We escape the harrowing womb
only to go on life-support.
Careers are made and lost
on bleak prognoses.

Footstones and headstones
of podiatrists and shrinks,
capstones and gravestones
of pharmacies and fast food eateries
are just touchstones,
merely millstones,
neon plastic injected freedom,
mercury vapor light and ozone,
carbon monoxide tributes
to dying flesh.

from fogglethorpe:

To dying flesh, our lives depend,
ripped, torn, and in the end, swallowed.

To dying leaves, our lives depend,
ripped, torn, and in the end swallowed.

Sustenance, flesh we rend,
the leaves we bend, swallowed,

makes us comprehend.
It's nature's life we rend, swallowed,

that defines us. We are what we eat,
dead flesh and leaves swallowed.

from loisseau:

That defines us. We are what we eat,
dead flesh and leaves swallowed.

We are what we breathe, carbon
monoxide, cyanide, nicotine inhaled
from birth, thousands of times a day.

We are what we see, perversion,
rape, bigotry, lies, murder witnessed
from birth, thousands of times per year.

We are what we teach, not by word,
but by everything we do, even when
nobody sees us, from birth to death.

We are freaks.

We are freaks...

trendy rebels
on a desperate quest
to be ourselves,
even if it means
morphing into someone else.

Morphing into someone else,
Breaking out the shells of who used to be,
Caged, now taking the shape of life without walls.
Minds orbiting to somewhere else,
Escaping the atmoshphere life's tyranny,
Elevated minds amazed that we never hit bottom,
Yet we levitate without cause.

This is the ultimate free,
Where one's self can rise above flying,
with no need to acknowledge gravity.

And they call this death.....
HA!!!!!!!!!!!

from NoGoody,

And they call this death....
HA!!!!
This is life on speed,
I'm no weed to be planted,
Call me a rotten seed,
My body may be six feet
Beneath dirt rainbows
But my spirit flows like
The river dances,
like the ocean tumbles,
Like the cobwebs cry in dusty corners.
I am free.
Free from
everything that made life
Feel more like death,
And death feel more like,
A breathe of
Autumn wind.

a breathe of autumn wind shaking tree branches creating a comfortable calm over a identiless town wit no stop lights or popluation rotten vegetation in the sercurity of a empty closket rises the spirit of a lonley outkask wit the determernation to make it to the top from the bottom surrounded by snakes fakes and propaganda minus the snapshots and magzine covers a scandle is at hand force to take on issues of a communtiy forgotten about in the pile of problems hoping to escape this ingornance

hoping to escape this ignorance...

the ignorant turn to the ignorant
for guidance

from fogglethorpe:

For guidance in my mind,
the one-eyed king of the blind
is me, that's for sure.

L.

...that's for sure

everything is water
which is never destroyed
but changed in form
until it is undetectable
or unrecognizable

ice or vapor
which will nourish
or kill

from fogglethorpe:

To let live or kill,
everyday decision for
food for all of us.

Food For all of us
a gluttonous affair
over-indulgence, a lust we can't control
A need turned to a must have
When the feast is over,
will there be enough....Food for us all

will there be enough....Food for us all?
the question is...
what is enough when all want more?
what is more when many want extra?
what is extra when a few want control
of the little that is left
when those who
want more
take all
that is
left...

and there is none for none
as we scrabble in the dirt
that could grow plenty
if we shared enough?

"if we shared enough"
the mantra of unearned guilt
the credo of utopian bureaucrats
who think giving really means
"spread the misery"

Spread the misery,
like mustard on a sour roll.
The sauce that dresses the embittered soul.
Sandwitches cast spells on our horizons.
Causing substantial content to be wasted on the plate,
at first bite, leaving gaping wounds that can't be healed.

Leaving gaping wounds that can't be healed,
what manner of sword is this you wield?
You name it solace,
you call it shield,
then suckle from wounds that can’t be healed.

Drawing out hordes with twice-laundered words
what hell-bought tongue is this you rack?
slashing with reason,
piercing with fact,
devoid of truth, smile-whitened attack.

Devoid of truth,smile-whitened attack
wondering why the trust is gone
Tired of hearing words of deceit
and the lies that you have sown

within your hearts there is no good
destruction is your only path
only one question remains
How long will this last?

How long will this last
Gloom and misery unsurpassed?
How long must we bear
This odious and mad affair?
How long must we see
The stains of this black botchery?
How long must we wait
For relief from our heartless fate?
It must stop? Now hear our wishes!
Quit making us wash the dishes!

Hear our wishes
Newly-washed dish in the sky,
Shining monicle reflecting
What can be seen with the eye
And
What
May
Only be seen by mind's eye.

That mottled canvas,
Where nothing moves.
There is
Complete peace!
But I ask
which is best:
Suffering and war or
The utter stillness of the moon?

The utter stillness of the moon
hides and mask the pain
from within
still staggering and struggling to
get back just a little
for ones sense of pride

Yet we are still forsaken
like the forbidden
who shall never rise

...who shall never rise again?
Who shall not ascend?
The unjust and unwise man
whose means justifies his end!

Whose means justify the end?
the poor on their knees begging
for an ounce of pity
the rich with all their wealth
not giving so much as a penny

not giving so much as a penny,
I walk on by past the poor man
on West 34th. He looks
at me with needful eyes,
sad that his friends
give themselves a bad name.
He's in need of a meal,
but I think he's only
looking...
...looking for another smoke
on his almighty cancer stick.

On his almighty cancer stick
the one thing on which
he can rely
taking him back ...
way back
to a time he didn't wish to die

A time of certainty
and a time of assurance
in his plans layout

Now just dreams of fears
and fantasies of worthless doubt

from angeroseblue:

Dreams of fears and fantasies
of worthless doubt crowd
my dreams. The toss and turn
awaken me in a sweat to snores
next to me, her sweet sleep talk
and mumbles I'll never be part of.