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Literature Text
I find myself
writing this
over and
over again...
Here lies
the tension-
borders between
ourselves have grown
Here lies
redemption-
crises we can't
survive alone
A storm
is coming-
pushing against
our comfort zone
Living
and dying-
vicious cycle
like a cyclone
And it happens
every day
over and
over again...
Here lies
emotion-
defined by our
aggressive tone
Here lies
contention-
the seeds of doubt
that we have sown
A storm
is brewing-
swirling in
our blood and bone
Gaining
and losing-
vicious cycle
like a cyclone
Board your windows,
blockade your doors-
a deadly force,
the source
of wars,
will rattle us
to our cores
It's a vicious
cycle
over and
over again...
Honestly,
it's getting
far too bland...
These ten words
reveal
where I stand-
Every generation
has the chance to change
this tormented land.
Literature
Lately...
Lately I've been thinking, if the steps
That I've taken were meaningful at all
I'm not sure if my conscience helps me anymore
Maybe faith is guiding me through this storm
My heart feels like it's being torn
By the one who I've cared about the most
Literature
brain squeals
I beat depressions in the earth
for my brain squeals and waves
that burst in my wet ears
until something makes me drown.
I will. (again) V.
Virginia,
put rocks in pockets
and walk right in --
I'll drink your overcoat
until your throat weeps
and your soaked hair
weighs you down.
I promise.
with love,
Ouse.
P.S.
brain squeals are from cold sweats
sleep well.
Literature
*Distant Vision*
Inconceivable looking at sky
How distant galaxies exist.
Vision soft, mackeral cloud fleeting
Ripples like waves undulate.
Far beyond my sight and yours
Our universe expands and waits.
Thoughts spiral out of control
When night invades the sky.
Celestial bodies, silver glimmer
Lanterns to who knows where.
Stepping stones to distant places
Where aspiring minds do dwell.
2013 Delice1941
1st July2013
9th February2014
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
A poem about being caught up in vicious cycles of life and death, success and failure, peace and war, ectera.
The seventh poem in the conclusive "Limitless" collection.
Previous:
Next:
The seventh poem in the conclusive "Limitless" collection.
Previous:
News BluesThis is an exercise in reading between the lines.
Separate fiction from fact;
stand right here and form a pact
to never disregard tact.
(Think for)
When the headlines feed
the need
for greed
I sit down and read
the weed
and bleed...
(yourself-)
Let's pull the roots of rumors;
operate on these tumors
then revel in good humors.
(don't let)
When arguments brew
and skew
our view
I welcome the true
or new
and blue...
(the powerful)
Please try not to act the fool;
you may become one more tool
in the elite's game of pool.
(control your)
When the network news
ensues
taboos
I take up the blues
but lose
my muse...
(destiny.)
Don't lose track of the wording;
subliminal messaging
is all that I'm forwarding.
Next:
Eternal UnderdogSuccess has the stench
of pure alcohol,
mint-scented ballrooms,
and storage closets
filled with skeletons-
fragments of spirits
swept into dustbins;
praises and merits
for repeated sins.
Where is the virtue
when in the dark
I never glow?
Why would I want to
gain the world
but lose my soul?
Victory's a bag
of addictive drugs,
mind-boggling pleasures,
and two instruments
of death and decay-
hollow sacraments
for my soul to pay;
cloth-like green parchments
with few words to say.
If all my success
leads to excess
hypocrisy
and
complacency...
I'd rather stay
an underdog
eternally.
© 2013 - 2024 goldshroom
Comments9
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I love how this poem gets it's point across and still manages to keep up with the flow and rhythm that poems are known for going along with. The wording is clever and how it is executed really gets the point across considering that it's hard to find words that will not only fit with the poem but also rhyme and make sense.
Honestly, the only thing that I see wrong is the tiny spelling errors and mistakes if I was to be nit picky. Plus, sometimes in some places the formatting of the poem broke it up into something that was awkward. Such as the sixth chunk. The poem though is good enough and executed well enough to not allow these minor things to drag it down.
Keep up the good work.