I’m a pebble throw of a catastrophe away from being ok,
whatever those words could mean in these days.
I-I’ll be ok as the world crumbles into a billion of pieces,
as oceans transform into gaping devouring abysses,
when what is left of humanity is but a whisper in time,
then,
then I’ll be ok.
What else could you ask of me,
Or, do you perhaps mean what is left of this shell?
You are asking of me when the dead will wake,
when the gods will step up from their slumber in shattering caves?
I-I’ll be fine, don’t you worry love; when I cannot tell but my guess is not the truth you wanted anyway.
Dec 10, 2020
Dec 10, 2020 at 6:14 AM UTC
Work the bread and the butter to the bone,
Let it penetrate your pores,
Become your very blood,
A part of your soul,
Emerge a hero of your own.
Because if you’re not then who?
Who,
Who,
Who, who will be your own?
A true part of your heart.
Work the bread and butter to the bone,
Be the magic you speak of so,
Have it become your flesh and core,
The vital part of your all,
Emerge victorious on your own.
Because if you’re not then who?
Who,
Who,
Who, who will be your own but you,
Who will be the fuel but you,
Who will have the power but you?
Don’t lie to the single being who is a must for you to have a life,
for you to have it all,
Emerge a…
Emerge vic..
Emerge a…
Emerge vic…
You know thyself too well to lie.
Aug 17, 2020
Aug 17, 2020 at 5:32 PM UTC
You just started to build an immortal throne,
Legacy,
Heirdom,
What’s been and what to come.
Even if none remembers.
Your fame might be forgotten,
But the earth remembers the foot sole that touched it,
The print has been made,
With your soul as its name.
Even if none remembers, your time wasn’t wasted it was just spent
Even if none remembers, your time wasn’t wasted it was just spent
Even if none remembers, your time wasn’t wasted it was just spent.
On whatever made you survive till the end.
Tailored bricks by tailored bricks,
A start,
A home,
First love and hatred to come.
Even if you forget that custom made second.
Your domain might be conquered,
A dragon takes a seat on your treasure heap,
Lungs filled with tar and sot,
Your dust is still a part of the earth as you rot.
Even if none remembers, your time wasn’t wasted it was just spent
Even if none remembers, your time wasn’t wasted it was just spent
Even if none remembers, your time wasn’t wasted it was just spent.
On whatever made you survive till the end.
The end,
Bitter but also sweet.
The end,
Your enemy and friend.
The end,
Not a punctuation but a semicolon.
The end,
Not a closed window but a new door.
Even if none remembers, your time wasn’t wasted it was just spent
Even if none remembers, your time wasn’t wasted it was just spent
Even if none remembers, your time wasn’t wasted it was just spent.
On whatever made you survive till the end.
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 4:29 PM UTC
Fumble little toe further may you grow; the tumbleweed is a playground for practice
Wayward to a vast world may it hold you to the earth
Where there is fortune; poverty; glory; starvation and duty.
Stumble little toe the more you ever know, the tumbleweed is part of the experience
Oh, so little you’ve seen, and thy feet can cover only cover so much
Don’t you worry, the theatre; storytellers; night-time stories will explain it.
The pace of your epic crumbles,
It is so life will forward you like an arrow.
Death is nothing to fear,
It welcomes, nonetheless.
Your fruit is to create as the universe did for you.
Yes, little toe this is where the song ends sharp, the tumbleweed could never wish to harm you
Abruptly we say our goodbyes because you are ready for a while
Good night.
Feb 3, 2020
Feb 3, 2020 at 5:12 PM UTC
It is hard, isn’t it?
We tell ourselves yes because all have a definitive answer to it.
A full stop that is the peculiar reason, which a focus on “the”.
Not realizing, not embracing that we are “the” complication.
Our world could shatter and fall; utter destruction could befall us all—
Our attitude decides our fate; one can smile while facing death.
It is hard isn’t it, to be?
Apr 19, 2019
Apr 19, 2019 at 3:33 PM UTC
To enter one, to abolish flesh, to create— it is to satisfy a craving, it is to nurture the world
What dear kind world would that ever be?
That it is held beyond humanity, above goodlihood— passion is a test of perseverance
To match colours which have always been and always will be, the soul is closest when it dies
Repeatedly, over and over to love the hands who fulfil it more than it loves itself
It is to be dark, ***** naked, dying for the colours one sees
So, let us die, let us be reborn
In love
In death
In sickness so depraved
Lash unto my very being, please oh please do not behave
Would it be more enjoyable in silence or to die in colours together?
Lash unto my very soul, let us be reborn
Could one ever be another, could one ever see another?
To truly be one is to relish the desire; deny it; act it; fight it; love it
Dance on top of creation in heaven as well as in hell
In love
In death
In sickness, all I well
To enter into one
To be one
To be
Colours.
Apr 13, 2019
Apr 13, 2019 at 12:35 PM UTC
A dead leaf in the wind
Two mountains they’re twins?
Who could imagine?
Who could imagine,
it’s so small?
Who could imagine?
Who could imagine,
it’s so tall!
So black, so dark, so white such a shark
It is eating me
eating me
apart.
So vicious, so lovely, so deadly such a warm heart
It is eating me
eating me
apart.
Apartment class,
a castle vast.
Who could imagine?
Who could imagine,
it’s so small?
Who could imagine?
Who could imagine,
it’s so tall!
I love what I hate
I hate what I love.
Isn’t it strange,
isn’t it?
isn’t it?
isn’t it?
isn’t it?
So black, so dark, so white such a shark
it is eating me
eating me
apart.
So vicious, so lovely, so deadly such a warm heart
it is eating me
eating me
apart.
I’m a crime; I’m a shame; I’m to blame, lovely.
lovely,
just lovely,
lovely.
I’m a crime; I’m a shame; I’m to blame, lovely.
You cannot describe me,
except it hurts so good.
So good.
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 1:59 PM UTC
You complete me
Utterly save me
For you the fear hides
My angel choir
My demise
My failures that arise
None but you
Could tremble this softened heart
I praise the joy
Humbled finally
From the first
To the last
I'm already lost
Deeper than any ocean traverse
Forget me, for I
I love.
Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 9:24 AM UTC
Wayward off you go towards where your feet take you
Wayward daughter, wayward son
To the end of the world, we go
Towards the edge of soil and liquids
To the end, we go.
Stubborn deceit,
love is a foreign air—
we become the clothing we wear.
Wayward we go, to imagine our immortality;
to our sorrow; to our horror; to our heartless core, we found nothing more.
If our fate is to climb to the stars, a rule must be set never to forget the dirt, from which we were born. We become the clothing we wear.
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 10:55 AM UTC
Is it so that life chants melodies of death while death hums lullabies of life—
Tributes of the kindred, of devotion, of love.
Sweetest of longing, of belonging to be one; life sends death gifts; death returns the favour.
Wouldn’t it be so? Life gives birth to a souvenir; it evolves; it grows; it transforms. At the very end of the journey however it started, ended and all the parts in-between—the gift is received.
It is treasured as one of a kind, kindred, as one of life as one of death, kindred.
Wouldn’t it be so? Death partakes in it, value it beyond means to which we could fathom that the only thing death could send back is the essence; the soul; the spirit of what life gave.
It is treasured as one of a kind, kindred, as one of death as one of life, kindred.
Kindred.
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 7:07 PM UTC