The clock reads 12:12 am, and I'm tormented by thoughts that leave me embarrassed, taking my peaceful mind as its quarter portioned rate.
My body is heavy, as is my mind.
Burdened by lack of words, I walk the line.
To find meaning in what I cannot say,
And express my thoughts and feelings that plague me, day after day.
Poetry was my outlet, a bastion of peace.
It would allow me to express thoughts I couldn't,
But now those beautiful words are in retreat.
I struggle so hard to pluck at the cords that play with my mind and when nothing is yielded, I press restart
I search every memory, I utterly tear them apart.
I fear I have lost my passion, I fear I have lost my art.
I've not written in days
Perhaps…
I have simply lost heart?
Jan 29
Jan 29, 2026 at 3:06 AM UTC
So many people spend their lives in the past,
I myself am the guiltiest of all in that regard.
I live there rent free,
Day in, day out.
I sleep in ex lovers beds, and wake up in childhood bed rooms.
I break my foot every winter,
And I have that debate that summer I decided to take those pills on July 1st, on an insignificant Tuesday in March.
I live there rent free,
A man of the past and future,
Rarely of the present.
Echoes of hearing “Don't say that to someone who already has a tree picked out” As they refer to me.
So much time lost,
Living in times already gone.
And for the first time,
I'm ready to move on.
Time to stop living in memories.
Though I'll remember it sweetly,
As I make the here and now, my home.
Jan 1
Jan 1, 2026 at 11:54 AM UTC
For those who fled their homeland,
through destruction and death.
The weight you carry
is the memory of the land you come from:
love, family,
triumphs, tragedies.
They hold no importance
in the eyes of those who watch you
as you walk on.
You bear visible scars
and wounds within,
and you struggle with dreams
you cannot yet bring to light.
The past does not define who we are.
It is the present that holds value,
the present that keeps
the promise of tomorrow.
Masi Roberto © 2025
Dec 28, 2025
Dec 28, 2025 at 2:31 PM UTC
O Mirek, Mirek, briar-brained wren,
why do you tumble again and again?
The dawn has sighed at your crooked stride,
she’s packed her bags for the other side.
You toast the dusk with nettle-tea,
and claim it tastes like “destiny.”
But nettles bite the tongue they kiss
and leave you humming into the abyss.
You court the maidens by sheer mishap,
you knock on one, but greet her pap.
You sought to serenade sweet Irena,
yet crooned instead to old Aunt Helena,
who tapped her cane in stern delight
and chased you howling through the night.
Last week you praised young fair Danica,
gifted her moss and a chipped harmonica,
but slipped and fell in the village well
and wooed your echo there as well.
The crows observe, the elders sneer,
yet still you skip with dubious cheer,
seeking a sweetheart in every puddle.
offering mud pies to prove you’re subtle.
They say the willows gossip your plight,
that even owls averzt at night
when you attempt a gallant pose,
your sleeves catch wind, your trousers rose.
But fret not, Mirek, luck’s a drake
that swims in every foolish lake,
and you, with lanterns half-extinguished,
still glow enough to keep them kindled.
O Mirek, Mirek, dusk-born sprout,
your heart a knot, your thoughts devout,
you braid misfortune into charms
and wear them proudly on your srms.
And if you trip near twilight’s seam,
pursuing some bewildered dream,
the moon will chuckle at your sway
and tuck your footprints far away.
And should you vanish one soft night,
slipping between the reed/(grass) from sight,
the village will shrug at break of day:
“He tripped on a star and wandered away.”
Dec 28, 2025
Dec 28, 2025 at 2:29 PM UTC
I have lived my life,
With one simple rule.
Do not ask questions that you don't want the answers to.
It seems common sense,
But sense is no longer common .
So understand this more than anything,
If I have asked you a question,
Know for a fact, that I truly want the answer.
Dec 28, 2025
Dec 28, 2025 at 2:27 PM UTC
Artists & modern day philosophers,
Playing at being philanthropists
by finding new meanings to words,
That have been said by people more
academic or poetic.
Are they merely taking credit for someone more romantic,
Or perhaps more damaged?
Or have they too struggled to find the right combinations of words to discuss meanings and musings?
Plagiarism or lethologica?
Did they find another way to the same answers,
Like a sort of mathematical rumination,
Where they used the wrong method to get the right answer.
Perhaps, how it had been said was just the right answer,
To a completely different question.
Dec 27, 2025
Dec 27, 2025 at 12:56 AM UTC
I once heard that family is like a jigsaw puzzle,
Each member, a piece to make it whole.
Yet I'm constantly reminded,
That my piece doesn't fit very well,
And I'm just one piece going missing,
From being unable to fit in at all.
I wonder, if there's puzzle out there,
One that would want me.
One that lets me fit in,
Perfectly aligned, and welcomed.
My edges might be too frayed for that,
My picture too dark, and worn.
Mayhaps the only puzzle I belong too,
Is the one comprised of all the other lonely pieces?
Dec 26, 2025
Dec 26, 2025 at 1:21 PM UTC
That growing silence you hear as you leave the hustle and bustle,
Of a party or other social gathering.
Attacked by noise that leaves quiet to be desired,
To parley with nothing but empty sound,
That rush I feel as the world around goes mute.
I would bottle that feeling up and get high of it every night if I could,
As if it was something like the purest of heroins.
Dec 24, 2025
Dec 24, 2025 at 12:14 PM UTC
The worst part about it, is how it just appears.
You swear it hasn't hit, it's only November. That's too early.
But then, that one thing happens.
And that's when you feel it.
It's already there, embracing you like a hug from behind.
Oddly comfortable, and empty in an instant.
A loving warmth that quickly fades.
Then the range from indifference to sadness, sway, and mixes.
It's already here, you belong to it for now.
Dec 7, 2025
Dec 7, 2025 at 1:06 PM UTC