Waste
Ain't
Right
Most dirt flows with the wind.
Some walk on the ground.
Most are particles of dust.
Some unworthy of trust.
Most found in numerous bins.
Some are the souls who sin.
Most irritate your nose.
Some exterminate with force.
Most get into your eyes.
Some break the peaceful ties.
Most are dispersed in the air.
Some sit on the powerful chair.
Most goes away with time.
Some focus on their dime.
Most you are sure to ignore.
Some will start the World War.
Most will change into more.
Some you must start to abhor.
Most can infect humans.
Some are about to bring ruin.
Most are simply dirty waste.
Some are violent mind with calm face.
×∞ Adin
6 January 2020
Death = Peace
If I killed you
Would it bring peace
If someone killed me
Would there be reprieve
We sit and watch the world die
We listen to all their lies
Death and war, bombs and drones
And you believe peace will be the prize?
They have us where they want us
No better than a zombie
I will do whatever they tell me
I will believe we are the only right country
I will believe that there will be no consequences
There will be no revenge
There are no man made diseases
Nothing to avenge
War will bring joys
No mothers missing their boys
No dead daughters on the side line
After this world war,
yep,
Everything will be just fine
Sandstorm
I've never seen a sandstorm
But I bet it would smell like you.
Pretending it is wild, showcasing 'realness'
when all it actually is.. is suffocating.
Your silhouette so beautiful to watch, yet
you only get to feel it once you close your eyes... Coz it hurts.
Doesn't it make your cheecks hot and your legs tremble?
...Well Maybe, I just feel dizzy.
I can only imagine a sandstorm in a desert.
Funny how I can do anything, but desert you.
Where I’m From
I’m from limitless days,
spent with my careless corgi, Nugget,
and my tireless terrier, Zag.
I’m from never ending tennis games,
my firm grip on the racket,
getting tighter and tighter
after every swing.
I’m from characters, stories and images
forming on paper
as I move my pencil swiftly
across the page.
I’m from field trips,
bonfires,
making community within and beyond my troop.
I’m from perfectly prepared pizza
the cheese and sauce composed
on top of a delicious dough.
I’m from troubled places
that give the gift of grandparents
who are now near.
I’m from my grandma’s empanadas,
their aroma rising from a steaming pan.
The perfect treat,
on a cold rainy day.
I’m from the twisted tales of Scarlet and Ivy,
the adventures of count Rostov,
the struggles of Refugee and Resistance
entertained for hours on end
as I read by my bedroom window.
I’m from talkative dinners,
as we compare the good
and the bad events of our day
to roses and thorns.
Where are you from?
