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Arpitha 1d
I loiter
between
what was
and
what will be.
Overlooking
what is.
The world will still turn,

regardless

of if I want it to.

A spin on words,

and you might think

I'm a dead branch

fallen from a tree.

The apple tree, my dad will become.

Although not yet,

the words are stagnant

tightening around my soul

carving reality into my face.

A useless thought,

an unbearable one.

I fear I’ll rot

and dance with the maggots

until I’m soil.

One day meeting with my dad

becoming a tree myself

we’ll hold each others roots

like when we hug.

The type of warmth

I’ll always dream about

way past the inevitable

moment in time,

where my heart

and soul

will give out.
21-07-25.
Now
The only time
is now

No future yet

All past gone

A spot in
eternity

forever.

Eelco van der Waals
As we live on this earth
day by day.

As we think about tomorrow
and experiencing that tomorrow the next day,
You realize yourself being in the future
at that very moment,
You realize you were thinking about the same day
that you’re in right now
that you were thinking about yesterday.

The present is the past
regardless of today
and as we think of the past,
as we are currently in the future.

Every day is the future
except the other days
that happened before today.

People who live in the present
will always have a hard time
trying to escape the past,
but if you think ahead into the future,
you will be unstoppable.
vik 7d
“oh, how they will all bet on morrows that strain rills after dark,
and yet the Game, unpitying, regains its lordly behest at dawn;

lean back and feel the turn of things, the chance, the risk, the almost...
ante!”



this mania!
when it wreathes,
the imperceptible of myself,
it drains through me, sedulously,
hands aquiver, sight fretful,
and the bath of wanting (and not, ergo),
spewing and fusing
inside the etna of my inlying.

you are, then, obedience itself,
long before the grapevine,
before the Cards;
rails tarnishing, yet begrimed steel,
rather ossein, or thew,
turning to a suttee so pale, it forgets its ills.

and the trains;
yes, they were gushing, though not afore;
“did you think they would arrive for you?”
they smelt into clag,
into a mist of faces, barren,
swelling and shrieking of throe,
snaking, snaking down the spine of
the Stake.

slaves betting with their ilk of ardor,
when a match struck, belatedly,
but already it is leaning toward cinders,
its shine no more
than a laugh of people,
leaving the hall shivery in its bleat,
charcoals sighing their waning,
others honing their exit.
bitterly, bitterly, i am
left with nothing to hold but smoke.

but time, ah, time,
the nimble Host,
old trickster with his cuffs of lithe,
shuffling cloaks for loose change.
he and i,
always at the same table,
and i know his favorite sleight:
to grant the boastful player
a losing hand,
and winning eyes.

the coin is tossed,
to the Parlay; so soon cast,
so soon swallowed by the piker.
the crowd, they clap for a name,
but it is never genius they are crowning,
only luck,
foremost Dealer,
with that last word,
smiling as he lays it down:
only the blind Card turned upward.

~~~

and i,
sitting with my empty cup,
still growing a taste for losing
foolish, surely,
but the loss only deepens the greed,
doubles it, whets it past the reach of will.

so ring then, coin,
dull as you are, tattered,
clattering against the floorboards.
it tells me i am counted,
measured,
already spent.
yes, yes, it is only a caprice,
but it hews, it digs,
it laughs where no mouths are,
and i laugh back;
ante!
🎰
Reece 7d
Today was tomorrow, yesterday.
If that isn’t enough to make you go crazy,
Then, how about a year ago, today felt like forever away,
Yet, by tomorrow, it’ll be gone, nothing left to say.
For nothing gold can stay,
But, isn’t time a tyrannical little thing?

We can’t change it, nor stop it,
We’re purely at its will.
We can’t see it, but its effects,
As our world is encompassed by its silk.
It’s all around us, yet it eludes us.
How can we be so blind,
But, bound by brutes who bellow from the night?

We watch helplessly,
As the world changes constantly.
Partly, by our hands,
Purely by time’s demands.
Puppets on sharpened strings,
Dancing to a tune that someone else sings.
I wish I could sever the strings,
But we’re all dragged along by time, continuously.

It’s heartbreaking to watch such beauty fall apart.
Friendships die, people cry,
Dust yourself off and keep on smiling bright.
Rise up, like a daisy,
Otherwise, the world gets too hazy.
How am I supposed to see?!
Sometimes, it feels like things are crashing down around me.
Time laughs as it claps,
Dust myself off and keep on walking straight,
Suffocating under the weight.

People keep growing older around me,
Meanwhile, I’ve felt the same since I turned fourteen.
Eventually, I’ll have to put on an act,
Like I have any idea what I’m doing.
Pull it all together and keep on moving.
That’s all that we can do.

Oh…I fear the future.
Most may say I’m delusional,
But I like control.
I like my day to be predictable,
No surprises for me.
And when my routines break,
Anxiety takes the helm.
Why wouldn’t I be afraid,
Of something that affects me every day?
Why wouldn’t I be terrified,
Of something that’ll affect the rest of my life?
All based on decisions I make,
What if I make a mistake?
The last thing I need is more pain.
From the tyrant who controls everything.
Tyrannical time,
I don’t understand how people turn a blind eye.
I wish I were ignorant,
Since that seems to be bliss.
Instead, I think, perhaps, too much,
About things I can’t ever touch.
That’s my curse…
Time...
You can try to make us less soft, less open, less fiery…
But you are the ones who are frozen -
The ones who won’t make the diary,
When everything you claim to be right is distorted and stolen…
You can’t stop us from flying towards the light
and glowing green and golden…

So best just leave us be… you’re the wanderers of this gallery and we’re the centrepiece…
Having travelled many galaxies to see you differently,
You still look at us with one colouring, through one sheen -

But it’s time to evolve or flee…
Our wings shield your swords and shine a light but only for those who want to see -

And those who want to see have wings like me,
And we hold each other carefully…
Our visions clashing in dual lucency; shining perfect, oceanic new ways to be…
When do we change?
Is it now?
Or in ten years time…
Is it in 2999?
Is this a sign or an unseen shrine?

Can we travel lightyears of compassion to finally reach what matters?
And join the orchestras of our hearts to form a cacophony of beauty that grows to other planets, admitting how lost we are…

Or are we hate first, death burp, old church…
Starving billions yet again just to prove a point -
Just so we can light a joint and oink -

Why must we parade, not permeate?…
Escape but stay safe…
We could evolve from the inside now, freeing every structure of our being…
Procuring our loving spout, rather than drowning in doubt…

When will you decide to step into the liquid mirror, joining timelines of past and future -
Upon which - being that every-creature; you see through a lensless camera…
Can you embody the real virtue and meaning of captured existence, and in doing so outshine death by becoming life itself?…
If we’d carefully addressed our nuances
We wouldn’t be in this mess…
If we’d spoken to the heart rather than the heartless head…
If we hadn’t turned this planet into a closed and open hell…
Like a giant burning cruise ship full of mere shells, piercing into the earth’s former self…

We ignore the trees; the trees that show us magnificence and mystery; destroying their epic lives in a heartbeat…
But the trees whisper through connected fungi, working as a team for longevity, with no concept of antipathy…

And in dark forests on the sunniest days we still glimpse those rays of true beauty…

We still have a responsibility in our vastness to steer this ship of souls in the right direction, in conjunction with nature and all of it’s adaptations…

Why stare into one hole in a cave when there are a million different pools and palaces shining through the crystal cracks, all waiting to join as we chip away at a new haven…
Imagine what aliens would think then when they came to visit our shimmering, all-embracing, reciprocal creation…
I remember ones almost my age who saved this vision early on, looked at me straight in the eye and winked as I was gone…
Esme Calder Sep 10
Words written into a letter
that I know you won't read
messages left unread
and I can't help but wonder if you've already left
Questions that become drawings upon my skin
the ink already stinging, drying
I've become the target in my mind, a thing to hit
Striking home, staying at home crying
Holding myself because you're so far away
but still I know you like a stranger, no matter what you say
Closer than I'd let,
closer than i'd imagined
just one year becomes life
and I have to let you go
I wonder what's holding you back
Is it all of the stories, to take you away from this world
Evil, evil world, with it's shadows
convincing you not to eat, less you get sick and hurl
yourself into oblivion, to not be awake
One last thing before you take
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