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I flowed into the dark blue ocean of symbols.
Just yesterday,
I walked with heavy footsteps,
well-grounded.

But once again,
an irresistible force lifted me.
I wanted to see what was above.

Then I came back,
changed,
less happy,
a part of me scattered
in that an alternative universe.

Now, worlds overlapping appear,
The sun is shining with different light.
Words change their meaning.
The fog thickens so,
I can no longer see fissures
under my feet.

Step by step, carefully,
I try to pass through
a dimension of forgotten dreaming.

I don’t want to be stuck
inside an illusion for too long.
Looking at my heart still glowing,
devoured by some voices,
bite by bite, crumb by crumb.

They come in need,
then dissolve like ghosts.

How can one love,
under the heavy weight of knowing—
with Lapis Lazuli pressed
against my chest?

I don’t want to vanish
into sticky spider webs
into formal language  
that is too cold,
too detached.

Two forces fight inside me
To see the truth, even if it hurts,
or to close my eyes,
and idealize brutal reality.

Looking in the distorted mirror,
observing love quivering on the verge.
And thus, the Earth becomes the theater.

The cynical facades ******
with pretended freedom,
taking every hour,
every month,
every year,

into

PROGRESSIVE
DE…HUMANIZATION
On this losing streak
Has to turn around
Strive so hard but cannot escape
Failure to which I am bound

Until starting positive changes
Disappointment will remain on your face
Day after day promise to improve
Clear to see that's not the case

Gone are effortless exchanges
Excited words once eagerly shared
Sitting on sheets together
For a relationship was unprepared

In blink of an eye you lifted my world
A little closer towards the sun
Leaving each trace of regret beneath my feet
No idea what we had begun

All the moments spent since
I've discovered in your company
Collected and shown on display inside
Like antique coins or paintings in an art gallery

Done proclaiming pathetic excuses
Instead of trying my best
You deserve someone who would die in order
To protect treasure buried in your chest
Because your heart is inside a treasure chest
 Jun 25 Carlo C Gomez
nivek
trying times
hot furnace

volcanic breath
fire in the blood

falling apart
falling back together

a unity of pain
deep acceptance
he said the flames

came over the trees.



behind the buildings.

bombed the buildings.



so do not wonder why

i don’t play soldiers,

lay them down to die.



he says that i will not battle,

i am no good at it.

too peaceful. i can play

hospitals.
 Jun 25 Carlo C Gomez
B
You are
so right that it feels wrong
like citrus fruit in January
you are my siren song
sour becomes something sweet
when you linger on it for too long.
There was once a child
born beneath the sign
of unburial.

She carried too much—
not in arms
but in tethered memory.
Things with no names,
only weights.

A cracked watch
that ticked in reverse.
A button from a coat
that no one had worn
in three generations.

A feather
from a bird
dreamt once
by her grandmother,
never seen again.

She believed—
as those marked by absence do—
that keeping meant remembering,
and remembering meant
nothing would vanish.

Others crossed her path,
offered to help unfasten the straps.
She refused.
They did not know
which talismans bled
and which only looked like wounds.

So she walked.
Through salt seasons,
through bone-rattling frost,
through forests with no floor
and skies that never asked her name.

The bag grew heavier.
She grew cleverer.
Silent.

And then—
on a day that wasn’t special,
under a sun that wasn’t kind—
she set it down.
Not as surrender.
As an experiment.

The earth did not crack.
The ghosts did not scatter.
Her shadow did not abandon her.

She sifted the contents.
Some were dust.
Some were still singing.
Some curled away like dried petals
and begged to be left behind.

She took a key.
She took the bell.
She left the rest
for the moss.

She walked on.

Not lighter, exactly—
but less governed
by the shape
of her grief.
Living life is a painting scheme,
Creating colors to cover up the blanks,
Trying our best to break away.
We re-saturate,
The bleak shades of our face,
Replacing something organic,
With chemical compounds.
Suddenly evolving beyond natural gleam,
Distorting to fit twisted cookie cutter shapes,
We execute the order,
Of this lustful modern god.
There was beauty in the earthen iron's shape,
Forgotten glory, bent to grim reality,
Turning away from standing in the looking glass,
Becoming indistinguishable again.
Just because something is unique doesn't make it immortal,
A new idea that becomes a good idea turns to a common idea repeated and dried.
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