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Getting By

Many years ago, I trod lightly through the woods,
Being careful not to crush the undergrowth with my feet.
I would gently push aside impediments to progress
So as not to bruise or crush the soft, green foliage of my World.
In those days to make a noise was dangerous.
So, I trod quietly too.

Many years ago, I carried on my back
Those items They considered essential for my life:
I carried food. I carried ammunition, shelter,
And water in a plastic bag. These, They said, would be sufficient.
As well, about my waist I carried a compass, more water, and hand-Grenades. In those days books were used to escape the woods
So, I carried one of those too.

But Their essentials for my life, I found weighed heavy on my back.
Collectively they hurt, and made a clumsy, introverted observer
Of the World about; noisy, looking in instead of out.
Which was dangerous for us all. So, I lightened my load.
And in doing so disregarded the rules by which my life was ordered. I got rid of some food, and the water in the plastic bag.
But not the book. I kept the book. And the hand-grenades.
Vibration and sound
The echo of solitude
Wind that eyes can see
- David Cunha
september 16, 2025
4:43a.m.
Jasper 7d
an ember glides,
an ember glows,
the ember's gone.
Do you know, what's it like?
To run, until the tendons,
in your legs,
crimp,
like accordion bellows,
held, in the grip,
of a vice?

...Do you know, what it's like?

When they smell the fear, from within...
which adheres, to your skin,
as it turns, to fright?

...Do you know, what it's like?

Not even seconds, to hide?
With the asbestos walls, exploding...
your lungs, go off, like a bomb,
and thrumming

But the headlights,

they just keep on coming?

...Do you know, what it's like?

But you can't stop running, oh, hell no,

Though the acid,
drips,
down the back,
of your throat.
And the panic,
sticks,
to your soul,
like Velcro...

But you try...

...Do you know, what it's like?

And do you even want,
or need, to survive it?

When your fatigue,
only gets them excited?

When the kick and blur,
of your legs,
and curves,
only registers,
as enticement?

Do you know, what it's like?

Here comes the headlights
around the bend,
again,
and it's do,
or die.

Do you think you could fight?

You can't look, at the trunk,
or you'll end up inside, it.
It's fight,
or you're ******,
but what if they... have,
a gun,
or a knife?

...Do you know...what it's like...?
Trigger Warning ⚠️

PTSD
Trauma
Survival
"Hunting/Stalking"

https://allpoetry.com/Kate-the-Shrew

I cross-post from this account! It's my only other account, no other. If it doesn't include hyphens, it's Ryan. See me for proof

I'm also u/cutthroatqueen on Reddit, formerly u/Mermaidinshade. Come see me and learn what I'm about!
Rose Adriel Aug 28
"Steady as She goes..."

The turmoil turned terror & life lured a luscious ledge to a sureevil.Predictions, slumped a significant idea of solace within an eraending in tragedy;She conquered nothing but merely a little piece of Heaven &Hell..."Beware of the Storm, it'll wreck us....we're doomed!"

A last sigh of hope, a lingering light - thoughts of despair &dreadful ideals idolised an idle idiocy of obstinacy.The abyss' no longer an enigma : inspite of losing espoir,Calypso's hatred pitied their misfortune...alas, the tempest turnedinequities into ****** silences."The wind...the wind's on our side boys!"

Death was worth living for while life - seemed so solitary...scarceto survive for."It's a pirate's life for me, savvy!"

The tale's to an end.

~ A. Rose
A fictional fallacy behind such a vivid & creative imagery...
Might consider this one as a tunnel of dreams too
Zywa Aug 10
Knowing each other

from before, and not knowing --


but knowing life now.
Collection "Local traffic"
Kairos Aug 5
Looking back at my first week in Bulgaria...
Do not compare Cyrillic to Russian or face hysteria!

Don’t take it personal if folks seem grumpy or whiney,
Their hearts are still huge, though their dogs are all tiny.

A deep, proud history they gladly declare,
While we Western Europeans seem to shout everywhere.

I love the slow living, its pace and its grace,
Yet curse when my beer is last place in the race.

The first place I’ve been where no card tips apply,
Only cash levs will put a spark in their eye.

Five more weeks left to wander and play,
To learn how the locals make a slow life feel okay.
vik Jul 18
i will dissolve
                    into every window i’ve never looked through
into the faces i passed and never asked their names
i will wear their voices
                                           like wet fabric
and let their lives
               press salt into my skin

i will walk
               barefoot into the golden streetlight
where shadows kneel quietly
                                       beside electric trees
i will open my ribs
                                and let the evening pour in

i will not be me
                              not only
i will bloom
               inside the laughter of someone i’ll never meet
                                                           who once kissed someone i never will
and still
                     i will mean it

i will sit beside oceans
                                     as her
as him
as the child still learning how to cry
and in each breath
                                 i will carry
the hunger
             to feel it all

i will speak
                in unfamiliar tongues
to moons that do not rise for me
                                        and still say
yes

i will press my fingers
              into the dusk
                      until it softens
and teaches me
                                    how to vanish gently

i will love
               like a stranger
like a thousand strangers
                                             each with different hands
and hearts that end
                                  too soon

i will rise
               carrying cities
and regrets
               and a boy who once drew birds in the dirt
i will rise
                       and walk into the last light
wearing every name but my own

and just before the clock splits
                       i will
                                              finally
                                              be.
🕰️
Yash Shukla Jul 11
समुद्रासारखं आहे आयुष्य –
कधी आनंदाची लाट, कधी दुःखाची सर.
रस्त्यासारखं आहे आयुष्य –
कधी अपयशाचा खड्डा, कधी यशाची भर.

आकाशासारखं आहे आयुष्य –
कधी स्वच्छ सोपं, कधी दाट अवघड.
शाळेतल्या वर्गासारखं आहे आयुष्य –
कधी स्मशान शांतता, कधी खूप बडबड.

आयुष्याच्या या तुलनांचा
खूप गहन अभ्यास करावा,
परिस्थितीच्या अटी पाहून मगच
आयुष्याचा फॉर्म भरावा.
ही कविता १२ जून २०२० रोजी लिहिलेली आहे
TonyNoon Jun 30
It isn’t Paris but it is.

As the light washes
over late afternoon
walls full of us and
other people’s lives.

As the music charms
our old bones we can
add context to our list
of rolodex happenings.

As the shadows hint at
mystery beneath every
shining moment we can
justifiably glint and smile.

It isn’t Paris…but it is.



Tony Noon
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