Best Sociallife Poems


Watching Dreams Die

A wrong  path taken  a sudden curve in the road.
So you take  a fall over some false code.
Thrown in a cell.
Taking the blame for thoose secrets we never tell.

Concrete  walls cast shadows over sky. 
So many souls trapped watching dreams die.

You had a little baby now she's a cute little girl so you learn.
Years drag slowly as pinwheels turn.

No one plans on making  loved ones
cry.
In a place life does not exist.
You spend your time watching dreams die.

Was it the system or just a stupid mistake.
Long after the bars.
The guilt alone you will take.

You missed your mothers funeral but her 
 her heart died with you.
A letter informed a inmate his marriage
was threw.

You lost part of your life this you cannot 
deni.
Trapped behind bars watching dreams 
die.

Being Different

Every day and night all I can
hear are strangers cursing,
cracking jokes, and laughing
at my distorted image.
Words become weaponry,
life never seems to be rid
of discrimation and abuse
that is polluting the very air
I breathe.
Children stare, some even cry
from the sudden fear that grows 
when they see my distorted face.
Misunderstanding is thriving,
like a disease with no known cure.
Children I can endure, they
do not get under my skin like a
leech sucking life out of me.
Adults differ, they know the buttons
to press to cause hurt and unseen
agony; they seem to enjoy it.
I continue to smile, trying to mask my 
true feelings but within my mind a voice
speaks, always negative, always flashing
terrible memories of my childhood assaults.
I am different, I know, but life seems to
view me in a different light.
Memories I bare create scars within
my lonely soul,
it desperately tries to fit in a world
of fragmented images of 
what is considered beauty.
Normality does not come to those
who view the world in a light of 
fixed images for life itself is always
different, always changing,
then yet I am viewed as an alien,
unwanted, feared, almost hated.
Still, I keep on living, regardless of
how many times sticks and stones
are thrown onto my path.
Being different? 
Who actually cares?
Seems like everyone but life
itself evolves and so shall I.

Death of a Dream

Death of a Dream
      by Amy Swanson


Time
   existence
       goes by
          *long drawn out sigh*

gray transforming

overbearing
    the happy
         once joyful
            exuberant bright cheerful eclectic

becoming shadows
misty vapor
                  rising to the sky
                  fleeting...
                              gone.

Days gone by
     weeks
        and
          months
            and
               years

                          motions of life
                          crowd out
                          emotions of life  


                                         This unrecognized yet all too familiar place...

                                                    This is where dreams are born.
                                                    This is where dreams die.

Spark of light
    soft golden
struggles against 
    darkened mire

hope's ashes
      faith's grief
           love's despondence

Marigold hue
        charred
              sphere of night envelopes

Streaks and smudges
          of pride
              vanity
              selfishness
              cruelty
                      deface life's canvas
                         once glowing brilliant
                             -- now torn and tainted.


                                          This unrecognized yet all too familiar place...

                                                    This is where dreams are born.
                                                    This is where dreams die.
Silence...
    utter chaos...
         sheer madness
              consuming life -

they don't know.

They don't care.

They go about
     *busily*
          trading dreams
              spiritual riches
                for material fantasies
                     built with air.

Colorless
    consumes the bright

one small spark
        daring dream
              chasing burgeoning shadows

until exhausted
           extinguished...
                       no more.


                                            This unrecognized yet all too familiar place...

                                                    This is where dreams are born.
                                                    This is where dreams die.


Give Your Life

27 November 07 8:15 am

Why do people love violence and evil?  
Why is revenge considered sweet?  
A child unknowing and innocent is laid at the saviors feet. 
 
Its little body abused and beaten its little bones 
are broken packed in a box and in a dumpster thrown 
its little life gone its body left cold 
Its name forgotten and its story left untold. 

The man that fell beside the road dead from alcohol abuse.  
Lost every thing he had and everything there was to loose
 as people either ignored him there or pointed at him and laughed
His life disappearing as quickly on they passed.

 A young mother who’s left with her child and the dad is nowhere about
 and shamed parents who selfishly threw them out.  
Cost of living growing higher and her with no skills 
turns to the streets for work so her pimp can get his pills. 

A family torn apart 
by mistakes and broken hearts, 
cries out to our heavenly father 
As lawyers push them ever harder

Mourn oh hearts ache and cry 
but don’t ever again question why, 
when you yourself can help someone in any little way. 
With just a little of your time or a little of your pay.

 Share what you have, use the grace you’ve been given
 only you can give the life you’ve been given.

Those that love their life shall lose it and those that give their life shall gain it.

Life on Purpose Live it before you lose it! ©2009

Play Station

Play Station

It’s not entertainment
But a relief from boredom
Purchased with the mesmerized hours of a working life

And save for love and friendship
To highlight the continuum 
There would remain nothing to relieve the endless waltz of boredom

So desperate and insatiable
This need for new experience
The human passion continually outstrips
The worldly measure we are given

Though capable of dreaming
Imagining almost anything
Still we are tied to realities realization
Limited in it’s dominion
These dreams we have will never be

And as we slip from the pinnacle of our potential
Having merely glimpsed
The vistas of possibilities
Returning to the level where wonder and inspiration
Are a repeated indoctrination of acceptance

This is not how life could be
This is how life will be

Trendy little idiom
Wrapped in facile fashion
A cult to thieve away any individualism

Dressed in plagiarized opinion
A walking talking vacuum
The bleating sheep of humanity
Searching for relief from its obligatory boredom

And the intricate little details of fast cars and even faster wars
Are lost in the political greed and national gluttony
For the higher paid heroes and newer roll models

Reflecting in this dilatory need for belief in the latest craze
We are nothing more than a play station
Buy another game and press

X

Poverty

Cold, damp and lonely,
an endless cycle of 
never ending misery,
masked to prevent fear in
my children.
Small, torn and always
second hand, my clothes
are as dull as grey
stone.
Large, dominant and
mountainous, debt
is forever increasing
over my head; it weighs
heavy on my shoulders.
Dark, gloomy and sombre,
my life is deprived of 
happiness; entrapment
is the only feeling
in my mind.
Poverty is what my
daily life seems to
reflect causing others
to make assumptions of
my character; taunts
created cause anger and
sadly shame for I am barely
able to keep afloat in these 
dark times.
My home is nothing but a
place of hell; walls peeling,
dampness covered surfaces,
destroying health of many,
food deprived cupboards,
and barely any warmth during
the season of winter.
Poverty, an unspoken creation
seen as nothing but shame,
never accepted within the 
worlds of the more affluent
classes.


Ode Underwater

I've got this listing, sinking feeling
that I owed most of my life to my bank.
Hands in the air, reaching for debt ceiling,
yet another fine mess, with no one to thank.

Guns all put down, the pen reigns mightier
can't fight the bank, let alone hit myself.
Contracts contracted, assurances flightier
seems the whole world's overextended itself.

I ode some words, I owed some dollars
'course everyone I talk to is in the same boat.
Can't answer my phone for collecting callers,
looking to ourselves, line of credit, to float.

I'm maxed they've determined, but I'm appealing
my mortgage, in arrears, beyond my credit score.
All my creditors say that defaulting is stealing
I gave a stone and blood, still they want more.

Seems to everyone, I owe myself, that's no joke
shouldn't be depressed, but maybe I oughter.
Dunno if I'm myself, or like all nations folk,
I've underwritten much of this ode underwater.

'course if I owe some B and B owes to C 
and C owes somebody else...well back to me,
then it seems that we all owe to each other,
our mountain of debt is brother to brother.

Would some rebalancing of our balance sheets
starve our children, kick us out into streets?
Maybe we should waive our bankruptcy hearing
and admit it's to life we're really endearing.

© Goode Guy 2011-06-10
© Goode Guy  Create an image from this poem.

To Veterans All Over the World

(In celebration of Veterans Day, allow me this sentimental poem.)

Seems no higher thing existed
Than the mud on my shoes
For no other sight I beheld,
Trudging this gruel on these blisters

No one was ever for war
But war is what found me
Politics aside, those voices are far,
Doing right is all I need

Somewhere someday maybe
My hunger will cease,
And smiles of gratitude I’ll receive
On behalf of my friends, deceased

My needs are simple enough now
But no civilian will ever share
This weight of humanity grand and foul
Well, duty and honor is all I care

I’ll get through this just to see
How precious one life can be
My life for yours, my sweat for your tears
That’s just the way I can be all that I can be.

Back To Square One

It seems you’ve already made up your mind
Rescinded decisions is what u made of l see
Something you need to know pretty well
Before you single out your property and leave 
That l got no compunctions at all for the path l took
I won’t even curse the day l met u
Neither shall l even consider forgetting
 The very moment when love got sour
But cherish l will the moments we had
 Some of those we held too dear
I hope you'll get the compulsory ingredient 4 your recipe
Cope, cope and cope
Cope with your life devoid of me
Cope with your sleep without my arms around you
Cope with your sorrows without me for consolation
Cope with your joys without me to give it the life it takes
I guess you got a message for me
The bells already ring loudly with clarity
 To remind me that my time is over
Back to the drawing board l have to return it seems
Now club Monaco awaits me
To hit the pool balls one at a time
As l swallow one, two or more for the road 
As l premeditate ma life without you
And get back as you sent mi.....
TO SQUARE ONE!!

Perfect Inhumanity

Ticker tape life into a single frame
Moon and stars silhouettes look down upon the sane
All the pristine porcelain faces lifted up to care
Intertwined fingers optimistically seeking out repair
Tolerance is not the toiling only of the brave
To find unified understanding is what the species craves
Eating of chrysanthemums call to darkness, be eclipsed
Bathe pure enlightenment producing innocence
Causing hearts to swell with love, beating live balloons
The “Perfect world” residing within Fabergé cocoons

Ticker tape life into a single frame
Darkness and misery secreted from disdain
All distorted tarnished faces sodden with despair
Lungs expanded beyond capacity, choking on the air
Hollow heads full of sorrow roll in like crimson waves
Crashing upon hopeless steely shores with desecrated pain
Soaring far from absent shadows into the great abyss
Bitter taste of hateful words linger on pursed lips
Lacerated tongue, swollen, bleeding from its wounds
Inhuman world residing within lanolin cocoons


This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to 
the original author. © Alisha Groves

Dark Promises

Eyes dark and lifeless, suck all colour from your soul
Drawing you in like a spider down a hole
All thoughts have turned to blind, raw fear 
You're powerless, paralysed, white noise fills your ears
Can't talk, can't scream, can't run, can't breathe
Butterflies drop like sycamore seeds
Flowers wilt, leaves brown and shrivel
I continue to consume you with a minimum of struggle

Roll out the red carpet, gold rings n diamonds
Bring forth your children, your morals, your hymens
What use have you now for all of these things
When immeasurable power for the hungry I bring
Can't not, can't stop, can't help, can't leave
Another life passes with no-one to grieve 
Eyes fade as skin decays 
The face is forgotten in a matter of days

Too scared now to walk out your door after dark
I'm a hood wearing kid with a knife in the park
I'm black, I'm brown, I'm yellow, I'm green
I'm a plane crashing terrorist
Mass murdering Phycologist
I'm a kiddy fiddling priest
I'm a liar
I'm a cheat

I promised you everything in glossy magazines
I promised you wonder bra silicone dreams
Like spend your way out of debt
Dolphins won't get caught in this net
It's just a hot decade, the climates not changing
Follow the soap star who's been misbehaving 
Texting in daily to register your vote
Do you really give a #@&% who gets kicked off the show

You sacrificed life willingly for trinkets and beads
One ray of sunshine for a garden full of weeds
You love me, you worship me
Believe everything I say
Find the golden needle in the big stack of hay
I'm a virus
I'm a fake
I'm a radio active lake
I'm a magic bean
I'm a fiend

What's My Fault?

Hollow faith caress bruised esteem
scars hidden underneath the seam
night reverberate silent screams
aborted dreams,aborted dreams

fractured by lustful invasion
modesty lies among treason
Why victims are pinned as reason?
unfold questions, unfold questions.

drenched in shame, locked in guilty vault
she gulps down his ruthless assault
striving for answers, 'What's my fault?'
When life will halt, when life will halt?

Poetry Type - Monotetra
The monotetra is a new poetic form developed by Michael Walker. Each stanza contains four 
lines in monorhyme. Each line is in tetrameter (four metrical feet) for a total of eight 
syllables. What makes the monotetra so powerful as a poetic form, is that the last line 
contains two metrical feet, repeated. It can have as few as one or two stanzas, or as many 
as desired.

"perfect Design"

You live your life to honor Him

But instead you lead a life full of shame and sin

take your beliefs and need for repetition

and continue to walk in the wrong direction

feed your lies to the brainwashed child

who believes they are a free thinker but are instead just a figure of your "perfect 
design"

A scheme that you learned from your father

And have passed on to your sons and your daughters

Repeat the cycle and spin the wheel

Continue to live your life of evil

Brainwash the child, don't let him think on his own

Fill his mind with thoughts that are now his own

Don't allow him to break the mold

Rape his mind and leave him blind to follow the footsteps of your "perfect design"

Facebook

Man has reached what a plight !
Facebook a social networking site !
What does one get by browsing though profiles?
All it does is only defiles!
People keep logging in and logging out
Is it some form of sex bout ?
Why make a show of life on a site
Are we trying to fill up some empty hole inside?
Let the sails of my life gently unfurl
In my tight cozy unobtrusive world

10 Pieces of Silver: a Treasure Restored Or Stella Had a House Party

alienated and separated has become society
disenfranchised and distant are now the state of families
all of those systems designed to make us feel connected
have fallen short and now we feel rejected
we're just a bunch of numbers and no one even knows our names
we're just a group of digits and that's a darn shame
but we're more than pieces of silver for we do have hearts
for we are the blessed children of the Lord Of Lords, Our God
and it's only in the church where we've kept our sanity
for out in the world it's just total anarchy
we're more than just objects to be used and misused
we're more than just bodies who by our bosses are being abused

dehumanized and desensitized is how we've been treated by the status quo
but we are treasures in the eyes of the God we all love and know
God loves us and it's time we loved ourselves
Jesus loves us and died to give us an eternal wealth
yet people are more concerned with amassing monetary hordes
no compassion for each other and no love for the Lord
we need to seek the word of God with a desire to be changed
for now is the time for our spirits to be rearranged

no longer to take each other for granted but to treat each other with respect
to see ourselves as more than pieces of silver as more than just objects
to be like that woman who lost her coin and diligently searched until it was traced
and then to rejoice upon finding it for her treasure was now fully replaced
to diligently seek the treasure that is the word of God
and then to apply it directly to our hearts
to comprehend the true value of our fellow sisters and brothers
and come to understand that we need to treasure one another
for at some point in life you will need someone's support
for life is like a basketball game you need a team on the court

10 pieces of silver, Stella had a house party
a single coin restored, a parable about rediscovery
for whatever it is in life that you feel that you have lost
just take it to Jesus and lay it on the cross
let Jesus restore it, let your treasure be refound
let God reform you and place you on higher ground
to look high and look low for that which has been misplaced
to seek that treasure of the spirit, God's saving grace
and once it's restored to rejoice and celebrate
Stella had a house party upon the restoration of her faith

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