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As I sit and write, try to put down in words.I look outside at the state of the world.I have nothing to say, nothing positive to comment.As were choked and drowned by man-made torment.Running out of ideas so we break and tear, all of our insecurit
Some People NEED To ... " CHILL " ... Because I'm Getting SICK Or Better Still Quite ILL ... !!! Because Some Seem To Think My Lyrics HIT Like BRICKS ... !!!!!!!!
They Seem STRANGE To Me Don't They To You ... ?!? The Things That People Sometimes Do .... ? Don't Worry Folks I'll Give You PROOF ... That People Make Some FUNNY Moves ... ?!?
I look out into the world and wonder, what the hell happened. I used to live inside a lego house, but now the bricks are melting like a pool of plastic memories.
The way I see it any sentence can become a poem, It's just a matter of how creative the writer wishes to be in terms of spacing. They say art is a beautiful thing.
There is nothing wrong with my brain I am just expressive, I show a lot of emotion, That doesn’t mean that I’m ‘different’ it means I’m different. Different from you, from her, from the whole world.
I meant no disrespect I never did, but I am not to be held accountable for what you think I meant. If I say we are allowing ourselves to be victimized it is not as bad as you think,
Rora wakes up to the sound of Monday morning news, except, she doesn’t know what it’s talking about: nonsense, fighting over agreeing, two sides of the same coin. The nurse comes rushing,
Martin Luther King JR. has his own holiday, God should be given a holiday too.God deserves to be given a holiday, that is what our Government should do.
Tell me, What do you see as the end of the world? Will we cook ourselves in the toxins we've unleashed into the air? Will we poison our food and water with fuel spills? Will we kill ourselves in war?
I wish that I could speak That the faces around me Supportive in name and in cause But failing in their infantile attemps I wish that they would listen Instead of changing Masks to frowns
People talk about how opinions don’t matter but I think they do. I am united with my fellow poets as we embark on a journey leading us into deeper thoughts. You wonder what being a poet means to me, and I say everything.
Sunglasses worn to hide your eyes. Spinning around using bonucular vision to spy. Looking around and waiting for any reaction. Trapped in your own extravaganza. At the zoo. The circus.
Let me tell you about the best year of the 20th Century, a year that was great.It was the year when my mom was born and that year was 1948.That was the greatest year of the 20th Century, that's how I feel.
Manage everything as you have managed up until now
I'm right, you're wrong. And I have every right to write that I'm right, because I'm not wrong
Say no, say no, say yes, say yes. No- to abuse. It's not necessary, not right. Twenty-eight percent are in an intimate relationship! Ninety-eight percent of offenders- aren't punished!
Staying up afterhours Jazz beats and rhythms filling the air These white walls Pondering Pondering Pondering Why Why Why Where... The world Society People
My very favorite comfort in life is closing my door, Not dealing with the judgment that opinions deliver, Living safe in a hollow home of maybes and seems.
She thinks it's ugly,
Your opinion used to matter to me I used to let your words become mine My words became your echo Me, your shadow But time has healed the hole I let you fill And now I see Your opinion never mattered
We all don’t understand,Our opinions aren’t in demand,Our souls are like flowers,They can topple over like towers,They bloom, then fade away,They go to heavan or hell to stay,Flowers have no powers,
I am a girl of love, Compassion and trust, Most of all I'm a girl of opinion. And if you don't like it, I suppose you're pretty opinionated yourself.
My heart is beside me, I am dying. This room has turned black and stillness grows on. My chassis slows and I die while flying. These last thoughts go to paper as they dawn,
It's more than obvious; we live in a cold world Where society's aim is impregnate every boy and girl We fall for lies, sewn to the pattern of the embezzlement ties
Time appears to be infinitewhen my pencil scratches across the paperline after lineI erase the mistakesI keep goingI cannot give up, not thisMy heart and my emotion are here,
You're trapped in a box, No sense of sight, sign of light, No sound, a quiet so profound.