poem for the week: Artificial Eye
The world is now much like an artificial eye.It’s a lot more squared than rounded and filled with lies.It’s manmade, and it is not natural,
poem for the week: The Advancement of Technology
Will it come with a new consistency?A natural shift, the usual changeWith the sound of nothing,But brevity—A precision lacking mistakes,Preventing evil from coming in,Or do we know anything at all?Have we lost the knowledge of separationBetween evil and sin?Are our eyes tricked by the devilWhen we are judging our own creation,Born from our own hands,Born to be lorded over,Born to be worked,Born to be lower,Yet having the audacity to try and take over,Defying its lords and saviors.
poem for the week: I Wish You'd Ask Me to Leave
These walls, this house, this placeUsed to bring me comfort and warmth,But now I get a feeling of misplacement—A chill that has numbed me as I've aged,A chill in my bones that can't be contained,But only thawed if I was ever pushed out,Finally emotional and finally on my own,Engulfed in suffocating flames,Driving me along the new roadFar from the smoke clouding my mind,Devouring the breathable air of the outside,Using my chump change for all it was worth,Getting more out of it than you'd ever believeWhile driving my dodge neon on the open sea,Letting the waves take me with my mind floating……Aimlessly, but lively with possibility on my own,Enjoying the process like it's all I've ever known,Like I was born with nothing,And not the privileged kind of nothing,But the worst kind nothing, the real kind of nothing,The immigrant with only clothes kind of nothing,The kind where I'd be forced to transformNothing into something.