u3108 - Hello Poetry

With pen dipped in the ink of bitter disdain, I mock the deities who birthed our forlorn existence, Laughing bitterly at the cosmic irony, For we were sculpted in the image of suffering. For I have seen him wither away, As the universe gasped in a newborn sigh, Perhaps, destined to endure the agony, To yearn for a peace forever denied. In sorrow's embrace, I recount his benevolence, In verses draped in shadows, I weave a mournful tale, How the world, once vibrant, now echoes his absence. In what poetic lament shall I unveil, The dread of God's looming departure, Witnessing divine demise, a celestial betrayal. Hushed by the anomaly, the gods shall be compelled to hear, Every dirge that follows in the wake of his demise, A cacophony of chaos, a requiem of melancholy, And an eerie echo of his lingering absence. Let this poetry be a thorn on the divine side, A symphony of lamentation that pierces the heavens, A bitter ode to the gods, whose creation bears the mark, Of eternal grief and the longing for peace never attained.

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Apr 14

Apr 14, 2026 at 12:19 PM UTC

Elegy for a Dying God

With pen dipped in the ink of bitter disdain, I mock the deities who birthed our forlorn existence, Laughing bitterly at the cosmic irony, For we were sculpted in the image of suffering. For I have seen him wither away, As the universe gasped in a newborn sigh, Perhaps, destined to endure the agony, To yearn for a peace forever denied. In sorrow's embrace, I recount his benevolence, In verses draped in shadows, I weave a mournful tale, How the world, once vibrant, now echoes his absence. In what poetic lament shall I unveil, The dread of God's looming departure, Witnessing divine demise, a celestial betrayal. Hushed by the anomaly, the gods shall be compelled to hear, Every dirge that follows in the wake of his demise, A cacophony of chaos, a requiem of melancholy, And an eerie echo of his lingering absence. Let this poetry be a thorn on the divine side, A symphony of lamentation that pierces the heavens, A bitter ode to the gods, whose creation bears the mark, Of eternal grief and the longing for peace never attained.

22

Tonight holds the promise of something so utterly ordinary that it becomes quietly extraordinary like a secret folded into the hush of twilight. Under the veil of drifting clouds and the vast expanse of the cosmos above, I find myself wandering an empty street. Each step compresses the dense rock and mud beneath my feet, grounding me in the earth’s steady heartbeat. The air smells of petrichor, that lingering perfume of damp soil after a gentle rain, a scent that envelops me like a kind embrace. In the distance, a lone street performer plucks a slow, haunting melody on a faded guitar. It carries on the breeze like a whisper, weaving in and out of my thoughts. I choose not to stop or draw closer, letting the music trail behind me like an echo. Instead, I hum a barely audible tune of my own one that resonates deeply with all I’m feeling: the resonance of unspoken truths, the sweetness of relief in letting tears fall unnoticed, the quiet thrill that my night might become an adventure without needing to be loud or wild. This hum is calming, silent, and yet so strong an expression of everything I hold inside. I pause beneath a streetlamp, its glow forming a small halo around me. Time feels elastic here, stretching and contracting, allowing me a rare moment to contemplate who I am beneath all the labels and obligations. Perhaps the wilderness of my thoughts is my true home, the silence within me my own personal frontier. As I tilt my head back, eyes rising toward the drifting clouds and distant stars, a single question forms in the space between one breath and the next: Who am I, if not a dream of the universe?

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Apr 14

Apr 14, 2026 at 12:09 PM UTC

Contemplating A Dream

Tonight holds the promise of something so utterly ordinary that it becomes quietly extraordinary like a secret folded into the hush of twilight. Under the veil of drifting clouds and the vast expanse of the cosmos above, I find myself wandering an empty street. Each step compresses the dense rock and mud beneath my feet, grounding me in the earth’s steady heartbeat. The air smells of petrichor, that lingering perfume of damp soil after a gentle rain, a scent that envelops me like a kind embrace. In the distance, a lone street performer plucks a slow, haunting melody on a faded guitar. It carries on the breeze like a whisper, weaving in and out of my thoughts. I choose not to stop or draw closer, letting the music trail behind me like an echo. Instead, I hum a barely audible tune of my own one that resonates deeply with all I’m feeling: the resonance of unspoken truths, the sweetness of relief in letting tears fall unnoticed, the quiet thrill that my night might become an adventure without needing to be loud or wild. This hum is calming, silent, and yet so strong an expression of everything I hold inside. I pause beneath a streetlamp, its glow forming a small halo around me. Time feels elastic here, stretching and contracting, allowing me a rare moment to contemplate who I am beneath all the labels and obligations. Perhaps the wilderness of my thoughts is my true home, the silence within me my own personal frontier. As I tilt my head back, eyes rising toward the drifting clouds and distant stars, a single question forms in the space between one breath and the next: Who am I, if not a dream of the universe?

4

The art that resonates with you right now is an echo of my love. -Ikigai Poet

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Aug 17, 2019

Aug 17, 2019 at 2:57 AM UTC

Resonate

The art that resonates with you right now is an echo of my love. -Ikigai Poet

3

Whatever song you'll hum while you drive is like a rhapsody to my heart. we'd have our fingers interlaced and our hair feeling the caress of midnight breeze as we speed at the highway looking our way to forever. -Ikigai Poet

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Aug 12, 2019

Aug 12, 2019 at 2:30 AM UTC

To Forever

Whatever song you'll hum while you drive is like a rhapsody to my heart. we'd have our fingers interlaced and our hair feeling the caress of midnight breeze as we speed at the highway looking our way to forever. -Ikigai Poet

11

Every night I stare at those bed sheets Where you once lay, I don't know what went wrong. Why are we going through this? Why you did to me is unforgettable But what I did is unforgivable, I fell for you. Those nights, When we used to stay up the whole night Just to enjoy each other's company Now have become memories, Hardened at the back of my throat And drops from my eyelid. I guess I'll blame myself, For I wished a love so deep, That I didn't even think of consequences. -Ikigai Poet

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Aug 11, 2019

Aug 11, 2019 at 2:32 AM UTC

Consequences

Every night I stare at those bed sheets Where you once lay, I don't know what went wrong. Why are we going through this? Why you did to me is unforgettable But what I did is unforgivable, I fell for you. Those nights, When we used to stay up the whole night Just to enjoy each other's company Now have become memories, Hardened at the back of my throat And drops from my eyelid. I guess I'll blame myself, For I wished a love so deep, That I didn't even think of consequences. -Ikigai Poet

18

There she laid looking at me In a way no one has ever looked at me before. My hands were shaking as I explained My knotted past. I will not be easy to hold on to For my heart is scattered with thorns. Some nights I'll be quiet and she wouldn't know How to pull me out of my delusion, Some nights I'll forget what she sees in me And lose my balance, Some nights I'll overthink and Create a hell for myself, Some nights I'll trip over the mess I created and apologize for it. On those nights, The one thing that will drag me out Of my own labyrinth is That look. No one has ever looked at me quite like that. -Ikigai Poet

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Aug 10, 2019

Aug 10, 2019 at 12:11 PM UTC

Her

There she laid looking at me In a way no one has ever looked at me before. My hands were shaking as I explained My knotted past. I will not be easy to hold on to For my heart is scattered with thorns. Some nights I'll be quiet and she wouldn't know How to pull me out of my delusion, Some nights I'll forget what she sees in me And lose my balance, Some nights I'll overthink and Create a hell for myself, Some nights I'll trip over the mess I created and apologize for it. On those nights, The one thing that will drag me out Of my own labyrinth is That look. No one has ever looked at me quite like that. -Ikigai Poet

19

The chaos in your heart is another form of art. -Ikigai Poet

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Aug 10, 2019

Aug 10, 2019 at 12:04 PM UTC

Chaos