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Michael Sep 2018
We start with nothing,
And we end up with the same.
It’s the events in the middle,
That defines the nature of our game.
For some it’s intense, fiery and short.
For others it’s a careful and considerate walk.
We strive for difference,
Yet we achieve deadly equality.
We try to make our mark,
Just to be remembered.
But in the end we fade,
Like we knew we would from the start.
With nothing left behind,
Not a scrap to be measured.
Is it worth all the effort,
Just to then disappear.
All the pain we experience,
Year upon year.
Should I stop now,o
And just give up here?
Or should I push on,
Despite my desperation and fear?
Just a thought or two on where we all end up and our legacies end up too.
Denise Uy Sep 2018
Come over, I'll show you my world.
My world's designed to grasp self-worth
And to embed its purpose in my aging soul.
It's made to rotate and shift from light to dark,
another chance to redeem and to leave a mark.
A thousand heavens flock into one star
And the star smiles subtly at the dying heart.
Obsidian chains coil around the beating heart
and my world is choked but the star
keeps smiling and my world keeps going.
I give and sustain, it lives and maintains.
I will not die in vain because I am
ready for obsidian chains.
Like A Star,
Her eyes twinkles
In a twilight Sky,

Echoing a soundless vibes
Her soul speaks
A thousand thoughts

The wishes in the sky
The dreams  in her thoughts

She draws a connection
To shine as the sunrises.
Live a life of impact, connect with the forces of the universe to unlock power of self actualization.
Mystic Ink Plus Aug 2018
Starts with
The art of
Introduction
To
The art of
Broken promise

On survival

One keeps
The legacy
Theme: Observational
Theme: Life itself is a legacy, keep breathing
"I will not throw away my shot."
Do not throw away your shot.
We have one shot to make a difference.
We have one shot to show them who we are.
To make them see we aren't who they think we are.
To let them hear us.
We have one shot... Make it count.
We must leave behind a legacy.
"What is a legacy? A legacy is planting a garden that you'll never get to see."
Let the younger ones see us fighting for what we believe in-
let them see us dressing for ourselves and not to impress others constantly
let them see us being who we are
let them see us using our words for good and not for evil
let them see us changing the world
one
word
at
a
time
Jabin Jul 2018
Sick to my stomach
doesn’t it ever
fall into
place? This mad dash
race.
This human face
staring back at me,
tracking me like
I’m supposed to be
someplace,
meant to keep some
pace.
But I don’t even
want to go outside.
So I just hide disgrace
behind a mass of
failure.
And tailor my existence
so to wait for later.
And maybe
if I keep it all on
paper,
someday,  
some way
it’ll mean more than
labor.
I’m savoring the moment
the best I know how,
what I can allow,
and it’s turning me
into an old
man.
I ran into the world
like a coward
to find myself alone
and underpowered.
I showered myself
with the gifts
of my work.
Now I’ve got nothing left
but a false smirk
on my breath-
looking at this world,
afraid there’s nothing left.
And on and on
the ants keep up
the nest.
When will they stop and see?
When will we set ourselves free?
When can I just be me?

It doesn’t matter.
It’s hopeless.
All this empty patter
in tatters
when it’s lost in time.
This paradigm’s
got us locked
in a system that
uses.
Wears it all down,
bruises and
the abuse has
got us all thinking
this is the best of it.
And one man
can’t outwit
the masses,
because what passes
for moral
ends up in a quarrel
we can’t break out of.
Because we’re too tough.
Because we’re too rough.
All this pride’s
got us blinded.
And behind it all
is a fear of being
forgotten.
Of being nothing.
Our legacy’s rotten.
The timeline is
******, gushing
but fill another
dot in
‘cause the war ain’t over.
We ain’t done
giving each other
the cold shoulder.
And we’re getting older
but the fight’s still young.
Our enemies hung
but still nothing’s
Changing.
The same chess board
just rearranging
the pieces.
And the creases
in my face are
getting deeper,
and I see my child’s eyes
reflecting the face of the
grim reaper.

I wish you could see it.
This path, we could leave it.
‘Cause the answer’s
within.
Let’s dive on in
to our options,
‘cause the masses
just keep gawking
at the sky
like an answer’s
gonna fly
out of the clouds
singing so loud,
but God ain’t been talking.
And I haven’t seen
a miracle either,
so we’ve been
putting our faith
into a beaker,
letting the public speaker
tell us what’s real
and how to feel
‘cause it’s so much
easier.
A breezier road to walk
when you don’t gotta talk
to the fella your dad hated.
Staying sedated,
watching TV and
wondering if this was all
created.
That’s not the point.
We’ve gotta disjoint
from this follower logic.
Giving all our power
to the demagogic
and those who seek profit.
It’s better than nothing,
but we’ve got to come
off it.

Peace is a choice,
so if you’ve got a voice-
Let’s hear it.
Emily Jul 2018
With every step she took there was a little hesitation,
Since self-doubt and second guessing were at the base of her foundation.
Her eyes didn't wander in fear of who'd she meet,
So her gaze fixed upon the cracks in the concrete.
But would the world ever see her potential on display,
With her voice barely a whisper and her opinions locked away?
Jimmy Jul 2018
What's it worth?

Power and money can't go with you when you get put in the earth

I mean what's it worth?

Leaving a legacy for your pedigree
Who go around porting your livery

What's it worth?

Ain't no free will, you just bound to be
Ain't no one give a ****. Dont bother with secrecy

The ****'s it worth?

Ground em up, pound em up, build em back up

Just so they can go and face the day without having to ******* sack up

What're you worth?

Running around seeking adulation
From gods abombimal creations

What're they worth?

Theyre nothing, and they're nothings everywhere
Without a hair of deceny, ******* plans easy to see

What's it worth, kid?

You need a plot,
One life that's all you got

Smoke a little ***
Pop some little pills

Until you are unable to enjoy the thrills
That's the **** that kills,
What happens when happiness is blasphemous to an Übermensch activist?

What if there is no me left?

Soul stolen slowly by surplus serotonin circling the synaptic cleft

Reflection in the mirror looks like death.

Wait.. it couldn't be clearer

The figure in the mirror is

some sort of fear or hatred that has allowed me to be

complicitely complacement in the fact i'm just
alive adjacent.

I'm living without meaning, I'm latent.

And I don't have the patience to do things of greatness.

Wait, no! **** that. I'm intelligent and I'm gonna do diligent

Belligerence to be the next GW, Johnny Cash or Eric Clapton.

I'm in charge of my life, Nietzsche, call me captain.

And that very next day, all of a sudden, nothing happened
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