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Been Thinking Lately
by Mike Turner |
Been thinking lately, a lot about death
and how the one that matters the least is your own,
Not that it's inconsequential, just not that relevant.
The death of circumstance is the one that counts.
Death will change everything
From your pet bird to the person that gave you life.
At some point it will take them from you,
where once was a letter will be blank
Not that this comes as any surprise,
you remember when you figured out that this whole mortality thing meant you as well.
Then, childlike, even death became about you.
You became singular, alone in this confrontation.
Truth is, it's not death that confounded you but life.
Your life isn't about you, it's about the things you go through, including death.
But not yours.
Your life will flow and ebb, with death the tide.
And some branches will not survive, but the tree lives on.
People will come into your life and change you.
And your life.
People will leave your life and change you, in your life.
And when you leave this life, that will not change you.
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Postal Snail
by AJ Frick |
As I got home I saw a snail
"Woohoo!" I yelled, "I have some mail!"
"Oh yes you do" the snail replied
And pulled a letter from deep inside
I took it from his slimy hands
But dropped it in the moistened sand
"Oh no!" I cried; "It's going to be wrecked!"
As I bent down, I wept and wept
"My mail" I sobbed "How could this be?
I'll never read it, and never see
Who it is from, what they've to say.
Could this be a worsened day?
The ink has run, I cannot see
"Who took the time to write to me!"
"Now wait!" the snail called from the ground
"Maybe there is hope to be found!
Take me inside; we'll clean it quick
Maybe then, the mud won't stick.
Just have hope," The snail cheered on
"The message is not completely gone!"
So once again, I bent right down
Still sporting the saddened frown
When we got in, I grabbed a cloth
And what was this? The dirt came off!
A smile spread, as I saw it clear
"Thank-you snail! You're very dear!"
The snail just grinned, I still cleaned
My day was better then it seemed
I opened it up, and to my smile
Was a letter with such neat style?
I sat right down and began to read
"Excuse me miss, I have to leave!"
"Oh yeah!" I jumped "Thank-you again
And I took the snail to the lawn's end
He was on his way to deliver mail
Because he is the postal snail. | | | |
Shepherd Kids
by John O'Brien |
Thought I was in love
and it lasted for so long
but then I found out
the feeling was all wrong
Being just a young kid
I didn't know too much
Almost fainted from
her reluctant touch
Moving on up through the years
our minds and friendships grew
So many stupid rules
we didn't want to listen to
Closest of friends it seemed
we just sat out on the curb
Just the two of us
One girl one guy
One starry night
Shared all our thoughts
But I guess it wasn't quite enough
Because now there's nothing left
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Jihad
by John Cullen |
Nothing we know can satisfy us,
everything is nothing.
We claim so much, yet have so little,
weak against the storm.
Content in our freedom,
we have nothing but guns to equal values.
Like a growing raincloud we are;
thunder is upon us.
The sound of violence; my ears bleed.
I long for the sounds of peace. | |
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Terror
by John Cullen |
We are quenched with our thought of safety;
while our enemies clench us tightly.
We are blinded by rage,
aghast with emotion;
no one left to blame.
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The Tale of a Good Son
by John Cullen |
I have many restrictions;
I abide them.
I have many rules;
never broken.
I do not want to escape.
Merely I wish for a thought to call my own.
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Gossip
by John Cullen |
It is not real; yet is as human as me.
It knows no face, no body, no life.
Yet it lives.
A sickness; spreading from person to person,
getting quicker and more deadly each time.
Digusting thoughts which I cannot rid,
my mind has become sick.
Destroying, ruining people.
Really? It only ruins those who believe it.
Mindless babble, not intelligence.
Intelligence breeds success; gossip, hate.
Pushed into rigors we dare not know
by those we know all too well.
My mind is black, clouded with thoughts.
Nothing is there but evil.
Catalysts are numerous, we only live to facilitate.
We are sheep. That which does not hurt us,
ruins us. Depression caused, never cured.
Nothing gained except evil.
Evil are those who facilitate,
mindless those who demonstrate,
and soulless those who believe it. | |
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Introvert
by John Cullen |
I know my life was there;
I watched it fall away.
The black pieces I call my mind
are jumbled, like me.
Confused, unable to decipher difference
between heart and mind.
Nothing is ever in the right place.
In the dark is where I live,
speaking only to myself, masking my
true emotions. Everyone surrounds me,
yet I have no one.
I attempt to mend my wings; it is
no use, I am grounded again.
Nothing left but to pick up the pieces.
I am a WRECK.
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Lonesome
by John Cullen |
I am one man; insignificant.
Just a number, a face;
nothing to no one.
I sit in a puddle of my own tears.
I find everyone ignorant, yet also long
for that ignorance.
The sickness, known as people, makes
me ill. I want attention, yet disown it
as I receive it.
Again, I sit, along. Someone to blame.
I wish revenge, silently; it never comes.
Without hurting, I am hurt. Wanting
to hurt others, but can't; it would only
throw me deeper into loneliness.
I see the light. Escaped as I am
within these shackles. Bound to glory,
as it comes before others.
The World sickens me, but yet, I
want its attention. Help me, I am but
a scapegoat for the World.
Hear me bleat. | |
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Her
by John Cullen |
The room fills with light.
I shake off my dullness.
She has entered. Her beauty, striking.
Her smile, deadly. My heart melts and
sits in a puddle on the floor.
She walks by, and steps in it | |
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Beauty
by John Cullen |
Lord, close my eyes.
I feel myself drifting away
Thinking only of her.
My desire is forsaken only for a second,
then; it hits. Life has changed.
Love has entered my life, peaceful and
great.
HER love is now MINE.
My heart pounds, and flutters in thought.
Thoughts about her, her loving, caring
face. Her sweet breath caresses my lips,
and I fall to the floor.
Passion rules all, strikingly quick.
I gaze into those eyes, begging for the
smile my heart wanes for. I receive,
feeling greater; love almighty has conquered.
Her beauty melts into me, and I smile;
Another precious thought. She is the end
of all things.
The end of my dreams. How I wish it
were the clutches of reality. Love me.
As if it were my dreams.... | |
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Pleasant Sacrifices
by John Cullen |
The light hits, we are enraptured.
Here we sit in this mortal glaze, trying to find eternity.
It has become us.
We sit closer, touch breeding lust.
Lust into love, dusk into dawn.
We are thrown back into reality. The hands
which healed my heart are now clenched tightly
around it. Thirst is everything. Hope means nothing.
Hate passion sadness.
When does it end?
Hate passion madness.
It doesn't end.
Life once again, a vicious cycle. We cannot escape,
but only long for something better.
True love is but a blessing, something only few know.
Hate is a curse, something everyone knows.
Sacrifices are made, nothing is gained,
and my hope, as always, shattered and waned.
Passion sadness hate.
Desperate conclusions; searching.
Passion sadness rage.
A fire burns within.
I wish to strike, but coil back;
the World would reject me so.
I stand firm, but am in the collapse
of everyone and what they know.
Numbness overwhelms me,
I am nothing.
A number again, searching for love to make me whole.
I am in pain, and it's all your fault. | |
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On Death
by Corey |
Death brings depression, loneliness and sorrow, the tears are shed, pain is felt, but in the end, the love never dies.
To the times short lived, the care shall fade, but the memories within, shall forever stay.
And as you move farther apart, you cling to the memories that were, they are your piece of the past, of what shall never be again.
For paths cross but once in a lifetime, and at most times for a brief short ride.
Death is the passing of life, through bodily experience, but you are not to dwell on the times you can never share, you must remember the times you've had and cherish them. | |
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On Life
by Corey |
Of all the fuck up things to date,
My life is the one that takes the cake,
It's a twist around, roller coaster, waste of time,
It messes with your head, fucks with your mind,
and the true purpose of it leaves us all blind.
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The Garbage Can
by Bruce Davidson |
I, am the garbage can,
people throw their trash,
at me;
(bongo solo)
I, am the garbage can,
I store your trash,
in me;
(bongo solo)
I am the garbage can!
A necessity for man!
Without me, the trash goes
on the floor
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A Soul Lost
by Bruce Davidson |
I am paralyzed,
seperated from the world
immobile in my search
for happiness.
I am hypnotized,
by all that i see;
a world so cruel and dark;
no place for forgiveness or love.
We want to become
Someone else
hoping vainly
for happiness. | |
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The Cave Man
by Bruce Davidson |
The cave man;
deep in a cave;
stumbles in the darkness
through the narrow caverns.
The cave is deep,
and expansive,
so many places to be;
to explore
At times, he looks up,
and is rewarded
by a patch of sunlight
shining through the gloom.
Finally, the man breaks free
and the cavern opens
the darkness fades,
and there is only light. | |
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Answer Me This
by Anonymous |
Do you sit up in bed at 4 am,
because it won't let you sleep?
Do you go through days,
not caring about what others think or say,
because you know she'll love you anyway?
Does the thought of her penetrate your every thought, word, and action?
Does the simple caress of her fingers make you shake all over?
Are you content only in her presence?
Does her gaze bring you happiness,
the feel of her body, joy?
Does the touch of her hand on your arm,
warm your entire body on a cold night?
Could you hold your lips against hers,
until the end of time?
Would you sacrifice your dreams to be with her?
Would you sacfrifice your life for her?
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