World War 3
The world is at odds over something odd, fighting for rest while studying abroad.
It’s cold and lonely, the last days are honing.
We live to die only to live again.
Out of alignment in the bombs of our sins, waiting for kin like we playing the sims.
Petrified about our own awakening.
The pressing of our problems persisting long before the inaugural,
hate fueled just to take fuel, oil refined in the ground , we hate the fumes.
Slavery and makeshift cavings,
kids being taken, another hostage situation.
Ice in our veins, citizens dying to live for change,
we all scrape change, in the founding father’s name.
Pennies earned, while bucks turned crypto,
the currency is the current me,
rising on a current that is currently adhesive.
Frequencies looking for peace but offered atomic demolition.
The decomposition of a third eye depiction.
The third world Manipura,
eyes wide shut they do this to us.
Not waging a war the fight is in the fiction.
Capitol Hill fights due to its afflictions.
Baal and Aphrodite got knights at attention,
we stay around long enough we all in attendance,
the intended target comes from the DEI exclusive wrong targets.
The turf war with no army, still struggling with this race.
The allies come and defeat the face,
keep your enemies close but watch your friends they can become sneaky snakes.
Socks and timbs boots laced up but the rocks are brim.
Out on another limb the whimsical bombs over Baghdad,
heads bowed to those who wore a toe tag.
I just hope that peace can be restored in the countryside,
the universe that lives inside, is not thrusting for the position,
not bombing the opposition, just fighting a war that’s becoming skinless.
About the Creator
Charelle Landers
Published author, philosopher, business woman, and mother to six wonderful children. I find that writing is a healing passion of purpose and the ultimate pursuit to happiness.
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Any Questions
Maybe I never loved you, maybe I did, maybe I was caught up on how I lived. Maybe my dreams turned into fears, maybe you were the one to make it better, maybe I wanted this forever. Maybe I cared, maybe you didn’t, maybe I made promises before committing. Maybe it was you since 2008, maybe it was me, because I wanted to be great. Maybe I hurt you, because maybe you lied, maybe you destroyed me on the inside. Maybe I was bruised, maybe it was abuse, maybe my promiscuous ways made us fuel. Maybe it was mayhem, maybe it was childhood, maybe everything will never be all good. Maybe I needed to elevate, maybe it was God. Maybe it was all the time you spent with her, maybe it was marriage, maybe it was babies and carriages, maybe it was us sitting in the tree, maybe it was the chirping of my tweetle Lee Lee. Maybe it was love songs, maybe it was magic, maybe I should’ve waited for this tragedy. Maybe I’m embarrassed, maybe you’re ashamed, maybe love is just a runner’s game. Maybe I give, maybe you don’t, maybe I’ll care, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll come back, maybe I’ll pray, maybe there’s love in another way. Maybe your name means more than you think, maybe the time we spent doesnt change the way we seek. Maybe the heart’s were meant to break, maybe none of us are who we say. Maybe it’s over, maybe it’s just begun, maybe it’s because we were young. Maybe in time, maybe forever, all I know is that maybe isn’t never.
By Charelle Landers2 months ago in Poets
Two Grumpy Old Men Solve the Problem
Marty and Steve were two grumpy old men who lived together. They had known each other for years. Marty had been a bachelor all his life. Steve said it was because no one could stand to ever live with. Marty’s standard reply was “Well, you are, so what sort of a moron does that make you!”
By Calvin London3 days ago in Humor
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