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Night is just night,
without it being told that
it should be dark
and sunless.

It is what it is,
by its own definition.
It does not need stars to shine
In order to make darkness meaningful.

Still, the stars shine.
They do what they do
Without self-acknowledgement,
They simply do.

Be.
Like night and stars
And meaningfulness
And Self-acknowledgement.
Fayre  Jul 2018
Solely Alone
Fayre Jul 2018
In sable darkness and deafening sounds of her bedroom silence,
she found herself aching
in deep cogitation.

The full moons brightness had peered in
through her window pane,
but with its light
encompassed her with defeat
and decay.

Reality had settled in;
as she felt her body slowly submerge,
She knew
she was no longer her own saving grace.

She awoke in a place of death and morbidity,
But awoke in a state of contentment and comfortability.

Her agony remained; as the remembrance of today,
the ideas of what will come tomorrow,
and the hope of assurance to what she forebodes her future to be,
with the life she leads.

At last

the words had finally escaped.

“Bittersweet serenity.”
Sometimes I write at night.
There's something about the evenings that make me feel inspired.
The desire to become
a virtuoso and prove
that I am indeed worthy
of traveling in the pursuit
of my passions
or in the pursuit
of you--

commendable cogitation
or
fool's errand?
gatsby. one can only wonder.
profane is the word you seek
when it comes to
looking up
this vicious word
called
love...

for how can one live
in deeper lies
than the imaginary
of permanent belonging?

for what is eternity
but a mortal's illusion,
and what is love,
but the sum of all of mankind's fears
and insecurities?
Cugetari naïve - partea a V-a: Cateva atribute incalcite ale iubirii

Profan este cuvantul cautat
cand vine vorba
despre intelegerea
acestui crud cuvant
numit
iubire...

intrucat *** ar putea sa se traiasca
altfel decat in adancile minciuni
imaginare
ale apartenentei permanente?

caci ce este eternitatea
altceva decat iluzie,
si ce este iubirea
altceva decat suma temerilor
si nesigurantei umane?
Cali  Mar 2013
past tense
Cali Mar 2013
it's too late to fret
about decisions made
and ties cut, past tense.
it's hard to see it
without the glaring minutiae
of my demise.
I'm scanning the walls
for a change of subject-
Polaroids and butterfly carcasses,
city skyline sketches
and old cigarette advertisements
in gilt gold frames;
satisfy yourself.

my mind is saturated
with degenerate cogitation-
a stew of pantheons
and painstaking nihilism.
my bones are brittle
and begging to break
and my eyes are growing heavy,
with the weight of it all.
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition
Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition
Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition
Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition
Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition

Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues
Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues
Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes
Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews
Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews
Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues  
  
Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous
Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous
Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous
Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous
Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous
Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
jalalium Jan 2013
Hello,  I was born at the exact death of the 20th century
I was also born witness of the birth of the 21th, a new glory
And all events i am rhyming here are for me history
Since they were all buried when I had no memory
At, least supposed to but my case was desultory
back to 1973

A baby was born
between death and life he was torn
And to an unforeseen path he was sworn
Out of the hush of the womb, his ears perceived every sound as a horn

1977 and my first joy
The old place looked coy
he, now Simon, was playing with a toy
as every night, a ritual he seemed to enjoy
Again, that toy and only that toy he did employ
Me, I could not get my eyes of a doll, everything else you could destroy
The doll that did not exist to the boy

And deep inside of me i wish i could brush her hair
But I could not even feel air
my eyes tore up and my hopes i decided to spare
suddenly a flare
And I saw three circles, I swear
This seemed rare
Even under shock, I could see Simon sitting there
I did not know why of him only i was aware
And about my existence, he did not care
This did not seem fair
He suddenly and brutally shook his hair
Like if he was hearing a blare
And his pain i hoped to share
but it was pain he could bare


He recovered in a blink of an eye
at first he turned his head and seemed shy
Then he took the doll but why?
he brushed her hair and care he did apply
I would do it the same way if i was a guy
Oh My!
Thrill of joy really made me cry
It is the first time that reality to my wishes did comply
I don't have wings but I believe i can fly
The butterflies in my tummy made me reach the sky
Then, he stopped, held his neck wry
And without knowing where to look said hi


1989 and I was still confused
at times I was amused
at times my soul was abused
The time when he did what i refused
All the time that was misused
But wounds have bruised
and everything was excused

Like when Simon sought privacy
And even from me he wanted to hide
but that showed inefficacy
And in discovering his body he took pride


He was as hot as the sun
And he seemed to have a lot of fun
His sight was fixed in the fashion of a look at a loved one
I needed to know my body to get what was done

My body was totally different, built in an other way
More like those girls that took him away
I felt jealous how he chose with whom to play
I was mad, with him i did not want to stay
I wanted my own body with no delay

And in this mixture of feelings I saw it again
This 2000 is driving me insane
And I bet he will feel it too in his brain
to calm the pain, this time he had to crane

He stood up and went to his sister's room
He was looking for something specific, I presume
He was looking for a costume
Girly underwear, a dress and perfume
I suddenly felt lighter than a plume
The senses that I do not have felt a boom
I felt like home I assume
I came into being, I was out of the gloom
It was short, my existence waved away, my dreams were spume
Finally he slept, all his energy and mine he did consume

And that one night was dramatic
That one dream was tragic
Simon seemed ecstatic
He also seemed older but I did not panic
He was not alone and it got problematic
He was with a young girl, she was static
I was the girl and it got enigmatic
I saw the flash again, this time it was emphatic
And for the first time I slept, it was systematic
And for four years, I dreamed, it was monochromatic

After I woke up all my confusion found explanation
And I learned a whole lot from this dream's narration
And to understand it all, it took me gobs of concentration
Finally, from all my pain and sorrow I found salvation
That 2000 I kept seeing will be the end of my gestation
Simon was not a mystery anymore, with him I had a relation
He was my father, and his dream found explication
During those two years, I listened to a long oration
And I learned tons about my father's future reputation
Still, some issues needed cogitation
What was I doing in this generation?
What caused this weird agitation?
Did Simon feel the same sensation?
Oh! shall I call him daddy now, his true appellation?
I was in sedation
Thinking about the identity of my mother gave me palpitation

1993 and my father was in college
He was so hopeful yet so depressed
He spent days and nights seeking knowledge
but he did not he was going to be the best

I felt his pain, his fear
his future didn't seem clear
I wanted to tell him about his great year
That he will be a pioneer
His success will be sincere
And his talent will be admired throughout the sphere

But I talked facts and he heard inspiration
And what he will accomplish became now his fixation
He could feel the joy of the standing ovation
The one where I stood to proclaim his vocation
He fell in the temptation
And enjoyed the fruits of his ongoing plantation
He sensed my presence and crashed in frustration

1997 And the years left were few
And I did not know how i'll get through
My father was traveling to Peru
When he drowned in her eyes, they were blue
This seemed like a deja vu
This was my mother, this was my only clue
And all along, her he tried to woo
I was excited to meet someone new
someone that could be my mother, my debut
Of them being together I enjoyed the view
But my guesses were untrue
And from this relationship he withdrew
And the two of them said Adieu

1998 and all this is approaching its end
My father was lonely with no friend
and to him love and amiability I did send
And his knowledge of me did ascend
but he was seeing me as his girlfriend
I admit, this situation did offend
I wish he could comprehend

Maybe he was confused  
I wanted to show him how gorgeous I will be
But only the beauty he did see
And his body he abused
To materialize what he pictured as beauty

He named me Stephany
Without understanding my entity
One time, he went out not sure of his identity
He first went somewhere I did not catch regretfully
And then He bought a necklace that said Stephany**

I knew it was for me
I felt life and joy
but I felt freezing
like if I were in cold storage
I did not know why?

1999 and it's the end of March
If my dreams were true
Simon should ******* soon
But he did not
Nothing out of the usual
Except one random thing
A few days ago, I felt warmth
I felt life, I felt agitation
But everything I could perceive was normal

2010, Now I am ten
Winter again
Cold and freezing as I was then
I know my father, I never met him, I will stay zen
May I find him and take away the cold Amen
Till then
I will immortalize it all with my pen.
As I contemplated the project of writing a persuasive essay I discovered that I would have to have a topic upon which to practice my persuasive techniques .  After much cogitation and enumeration of my possibilities , pursued with such zeal that it soon resembled pedantic ostentation , I concluded that the most positive prospect I could pursue in this endeavor would be an attempt to prove irrefutably that I deserve a grade of A in this class ; if not for the undeniable excellence of my effort , then at least for the unadulterated audacity of my pretentious assertion .  

In order to perform this feat first I must overwhelm your developing consternation , the frozen mastodon of your auspicious judition .  To accomplish this I will cite my impeccable attendance ; which although not perfect was indeed a valiant effort in the face of public opinion whose abstinence approached epidemic proportions .  I will expound on the effectual and pervasive inspirations of my in class commentary , which sparked many a heated argument or thoughtful conjecture ; and comment on the polished precision of my in class narration .  I will reiterate the diversity and intrigue of my subject matter and the competence of my delivery .

Next , with all the dynamic aggression of a wind-up tyrannosaur , I will recapitulate and exemplify my arguments ; until the ramifications of my inductive collusions exceed the boundaries of your psychic phenomenon and you are forced to acquiesce into impunity .  

Yes I will indeed proceed to exceed the parameters of your mind , until mesmerized by the multitudes of analogous content you find yourself , disguised as captain corpuscle , floating euphorically down stream in a think box mind gram dingy towards a sea of Colorado cool aid .  Then as if all that were not enough to thoroughly torque your ringer , adamant and tenacious I will portray realms of intellectual austerity so intriguing you will be raised to new heights of enigmatism , and then I will leave you , enraptured with your own anonymity , at the edge of the new world freeway .
Dalton Bauder Nov 2012
I sink too deeply
into the reflections of my being
and in this pithy mirror I see
all that has become me.

tracing the fibers in reverse
every memory dispersed
churning out the eldest curse
loosely piled unspoken words

thoughts become, ubiquitously
a visual soliloquy
entwined with all the subtle dreams
that shape present realities
entrancing eyes toward morphing scenes
the air has now become a sea
of every possibility
that ever could have been

and I swim so gracefully
in the ocean of could-be's
holding onto this pristine
moment ever so closely
close enough that 
I can see
clearly
Harrison wisdom  Jan 2019
suicide
Harrison wisdom Jan 2019
Suicide is not an option
Everything has to be done with caution
Be it wrong accusation or depression
Taking your life will reduce our population
Believe me, all you need is affection
Speak to someone who'll relieve you of your oppression
Who'll give you nothing but compassion
You may need trust and care in addition
When facing life challenges and tribulation
Take not suicide for a compensation
Try to have a little comprehension
Of the afterlife using your discretion
And also have a little conversation
Involving you and your intuition
Considering suicide may be as a result of impression
Or thought in abstraction
Or even to punish a relation
No matter the condition
It doesn't worth your life as a rendition
If you do plan of taking this action
I beg you take this into consideration
And do a bit of cogitation
That suicide is not an option
Though, it's taking it toll on the nation
Leading many to quick expiration
My fella, suicide is not an option
Try to do some reconciliation
And make sure to somebody you mention
To get your mind in a good position
Or perhaps it might change your situation
And set you in a new direction
Again I say suicide is not an option
Take this into admonition
That your afterlife may as well be in inversion
That live each day with vision
Devote smile to your face a portion
Do activities in admiration and jubilation
And in you life begins a resurrection
Thereby killing the ulterior notion
And also averting a possible perdition
Because suicide is never an option.
On a school trip to a gallery,
Teachers and curators will always tell you
Look upon, examine, appreciate the art!
But they’ll never instruct you
On how to be certain
That your appreciation is acceptable and right.
Conundrum of the contemplative,
Judgement of the partisans,
Cogitation of any aware,
I’ll ponder until my encephalon
Subsides under impactful pressure
Until the logical or the just is no longer right.

Through incandesce of the morning,
In the cloak of the ever-mantling night,
Here I revel in the concept of
Eternal glee through appreciation
Of nostalgic kitsch, and graffiti—
And hyperrealism as well as photoshop

Because love isn’t just omnipotent,
*It’s incomprehensible.
One could be a moth
Or midday butterfly,
A deceitful demon
Or a cherub on Eden's sky.

An enclosed cellar
Or an open book,
Bittersweet venom
Or a milk and honey scoop.

One shall have a choice
of to be or not be,
Facing one's own path.
Call it destiny.

There is a daily choice
Opened to be selected
Between what's right or wrong
To stand straight, or to be deflected.

But then again life's more than
A black and white selection,
where 'pro's and 'no's run
to create one's subjective reflection.

So we are the sums of our choices
no matter if they're right or wrong,
and doomed to be constantly living
with both beauty and chaos along.
Started contemplating the "To be or not to be" from a moral perspective. Until the moment when we cease to exist, we are. We exist. So the next thing would be... the way we choose to exist. The way we choose to live our lives. Because our choices define the type of our own existence.
Love is a transforming plant.

you can water it just enough and give it warmth and sunshine,
so it can grow and flourish and give fruits.

you can water it too much or give it too much heat and it will suffocate.

you can water it too little and it will grow spikes.

you can give it too little sunshine and it will grow into a ****.

or you can just hate gardening and live without it.

— The End —