Joe Black
Joe Black
18 hours ago

If walls could talk,

What one would say to another?

-See ya in a corner...



J.G.

#fun   #philosophy   #wall  

It wasn't a mistake that I took Philosophy 101 my freshman year in college.
Indeed,
It was
"Fate"
Philosophical questions ended my abuse
They became me
I know it's considered cliché to question everything, but now
I do
And if I hadn't taken PHIL 101, or had an extensive background knowledge in Christianity
Because in 2013,
A hot boy asked me to come to his youth group and I said yes
And because of that hot boy I became engulfed with The Spirit, and became a worship leader in a youth group band
Who became a worship leader in a church
Who became a bruised and abused girlfriend of a non-Christian who broke her faith, that wasn't even whole to begin with,
Who became a freshman in college who took a PHIL 101 class
Who became the girl who finally fucking figured out
That the destiny she so pined for from the moment she was a starry-eyed 7 year old coming home from Brazil
Sitting on her dead aunt's lap, in a frame in the college girl's bedroom
She would know
Her destiny was her own choice
She was the ruler of her own world
And whatever decision she made would be the right one because she made it

-E (c) 2017

For life's sake Nick!
“Whose Nick sir?” The boy asked in amazement.
Nick is my stick! The bringer of Death, the taker of life, the epiphany of killing. The... the... Ran out of description. Anyway, quiet boy. You have overstayed your welcome, by, by, my calculations, more than seven in a half seconds. Okay. I don't enjoy this job you know. We all have to do things we don't enjoy. Now shhh and let me take your soul.
Death brought the scythe down once more, only this time which much more power.
Fizz.
The aura was still intact, for the boy is the Master Limbo and cannot have his soul taken, no matter how annoying he can get.
Maybe if I swipe the physical body? Death mumbled to himself, whilst storming past the two men (one with a moustache and one without) and then swiped at the body (remaining invisible to the men: one of the disaperk-vantages of being Death: Loneliness, yet not having to worry that your fashion is a little off that day.) The Scythe was torn out of Death's hands and into the boy's by some mystical force with more strength than death.
'Probably my egotistical, oh everybody loves me, brother' Death thought cynically.
The boy stood there, confused, but stood with the scythe in his hand.
Boy I would not trust you with a spoon! Now please give me the sharp object.
“I would sir”
But?
“Someone told me otherwise.”
Who?
“Your brother.”
Bugger.
“Shilling in the swear jar!”

Akemi
Akemi
7 days ago

Lily marked the gravestone. A white streak across grey cobble, the crumbling visage of a turning sky reflected in the puddle beside her. New dusk brimmed grey gold, a heady dust galloped with the rising easterly winds, a white streak across grey skies. Lily marked the edge of her notebook, nine-past-ten, the end of second period, a break in consciousness, then a tang of blood from her swollen gums. Lenin rose above the rooftops, a hand brushed her forehead as the paramedics left, a black bag.

The answer was heat death, compartmentalised energy, like fireworks falling into darkness. Burning rice, spilt coffee, Ain’s smile. Nights on counter, pad paper, day old rain. Lily fell into a nightmare, smooth black, a single light dissipating as the universe died. She spat blood, missed the bus and collapsed on the walk to school.

It was the anniversary. Setting sun, plumes of white, the exit sigh of a wasted day. Lily woke hours later. She returned to an empty home, suffocated in a dream and rose four hours too early for school. Climbing the roof, she watched the sun rise, grey and formless.

There was ash in the hallway to class, the remnants of the incense from yesterday’s memorial, pencil shavings from the forest, fingers blurring out of definition like the trees around her, the soft empty breath of loose soil. Ain came to the store on a night like this, wind gathered silent around her frame. They found themselves atop a bus shelter, lights rising from a sea of nothingness.

Eight-forty-five, the chalk felt heavy in Lily’s hand, white dash across infinity, city blackout. Everyone went to see the dam, cracked pavement, Ain dripping blood, Lily wreathed in ravens. Below the river, forest spirits wove among power lines, bird bones cracked beneath the soles of children, motes rose. Lily lost sight of Ain, the dam broke and children cheered.

Time passed. Ceaseless time.

Lily drifted through petroleum smoke, dashi, the burning husks of gods. She watched the river ryū sweep through her street, turbid with the broken heads of graves, mad with phantoms. She visited memories yet to form, nurseries of dust, cosmic return of the infinite perceiving itself. She cried, remembering everything, the smell Ain’s wet hair, ricochet of a glass bottle, Lenin’s dirt-smeared skin, the birth and death of the universe; mother unable to afford pad paper, sakura bursting the sky pink, couples riding past on too expensive bikes, father drunk on sake. Ribbons of light danced around Lily, a playful susurration, feeding her more and more memories.

Isn’t it beautiful? Existence burning through itself? A departure with no ending, no beginning, no becoming? Haven’t you lived a full life? Won’t you live it again?

Lily screamed. Split dam flooded the empty grave. The same smell of soy, dust and sweat every day. Lack birthed in the space between, like teeth, lacuna bleeding. Nightmares and old memories pouring out like a knife. Ryū stiffened, red streak across the sky, tail burying into the earth. Rice steam filled the air, a passing train carried Ain and Lily into the city, crowds of smoke, her crescent eyes reflected in a storefront, the eyes her mother loved. April awakening of the forest gods, cool spring rustled the hair around her neck, a humid breath descended from the mountain to the lake. Warm rain fell in sheets, city smudged out of focus, bokeh lights departing, Ain’s wet skin—

The city retracted; a whimper escaped her mouth; her fingers passed through power lines, wood smoke, pavement; seasons collapsed, superimposed like holograms, snow and humus; gyoza steamed, air sirens blared beneath the shadow of foreign planes; kodama rose as ancient trees reclaimed the land; volcanic blasts shook the ocean, AI sped to singularity; reality vanished like light falling off a mirror and Lily ceased to feel.

Space is illusory.

Lily.

It travels ceaselessly through itself.

Lily, stop.

And we don’t exist.

Lily grinned, rising from the reeds, a cattail in each hand. She sped towards a screaming Ain, who tripped on a willow root, and began bopping relentlessly.

“Lily!” Ain cried, squirming on the ground. “Lily, stop!”

Lily grinned, rising from the reeds, a cattail in each hand. She sped towards a screaming Ain, who tripped on a willow root, and began bopping relentlessly.

“Lily!” Ain cried, squirming on the ground. “Lily, stop!”

Lily grinned, rising from the reeds, a cattail in each hand. She sped towards a screaming Ain, who tripped on a willow root, and began bopping relentlessly.

“Lily!” Ain cried, grabbing Lily’s wrists. “Haven’t we done this enough?”

[3] time is a flat circle perceiving itself
/
[1] hellopoetry.com/poem/1554623/the-end-came-a-long-time-ago
/
[2] hellopoetry.com/poem/1798516/an-echo-of-ain
/
LilmizzXO
LilmizzXO
7 days ago

Emotions are illusive like the monsters one can see. Monsters cannot be seen, so they live inside your head.
Are the monsters really destroying you? Or is it your thoughts whilst alone, lying in bed...
The illusion of life itself can lead to many emotions of ones mind...
Blinds us.
So we feed on the illusion of negativity.
Things happen that make us see the darkness.
Destructive, like a dead body and a bloody mess.
Corruptive...
Yet still I test.

I look around,
I see a sea of faces...
So many faces pretending
To be content with the life they have.
They walk around acting as if marriage and kids is the only source of fulfillment.
I feel a deep wealth of sadness
As the ones without those things
Still continue to progress forward,
While I sit washed away feeling useless.

Useless like a bird without wings...
Numbness is a glimpse.
As the emotions pour into you...
Your soul feels inburdened with dread.
Sins...

Sin isn't something that I believe in,
I believe in enjoying life to the fullest...
Yet I'm always with both knees to the ground.
Wondering if I'll ever be worthy of success,
I mean I'm just an outcast to most eyes that inhabit this planet.
There's not much meaning to my life.

An outcast with a craving for happiness.
So I take the devils side in hopes for success.
Failure is an illusive matter that my dark mind cannot cope with...
I judge myself in misery.
My dark philosophical thoughts rise inside of me...
Blind eyes see the lies...
And when in doubt, I see it too.
My third eye shut down...
My spirituality is all but gone...
I crave the high...
I need the drug in my veins to fight through the damn pain.

But even happiness is forbidden fruit,
An illusion best served as a party favor.

Written by me and Xoaquin Oznian ...
Our compatible thoughts make a unique poem.
Phoenix Risen
Phoenix Risen
7 days ago

Three mirrors you have
One is beautiful
But with a hidden heart

One is fierce
Her heart is open
Yet doubt is upon her

One is loyal and true
New love holds him close
Yet frailty binds him

Only their mother can join them
Holding them close in her heart
She is the force of creation

#love   #poetry   #philosophy   #family  

Living from excited inspiration,
Moving with motivation,
Not affected by any frustration.

Clearing a path for hope,
Never falling from that slope,
And finding a way to always cope.

Fighting for that dream,
Having a high self-esteem,
As joy is always the theme.

Keep that upbeat spirit alive,
And you will certainly thrive,
Facing a world that’s hard to survive.

immense; universe beyond comprehension(
                    stars upon a blanket of potential infinity rule what we see [the past: the telescopes our time machines], and from the smallest of microbes to the largest of nebulas we are but one person within this collection of atoms we call life and tangible.
                    yet even the largest of nebulas is infantile compared to the infinite blanket of infinity (almost):
the only thing greater is our arrogance.                                      
                                               )                    *

d.d. #50

In darkness she broods
Alone among her sisters
Far removed from the light
The source of all life

She wears a crown upon her
The six pointed star
Queen of heaven
Mother of secrets

In her heart life thrives
Among the clouds
Breathing in the dim light
Alive in the ether

The children of Earth
Seek after her
But do not know her
Secrets will not reveal

In the realm of darkness
There are many places
Life hides between the lines
Each to his appointed place

Within the storm
Sweet breezes lift us up
Solar winds the breath of life
Planting seeds of the future

#poem   #poetry   #space   #philosophy  

I slither across the tightrope between
"people person" and Socratically suicidal.
Nobody has ever translated their transcriptions
But I,
Somehow am allowed to bleed them into ink,
page after page waiting
to dry myself up and ring myself out.
We are nothing but dirty washcloths,
each emotion a bead of soiled
aquatic excrement.
Will I ever accept myself as a
rag?

 
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