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Alexander Miller Apr 2019
/0/Illusion of choice
/0/0/0/0/and half of us cannot even see our internal invoice
/0/Our choices are prepaid for us. choose to do nothing while we are hooked on what we think is a must/070/our addiction becomes a relapse. /00/ times for our mind to succumb into collapse//096/Dividing into what you think is control/06/Dangerous organized power overflow//01//hooked upon hope/ distortion of  reality//07/' another string added to our rope that is choking and dividing us/223/0to the point of death while they are watching//0/ and
surveying our ****** dismemberment//0921/and they expect me to have grips of sentiment to this dis-array of lost hope67/// reality is questioned as your eyes and ears are not seen as is////0 this is true dysfunction and the s33ds of new corruption/0/// question the S!MULATION///0// Isolation/// suicide rates are higher than ever and then once your g0ne you are lost forever/desire to connect together/I AM here you are al0ne/ alternative ways to throw a stone/// ParAnoia
actions that are questionable/ unreliable/undivide-able/// the days move on with regularly/09/ while the corruption comes alive periodically/// if you wake up in a different time/in a different place/could you wake up as a different person//0 staples of my unstable state of mind/09/// numb the pa!n and don't die in va!n
Anya Apr 2019
Rap music, discernible except for when the rumble and bumps of the jumping wheels takes over
But still subordinate compared to the twitters, chattering away
The scent of chicken wafts over from the seat across the isle (mind you I’m a vegetarian)
The seat head vibrating my head, thumping the same spot
From rap to pop, voice like a silky cord, winding, winding, grating
Piano back to rap
Head bends and peers, teases, smiles, the turtle returns back into the shell
Phones, phones, busy busy bees those thumbs
Back squished, precarious water bottle about to-HORN
Blasts, the wheels jump, and I’m gone with the sway
My **** falls, my body shakes, the chatters, the charters, the laughs, the shrieks
I’m swept up, I’m swept up
And washed away
...
We’re here
J-Long Feb 2019
So much chatter
Without much listening
And it just goes on and on

It doesn't matter
That meaning's missing
We want to chat till the break of dawn

To make it better
We might try singing
In hopes that everyone will sing along

Chatter gets greater
The noise keeps winning
We might as well just chat along
PMc Feb 2019
Hello all you beautiful people
that’s how I would start my dissertation
beautiful people with nothing to lose
and everything to gain

while ugly people,
plain people persons like me
have to work so hard, softened, while you,
intent on being beautiful,
are nothing
if not beautiful

My one thought gets lonely when I see you
what ought to be considered entire and whole
will one day also grow old
the beautiful are nothing if
not beautiful

For me thought comes naturally and I
consider myself fortunate as I must be
content at not being beautiful,
am forced to say something so profound
that a phrase line like
“I broke a nail”
is not as life threatening
or
“How about the price of gas”
won’t seem as wonderfully global
as it would from beautiful persons,
intent on being simply beautiful
when beautiful is simple
or vice-verse

Ugly person you see must work at being
charming, quick witted and swift
while you polish nails
I polish my lines for a play in which
the only star is the beautiful person
behind my ugly shell

A treatise on Bach, formal judgments of global peace
Orwellian theory into practice
both animalistic and I-Robotesque
work their way into ugly people conversation.

Not, “the price of gas”
but "why" the price of gas
or *how" the price of gas
and knowing the answers.

Plain persons have so much more going their way
for the effort expended learning something crucial
something literal, may one day eke a way into
beautiful persons conversation
beautiful people intent on being beautiful
are only beautiful and nothing
if not beautiful.

As for the cockeyed slim-jim like me
I’ve got a lot of learning to do
my hopes of ever being beautiful have long since passed
I thank the Gods and technology for the quest to question
and the simple beauty of not being beautiful

For if I knew nothing except how to be beautiful
I’d be lost for last words
and as for being beautiful
I’d be nothing if
only beautiful
Not sure if this is another "angry" phase or simply a statement of fact.  No offence intended to beautiful people - there are millions.
Frances Marie Jan 2019
Forget me not,
is a hard thought.

Forget me soon,
is the time to change my tune.

Forget me now,
is difficult look back on our future vow.

Forgotten already,
hoping that we didn't fall out of frame,
the friendship promised only seems like a fever dream.

Forgotten my emotions,
you used to give me a nice sensation,
now you're the reason I lack passion.

Regretting my intimacy,

You search for another girl like it didn't matter.
Letting my heart shatter.
Being alone has left my teeth to chatter.
Feeling like the latter.

In only a few weeks.
Forgetting to be checked in as a friend hurts from someone who used to message me everyday. Seems like the promises we made were empty and you're less as upset than me.
It’s too noisy these days
I’m at the point where I don’t want to listen
Seems everybody’s got something to say
Leave me alone please
I don’t want to hear your chatter anymore
I wish I had a remote so I could mute you all

-AJT
Shadow Dragon Aug 2018
It's a classy thing,
throwing a party.
Meeting people,
social drinking
and for god sake
don't forget the chatter!

Glasses clinging,
as shadows in the garden
move like hungry cats.
Smoke being puffed
which joins the clouds
and dance in the noses.

People often forget
who they really are,
their values
and their balance.
Their mind
jumping off the edge.

Yet, sometimes
another mind
has a deep blue pool
where you can dive.
The water cools you,
and makes you forget.

The danger of parties;
you no longer think clearly.
But even more dangerous;
if it remains that way.
And you won't know
what is to be true.

Until it hits you.
You were swimming
in a pool full of chlorine.
Giving you cancer all along.
And what you thought
was wrong.
K Balachandran May 2018
clouds mumble secrets,
rain’s mysterious chatter;
Evoking unknown!
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