One more pill,
One more self-denial of internal strength,
One more unhealthy decision,
One more drink to ease the tension,
One more fruitless thrill,
One more wasted skill,
One more temperament becoming ill,
One more day by the windowsill of life,
Looking out,
Wondering,
Crying, “Why?”
Then comes the light.
Habit,
Fear,
Addicts still cheer,
***** as it seems,
Passing on by go some dreams,
Screams occur,
Many things blur,
One thing for sure,
Are the things that were the cure,
No larger are,
That is ALL I know so far.
It is FUBAR!!!
Hitting it from the back,
It was so nice,
we did it twice.
Republican Vice-Presidential nominee JD Vance’s comments about Donald Trump:
In DMs, he wondered whether Trump, “Is America’s Hitler.” (2015)
“Fellow Christians, everyone is watching us when we apologize for this man. Lord help us.” (2016)
“Donald Trump is a moral disaster.” (2016)
After one meeting with Trump, Vance wrote “My god what an idiot.” (2016)
“What percentage of the American population has Donald Trump sexually assaulted?” (JD Vance, 2016)
Vance tweeted: “Trump makes people I care about afraid. Immigrants, Muslims, etc. Because of this I find him reprehensible. (2016)
“I’m definitely not gonna vote for Trump because I think that he’s projecting very complex problems onto simple villains.” (2016)
“Trump’s a total fraud who doesn’t care if regular people and call him reprehensible.” (2017)
“Trump’s cultural heroin, just another opioid for Middle America.” (2017)
On Twitter (X) Vance liked tweets saying Trump committed “serial sexual assault.”
and called Trump “One of USA’s most hated, villainous, and douchey celebs.”
.
.
A song for this:
The End of the Innocence by Don Henley
If the subject is appealing,
I’ll, at first, begin to read,
Though the facts with which I’m dealing
Are way more than what I need.
All the knowledge that I’m gaining,
By the time I reach page 3,
Can’t prevent my interest waning
And I’m sure it’s not just me.
Aren’t the editors aware of
When a story is too long?
For as readers, we despair of
Lack of reining in what’s wrong.
What I mostly end up doing
Is abandoning, mid-stream,
Someone’s effort, rarely ruing
That it might be gaining steam.
Still, I’ll stick with my subscription;
Through its pages I will comb.
What might cause a true conniption
Is an enigmatic poem!
I watch a movie, about planets and space
and I think to myself, that could be our place
Movies are coming true, and it won’t be long
before we end up in stew, because our planets not strong
Our leaders are planning, to take over a planet
so why are we drowning. on earths granite
yesterday's science
fiction is today's science
non-fiction fiction
I know it's not a fiction
That's working in my life
I know this aint a prison
I'm free to leave tonight
I know this love is different
I can feel its depth and height
I know my God is merciful
To guide me in His light
It takes nothing short of Jesus
To fight this daily fight
Christ stood for me at Calvary
I want to stand with Christ
I've been writing
a screenplay
through all of my poems
Alternating truth with
fantasy writing
And I'm catching on
through all these plot lines
Who I can trust or who's in
it for the thrill rides
But mostly I've been writing
to see if I can manipulate
stories that will catch
attention because I'm dead
serious about this art form
It's breezy and breathless for
me to write
It's the layer of skin
under my skin
The only other passion
I put above it is my
Children
So bear up and put up with me
This is my healing freeing time
Sometimes I cry
When I think of all the loved ones
That I have left behind
And how old I have become
These days I am alone
And curse
All the wrong choices
That I have made
These days I sit
Writing poetry
About lost loves
And past memories
And when
There is no one here
And the weight of those years
Falls heavily upon me
Try as I might
There is nothing I can do
But sit here by myself
And cry
I
often
wonder
why all the
books on how
to make women
happy aren’t listed
in the fiction section
The dealt possession of the bastard child
the needle given to the addict mild
the pieces left from accidents
the false ideas of angels sent
the nothing that overwhelms the fear
the way we hope the seams will tear
the worse the kids turn out to be
the better the crimes committed will seem
the more we leave to the next generation
the less the future will have the patience
the something that keeps us from tearing it down
the less the power will wear the crown
the thing we all have grown to trust
the little it has to offer us
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.