 |
Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
|
||||
| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 21:05:42 AEST | ||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
Array
(
[sid] => 72531
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Tipbits
[time] => 2004-11-21 10:44:51
[hometext] => Just me moaning about what the world is becoming
[bodytext] => With this altered ego and loss of actors known as "friends" running through blades and spikes numbed at the things that never change only begin and end. Running away from every lie coated in sugar into this venus fly trap.The grass is no more green on either side, i just run then i write then i slide.. No feelings left, my heart now purely an organ,a muscle pumping more anger around these veins, stimulating my mind, provoking the pen to move,with more and more to prove yet nothing ever soothes. And whilst running, searching for my place or position in nature, finally finding a place to think about your face... Yet i am bewildered by some controlling, contradicting government that wants to taste me and spit me out.And this is all i can think about this F R U S T R A T I O N with something that i cannot change. They have us locked up in a cage feeding us tipbits of the truth whilst acting arrogant; spewing slogans, spitting songs of sorry sickening, stupid, saddening stories, saying "lets all got go war!", and we are wounded and then sore. Messing with my karma,igniting all these flames, dampening my chi, controversal, provacative, un-noticed fickle famous rogues, drawing out our graves messing with our logic.So we do not even know we are slaves (!) And the concept of the theory of this dirty drugged up dream like bloodied strawberries missing the cream... deregulation centalisation reflection of vomit but do we call them on it?! Because sometimes the difficulty of the difficult ability of asking why?can be so....hard. But what other way?? How else are we going to reach communion or democracy without being shot through our own skulls leaving a trail of things that could occur but dont and....wont. This is like a ball fight, this is sad and this is sick, England is now another state of the U S (it will never be ok) A. Yet still we run towards the colour of red,like the red star of communism, except its caught up somewhere between the rich, the poor and the fast food chain. And two towers get blown up, suddenly eyes are open, and everythings being treated in a way of revolt revolver in tow, yet theyll never know,because the televisions doing its job. And who would guess? who would guess what i cant help detest, that these pretty presidents with royal blood each time are held up like puppets infront of the real dictators, the real no-one would guess or ee, how transparent the white house can be.Whilst background blues to infest our moods or the soundtracks to our lives....the music industry suffers in a similar way. Covered with gesticulate cover ups or cover downs. And HIP HOP hopes to hop across to a hip place of money that actually does seem greener then grass. Yet people are to ashamed to ask, or stop themselves become the same white trash. Soaking up another story, purchasing meaningless discs of nothingnes, allowing the glory of large flashy cars and glittery famous stars so the product is larger then the actual good, and the demonstration of the gimmick known as celebrity is earning more then the words that got them to their shiny castle of lies. Their micrphones and instruments are now as irrelevant as there talent. And eveyone has the freedom of speech so this is abused hench enters the leech,Jee life is to short for second hand opinions! When did it become to late to state what you believe? When did it become to late to start? So forget equality forget the mythlogy of peace and love. Forget we all walked as one once upon a time. Because all the wrong people are saying the wrong things and getting paid for this compost. So allow my self-central selfishness, because one day i will be older. Old enough to say what i think, and it will betime for you to choose another excuse not to listen. And still the division of yin and yan, sexes and colours, numbers and names, goodies and badies, cowboys and indians. The latter of curse, we are the curse even though all they ever wanted was human kind to be as one, yeah the cowboys,white the goodies, carrying the gun. And still we chop up animals and chop up wood to start flames to allow the warmth we have lost through our own crooked, curdled, corrupt capitalism. And the years seem wasted trying to change the way woman are treated.Now they stand opinionles emotionless pregnant chest plastic breasts because it seems now that they only ever wanted to be exploited, in the same way does a man, and now they are bored, just because....they can. So does god exist? does hope exist? well i know self exists, and self continually unconditionally persists to defend me and stand in my corner. So at least under all this mess i can hide away in my room at least i can just write and pray alone that soon...it can change. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 143 [topic] => 21 [informant] => Lost_butterfly [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
|
Menu
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©
Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster
All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com
All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.
Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com