No. 102.
whatever they try, wheels of progress never stop, nor will they reverse.
noise dept.
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Mike Driver

oozey mess
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@devilsparanoia
No. 102.
whatever they try, wheels of progress never stop, nor will they reverse.
No. 101.
early in the month of may, we can take the old footpath, to go and watch the blue jay, as it splashes in the birdbath.
No. 100.
the rains of mid spring, feel like they will never end, but just like all things, they can not last forever, soon will come the summer sun.
No. 99.
each person is a snowflake, no mater how much they fake, none can ever lay claim, to being exactly the same.
No. 98.
the darkness of this reality, is out-shined by the light in our hearts, like a light house over the night sea.
No. 97.
clouds of white and gray, in a sky of blue and red, bring much needed shade.
No. 96.
you try to be nice, and they take that for granted, starting to need it, never asking what you want, demanding for more and more.
No. 95.
resting in the sun, the cat lies in wait, watching and learning, the birds build new roosts, and squirrels hide nuts.
No. 94.
i shed a teardrop,
as winter comes to an end,
for the last snow fall.
No. 93.
music made by wind, moving through pipes and whistles, music made by rain, falling on drums and glasses, mix to make an orchestra.
No. 92.
sitting on my own, writing poetry for fun, killing extra time, how much do i have to spare, until my finale one.
No. 91.
the king of this court, has long gone mad with power, and the masses know.
No. 90.
they fill their coffers, with blood of the less well-off, as earth slowly burns, as the air becomes poison, snubbing the impending end.
No. 89.
we dance to their tune, like fools in a ruler's court, blinded in our bliss.
No. 88.
Steam rises up from the tea cup,
Wafting it's sweet sent into the air,
As I wright these short poems.
No. 87.
surfing cyberspace, looking for inspiration, finding none worthy, yet hear i am still searching, for something undestined.
No. 86.
sunshine heats pavement, cars become mobile ovens, summer is coming.