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This Grocery Sucks

27 Aug

The Winner

27 Aug

Kurt Rees

I was watching
TV today and noticed
a beauty queen on the news.
She won the competition
and there were forty nine losers.
The winner gets called
and she talks about her new book.
The book talks about success.
The girl says that she has been
competing for well over ten years
and that her positive attitude helped her win.

What I want to see
are the forty nine losers
that spent the last ten years competing
and lost.
I want to hear how they deal with the
Do they slip into drugs or give up on life?
Nobody in America wants to hear about
the loser.
America has always loved the winner
and what they have to say,
even if that winner isn’t articulate in the way
they speak.
It’s too bad that nobody teaches the loser
how to overcome failure.

It’s not taught
by our churches, schools…

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The River Rats

27 Aug

Kurt Rees

You see them
every day.
They stand in line
at the local store.
They also appear
while you are driving.
Once the sun goes down
people say they go home,
but we know their souls
gather at the river.

There is an angel
that has been sitting
at the bridge
looking over the river.
He has been there
for years.
He is starting
to turn black
and his feathers
are starting to
blow away in the wind.
He is trying to find a soul
worthy of taking back to
his master,
but he will not find one here
at the river.

The river rats
show their faces to you
during the day.
They are the ones
in line at the store
complaining of a lighter
being 99 cents
while you look at the display
and see that the sign clearly
states 1.05.
They are the ones
who flip you off…

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The Wake Of The Raven

27 Aug

Depression by Vesuvia on

I can not live in the shadows of statues built of the men that have come before me

I cannot uplift what is pinned at every corner with nail, hammer, and bow

I can not un-glamour the eyes of those lost to false vision of materials of beauty

I can not out weigh the measures of every excessively heavy man nor is it my duty

I shall not dive to the depths of Tartarus to save the soul of commons

I do not wish to be forgiven for thoughts I’ve bared forgotten

For I to breathe in itself is a dainty task

Ne’er do I deserve it, nor did I ask

A wretch in jewels endowed with rich garment praised in sanction

A poor womans cry unpitied but astonishingly always forsaken

In this the wake in that our seed grows

In glass full emptied ne’er chances they never will know

Smite thy children, burn thy frail bone

Halt in wake of the raven where nothing feels and no one knows

©copyright Kyanna Kitt

The inkling by C.p. Singleton (c) 2013

27 Aug

Madstoffa's crunchy house!

He was merely the catalyst for her radiance,
She was the body of light in waiting.
He told her she was stunning.

Each time a flicker of reluctant
Acceptance fed the filament,
Until her bulb threw out her light.

She held his hand in hers.
He was more thankful than she.
Because, in the back of her mind,

She still failed to believe she
Could have any effect on
Another human’s heart.

She didn’t have an inkling how
His heart swelled to bursting
Every time her face filled his mind:

Pushing away the cold winter clouds.
Bringing every one of his senses
To a lost sweet surrender.

She would one day.

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