Poetry

Man consumes himself,
a life of excess and greed,
Thoughts controlled by screens and celebrities
Joy appears to be dead
and Man is classified as a soulless creature

Alas, all hope seems lost
yet a minute, beaming incandescence appears
A light that energizes life itself,
and motivates even the most lost of men
We appear to be undeserving of this light
It’s nature, virgin-like, too pure for our rotten souls

Shall we evolve,
or shall we parish
If not now then when
When shall our fortune be etched

Our will to live or die
a vacillation only fluxed by this light so often within our reach,
still, we neglect it
It often appears
going without notice
With hope, man will no longer be consumed by himself,
But consumed by happiness

>>9296088
like it, not complicated and happy ending

take a rest, stop a while
you were running so fast
along all the avenue, you were,
running like a demon but you're blest

From my position of privilege
I see you fighting non-stop
You wonder why me? I know
You just fell to never more ascend

Like mist it rolled in from the south,
A heavy blanket, almost like a fog growing and twisting.
Taking form.
It took the shape of a man and approached me.
Slowly, deftly slow it approached.
Everything is dark now and I hear nothing.
I see nothing.
Only the mist.

I try to run but my legs freeze, unable to move.
Fear, deep in my throat comes bellowing up.
Like the tide rolling in I can't stop it.
I start shaking.

The mist is upon me now.
It moves close to my ear and whispers.
A voice like needles, piercing every portion of my mind.
Yet a strange serenity to it, calming me at the same time.

Can you hear it?

>>9296324
the sound of the wind

>me me me
Egotism has no place in poetry. Stop fucking writing about yourselves you incurable psueds

>>9296354
mine had no mention of my being.

who wants to read my 250~ page American epic that will probably never get published because nobody knows who I am?

>>9296079
who is this puffy nipped semen demon
she needs to meet my leanin' heathen

>>9296354
Me
Sitting on a bench
Alone
In the park

Me
Drinking some tea
Alone
In the kitchen

You
Should see that
I
Like solitude

Me
Being alone
All on my own
All for my own
Feels good
For me

>>9296342
I always loved writing very open ended poetry for others to interpret.. I know all poetry is open for interpretation.. But yeah. Just an amateur here.

>>9296375
I'm down.

Drink the sadness of a Sunday night alone
Wrestle with the piercing, shrilling thought
that your body once young is getting old
and you might just be gaining another stone

And you try to suffocate that voice
but the silence breaks, neighbour's home late
having spent all night trying to get laid
pouring hope in a holey box

so reality hits you in the head
tomorrow's a new week my friend
go back to your prestigious slave routine
so you can have that high paid low life sheen

surely you had thought there was more to life than that
and you can still list your dreams and plans right off the bat
but time runs out, and you run off
i guess you still can make it, sort of

Or maybe you are trapped in an unending maze
Dreamed by a sad child in his fevered haze
wishing he'd get well, and wake up one day
Brushing worries aside to live, love and play