Tag: Life

Plastic Limitations, Poetry by Maka Nyingwa

Dolls lined up in neat rows of ten,
each equally afraid of lies, pain and disappointment
Drawn with aching smiles and soulless eyes:
cages are imprinted with redundant words to spark interest

Genre: Life, Society

Plastic Limitations
by Maka Nyingwa

Dolls lined up in neat rows of ten,
each equally afraid of lies, pain and disappointment
Drawn with aching smiles and soulless eyes:
cages are imprinted with redundant words to spark interest

A new era of egocentrically selfless dolls pollute the aisle
while the rest are left to decay into the dust they rose from
And as damaged beauty is glorified,
hearts are lost to the physical eye:

Money, magnified, manic
Absent, apathetic, abandoned
Grated, generic, glorified
Empty, effortless, edited
Damaged:
the end of each relationship is the beginning of every insecurity…
Damaged.

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FILLED GLASSES & LIT CIGARETTES, Poetry by Noemi Moncayo

Nobody promised you a manual on how to face the burden of heartbreak and loneliness.
This life doesn’t equip you with the first aid kit to pull together and repair your soul after you face the sad reality that you have to save yourself from every hell you go through.

Genre: Addiction, Life, Society

FILLED GLASSES & LIT CIGARETTES
by Noemi Moncayo

Nobody ever said it was easy.

Nobody promised you a manual on how to face the burden of heartbreak and loneliness.
This life doesn’t equip you with the first aid kit to pull together and repair your soul after you face the sad reality that you have to save yourself from every hell you go through.

Your lungs were not made to inhale the toxic smoke you use to numb your mind. You liver isn’t meant to handle the alcohol intake on the nights you feel so empty there’s a hollow vibration in your cries.

Your heart was not prepared for the hands of lovers who are masters of broken promises and had the audacity to drop it.

Your ears were not made to hear words that resonate in the back of your mind and make you contemplate weather death is a train you want to ride on.

Your eyes, fragile glass crafted by God to see the beauty that this life has to offer, were not meant to see her in your bed with another.

Your lips were not meant to quiver when the first tear falls after you feel your heart sink to your knees. Love is not supposed to sound like an apology when it resonates off the walls of your mouth.

Kisses are not meant to burn your lips when you pretend you don’t know the truth.
You shouldn’t have to force yourself to pull her closer and you shouldn’t have to look away when you see yourself dead inside her eyes.

The truth is; bottles and packs can numb the pain, but not if she’s the one filling your glass and lighting your cigarettes.

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DANCE IN THE BLIZZARD, A Poem by GT Zinn

Cover me up. Fall over my head
Lend me your words, dream in red
Glisten is that salt on your skin
And I ask to wash up in your sin
Baptized within the salty rain
Scorched but not feeling all the pain

Genre: Life

DANCE IN THE BLIZZARD
A Poem by GT Zinn

Cover me up. Fall over my head
Lend me your words, dream in red
Glisten is that salt on your skin
And I ask to wash up in your sin
Baptized within the salty rain
Scorched but not feeling all the pain

Can’t see past my face, it’s absurd
They say you can’t dance in the blizzard
I say who really needs to see anyway
Only her eyes I gaze so we’ll dance away

Make me move the moon just to be bane
Underwater, are my thoughts really that sane?
Sparkle sparkle from each iris eyering
I’m grounded, but believe that I am flying
Is it rude to conclude and have not a sight
Maybe it’s a feeling that I hope to incite

Can’t see past my face, it’s absurd
They say you can’t dance in the blizzard
I say who really needs to see anyway
Only her eyes I gaze so we’ll dance away

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THE PRICE OF LOVE $$$, Poetry by James Gary

What can this madness be
That dost cause my mind to see
You, as if you were near
When only in spirit, your soul is here
What voodoo dirge I’m under

Genre: Rhyme, Life, Society

THE PRICE OF LOVE $$$
by James Gary

What can this madness be
That dost cause my mind to see
You, as if you were near
When only in spirit, your soul is here
What voodoo dirge I’m under
That wouldst my heart to wonder
With such a steady pain
Liken to a Far eastern monsoon rain
Be thou still aching heart
What troubles thee, seizures mind
Less from my body I should fling apart
Oh that I could leave thee two behind,
And as my journey should anew
‘Out heart or mind to see me through
And o’er this circumference I should go
They’d say from Hades, a being sent
With shuffle-step he dost wander
His eyes a fixed and catatonic glow
And faculties successfully rent
Only he’d known his feelings wouldst grow fonder/
And wish if I were able To have never set foot upon this place
Saw thy beauty at the table Grecian love etched thy face
And to never have taken that first glance That played the stage for fool’s romance
And greater cause of, histories melancholy
More renown than General Custer’s folly

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Rapscallion, Poetry by Shelby Schimcek

You’re the rapscallion of devious games
Paralyzing my body
Controlling my mind
Manipulating my trust
With your alluring string of lies
Your carnivorous appetite

Genre: Romance, Love, Relationships, Hurt, Life and Dark.

Rapscallion
by Shelby Schimcek

You’re the rapscallion of devious games
Paralyzing my body
Controlling my mind
Manipulating my trust
With your alluring string of lies
Your carnivorous appetite
Devours my thoughts
Lurking behind a devilish smile
Attacking at my weakest
Limp and lifeless
You leave me dangling
At your finger tips
Waiting to strike a match
That fuels the flame between us
With a breath
You darken the glow
Showering me with venomous kisses
My still beating poisoned heart
Crashes into darkened depths
Of lost hope
Kindling me with false love
An ounce of warmth
enlightens my rebirthing heart
Prone to your touch
I’m only fooled once more

 

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Def’s Poetry Pt. 1, Poetry by Def P The MC

Last night I had a dream of a round table discussion
Two people asked in unison, why is the world suffering
I looked to my right and said I don’t know Dr. King
The world is kinda crazy and I know you had a dream
Of equality and liberty but why’d you have to leave
See, black people needed you, we needed to believe
We needed our hero, we needed our voice

Genre: Inspirational, Motivational, Life, Dreams

Def’s Poetry Pt. 1
by Def P The MC

Last night I had a dream of a round table discussion
Two people asked in unison, why is the world suffering
I looked to my right and said I don’t know Dr. King
The world is kinda crazy and I know you had a dream
Of equality and liberty but why’d you have to leave
See, black people needed you, we needed to believe
We needed our hero, we needed our voice
And with brothers killing brothers how in the world can we rejoice
Everytime I cut the news on there’s another death in Cleveland
And we all know when it comes to murder there’s never a good enough reason
So why are we suffering Dr. King, just take a listen
To the pain in people’s voices through the words I’m out here spitting
Civil Rights was just another very false premonition
And even though our president’s black, I bet the next one isn’t
And that’s not a prediction it’s a well known fact
But see I’m always nonviolent Dr. King, you taught me that

But what about the people man, why all the corruption
I don’t know Mr. Marley, that’s another good discussion
Greed is a disease that everyone’s affected by
And I hope that when I leave the world the message I leave behind
Is one of generosity and one of being free
See I’d give my last ten dollars to a homeless man on the street
Just so he can have a drink and if he wants to eat
He can go to Burger King and get a whopper, with cheese (haha)
But that’s just me, always nice, always smiling
Always giving, never taking, always hurt but never crying
Mr. Marley you taught me one love, one heart
I’m only 20 years old but I’ve been jamming from the start
Rehearsing my lines so that I can play my part
Call me the next Einstein because I’m playing it smart

Playing it smart? You’ve got to be joking
You dropped out of college to make music and started smoking
What kind of move is that, what can you achieve with this “rap”
And did you forget about those student loans you need to pay back?
Look man, I understand you need to follow your dreams
But this has been you’re dream since you turned 16
And not a single thing has happened, why do you still believe?
I turn to my conscience and say “Well you see,
I believe in the dream because the dream believes in me.
I could never sell my soul there’s a piece in every beat.
And about the student loans, they’ll get it when I’m ready.
So what if I smoke and my build is kinda hefty.
See I love to make music but it’s not just for me,
It’s for the person in the crowd who wants follow their dream.
For the heartbroken person trying hard to be happy
While the one that you love is treating you like a lackey.
I’m not attacking I’m saying that as people we need to rise
And stop being so discouraged by these negative lies.
You’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, you too
So stop listening to the lies and just do what you do.”

Last night I had a dream, better yet, had an epiphany
To promote peace, give back and love life endlessly

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A Special Place, Poetry by Pamela L. Compton

The sunset is a beautiful splendor to behold.
The sky seems like it’s on fire,and the clouds are trimmed in gold.
Sometimes it seems so gentle,
Like a lovers soft embrace.

GENRE – Love , Life , Relationships

A Special Place
by Pamela L. Compton

The sunset is a beautiful splendor to behold.
The sky seems like it’s on fire,and the clouds are trimmed in gold.
Sometimes it seems so gentle,
Like a lovers soft embrace.
We are so very lucky to have such a special place.
A place where our inner spirit’s can be free.
Couple’s in the night stay to watch the joining of darkness with light.
These two forces joined together are more united then when apart.
Embraces the feelings within their hearts.

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A NOU PLACE: My commute, Poetry by Caoimhe O’Neill

There is a woman I pass
Every morning,
Underground in a walkway of Diego de Leon,
She sings the same ABBA song.
Every morning.

Genre: Art, Travel, Commute, Observation, Life, Society

Parte Uno

A NOU PLACE: My commute
by Caoimhe O’Neill

There is a woman I pass
Every morning,
Underground in a walkway of Diego de Leon,
She sings the same ABBA song.
Every morning.

Her voice is impaled by her own poverty,
A voice squealing to ignorant and bustling passers-by.

They have coins slouching in their
Pockets, bags, purses.
But none clinks its way to her.

There is a man when I emerge from the metro at Santiago Bernabéu.
I pass the scooters in their messy rows.
I pass the people of Madrid’s
“Canary Wharf”
With their suits and golden euros.

This man he leans against a pillar,
Everyday, mid-morning I watch his leg laze solemnly as the other props him up.
He smokes, he leans, he smokes, he never leaves and only his clothes and the date changes.

He contemplates or he does not,
all the while his dirtied, beige boots are still.
He is not a beggar like the woman,
despite a scuffed look.

I question who is the most entertaining statue on my morning commute?

I don’t answer,

I do know that my commute will never
Be free from characters,
from still or moving lives,
from man nor woman.

Parte Dos:

CALLE DE ORENSE

People on bikes,
Your Lance Armstrong or Bradley Wiggins types.

People with headphones,
Your Michael Jackson or Leonard Cohen types.

People in cafes,
Your J K Rowling or James Joyce
types.

There are people all over,
in Madrid, Paris, London, Lisbon, Milan

European people who cycle on reckless city roads or glorious mountain pass, who sing and dance, who write with real ink and fashionably sip cappuccinos and peer longingly into a hustling street.

The latter is like me,
Those who write for love
and for dreamy trade.
Some people all the while, do other things.

We are Europeans and living on the mainland
Makes me write with an increased flourish and flair for I belong to this artsy RACE.

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