Published on 8th December 2009 00:04am
Written by Juvi LaPorte (juvikid)
It seems that in this generation we have an evolution of the "Poser". for now we will call this entity a Lame. in decades past this individual would be known as a "Jive Turkey", "Sucka" "Loser" etc. But now I can't help but think that in this day and age it has become the norm to adopt the role of the lame. Why you ask? because it's easy, if one chooses to blend into what is accepted and popular all the time, it takes the pressure off the brain (being that it doesn't have to think for itself). some lames still find individuality, the problem is that it just...
Published on 7th December 2009 3:57pm
Written by Bee. (penACTION)
This interview is being taped for court, 07 December, 2009, 0300 hours. Date and time.
Please, begin.
I was walking to my car, This homeless man ambushed me. Not joking. Don't laugh. My day was already dipping, But then this hefty body smothered me. He sssslured, "You're looking thin, Jack!"
I chuckle. My name is Charlie.
But, he must be mad. Bless his head. I thank him - don't ask why. Five dollars in his pocket, And I walk on, Whistle a song on the radio. It might have been 'Winter Wonderland.'
Published on 7th December 2009 7:10am
Written by Rachel Gleavy (Mrs_Sin)
Apparently we could all be happy It’s said we could get along That war of today Wouldn’t have to be played And the world would be a beautiful place.
Bullies in the playground, no more. Killers quite commonplace, a myth These destructive scenes Only bad dreams And the world would be a beautiful place.
No need for rose-tinted glasses No need to harden your hearts No need to fight It’d all be alright And the world would be a beautiful place
How do you explain to a child That the world isn’t like that at all? That...
Published on 6th December 2009 4:27pm
Written by Dungbug
Why are we here? What is the purpose of us? Is it purely to follow blindly and consume? Everyday there is struggle, oppression and anguish. Opressors and opressed, what will our legacy be?
What will we leave to those who will follow? Would we exist without the struggles or stagnate? Is it the aspiration that one day there will be unconditional harmony some day soon?
Are we meant to exist in our bubbles in the hope that the world will fix itself? So lost in our hollow little worlds following our own little hollow pursuits, our faith has been lost in religion, humanity...
Published on 6th December 2009 5:05am
Written by Abracadabra
The Painting with Words poet bus rolled in flags flying to the biggest ticker-tape welcome you've ever seen crowds had gathered in the town square long before its arrival they knew this was the main event and they didn't want to miss a moment.
None of the crew wore that unkempt and disheveled look that had so dogged the pioneer poets throughout their careers now being a poet was as respectable as being a doctor or a teacher. The poets appeared to be just like you and me although you could still tell they were a different breed by that...
Published on 5th December 2009 1:46pm
Written by Abracadabra
Being raised in a brothel for your first twelve years must be the ultimate head fuck plenty of psychotic material there you'd suppose but on the surface C seemed so normal. Too normal maybe, despite all those aunties fussing through his early life and very quickly he had learned to hide most of the hurting memories under the bed where his child's brain had reasoned they belonged.
He learned to shut out the sordidness and the seediness, the violence and drunkenness, pimps patrolling like sharks beyond all those shabby red velvet curtains....
Published on 4th December 2009 8:01pm
Written by Abracadabra
I'm parking on my lawn after all it's my lawn and I paid for it. Everyone's got the right to do what they want, aint they? I don't see how driving my little car hurts anyone and that lawn looks kind of dry and unsightly now on account of there being not much rain these days. The government says we need to help our car industry, so that's what I'm doing. Every time I turn that starter it makes me smile on account of me knowing I'm helping someone and I feel good about doing my bit for the world.
Published on 4th December 2009 1:21pm
Written by traceymaree
Sometimes in our walk of life, we meet with human kind... If we look in deep enough, we see much more than mind... We see a certain glow amidst, the person that we see... They looking back can focus on, much more than just the me... In my walk along my life, Ive met with just a few... Some were very elderly, and some were just like new... A young boy he looks up at me, and straight away I no... The feeling he gives out to me, it isnt just a show... The partner I lost tradedly, I no he was just one... He had all of the makings of gods own precious son......
Published on 4th December 2009 9:44am
Written by Celine (3ampoems)
we are minorities of something colossal with dropdead nervous sytems & alwaysfeelingunderpressureargh! we are not nothing just time-halting storms trying to see our laters a little clearer and pretending we never worry on our previous millionandtwentytwosteps : i count.
i suffocate under piles of contemporary 'you must's catching a breath at my own 'you can's every now and then when no one is watching
conflicts are enjoyable just to the extend before everyone takes it too seriously and forget...
Published on 3rd December 2009 8:57pm
Written by Michael Granger (Sir-Writes-A-lot)
From this earth to the sky Off to the heavens with a tear in their eye 14 years has past A journey that has came full circle at last
A family pet who has seen so much in her eyes A marriage, 2 children raised and 2 more children born so much to realize Other pets have sadly came and gone Like fall leaves that enter a lawn
Vacations and holidays Football Sunday, baseball games and sunny days She waits to go out and to come back in Now a new phase of her life is to begin
Always missing someone to come home Until he comes, back...
Published on 3rd December 2009 9:20am
Written by Abracadabra
My soul can smell that new air from the window and there is fresh birdsong on the breeze but now that my life is all ramps I must accept that the steepest of hills will always remain beyond my reach.
There are fresh ruts in the carpet where I sat for hours face pressed hard to the cold pain of my dawning truth
it never gets easier.
And all those inspirational Olympic heroes are quickly forgotten each time I am singled out for that special treatment to be cossetted and clucked at in front of a crowd when I crave only ...
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