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It must be dark
out here in the cold penumbra,
where mile after mile
no one smiles,

dots and loops,
dots and loops,
a kind of blissful nullity,
beautiful and pointless,

wearing at the edges
it almost stings,
seclusion unraveling
at the underground in us all,

aubade aberrations abound,
challenging the orthodoxy
of the troublesome
morning road,

but should this near-life experience
hydroplane toward
another mineshaft, it helps to know
less is less, not more.
Zywa Apr 1
Sneaking silently,

as part of a secret plan --


and it will end well.
Composition "Variations on Japanese Children's Songs" for marimba (1982, Keiko Abe), performed in the Organpark on March 15th, 2024 by Sung-En Chi

Collection "anp" #177
no matter how many times
i've crossed these tracks
nor how old i might now be
i will still feel
that childlike excitement
building within
as i look cautiously
left then right and
left then right again
just to be sure
before stepping across
that first metallic line
a symbol of both
danger and adventure
rechecking the signals
as i cross the second
i have never understood
what those lights tell
of the next train's progress
red yellow green
single or double
flashing or constant
no matter how clear
the tracks appear
the uncertainty of
what might soon be
unstoppably approaching
always sets me on edge
momentarily apprehensive
yet exhilarated by
each rushed step
else Mar 19
you started singing one of my favourite songs

and i know it is yours too,

then you talked excitedly of your adventures,

i wish i was there too.

maybe one day i’ll make snowmen with you,

but more than that,

i wonder why i didn’t sing along too.
Amo sorridere,
Voglio volare,
Spingere, spingere fuori,
Andare, andare, andare

Fissarti il colore degli occhi e basta oppure guardare e fantasticare

Vorrei vibrare, vibrare
Come foglie al vento
Come un albero secolare
Movimenti in ogni direzione

Sento il mio cuore che segue il tamburo che segue il rumore che sento rombare

Esplorare il verde, il verde
Chiusi gli occhi al vento e al sole
Pelle morta che si libera nell'aria
Voglio odore, odore, odore

Sentirti un profumo inebriante come un esplosione che saturi tutto tra naso e sapore

Voglio andare piano o veloce
Costruirmi, costruire, costruire
Le braccia tese all'infuori,
e stringersi a sé stessi

Voglio abbracciare con il petto e con le mani ed incendiare e bruciare le vene e il cuore

Voglio creare,
fare cazzate,
Gioire, soffrire, amare,
Capire, vivere, baciare,

Voglio annegare e gustare le mucose e la bocca ed il silenzio e l'immenso

e come un cotone galleggiare
Weaving a new cotton sheet, a piece dedicated to experiences, the senses, and the sensations. More of a stream of consciousness of reality, yours. Mine. Who knows.

E.A.
Carlo C Gomez Feb 23
Image
autumn
womb

sunset chant

a feathered fog, isle of wight

we all have places that we miss

lie still, sleep long
panoramic dream
snippets
bathed in seldomness

lie still, sleep long
the gentle hum of eunoia
holding their absence

like balloon days
when delightful little occupants
holding adventure
in their very hands

keep them
from floating away
Ander Stone Jan 13
you ran away with me
from the monotony of growing up
and into the deep cobalt yonder.

we chased the sun
and battled the moon,
yet she always won
and gently
tucked us away
under soft midnight.

we skipped through crag
and mire.
we waded the river
and touched the emerald blades
of summer grass.

we were free.
we were children.

you were older,
almost a woman.

but I kept you young
and wild
and free.

that is why you liked sharing little wonders with me.
I will always remember her.
That singular summer.
The golden sunlight of her hair.
Jellyfish Dec 2023
The weekend is only two days away,
Throughout the week my heart aches.
I'm sick of society, expectations and pressure
All I want to do is to leave for an adventure.

Where would I go? If the opportunity arose,
I think I'd go everywhere, searching for home.
No where has ever felt like one for me,
I've always had issues with how I'm perceived.

I have moments where I wonder who will leave,
and who will stay after seeing my true face.
Some people have become sick of my ways
And left before seeing that we aren't the same.

It surprised me and I felt betrayed,
The pain that comes along with goodbye
Is almost as bad as the silence that subsides
after rain has fallen all night.
I never know what to name my poems anymore
Britt Swann Dec 2023
A star on the map, leagues in descent of ink barrels.
Do I stamp my name in honor? Rise to the sturdy world
Where our ancestors came and fell?

Glimpse on jewels no man's eyes have yet to see;
I am awake after years of disdain, distant
Of my home and my inner knowledge.

So what seeking wonder gives my mind an ultimatum
That my heart cannot justify? I have spilled the ink
Before and lost the privilege to write.

So I keep on traveling, daring to look at vast beauty,
Floating in the world. I am past a golden existence,
But platinum is in high demand in these ages.
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