lover loitering nearby
I feel myself falling apart, alone
My eyes find dark space
Settling there, trying to disappear
My bones grinding into the ground
Until rooted fingers born from their shavings
Grip my lungs, squeezing tighter and tighter
And my life screeches from chapped lips
Norman Crane Sep 2020
Mud bath
Doc Martens
                        Back of head
Off the beaten path
                        Still beaten
But at least not dead
*******, they said
Don't understand what I did
But was
Drowning in the ground
One day they'll come around
To me

Doc Martens
                        Back of head
Off the beaten path
                        Still,
                        Beate­n
Dead.
Inspired by several news stories about bullying. What struck me was the tragedy of the bullied person coming back, again and again, to the bullies, probably craving attention, perhaps hoping for eventual acceptance, and how that same need (to return, to be accepted) not only intensified the bullying but justified that intensity ("What did he expect? He kept coming back for more!") In the extreme case, the intensification resulted in death. The death itself was seemingly blamed in part on the victim ("Well, he didn't object to us doing X, so naturally we tried X+1. I guess it's sad that X+1 killed him, but all he had to do was [...] and he didn't, so, you know: he didn't save himself.") One of the acts of bullying that struck me was walking on the victim's body, especially across puddles, gravel and mud. I was also surprised by how poorly the bullies were able to explain why they chose their particular victims. Their explanations amounted to: (1) he existed, (2) he existed around us, (3) he kept existing around us despite what we were doing, and (4) he was weird.
Pockets Aug 2020
Have you heard
The news
So blue it’s black
So sad its not even tragic
These stories
Theses tales
From Virginia
From a Birmingham jail
This is America
This is right now
This is how it always has been
We just refused to listen
Just another victim
To a broken system
Sure it feels better to be numb
But it doesn't feel good
We all get tired from staying woke
but how can you sleep
With death at your backdoor
Holding a badge and a gun
No warrant
Warrants this kind of response
Where is the revolution
If its not being televised
annh Aug 2020
old telegraph road
clickety-clack
births, deaths and marriages
tappity-tap
did you hear the news?
yackety-yak

it is my duty to inform you...
flippity-flop
the pleasure of your company is requested...
clappity-clap
at 2:03pm (AEST) Monday, weighing 6lbs 7oz...
drippity-drop

old telegraph road
yackety-yak
eighty miles of cable
tappity-tap
biographies dotted and dashed
clickety-clack
- .... . -. / -.-. .- -- . / - .... . / -.-. .... ..- .-. -.-. .... . ... --..-- / - .... . -. / -.-. .- -- . / - .... . / ... -.-. .... --- --- .-.. ... / - .... . -. / -.-. .- -- . / - .... . / .-.. .- .-- -.-- . .-. ... --..-- / - .... . -. / -.-. .- -- . / - .... . / .-. ..- .-.. . ... / - .... . -. / -.-. .- -- . / - .... . / - .-. .- .. -. ... / .- -. -.. / - .... . / - .-. ..- -.-. -.- ... / .-- .. - .... / - .... . .. .-. / .-.. --- .- -.. / .- -. -.. / - .... . / -.. .. .-. - -.-- / --- .-.. -.. / - .-. .- -.-. -.- / .-- .- ... / - .... . / - . .-.. . --. .-. .- .--. .... / .-. --- .- -.. .-.-.- / -- .- .-. -.- / -.- -. --- .--. ..-. .-.. . .-. .-.-.-
Moomin Aug 2020
Calling all those that groan, over this world's calamities
Who are tired of the tragic news, we see on our TVs
Those who tire of viruses, of terrorists and crime
And hate to hear of yet another, slaughter in our time

Have you of late found yourself, astonished and bemused
Whem you read of women, who are crushed and so abused
Of shooting sprees and stabbing fests, that innocence do ****
And the poor and sick who drain and die, cause they cannot pay the bill

Does your heart go out to poverty, yearning for it to end
While many gorge themselves with wealth, that they can never spend?
Do you still believe the promises, of political Messiahs
Who claim to build us Heaven, and fulfill all our desires?

Do you feel that life is just, a struggle to endure
And joys are rare and so short-lived, and meaning is obscure?
And finally, when life is done, and we draw our final breath
Don't you wish that we could find, a way to conquer death?

And if so, you are not alone, in questioning this deal
For honest people everywhere, this is how they feel
But don't despair, and don't give up, for the world is about to change
There is a promise that is true and sure, though at first it may sound strange

It does not come from imperfet men, so prone to selfish ways
But comes from one who cannot lie, who wants to bless our days
It comes along with a guarrantee, as certain as the dew
Of promises once made before, all of which came true

He told us that our world would reach, it's current desperate days
That nations would reel in confused despair, like lost children in a maze
That diseases and disasters, would violently give birth
And that mankind would be poisoniing, and ruining the earth

But when these things were to ocurr, and be observed and viewed
They were indications, of imminent good news
An event of wonder, and of joy, to change the world we see
To bring in peace and health and love, and true security

“Thy kingdom come” he promises, with marvels that it brings
To replace all lords and governments, with a righteous, loving King
Who will heal and wipe all tears, and broken hearts will mend
And those of us who are friends of peace, he will call his friends

Restoring youth to the old and frail, and vision to the blind
And removing sickness from our lives, and sorrow from mankind
He'll quell all storms and fires, and calm the mighty quakes
And burn man's deadly weaponry, and missiles he will break

Most amazing of his promises, a grand and glorious act
Will be to empty mankind's graves, and bring our loved ones back
Imagine greeting mothers lost, and husbands once more embrace  
And chidren prematurely gone, to behold their little face

For he has sworn that death will end, and life will never cease
And the world will be awash and glow, with everlasting peace
Our pains and fears will all disolve, and will never come again
And those so selfish and so cruel, will no longer remain  

So ease your mind and console your heart, for this promise will come true
These wonders we can all behold, this he swears to you
Our future is not in man's hands, nor by fate will it be won
For God's will will be done on earth when his glorious kingdom comes


“God will wipe out every tear from their eyes, and death will be no more, neither will sorrow, nor outcry, or pain” - Revelation 21.4 (The Bible)
Carlo C Gomez Aug 2020
I.

This, a final offering,
before the clipping of wings.
A love like blood,
oh anathema.
A grey declined to black,
oh herem.

It means salvation
knelt with darkness.


II.

So it be!
So it be!
So it be!

Ring the bell,
close the book,
blow out the candle.

Douse the sacred sun
and find belief caught in fishermen's nets.


III.

In silence of angels,
climbing broken ladders,
no ascent, no longer.

Salvation has
knelt with darkness.
Laokos Aug 2020
newspapers. everywhere.
it was yesterday
when they turned up.
must've been stacks
of them before they
were like this - scattered
throughout the park.

i've thought about
taking a garbage bag down
there and picking them up
but...
there's something
pleasing about watching
them interact with
their new environment;
the way the wind carries
them, the way they spread
out        into       all
       that                     space
as if nothing neatly
arranged wants to
stay that way.

i watch as they attempt to share
their news with the world.
but the trees are silent and
the grass is oblivious.
the print on their pages
means nothing to
them.

i wonder what news the leaves
tell of in a language we don't understand.
of golden and green.
of things passed and
of things to come.

"change," they say.

that is the message they spread
on the wind...
change.
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