If you listed your poem under ‘Human Nature’ ‘Sociopolitical’ ‘Spiritual’ when you posted it on Deviant Art, place it in this folder.
Politics by newkidwithoutbraces, literature
Literature
Politics
I hate how everything you say is so calculated.
Your manipulative, painstakingly precise speech-
Is turning heads, making waves.
You sound like a man outside himself,
Like a recording played over a loop.
To accompany a wax figure,
So real and lifelike.
They fall like putty in your hands,
Succumbing to your words.
Your moderate analogies,
Your lyrical inaccuracies,
Have got me feeling so absurd.
You sweat, like vegetables in a frying pan,
The guilty, under a high voltage lamp.
So convenient for you, to have the moral high ground.
Relying on the support of the lowbrow.
Your grandiose statements and feigned cheer,
Are moving them closer,
A
"When did the world get so dark?"
Probably when the sun checked out for the day.
"When did the world get so dark?"
Probably when you decided to be an adult at such a young age.
"When did the world get so loud?"
Probably when you tried to fit in with the crowd.
"When did the world get so loud?"
Probably when you decided to suffocate yourself in questions you have no answers for.
"When did the world get so foul?"
Probably when you decided to be adventurous and try new things.
"When did the world get so foul?"
Probably when you stopped trying to save the world and began trying to save humanity.
"When did the world get so quite?"
Probably
Brown sugar rice
Tastes oh so nice.
Next to tea and crumpets
Keeping up with the Jones'.
Adequate,
Affluent,
It's substantial.
God knows, none of us
Are very financial.
the world turns by the infallibility of democratic consent
premature babies born on barstools
in churches
on the couch at home watching cable news
helpless bastards conceived by idle chatter
loose lips steer the ship
and i'm crushed to death by a language barrier
if it's not hearsay it's heresy
a capital, rational crime
punishable by tar and feather
an idea too big
collapses under its own weight
without the gossip needed to support it
god only knows where these decisions are made
from the top down
from the ground up
though generally speaking there's no need to look toward the fringes
a dream outside the conversation withers
a better
Twenty-seven years old,
Five fifty-six am,
At my computer desk,
In my parents' home,
Typing:
Never thought I'd still be alone
Or looking for work
Or struggling to write a book already finished in my head.
It's strange.
You see the faults of your elders
You blog a better path,
But watch yourself walking in their ways.
It's difficult.
Everything was done right.
Worked hard, made plans,
But there's always more one can do.
Take responsibility.
It's an attitude that keeps me going.
The system requires it,
But if I tried harder would it bear fruit?
Don't know
Because we were raised to use calculators,
Or synthesize search engine exhaust,
The Cup of Life.
We are animals,
we have thoughts of hunting.
But what stops us?
The morals that we have and the morals of caring for our brothers and sisters.
We came from hunters,
we came from gatherers.
Now we sit down and watch reality past us by.
We have people,
who take the thoughts of hunters,
and instead of fighting,
they act.
They have no morals,
no empathy,
no heart.
I live in a state known for mass shooting,
at the high school to the theater,
3 people made their names in my state.
Why?
Because they are broken,
and exploded and took everyone with them.
This world is rotten,
this world needs the people who want t
honest,
let's be honest.
Do you see grace,
Or beauty?
Life...is not all that.
It is not the pain and suffering that makes you.
It is not the scars that define you.
It is not.
That.
And that-
Is not you.
See grace and seek peace.
At your own pace.
Seek clarity.
Be free.
Be whole.
Fly overhead
And then you will see.
All of the beauty.
And all of the stars.
They all spell your name.
First the war and then the weapons,
First the weapons, then the war.
Doesn't matter how it happens,
Death comes certain, bloody, raw.
We devour and we slither,
Bombing run on borderlands.
In my shadow cities wither;
Snake-like are the reaper's hands.
I have everything you're needing,
For your petty private war.
Under fire you are speeding
To the end, the serpent's maw.
Self destruction and deception,
Madness is my killing field.
Every day an insurrection,
I'm the vanity you wield.
Final victory you're craving,
I sell doomsday for a dime.
Start the rockets, banners waving,
Ragnarök will be my time.
Of War and Whispering Winds by AlmostWhitey, literature
Literature
Of War and Whispering Winds
They say that war will never change,
But it does surely rearrange
The world and how we live in it.
So long ago the war was waged,
For seven days the fires raged
And then the spark of doom was lit.
The earth is ruled by endless woods,
While insects fly beneath green hoods
And toxic spores in jungles great.
The wind is howling through the valley
And the cliffs have formed an alley,
Where a maiden meets her fate.
Extinction came and peace was earned,
But humankind has never learned
And so the struggle does not end.
We fray against creation's might,
Unwinnable this hopeless fight,
For mother Gaia does not bend.
We want to rule and never saw
T