words don't have an impact until we give them power
we assign words and attach them to people, places and things like a stain
and wait for the world to react, emotions brimming over the sides to decide
what’s inside
but there’s emptiness
words have holes
and we’ve fallen through them
Showing posts with label people. Show all posts
Showing posts with label people. Show all posts
Friday, June 14, 2013
w_rds
Labels:
adversity,
destruction,
feeling,
oppression,
passion,
people,
poem,
poets,
society,
spilled ink,
strength,
words,
writer,
writing
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
.Click.
Fake friends, fake lives, fake pictures, fake eyes. A generation of photoshopped, cut & pasted lies.
Would they know a laugh if they heard it or does “lol” just suffice?
Real fingers touch skin, lips kiss corners & crevices of bodies that
That keyboards can’t touch, no matter how many strokes And with a click you’re forgotten
Love becomes a quote, a phrase, lyrics in angst from misunderstood songs and displaced anger becomes lines of white haste swiftly relocating to nasal cavities, deteriorating from the inside out
Souls inside out
Ripped clean from the hinges of innocence
Dangling arms and legs, strings that guide and overseeing hands tangled in their provocative ties
There’s no limit even after the edge of the cliff when nothing is beneath their feet but air, because society assures them that to pretend is to care
Fighting for nothing and dying for everything but the will to live, these young soldiers thrown into battle unprepared for the war on their minds as a means to their core
Swept under the rug of misfortune,
Misfits miss this and sequential hits to the possibilities of a socially conscious lift
They’re pinned down by their ears
And dumbed by the slicing of their tongues
Language is the barrier to knowing more
But the men on our currency fold and line pockets that disintegrate the keys to that door
Would they know a laugh if they heard it or does “lol” just suffice?
Real fingers touch skin, lips kiss corners & crevices of bodies that
That keyboards can’t touch, no matter how many strokes And with a click you’re forgotten
Love becomes a quote, a phrase, lyrics in angst from misunderstood songs and displaced anger becomes lines of white haste swiftly relocating to nasal cavities, deteriorating from the inside out
Souls inside out
Ripped clean from the hinges of innocence
Dangling arms and legs, strings that guide and overseeing hands tangled in their provocative ties
There’s no limit even after the edge of the cliff when nothing is beneath their feet but air, because society assures them that to pretend is to care
Fighting for nothing and dying for everything but the will to live, these young soldiers thrown into battle unprepared for the war on their minds as a means to their core
Swept under the rug of misfortune,
Misfits miss this and sequential hits to the possibilities of a socially conscious lift
They’re pinned down by their ears
And dumbed by the slicing of their tongues
Language is the barrier to knowing more
But the men on our currency fold and line pockets that disintegrate the keys to that door
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