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Literature Text
Falling;
crashing;
Rome is
burning-
I don’t know
why this is
happening.
Who’s to blame
for pain and
suffering?
Which of us
benefits
from theft and
murdering?
I’m asking
“Cui bono?”
I don’t know
which of us
benefits
when our Rome
is falling.
Alaric
had found his
true calling-
destruction
of man and
man’s meaning.
Fall of Rome,
Fall of Man,
sin finds home
where it can.
A Christian
empire
in virtue,
but not fact.
We tend to
fuel the fire
and argue,
without tact.
Our vices
have prices,
our nations
have demons.
We’re senseless
with reasons
for endless
new legions.
I don’t know
why this is
happening.
This finis…
crashing;
Rome is
burning-
I don’t know
why this is
happening.
Who’s to blame
for pain and
suffering?
Which of us
benefits
from theft and
murdering?
I’m asking
“Cui bono?”
I don’t know
which of us
benefits
when our Rome
is falling.
Alaric
had found his
true calling-
destruction
of man and
man’s meaning.
Fall of Rome,
Fall of Man,
sin finds home
where it can.
A Christian
empire
in virtue,
but not fact.
We tend to
fuel the fire
and argue,
without tact.
Our vices
have prices,
our nations
have demons.
We’re senseless
with reasons
for endless
new legions.
I don’t know
why this is
happening.
This finis…
Handcuffed behind the back close-up
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Thousands of divs to share
$5/month
Literature
Finger-Length
the space between us
becomes further and further,
as you drive your motorcycle
along the coastline -
your body shielded by your
leather jacket;
your unshaven chin caressed by
the wavering hands of the spring.
you pass an empty church,
filling with the stinging, soulless
curse of saltwater
(like my heart filling with despair.)
the deathless gods
attempt to undress my mind of
images of your handsome face,
(it does not work…)
and the mortal men ignore
my pleas and search for you.
once finger-length apart,
lying on the sand,
the sea nibbling at our toes –
now,
the distance increases,
and lying on the cold g
Literature
Sorrowbird
I watched him flap helplessly between the teeth of a barbwire fence, screeching for help.
"Papa, look Papa! A boy!"
My papa stood dazed for a moment, dust billowing at his legs, his eyes teetering along the field. It wasn't until later that evening he told me he hadn't understood what I had seen. What he had seen.
With grass tickling the backsides of my legs, I bounded toward the boy, "What are you doing? Are you okay?"
As I approached him, I felt his skittish eyes rake across my every movement. With his ten-year-old arms slung inside the gaping maw of a fence and darkened feathers pasted along the creases of his face; he looked squarely
Literature
Never Feel Alone
Never Feel Alone
For those in need; help them
So they don’t feel alone in this sometimes evil and sick world we live in
No one deserves to go live a life alone or feel like they’re by themselves,
Because as a team, any group of people can fight on through this,
And with love they will prosper through these dark and critical times
Let people have someone to lean on, something that will help them moving forward
And help them return to comfort; so someone can comfortably live their life
Give them something to strive for and look towards,
Because with a set of goals it can give one’s life meaning
It can give a lost sou
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
This one might be a contender for my favorite of the collection. I don't have much to say about it, which is a first. I absolutely surprised myself here. Perhaps I'm only beginning to realize the lessons I can glean from history?
Sixth in a poetry collection known as "Life Sentences".
Previous:
Next:
Sixth in a poetry collection known as "Life Sentences".
Previous:
Bleeding EdgeThere’s nothing left to see
and nothing left to be.
We wrote a symphony
to our cacophony.
There’s not much empathy,
and not much sympathy.
Slaves to the enemy,
we haven’t paid our fee.
We’re resting on a bed
of brittle bones and lead.
With little to be said
we try to forge ahead.
Our wounds are running red;
our ideas are dead.
With the bleeding edge fed,
we live without a head.
Bluntness begat sharpness;
blindness begat darkness.
Focus of the aimless
is to become blameless.
Our future disastrous,
we are unscrupulous.
When all is found bogus,
what’s our magnum opus?
We’re here at the endpoint
where we come to pinpoint
the breaking of the joint
of everyone’s viewpoint.
Perhaps we can appoint
a feasible midpoint
without one more checkpoint
holding us at gunpoint.
But what would be the point?
I think we’ve lost it all.
When did our bleeding edge
become so deadly dull?
Next:
The Nameless EnemyWhen my soul was set free
on the day when I died
I had nothing left;
there was nothing right.
Where I dug my own grave
there my epitaph lied
saying rest in peace;
saying here I lie.
Everyone's a martyr
for the cause of life;
everyone's a martyr
for the final fight.
There's nothing to barter
for the right to live;
there's nothing to barter
for how we will die.
Here our life sentences
are but short and sweet.
Here our life sentences
are but what we write.
To build our defenses
we trust out knowledge-
to build our defenses
on sight we rely.
The nameless enemy
waits for our weakness-
the nameless enemy
blocks out our last light.
And in the end I know
I made a mess of me.
And in the end I know
I've severed my tie.
In the desperation
of my absolution
the only solution
is but my admission
of my contribution
to pain and contrition...
I had nothing left
for the final fight;
for the right to live
for what I will write.
On sight I relied
but my light was blocked-
and in the end
my epitaph lied.
'
© 2013 - 2024 goldshroom
Comments4
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Awesome ! I love the mixed rhyme sheme and the rhymes you made !