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Literature Text
If one might deign,
To hear a penny for a thought,
To give insight best,
To listen attentively,
And to offer a condolence to those lost.
One of us is fine,
The other is not,
And the two of us together,
Are neither one or the other.
We share blood,
Like we share so much else,
Between us,
There is not a secret lost.
So listen to this,
And tell me what we speak,
Whether it is in rhyme,
Time,
Or jest.
We settled the matter long ago,
And now we sit here,
Row by row,
Our wary eyes,
The only ones to decieve,
That when we see falsehood,
We turn a blindeye.
We know the pain,
To be left on the street,
In need of ssome food,
Or of a little cash,
We hesitate not to give aid,
Since we know the pain.
We are together as one,
Have suffered as one,
At one time or another,
And we know it all,
Like the back of our hand.
Seperating us,
Is those that recovered,
And those that did not.
Some perished there,
Out on the street,
Needing food and groveling,
Some in the back alley,
From an overdose.
We watched it all,
Master swindling,
And begging,
Asking kindly,
When there were those of us,
Who had no place to turn.
Those houses they claim,
Built for us,
Cannot keep us from returning one day.
Few of us,
Walk by and look back,
Having seen another world,
Unless they are a runaway,
They get a chance,
That eludes us all.
We hear the crude remarks,
The sniding comments and bites,
The bribes we are given,
For the unruly work,
And the advice some share,
Freely to gain an air,
And a chance,
Of hope and freedom.
There are those heartless of us,
Who stopped caring long ago,
And here we are,
Gathered by what we share,
Being one but not the other.
To hear a penny for a thought,
To give insight best,
To listen attentively,
And to offer a condolence to those lost.
One of us is fine,
The other is not,
And the two of us together,
Are neither one or the other.
We share blood,
Like we share so much else,
Between us,
There is not a secret lost.
So listen to this,
And tell me what we speak,
Whether it is in rhyme,
Time,
Or jest.
We settled the matter long ago,
And now we sit here,
Row by row,
Our wary eyes,
The only ones to decieve,
That when we see falsehood,
We turn a blindeye.
We know the pain,
To be left on the street,
In need of ssome food,
Or of a little cash,
We hesitate not to give aid,
Since we know the pain.
We are together as one,
Have suffered as one,
At one time or another,
And we know it all,
Like the back of our hand.
Seperating us,
Is those that recovered,
And those that did not.
Some perished there,
Out on the street,
Needing food and groveling,
Some in the back alley,
From an overdose.
We watched it all,
Master swindling,
And begging,
Asking kindly,
When there were those of us,
Who had no place to turn.
Those houses they claim,
Built for us,
Cannot keep us from returning one day.
Few of us,
Walk by and look back,
Having seen another world,
Unless they are a runaway,
They get a chance,
That eludes us all.
We hear the crude remarks,
The sniding comments and bites,
The bribes we are given,
For the unruly work,
And the advice some share,
Freely to gain an air,
And a chance,
Of hope and freedom.
There are those heartless of us,
Who stopped caring long ago,
And here we are,
Gathered by what we share,
Being one but not the other.
Literature
Owls
I heard the owls
I heard them call
They laughed
They cried
They told me all.
The frogs and I were friends those days.
Rambunctious reunions of assorted arrays.
Upside-down and inside out,
Black-throated thrums of tickling fun.
My world stopped
cold twilight still;
When lightning sparked,
& struck,
& shook,
the crooked beams of wire's cold handed stroke.
Purple clouds ablaze,
while hanging in the sky
my brother swung softly to and by.
An angel in Heaven,
luminous orb.
Piercing cries heard no more.
Spirits vanished,
wisps abandoned,
stars faded,
favored famines terminated.
I never heard the owls call.
they left
Literature
Hands
your hands reach out to me,
soft, so warm and inviting
turning cold before my
fingers ever reach yours.
you hold my hand tightly
at first and then your grip
loosens and our palms
slide away from each other.
I am left with cold sweat
and unfinished plans in
place of where your fingers
interlocked with mine imperfectly.
Holding myself no longer
feels the same thanks to
you and your sweaty,
cold, lying hands.
Literature
My Romantic Song Lyrics
The night as the moon shines down below,
if only you were there
the leaves blow in the air
a heart that loves like so
a pathway be, let it be
a pathway to your soul
And let me sing you a lullaby
sweet my dear in your dreams
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Comments3
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Not to be a downer but this seems more like a poem
besides that the message from this is really strong and its almost like you took a picture of our society and translated it into words
Nice work
besides that the message from this is really strong and its almost like you took a picture of our society and translated it into words
Nice work