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Carlo C Gomez Jan 2020
Green yellow red
Are the color of my pills
Pass go I collect them all
The road rages in my head

There's a special place
In my heart for guns:
Left ventricle
Where the bullet lodged

I had a hard time
Seeing other people's
Point of view
So I started collecting opinions
Now I can't make up my mind

I like to go places
It's people I avoid
I travel mostly abroad
But can't recall her name
Half the time

A good driving record
Is worth zilch these days
But ******* might
Lower my premiums

Dogs are man's best friend
Yet they lick themselves
Men are better drivers than women
Yet they trick themselves
Too much time spent in cars
And not enough
In the one they love

There's an old saying
I can't remember
And it goes something
Like this:

Wipe the dust from your feet
Before you come inside
It keeps the house in order
Especially should it get
Sold out from under you

Most of us are but one paycheck
Away from being homeless
Man is the most dangerous animal
Dwelling in the cage of his vehicle
I used to work on Wall Street
Most days now I just pray

Don't worry
Everything equals out in the end
Except life
I'm always so sure
What lies beyond the next bend
Will finally be to my advantage
How could it be though
When my creditors
Own the road?
Inspired by the poem "Sven" from fellow HP writer Caro.
Tuffy Mutombo Apr 2019
We live in a world which requires tragedy for us to appreciate unity
Changes socially forcing conformity
Murderers gain popularity for acts of brutality
its sad to see the world lack empathy
while great people face scrutiny for caring about humanity  
we live in a world that reads less books and more eulogies
Tuffy Mutombo Mar 2019
Written poetry on ***** walls
Cleaned by tears of critics views
who choose to destroy your existence
by breaking down your words
stealing your flow while sleeping with your metaphors
destroying your credibility
while attempting to darken your ability
hungry ego's seeking compliments
starve when you pay them no attention
causing tension due to starvation
power is never in the eyes of the writer
it lives in the imagination of the readers
perception filled minds clouded by emotions
thirsting for your reaction, while choking on your analogies
hungry egos must be fed or else.....
Give this meaning.
Toni Dec 2018
I am a sculptor.
An artist.
My masterpiece? Myself.

Every curve, layer of paint,
Every shadow or exposed face,

All cultivated. Planned.
Incorporating all I know
And that which I do not know

Yet.

But you have only a picture.
A photo.
An image from just one angle.

And all that you recognise is
A flat
Two dimensional
Processed scrap of film.
Rick Warr Feb 2018
life is an attitude choice

problems can nag
and take up much space

but when i look
down at me from a height,
or up at the stars at night
i am reminded
that I am nothing ...

... nothing but
what i give to others
during my brief twinkle
on this planet blue

and so ...
i am listening to you
reason for listening in a world of personal myopia
NeroameeAlucard Sep 2016
I've got my head in the clouds
How is that a bad thing?
My thoughts are so far from the ground
And maybe they'll touch my dreams

I could stare at the sky
Put neon graffiti on the lazy moon
I could put a symphony with a sunrise
And I still don't think that'd be as beautiful as waaah I'm rambling over a truth

Maybe my hair could be nested in by eagles
Or my tears could fill up clouds for rain
Or all of this could come crashing down because I'm over eager
And I'll end up tasting the sandpapery wine of pain


So maybe having my head in the clouds,
Isn't exactly a prefect thing
But if it's where I belong
Then I'll next a new set of wings
Breeze-Mist Aug 2016
I thought I could handle life
But before very long
My entire world flipped around
And I'm losing "right" and "wrong"
b e mccomb Jul 2016
i see
eyelashes
that you
can't.

they lurk
in the corners
of my sleep
deprived eyes.

fuzzy blurs
that struggle to
pull my swollen
eyelids down.

they frame
the entire
periphery of
my world.

sometimes i pull
them out because
they won't stop
dragging me down.

i don't know
if your
eyelashes
look like mine.

but i have always
imagined
that we're
all the same.
Copyright 12/7/15 by B. E. McComb
I AM A WOMAN PROUD AND STRONG
MY HAIR IS BLACK AND LONG
WHY DO SOME PEOPLE HAVE A PROBLEM WITH MY SKIN
LIKE IT IS A BAD CURSE OR A HORRENDOUS SIN

IT IS AN INSULT TO ME
WHILE I AM LABELED TO BE
THE ONLY THING BLACK IS MY HAIR AMONG OTHERS
SO WHAT IS THE DEAL MY DARK BROWN SKINNED BROTHERS

WHY DO YOU YELL PROUDLY
GET CRUNK AND SCREAM LOUDLY
STOP RISING IN ANGER, BUT END UP PUTTING YOURSELF IN DANGER
WHILE OTHER ETHNICITIES SOMETIMES TREAT US LIKE STRANGERS

SOME RACES DO NOT WANT TO ACKNOWLEDGE
SOME DARK BROWN PEOPLE WORK HARD AND GO TO COLLEGE
I DO NOT CONSIDER MYSELF BLACK AND THAT IS MY FACT
BUT WE ARE CALLED THAT BECAUSE OF HOW WE ACT
A POEM ABOUT VIEWS ON MY CULTURE OF HOW DARK BROWN PEOPLE AKA BLACK PEOPLE VIEW THEMSELVES AND OTHER ETHNIC GROUPS VIEW THEM.
Anshul Sharma Oct 2015
I watched you live,
I watched you die.
I watched you laugh,
And I watched you cry.
Every winning moment,
Or whenever you fell.
I watched you silently,
I watched you dwell.

Learning to walk,
Again and again.
A new experience,
With every new step .
There were times,
When you lost yourself.
I watched you regain
That belief underneath.

I watched you rise,
To the extreme horizons.
I watched you stumble,
On calmest of roads.
You'll fly some day,
To the skies unknown.
I just wish I'm a thing,
You'd like to own.
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