Posts tagged ‘society’

March 17, 2017

Perspective

by Nick Anthony

The plight of sane souls
In a mad society
Is insanity.

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February 8, 2017

Spring of renewal – “freedom”

by Colly

dscn0377

Where do the roses go…

when the thorns, in life,

vanquish all your dreams…

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October 28, 2016

Smokestack Hypnosis

by Nick Anthony

Frothy foam floating atop steaming chemical vats
Boils, becoming warm white clouds
Climbing up cold concrete columns,
And billowing forth from icy smoke stacks.

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September 10, 2016

I Rise, I Fall-We Rise, We Fall

by dinamicdynasty

I rise, I fall

That is the mode of life – i’m told

Never knowing where next to fall,

I glide along with society,

for that is the code.

 

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August 14, 2014

Modern Mania

by thom amundsen

We are in a free state

our words are rampant,

abundant, thrown with fury

as our fingertips express

what our eyes might easily hide.

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August 3, 2014

Touch Me Not

by Venkat

beware! touch me not
to human feel, I am thorn
of temper, boiling hot
in fires of dry desert, born

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July 25, 2014

sundays are my suicide days

by suicidallyanonymous

In the pit of your stomach,
miracle pills dissolve
to consume your liver
like a vulture.
When you die,
they will pluck your eyebrows
and turn your eyelids
inside out.

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March 15, 2014

Collecting Dust and Spite

by sc0pic

Old and glamorous
The antique machine
Sits idle, and off
Unused in the warehouse
It possesses the long forgotten mating
Of form and function

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August 16, 2013

save your scissors

by suicidallyanonymous

Some die like the trees,
with splintered bones
and too many wool hats
to keep their dreams safe,

beneath a swollen sky
of broken glass stars
jingling like keys
in lint-lined pockets

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May 31, 2013

Interlude: I’m Not Angry Anymore

by suicidallyanonymous

I’d melt my disgust if I could,
and pour it into their hands.
Maybe then they’d find
another train-wreck back home,
so I don’t crave
the way they suffocate themselves
in buckets
of low self-esteem.

[It’s not my fault
that I can’t hurt like them.]

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December 20, 2012

Prove That You’re Still Human

by suicidallyanonymous

i.
There’s a whisper
puncturing the emptiness
of ellipses and parenthesis,
where lips stopped imprinting
tender cyberspace solar-systems;
shattering the window
to an exposed pelvis.

ii.
It’s that moment of intensity
when you step on a sliver
of stealthily-placed glass,
that chunk of pain designed
to prove that you’re still human…
Because people want record
that white blood cells
really do exist,
even when you’re trying to dazzle them
with tales of misery business.

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