There is a black string between you and me.
Every time you pluck, its a trigger for me.
Ever time I pluck, its a trauma for me.
Who decided to give this string its color?
Was it you or was it me or was it us?
Should either of us choose to dye this string.
Will it start to unravel?
Will it start to rot?
Will it start to stiffen?
Will it tighten into a knot?
Will it braid itself into a rope?
And when the Stranger trips on this rope.
Will they cut the hazard?
Will they bury it straight in the ground?
Will they burn it ashes to ashes?
Are you sad?
Nothing but fake news
Slow and steady
Drags me down
Kids will be kids
AP: Honorable Mnetion 2025
Fewer, fewer still
Use pens for painting wonders
We paint lies instead
there is ugliness in this world
where there is no need for it
why do we tolerate indifference
injustice, brutality and greed
when there's plenty to go around
it's a game of checkers for the have's
and mere survival for the have-not's
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
and the good guys lost
all of us ‘got feet of clay
we are tainted, corrupted
and who of us will not say
"no, not me, I will be trusted"
we've come a long way, 'never stay too long
we'll have the last word if only to be wrong
evolution has gone to hell
myopic fighting for peace
ev'ry sucker for himself
all hail, this wily disease
you may point a finger 'til y' arms fall off
I might look away having seen enough
war is over, I said, war is over!
and the good guys lost
hand over fist, making it fit
continue, do as been done
4th world war wi' stones n' sticks
nothing new under the sun
a hungry ghost, frustrated with remorse
here's to it will be like it never was
war is over, I said, war is over!
and the good guys lost
no more than a tease to get it started
much harder to switch it off
war is over! I said war is over
and the good guys lost
and the good guys lost
An old man once said:
Freedom isn’t free
As a child, I grew up,
never understanding those words.
As an adult, I learned,
the tree of freedom is watered with blood.
I thought we had paid enough.
But as trees wither without water,
so does freedom without its tribute.
As such I hoped,
we could pay with sweat and duty.
But once again-we choose red...
To whom it may concern; I don't have a memory of being afraid of the dark, from the youngest of age never fearing angels, demons or anything with a spark.
Eight-legged critters seem more like a friend, but anything with a heartbeat and most without, I will always defend.
Some of the worst things people can experience: heights, claustrophobic, loss of a loved one, death, has no concern on me, I’m living life to the fullest of every breath.
There's not a monster in the world that’s scarier than any with-in, spent twenty years in religion to come out more confused, humming a hymn.
More than a fear, more like scares the hell out of me, the acts humans can do to other humans and jus act like let it be...
To whom it may concern fears couldn't grip me with titans power, I have lived my life with no regrets I have seen death it's not bad if your life wasn't sour.
Little Davie wants to pray like a pro
Too bad for Davie that he doesn’t know
His mentor is a fraud
His conduct deeply flawed
Every night, to the peep-shows he does go
“there are thorns in the glass”
the baby exclaims
as she points, points, points
to the mirror of life,
yet no one listens,
and she is ignored.
“there are thorns in the glass”
the child cries,
tugging at men’s jackets,
grabbing women’s hands,
yet she’s pushed away
and she is ignored.
“there are thorns in the glass”
the teen announces,
protesting and marching,
yelling and telling,
and there is no news coverage,
and she is ignored.
“there are thorns in the glass”
the adult professes,
speaking online,
speaking outside,
only to be banned,
and she is ignored.
“there are thorns in the glass”
the old woman declares,
telling her story,
telling her nurses,
only to be drugged,
and she is ignored.
“there are thorns in the glass”
she whispers
as she looks at the dead cities
the somber graves,
the rotten corpses,
and she is ignored.
How life has changed
Simplicity no longer reigns
Now a society of ‘look at me’
Lost is self respect and modesty
Breasts and bums on display
Faces plastered in clay
Bodies injected with toxins
Natural beauty no longer an option
Plastic people with plastic minds
Self absorption and vanity combined
Every movement captured on phone
Posed and poised down to the bone
Never present in the here and now
Natural spontaneity they know not how
Life lived only for the screen
Admiration, praise, likes ,comments seen
Humility, modesty, respect
Replaced by egotism, vanity and body perfect
Priorities and thoughts all about self
Consideration , concern for others shelved
There is nothing they will not do
To get that almighty view
Void of decency and dignity
Now a society of ‘look at me’
gray sky swallows
a surly surface
gritty sky smothers
a solitary sleepwalker
i sit
i sit & wait
& wait
& wait
& wait
for
the
??????????
Once the green land of morning calm and high serenity
Soon waved the blood red flag, stained with the false words “We will soon be free”
Now a grey, barren mountain swallowed by Yaldabaoth’s sea
Prison is more than what meets the eye,
Her beauty is more than what meets the eye.
I don’t want to be a third wheel, just you and I.
No one can type without pressing you and I.
Prisoners we all are despite being free.
Some might be behind bars, some in bars.
I say again prisoners we all are despite being free.
Age is not a qualification to be a prisoner,
So is masturbation, when one is addicted to it.
So is a disease, cult and finally death.
All which can’t be controlled by drugs which are taken hourly.
I say again prisoners we all are despite being free.
Marriage, by choosing to marry, we commit our lives to one person,
We sign up for a life sentence.
I say again prisoners we all are despite being free.
Careers we choose dedicating our time and energy to,
Building and constructing its foundation day and night.
Through blood and sweat we pump our energy.
As staff, corporate members, politicians, innovators, artists and many more.
Our career clocks tick from seconds to minutes to years to decades.
I say again prisoners we all are despite being free.
Rocks are quite overrated,
Aren't they now?
What can you do with a rock?
With a rock can you even milk a cow?
"We MaKe RoAdS WiTh rOcKs"
Okay, but still, what else is there use?
Can the rocks fix my broken light bulb,
Can they even fix its fuse?
"But that's not what they are meant to do!"
Exactly! So why are people expected to do more?
More than what they CAN do!
Let them do what they can!
Do what can be done by YOU!
Was forced to do this,
Do what I hate,
What I loved, I will miss,
These days, my love's final dates
What I love, or my true passion,
Gone, after being given these ways,
What I wear of myself, my fashion,
Gone, those loved days
What seems strange is that I was expected to care,
Care about things I was forced to do,
The thinking of those others that I do not share,
Now where shall my true love go?
I think I don't matter, the difference is something they were never told
I think that my true self, my true love, perhaps has been sold
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