Poetry competition CLOSED 22nd August 2015 1:07am
WINNER
ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
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RUNNER-UP: RebelePhoenix

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slayer69
slayer69
Thought Provoker
Australia
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Joined 26th Jan 2012
Forum Posts: 107

Poetry Contest

Write a poem about our incessant need for objects.
Write a poem about our incessant need for objects. Phones, plastic and what not. Explain why these things are so important to us and how they serve us. You could also write about people becoming products through fame.
One week.

LunaObscura
LunaObscura
Utmakalitho Petragammata
Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 2nd June 2011
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Does it have to be new?

slayer69
slayer69
Thought Provoker
Australia
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Joined 26th Jan 2012
Forum Posts: 107

LunaObscura said:Does it have to be new?

New or old. Doesn't matter.

ImperfectedStone
ImperfectedStone
The Gardener
Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
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Joined 10th Oct 2010
Forum Posts: 1344

*I hope this works, I understand if you want it removed and will happily do so. I wrote it for this because I feel she was marketed. I felt/feel a terrible sickness towards our ability to lap up a person's misery as if it was fun to do so during her worst days. It was horrifying and it highlighted to me how desensitized people have become, from people, when it's in the media.

Amy [Acrostic]

And I loaned my body, my mind and my blood to you.
And you snapped it
and I licked up the new wounds and made gold of them
with a deal
with a devil
with his minions and his dragon.
Everything found it's way back to you,
everything lit in the shot after shot after shot -
everything was seen and unsavoury and stolen.
You were a flame,
you were a moment so fleeting yet promised for the ever,
you were a fallacy.
Had I been more willing,
had I been more strong,
had the papers and the media not feasted so heavy, so hard.
Taken were the years before me,
taken, put up for ransom and sold,
taken in a haze of disenchantment.
I knew there was no way back from the ridge.
I enjoyed it too much and
I loved, loved, ached for you.
Lost in the clouds and crowds,
lost in the dark evenings and the words that fell from me.
Lost like a game of cards, I was.
My obsession with possession,
my need to be possessed, to be undressed and
my want to escape gave me to them.
Soul was something I knew I had, natural, like.
Soul oozed from me in spades, a never-ending glassful.
Soul was all I had left, it died in a pipe with a needle and a drink.

poet Anonymous

Thirty years of crap, and all of it is getting old
It took over five years to dispose of
at yard sales, in online marketplaces, and setting things outside for free by the side of the road
it took what it took as the story goes

Collecting nic naks, paperwork, and the like
tools, wood, extra faucet handles
not to mention several broken trikes
and boxes full of unused candles

Donut makers, crockpots, and utensils
why did I get three of everything?
Costume jewelry, broken necklaces, a bin full of colored pencils
and mother's collection of Avon rings

More than one appliance was cast aside for new a one
I even sold pantyhose to a cross-dressing tranny
sorry for the crude remark, but it turns out that he was quite interesting and fun
and let's not forget the traveling Canadian who hit on me; his taste in women was uncanny

I've still got a load of pocketbooks
and some extra blankets in a trunk
and a shelf full of rock and roll books
I'm still debating whether to sell a bedframe and bunk

Once upon a time, a hobby was the fad
and I collected red cardinal birds and blue glass and every kind of collectible bottle and can
Now, I've got a drawer full of unused sheets and a mattress pad
and a Teenage mutant ninja turtle cake pan

Now, as I get my house "in dyin' order"
as a friend of mine's mom used to declare
I reflect on why I got satisfaction out of being a hoarder
because now I'm preparing for my soul to be bare

Without gizmos and gadgets, I prepare for my last ride
I can still live and survive
With a roof over my head and a car outside
I won't need any of it when I go to the other side

BoFantastic
BoFantastic
Thought Provoker
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Joined 24th Apr 2014
Forum Posts: 333

Slavery Exists Persists

we are addicted to manufacturing ideas.
objects are ideas made flesh.
some ideas are bad ideas
but they still pass the test.
like guns. guns donít kill people, they say.
people with guns kill people, they say.
but the purpose of a gun is to kill people.
but they donít say. †that.

itís okay to have objects.
itís not good to be had by objects.
this is when we become slaves.
this is where we become addicts.

there are still people on this planet
who live free. †these people listen
to the wind, to the trees. their hands
are empty but their lives are full.

Lookawaynow
Lookawaynow
Rose
Tyrant of Words
United Kingdom
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Joined 7th Jan 2013
Forum Posts: 126

Name Changer

So what's in a name right?
I go change mine now
yeah yeah
go get me some more abject followers
like soo true
I know how he felt giving his sermon
poor lost souls to save
baptize me by media please do
and I'll scorn the photographic mob till blue
but pay me by the tax free dollar and I'll flash you my pearly white panties
till the front page exposť at quarter to three
look look everyone..getting out of the car..that's me!

I'll even mime you a song
becoming your take four re-edited dancing sex goddess love fantasy
my provocative displays to be gushed over on daytime tv
because I am a goddess with a sprinkling of Stardust here
..mahaps some Glitter, but lets not go there..


RebelePhoenix
RebelePhoenix
Rebel Phoenix
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Joined 3rd Aug 2015
Forum Posts: 93

Silent Fall of Man
Diligently we search our lives for things that we may never find.  
A love so true, a peace within. Equality, a loyal friend!  
Blinded we accept the lies we're fed,needing to believe the delusion.  
Unable to defend ourselves from the truth masked by illusions.  
We medicate, and we sedate to silence future men.  
We kill our children never knowing who they might have been.  
We follow to our tragic fate, obedient we die.  
And swiftly silence any voice that raise the question "Why?"  
We live our lives as slaves, so we can get the labor done.  
Bodies sent to fight the rich man'swar so it is won.  
What a wayward people we have let ourselves become.  
No compassion in our souls, our hearts completely numb.  
Greed and hatred fill our souls, we're driven by our pride.  
Humility a stranger, and from the light we hide.  
The harlot and the beast, they are our ego and our greed.  
Prostituting all we have, for nothing that we need.  
The time will come to face the evil hidden deep within.  
With no excuse, we'll pay our dues and suffer for our sins!

ImperfectedStone
ImperfectedStone
The Gardener
Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
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Joined 10th Oct 2010
Forum Posts: 1344

Thank you.

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