The storm

From out of the storm
The angry clouds stir
Vents release
Explode
I watch the thunder
And wonder
What will be torn away?
What will be the same?
Twisting rotting limbs in the road
Empty buildings boarded up for the storm
Ripped open
Left behind to be studied by anthropologist and poets
I know what the poet would say
This is happens when the world spins and spins and spins
And someone yells
“Stop”

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nobody can save you but
yourself.
you will be put again and again
into nearly impossible
situations.
they will attempt again and again
through subterfuge, guise and
force
to make you submit, quit and/or die quietly
inside.

nobody can save you but
yourself
and it will be easy enough to fail
so very easily
but don’t, don’t, don’t.
just watch them.
listen to them.
do you want to be like that?
a faceless, mindless, heartless
being?
do you want to experience
death before death?

nobody can save you but
yourself
and you’re worth saving.
it’s a war not easily won
but if anything is worth winning then
this is it.

think about it.
think about saving your self.

Charles Bukowski, “Nobody But You” (via larmoyante)