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Social Loss Poems | Social Poems About Loss

These Social Loss poems are examples of Social poems about Loss. These are the best examples of Social Loss poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

My Left Breast

strange it was there just the other day 
hanging about as usual, 
reminding me in my mirrored image 
of my definite femininity 
now gone, am I less of a woman? 
will you look at me differently, 
or strangely as I do myself? 

I never really gave it much thought before 
of how things come in pairs 
how lonely one would be without the other 
how misshaped one appears, 
no longer jutting forward, 
proclaiming sensuality 
thrusting into the limelight, 

now scars and a flattened ego, 
fill my robe, bras useless without stuffing 
men, look at me in horror, 
women in shock and pity 
and with gratitude, yes that it is not them 
my left breast is missing 
no not missing, taken, stolen...

it was just a lump a few weeks ago 
a tiny pea shaped knob, 
that hid its cancerous intentions
so very well, yet lay in silence waiting 
to steal away that part of me
that defined who I was 
what purpose I served in society 

am I still a woman, a sexual being? 
I'm not sure, my right breast thinks so 
but yearns for its mate, 
the image in the mirror just doesn't seem right 
unequal in its proportions, glaringly lopsided
my left breast is gone, surgically removed  
I can still hear its scream


Details | Kimo | |

The Last Poet

You'll know when you have destroyed a culture,

                
                                         When you have slain their last poet....

 
                                                                                  And forgotten his words!

 

                                                                                  Timothy I. Brumley


Details | Free verse | |

Deaf and Gone

I am whatever you say I am...
but, let's get back to reality...

       Three short years ago, this room shined welcome mats across a screen of doldrums.
A place of unfamiliarity that screamed, 
"You don't belong!"
Yet, a voice of reason spoke and said,
"Expand yir' roots. Venture beyond the comfort zone. Academia resides inside that room, but know you won't be alone."
Repeatedly,brainwaves declined what my wife and editor had told me.
I'd say,
"no way, I'm givin' up my soul for free, they read, they pay, like it's always been, the way it's going to always be!"
Unbeknownst to me one day, and with a slight of hand, my "Open Sores" were put on display and surprisingly more than a handful of great ladies and nice guys began to give feedback on what I had devised. 
This interaction was something very new, helpful, and impressive. For a change, it was something real.
For years, those around me were quick to give praise with hidden reasons. Constructive criticism is amazing, and I welcomed being corrected or set straight.
Now there are those who choose to shut me down without explanation, and call me names.
DO NOT mistake me for sophomoric! These words bleeding from my guts have no style and need no approval. There is no thinking involved here, no plan. If you don't like it, fine...don't censor or bracket me in. So what if I am illiterate?  If you don't like "street poetry" or the pathetic stuff I write, don't read it. If I offend you, tell me.
We should welcome those who are different than us. 
Words of truth inspire movement, like fire.
I came to this room to expand my horizons, step outside the box, learn, help, grow. 
There will be no apologies dealt for being different, or for being labelled as something uncomfortable to you. 
This has been an ok room so far, but there is some clique trickanery going on.
If the dictionary must come into play, let me recommend looking up the term "Poetic License."
True, I may not be the writer you prefer, or aspire to be....but tread carefully my friend, for you have no idea of my profession. I've made a fine living, for a good long time, spewing words onto paper. I came from nothing, and may still be nothing to you...still, I do what I love, have no boss.
I am not an aspiring writer who dreams of a life, I live my dream. In conclusion, I must wish you luck in finding what you peddle poetry for. Until then, keep 


Details | Rhyme | |

blood transfusion


                    


Details | Free verse | |

MAKING SOUP

Always cold in the morning, this kitchen is warmed now
With a roaring fire and my wife working beside me making just desserts
We stand here two hours this afternoon doing one of our projects
Cooking soup and fish for this evening’s xmas party of friends. 

The ghetto, the Projects, contained me with the music of 
The school’s leather belt and cane.  And then 
Parents lost in a fire. 
              That was a tough xmas, alcohol boozy flavored in an
              Empty-bottle kitchen, crowded and smoky.
It was a tough meat just cut today red blooded, now pale in the friends’ 
Xmas gift, the tureen shiny clean. The soup’s              
Alcohol flavored in effort to disguise taste of the firm onion, now soft slop. Next, must
Empty bottle of sauce in …add spice…Oh, now chop more veg: and the 
Kitchen knife peels and reveals their secret inner fleshes,
Crowded and jostling with juicy tomatoes, now reduced to wrinkled skins; and
Smoky, tall, erect celery now chopped into mini-sets of false teeth

Innocence lost in the poisonous smog of Dublin’s
Orphanage hymns and anthems: God and the state will help
Uniformed religious staff and teachers to tell me 
I do not belong - I must reveal no secrets about being
Woken, shaken out of bed, taken (with no word spoken) from the 
               Cold dormitory, scaly hand on my knee:
               Drown in this grasp -  fish out of water
Cold.  A small shivering fish caught in net, taken now from its fridge 
Dormitory for this sacrifice: staring, unfeeling, cold-blooded creature, its
Scaly skin shining on my cutting plate.
Hand on knee, I sit down to gut it, gills first - which made him
Drown as he struggled in the tightened net; and 
In this grasp I cut the fish open - an old  
Fish which was still feeling
Out of water. It seems a silly, scaled creature now, lifeless, staring at nothing.

I lost my loneliness from that hostile world:
She gave me peace and serenity  -
Warm feelings of belonging ; and it’s
Christmas every day. 
                 She is sweet, inviting, colorful, and around her
                 Melt-in-the-mouth music plays.
She is the essence of sugar,
Sweet free-running chocolate,
Inviting me to dissolve all of her creamy meringue shells 
Colorful and delightful, which will swirl
Around her taste  and 
Melt like love on a summer’s day.
In the mouth of my hell, she has uttered  
Music, and forever now,  it
Plays sweetly.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Written for and entered in Debbie Guzzi’s  Contest     GET SERIOUS


Details | Dramatic Verse | |

A Cruel Fact

A childs innocent eyes should never know this place.
Blood stains the soul.
News reports flash another soon to be lost face.

She was just heading home unsuspecting  of the danger.
In a world she should not know.
The veil of innocence shattred  many will be affected by 
the sick act of a stranger.

broken is the body tossed like rag doll into the
trash alone in her cries.
Taken so many with her as the innocent dies.

The evening news plays a mothers plea.
Hope is all they cling to as time does pass.
Prayers asked of many but it's outta the 
hands of you and me.

What is a story on the evening news  is a life 
stolen  from the hearts many held dear.
To know this pain is beyond understanding
it exist's on the edge of hell in the constant season 
known as fear.

A perfect innocent face.
Should never exist apon posters.
Missing to only eternally haunt the 
memories space.

Do monsters exist young fearful eye's ask seeking 
protection  as helpless  to  answer the question. 
you havent a clue.
And with eyes cast with regret.
The parent with a heavy heart most reply
yes they do. 
 


Details | Free verse | |

The Beauty In Futility

Futility
my heart breathes its last breath
Embraces its own death
Ready to be reborn 
and made anew

Can’t live a lie
Refuse to “do”
and I’ll DIE....
Focus now on why I’ll live 
And never touch the sky. 

I have to forget you
I have to reject you 
But I will never love anyone 
like I loved you.....

I heard you whisper 
and you never knew it
I wiped the tears from your eyes 
But you couldn’t feel it

You’re lost and you’ll never find you
And neither will I 
And I’m so sorry--
but I’m NOT. 

I'll attempt to reset
Try to forget
But you know, I never will. 

Be my dirty little secret 
My very worst-kept secret 
Sweet, smooth, beautiful poison 
My infernal and endless attraction 
towards complete and utter self-destruction 

I fell in love with the devil
And it will take one heck of an angel
To save me from the likes of you....

My addiction 
my confusion
my nightmare
my dream never to come true

Oh, I’ll never forget the times
we never shared
I’ll never forget 
how you were never there

Always me, the stars, and tears
And I ask you,
what kind of life is THAT?

I have to face the facts 
I don’t know what happens now
but it happens without you. 

The stains will always be there
the scars will never fade
But the memory of you----
it HAS to. 

I could carry the torch forever
But it would only consume me
I can’t cry another tear for you
Or I’ll dry up completely

It doesn’t affect you
and you never deserved me

You’ll go on with your life, too
All, all alone
Because you’ll only ever be in love
with you. 


Details | Rhyme | |

The Illusion of Magic

It's the empty spaces
That we long to fill
It's our lifelong dreams
Lying unfulfilled

The apathy takes hold
The caring ceases
A semblance of a normal life
Lies at our feet in pieces

When the magic no longer amazes
And charm has all but died
Nothing left to hold onto but hope
And give it another try


Details | Ballade | |

Imagine

Imagine lakes of dreams 
Blood contained streams
Imagine oceans that behold undiscovered beings
Imagine human life depended off of cheers and games
Man design’s umbrellas
And eventually would play a part in acid rain
Imagine not wanting to smell another rose 
Or touch another soul 
Because of despair and shame
Imagine in the mist of your demise
You have the passion to rejoice and sing
Imagine driving pass shattered glass
The interior  is soaked with blood stains
Your mind can't comprehend the fact 
that it's a dead family in the next lane
Imagine dreaming for freedom
As a result by your neck you hang
Imagine for the sake of progress 
You whip a man on his back and call him a slave.
Rage, Pain, Fortune, and fame
You don't have to imagine this 
Because that's what life brings.


Details | Lyric | |

Normal To Me

This isn't just a poem This isn't just another emotion This is me, these are my thoughts The Imagery is my sight, And The Allegories are my Life I'm lonely, There is just me But there's so many people around but no one can hear my loudest screams Don't Shout nor Scream This is all just Normal To Me I'm torn, I'm Cut Part of my heart stabbed, and then taken from me The Search for my innocence, Is like a moa hunt Don't Shout nor Scream This is all just Normal To Me Laughing and Jokes all directed towards me Just to Hurt me Cover all of the Halls "Fag, Emo, Queer" Words I too often know Don't Shout nor Scream This is all just Normal To Me Curling her hair putting on her makeup "You're worthless and nothing to Me" Says the so-called all-loving-one As she screams: "Why am I not Pretty" Don't Shout nor Scream This is all just Normal To Me This is not just a poem not just some words my pen cries with each words But this is Just a Glimpse Don't Shout nor Scream This is all just Normal To Me


Details | Free verse | |

Angolan Strength

The rim of my Erembe in hand,
her quiet pace remains.

Today the Angolan sky spills liquid of my breast,
while her breath smothers the blank sounds
of the tired plains
(Colors of snowbird’s crest)
woven with the smoke and strain 
of yesterday.

My little Faiza, how were you able to run?

She carries the lone gaze of hours 
dizzily felt four and twenty ago:
the shedding, scraping of blood,
our village skin melts neath the sun,
color of cocoa,
scent of smoking gun.

Bear not burden or shame
upon your desperate frame,
my daughter.

Her face and a diamond linger
I know the worth each brings
(Special love and a shiny finger)

Such pretty things may bring about
a slaughter.

Though never 
the same,
Though never 
together,
each possesses a facet of pain.

The rim of my Erembe in hand,
her quiet pace remains.


Details | Free verse | |

The Evolution of Learning (Part One)

It amazes me how much man has evolved
Yet, How little he has learned
All around the globe
Millions die of disease and starvation
While the ever so intelligent creature known as man
Spends millions upon millions of dollars every single day
Killing each other
Instead of finding cures for the ill or feeding starving children
Oh sure, we dabble in those efforts
But we are committed to killing each other
Governments all around the globe
Spend most of their money
On their armies
Either to defend or attack
Their enemies
Supposedly, the most intelligent creature on earth
The intellectual creature known as man
If I may go so far
Mans commitment to war and killing
Goes far beyond any one mans term in office
It goes far beyond any one mans lifetime
It goes far beyond any century or any one era
From beginning to end, top to bottom
East to west, north to south
Red, yellow, brown, black or white 
Our commitment to killing each other
Is undeniable
How can a species that is smart enough to split atoms 
Creating weapons that will kill millions
Still be stupid enough to do it?
And now I see on the science channel
That man has now devised the Platonic beam
A beam of light that just disintegrates the target in an instant
At what price you ask?
Well I don’t know but I reckon if we diverted that money
To say solar energy projects
They could probably put a solar energy system
On every home in the world for free
Thus solving the energy crisis
Not to mention food in the icebox and medicine in the cabinet
Because of course when you create such an amazing new weapon
You need an entire new type of ship to deploy it from
Thus is born the next generation of war birds
They jettison into space 
Then go into super afterburner (A jet engine minus oxygen)
Which they said would reach like 20,000 miles an hour
So you could shoot halfway around the world
Disintegrate your enemy
And be home in time for supper
I believe when speaking of politics
It’s not a National Crisis
It’s a Global Epidemic


Details | Verse | |

Looks Like Rain

Looks like rain, the old girl said,
As the sky broke stars and bled,
And the clouds all turned black with the swell;
The dingy streets were dim and grey,
The shadow people drained away,
And it seemed as though the town was going to hell.

Looks like rain, the people cried,
As the shop fronts closed and died
And the best days ground abruptly to a halt;
The fairground rides fell still,
And the view from up the hill
Was of streetlights suffocating in a vault.

Looks like rain, I wryly thought,
Just before the first onslaught
Of machinery oiled and primed for tearing down;
With the clanking chains and drilling
Someone made a quick-fire killing
By ripping out the heart from this old town.

Looks like rain, you sweetest child,
I know I muttered as I smiled,
And the oil-paint textures watered in your eyes;
Our own history set to burning
As the wheels they kept on turning,
In the hallowed name of progress I surmise.


Details | Free verse | |

Drowning in a box of condoms

    I'm a virgin. 
 Yet I'm a peer educator 
  I teach people about sex
    and how to put on the condom.
    sometimes the irony does bother me
 There's an endless supply of condoms 
     in my custody daily yet I have no need for them
     You should see the eager faces of the kids  
    grabbing them out of boxes like their gods best made gift
      I can't share in their glory 
      all I can do is watch 
        I hate  watching
         I'm mostly a doer not a witness
         So in this case I just feel out of place
             out of context
              Lost? Not exactly
              Cause i'm not exactly a saint
                  I probably know more than the one's who are active
                   which makes the irony even more ridiculous. 
                        But I guess it's just that need to be in with the crowd 
                            The need to feel like I belong
                               Less and less virgin's hang around these parts
                                   I'm starting to feel like i'm the only one left
                                             like i'm waiting for nothing. 
                                                         The condom box is calling out to me
                                                          The multiple flavors tempt me to taste. 
                                                                     Yet i'm still me. Therefore i'm lame. 
                                                                     Therefore i'm waiting...
                                                                    For what i'm not even sure anymore.
                                                                    I though it was because I was looking for the right guy 
                                                                     Maybe i'm just inept in this area. 
                                                    LoL that's a laugh. My body knows I'd  be a champ.
                                                                  But it also listens to my head. 
                                                                               Maybe that's what's the problem.
                                                                               Who knows? 
                                                                All I know is that i'm drowning in a box of condoms. 


Details | Free verse | |

The Dead Vintner's Diary

I wake-up to a sudden wail
probably, someone passed away
 
the whistles of the melancholic tune 
of the passing winds made
 
a woman weep, as the angels trumpet 
in no tune now chanting in unison 

without reason in the midst of 
forgotten tombstones, of marble 

rubble, where in silence lies 
the diary, in which the secret of growing 

vines could be found, the gardening 
ways of the ancient gods, yet 

in flick of time the vineyard will not
be the same, as the rake stand 

rusting as days go by, and his 
epitaph, engraved from own sweat 

and blood has revealed that the sweet 
wine, the true essence of his spirit

the glory that he had kept 
for years, is nothing, but me…


Details | Rhyme | |

Alter-Ego

The little girl who begs for mercy is away,
her angry alter-ego took her place.
The little girl might possibly come back someday,
But now her eyes gleam red on her fair face.

All the wicked things she said and did,
It was not her but that evil thing.
Maybe the little girl just hid,
Afraid of all the alter-ego may bring.

She is evil, can't you understand?
The sadness, the anger and hatred she gives,
Is it possible to withstand?
But maybe inside that evil thing, the little girl who begs for mercy lives.


Details | Free verse | |

Seven

I wish not to see such disgrace,
As that which humankind has conjured
Greed envelopes all into stout fingers
Lust embraces passionate youth
Envy breathes in the minds of the conceited
Gluttony resides in those who are unfit
Sloth exists in those who are uninspired
Wrath remains rabid in the permanently livid
Pride sits within the excessively bold
I wish not to see such disgrace,
As that which humankind has conjured.


Details | Bio | |

THE LYRE WAS HIS DISGUISE

Nero was a cruel, unfair emperor playing 
the lyre as his disguise to conceal his consuming guilt;
and he caused destruction without feeling
an ounce of pity for those he governed with distrust.


Why did he want to destroy a city so mighty and glorious,
and replace it with a Golden Palace and magnificent gardens?
It seems inconceivable, but it was confirmed by many as the Great Fire
which ravaged Rome for six horrible days...who dared to call Nero a liar? 


On the rooftop, with the widest view of Rome burning underneath,
Nero played the lyre as his disguise...singing,"The destruction of Troy" with derision.  
And while looking so innocent and sad, he did nothing to control it;
wasn't his madness an evident sign of that contemplated act brought to completion?  


Finding the scapegoats was too easy for him, to cover up his evil deed...
he blamed the Christians and had them thrown to the beasts of the Colosseum,
but many more were crucified along the Via Appia and was Nero appeased?
No, he still continued to play the lyre as his disguise with increased delirium.


Details | Quatrain | |

I love you mama

Many reasons
Have led me to this
To leave this world
Of negative bliss

Boyfriends, who wants them
Parents who fight
To be in my shoes
I will no longer tonight

My diary is written
As to why I must leave
I have felt this for years
As I internally grieve

My i-pod is charged
As I take my last walk
Goodbye grey clouds
I'll miss your thunder talk

I touch the walls
Of buildings I've been in
Leaving my trace
As I graze my skin

Through the park
Where my innocence was taken
By my boyfriend I thought
Left me distraught, forsaken

I reach my last door
Its just a gap in the fence
As I see where I'll lie
My desires immense

On the sleeper I sit
As I await my fate
Say hello to tomorrow
I'm sorry I can't wait

The light gets brighter
As it nears my life's drama
Tears stream from my eyes
I love you mama


Details | Rhyme | |

Warrior Song

What remains when life is gone
And arrows lodge against my heart?
Who will sing the warrior's song,
When now your voice is torn apart?

How do I go on from here
In darkness stark and bare?
I look upon my naked fear,
But you're not here to care.

The sun has set, I stand alone
My warrior shield in shreds;
Your horse has run, now free to roam,
And I face nightmare's dread.

How can I live upon this land
Without the hawk's pure cry?
For I am now a conquered man,
No more does courage fly.

What remains when life is lost
And one I loved is gone;
How can God support this cost,
Who hears your warrior's song?


Details | Shape | |

The Narrow Path

                       The narrow path
                           to treason
                            is only
                            a word
                             away.
                           To falter 
                            in your 
                            reason
                          or explore
                        unauthorized
                           dissent.
                        To question
                      fearless leaders
                        or a decision
                      from the bench.
                      The narrow path
                          to failure,
                           oppose
                       the status quo
                          and down
                             you 
                              go.


Details | Verse | |

Apollo

I never meant that much to you,
   Though from Olympus' heights you came;
Yet I gave you my mortal love,
   While you played your immortal game.

Although my heart I freely gave,
   I never meant that much to you;
You wooed me with your golden harp
   On fragrant grass 'neath skies of blue --

And when you scaled the heights once more,
   Did you think I would slowly die?
I never meant that much to you --
   So why do you now shake and sigh?

Oh, how the golden god has changed!
   Your sun-kissed hair has lost its hue;
And I have wed a mortal man --
   I never meant that much to you.


Details | Rhyme | |

More Than

He stood along his grave and tears began to flow
Why Dear God did You not take me, he was so young, You know
He had a future full of dreams, and now his life is done
He was more than just a casualty, he was my only son
A woman knelt down to pray and stared sadly at the floor
My husband won't be coming home from this never ending war
Oh God please help me carry on, now that he has died
He was more than a statistic, he was my life she cried
A child asks his mother, where did my daddy go
When will he be home again because I miss him so
The mother holding back her tears, says in time you'll understand
He was more than just another soldier killed in a foreign land
Thousands have died in this unjust war
As our politicians leave their mark
They are more than just a list of names 
On a monument in the park.


Details | I do not know? | |

Spring Summer And Fall

From bright colors even the brightest blond turns grey.
Grown men now stand.
Were once young children did play.

 The once new cover.
Is now tattered and torn.
time has all but erased the oaths  once proud men had sworn.

The field now overgrown  still haunts memories of the blue and grey.
Old worn headstones markers of were they'll forever lay.
No bell to ring no voice shall call.
The ghosts of the past erased by spring summer and fall.

The old porch stands hidden by a overgrowth of vines.
Now blank are the boards that once were painted signs.
The blood followed swiftly from the wound of the past.
To forge a path to a time that could never last.

Gone is the tree that once stood so very tall.
Forgotten by time 
So is the legend of spring summer and fall.


Details | Rhyme | |

Fly-Fly-O, Butterfly

                       Fly
                       Fly
                 O, butterfly
               This little boy
With a gun, thinking, it’s just a toy
                       Fly
                       Fly
                 O, butterfly
               This little boy
A soldier he is, yet still, he’s a boy
                       Fly 
                       Fly
                 O, butterfly
               This little boy
Learned to fire, ‘cos of indecent lie
                        Fly
                        Fly
                  O, butterfly
                This little boy
He’s badly wounded, ‘cos of his toy
                       Fly
                       Fly
                 O, butterfly
               This little boy
No longer a soldier, nor, a little boy
                        Fly
                        Fly
                  O, butterfly
                This little boy
Not breathing, so he can not tell a lie
                         Fly
                         Fly
                   O, butterfly
                 This little boy
Show him, your world, without a gun
                          Fly
                          Fly
                    O, butterfly
                 This little boy
Tell him, he’s still a boy, not a soldier
                          Fly
                          Fly
                    O, butterfly
                 This little boy
Warn him, he’ll get hurt, when he fire
                           Fly
                           Fly
                     O, butterfly
                  This little boy
Guide his soul, to Enchanted Kingdom


Details | Personification | |

Momentary Mistress.

We touched for a moment
From across the room
Eternity silenced
Discrete
As only eyes allow

Paralyzed here
Standing in yen
Yearning
And somehow fearful
I turn away

If I held valiance 
Crass and fiery
I would dare to you
Though not today
I am of frailty’s ire

Flames of forbidden desire
That is you
A rare beauty of youth
Luminous
Unquenchable light

I am lost and aged tonight
Brazen solitude
Afraid to look in your eyes
Fearing the burn
Of desire fulfilled

Heavy heaves in my chest
In a sigh of defeat
Up the empty pathway
I move on
Unwilling…unchanged


Details | Verse | |

My Brother

Can you feel the pain of me knowing?
Can you see my pain is it showing?
With blood stained sky, Engraved with lies,
This horrible pain, Is it growing?
This unseen pain eats at my heart,
The day they killed you we were forced to part,
This pain inside so cold so deep,
How can I eat? How can I sleep?
All those horrible days, I swore they would pay,
When they said little brother , that you were dead,
That's when I lost my way,
All these tears of my broken heart,
All  these tears, they are all mine,
All that's left are my tears,
No smiles  left to shine.
They took you from me my brother,
Hiding behind their shields of gold,
Motionless you lay there my brother,
Never to grow old.
They swore to serve and protect you,
But those were all empty lies,
Now at the grave where I buried you,
That's where well say our final good byes.
I miss you so badly my brother,
Miss you that I do,
One day I will come join you,
Why did they do this to you?
I love you my dear brother David,
I cant see through all of this pain,
Ill have vengeance for you little brother,
Their souls is where your blood stained.


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Will No One Save The Children?

Have you seen
A child smile?
The answer is no
Not for a while.
Have you played
With a child today?
The answer is no
Not since their innocence was taken away.
Can you see
The children grow?
The answer is no
There are no children at home.
Can you feel
The children love?
The answer is no
They lie beneath small graves just dug.
Can you hear
The children cry?
The answer is no
For the children have died.


Details | Free verse | |

Payphone's out of order

This booth i'm in , you call a body
apparent problems , wiring shoddy

can't get thru all the busy signals
rush of the race , eluding victuals

can't get thru with simple affection
are they harnessed wrong , disconnection

is comprehension a distant voyage
where i'm now speaking a foreign language

is the dark pit of self so deeply entrenched
where thirst for knowledge will never be quenched

long distance calls from this booth i'm in
dialing the right number is where to begin
as long as i remain on the right frequency
 at least avoid world's subsequent delinquency.....

Food for thought , all for naught
line is open , if it's sought.........


Details | Fibonacci | |

Despicable Friend

One
Man
cries out
soundlessly,
tears of agony.
Reflections dance on a black pool
Life ravages slowly. Taking a small bite daily.
Desperation eventually becoming mankind's dearest despicable friend.