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 Aug 2018 Marta
Nathan Wells
if you listen hard enough
there's a buzzing,
it's this realm
doing it's thing,
and no matter what we do
to disturb it,
the buzzing will still buzz,
ring ring ring.
the buzzing has always
been there
and the buzzing will
never go,
it's in you, me,
the trees, the worms,
the sky and everything down below.
the buzzing is hard
to describe,
but you can feel it
if you try,
it's what connects everything
to everything else,
from way down low
to way up high.
the buzzing makes
things work,
and the buzzing keeps
us alive,
the buzzing shines sun
on our crops,
and rains on us so
we can thrive.
The buzzing was made
a long time ago,
by something or someone
that people call God
and some talk to the buzzing
and ask it things,
to which the buzz gives
a nod.
Don’t look too hard
for a reason
why something does
what it does,
everything just happens
because it happens
and they happen
because of the buzz.
the buzzing was there
before we were,
and before anything else
was too,
and when we're gone it'll just
look for something else
to send it's lovely
buzz through.
 Aug 2018 Marta
Valsa George
Through the country paths, I lazily loitered,
watching Nature in its changing hue
straying farther into the interiors,
sundry and sublime vistas came into view.

in response to zephyr’s warm embrace,
the silvery leaves joyously fluttered.
the bees busied themselves collecting pollen
and birds on tree tops merrily chattered

it was the *** end of verdant spring.
summer’s sun stood behind my head.
bleat of sheep was heard from far.
‘Good day to you’….. Someone said.

There stood on the hill, a boy around fifteen
obviously he was of tribal breed.
with a beaming smile, he greeted me
but on walking to him, he ran like a steed

I saw him disappear behind the trees
and enter into a hut tiny as a nest
he lived in the lap of Mother Nature,
far from the city and its sooty dust

being coaxed, he hesitantly came out.
my tone of assurance and pleasing smile,
seemed to have won his confidence
as to a friend, he shared his eventful tale.

pointing to the sheep grazing in the *****,
he said, he earned a living caring the flock.
he stayed in the woods all day long,
feeding and tending his master’s sheep.

from dawn to dusk, through woods and meads,
he leads his sheep, calling them by their name.
un vexed, with simple pleasures he is content
and with a nomad’s life, he seems to be tame

he said, at home he has his invalid mother.
bringing her back to health is his mission in life
on referring to his mother, I watched his eyes glitter
nothing other than her illness posed to him a strife

from every utterance, I could sense his filial love.
even in abundance, while shadows line many faces,
on his visage, hope lingered as a dancing flame
to me he seemed above many, rich in other graces!

While parting, I handed him a little money
pausing unbelievably, with moist eyes
he accepted it, when a breeze passed caressing us
as if over a kind gesture, Nature seemed to rejoice!
This was written sometime ago based on a real incident with a sprinkle of imagination ! The boy with his cheerful disposition in the face of adversities continues to be an inspiring memory!
 Jun 2018 Marta
Carina
Sometimes you have no reason to stay,
and realize that's a perfect argument to go.
And that taking an entirely new way,
is the sore but single method to grow.

If you're washed-on abeyance's bight,
and you feel decision's heavy heft:
To choose the left where nothing's right,
or go to the right where nothing's left.

Remember it matters not where you proceed,
or which mountain you want to ascend.
It does not matter whether you succeed,
it is the journey that matters in the end.
 Mar 2018 Marta
E over c2
A modern day Renaissance Man
Is a scientist who can feel without a theory
Who can theorise without feeling

Seperate,  his emotions and logic lie
But together when needed again

Crafting himself a world that is both beautiful
And efficient


So Einstein's violin let light be made constant
So Hawking's humour let black holes be radiant
So Leonardo's paintings let machines be made

So let my words
My notes
My voice
Lead to the latter
Onto the new
A dedication to the art of science, and a prayer for the future.
Pointless existence
caught some where between
wanting to be
and ceasing to exist.

Each day seems more like
An imagining.
Who am i,
but these the thoughts
And restless energy.

Days when I am tired
Surrendering to death
So sleep indefinite.

I would come back better
Cleaner than before.
Be a new imagining

Yet who am i,
These thoughts,
This restless energy.

I expend at the plight of my desire
Edging toward meaningful attatchments.  
And this is what I make.
Caught in between
Pointlessness
And purpose.

Yet who am I
These thoughts
Or this restless energy.
 Mar 2018 Marta
spacesoup
Free will
 Mar 2018 Marta
spacesoup
There’s no free will.
Just some neurons
Tied together, that fire
Before you even spell
I am, I do, I will.
And consciousness
Is just a word,
To name yourself
In front of mirrors,
You accidentally pass by.

So what?
 Mar 2018 Marta
yúyīn
Tired..
 Mar 2018 Marta
yúyīn
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Youllneverunderstand me
@.**
 Mar 2018 Marta
Ciel Noir
Atom
 Mar 2018 Marta
Ciel Noir
What other kind              of creature could divide        
        Each different thing             into its different sides                
  With chaos versus             order, dark and light
The stark duality of         wrong and right
We even split the very        world in two
With human versus human,       we and you
But still no matter how much      we divide
Each thing has infinitely many      sides
 Mar 2018 Marta
Marina
When you have low serotonin levels.
When you have low serotonin levels, exercise has never been more important. Unfortunately, all the shaking from said unknown anxieties doesn’t count.  So instead I usually find myself on a bike pedalling furiously away from all my problems.  Or I slip on a pair of sneakers and sprint away towards the greener side.
When you have low serotonin levels, sleep has never been more needed. Sadly, this doesn’t seem to come easy for someone like myself. For some unknown reasons, I can’t get my eyes to shut.  I can’t turn my brain off and my thoughts run wild.
When you have low serotonin levels, coffee has never sounded any better. Coffee seems to cause my shaking to simmer when for most others it would go out of control.  Nothing too sweet, just enough to trickle down my throat. Afterwards, it’s like the fog has been cleared.  The best of course is shared with friends on a cobblestoned street in Europe.  Watching people pass by with smiles on their faces.
When you have low serotonin levels, music has never been more relaxing. Suddenly, all the thoughts are drowned out by someone else’s worries. Instead of my foot bouncing anxiously up and down from nerves, there’s a beat.  If you can give me music to listen to, then you can hear the beat of that rather than the non-rhythmic beat of my anxious feet.
When you have low serotonin levels, friends are the light in a world full of shadows.  They allow me to laugh and smile.  They are what push me to not be afraid.  I talk to them, and suddenly I’m more myself than I have been in months.  I’m laughing, I’m smiling. I’m making jokes.  When I do cry, I have them to lean on.  And I’m forever in their debt.
When you have low serotonin levels, optimism is key. You have to believe you see.  Try and wake up and smile.  Love yourself and those around you. Laugh until your stomach aches.  Cry until a small river has been made.
These are the thoughts from an anxious worrier.
And I don't want to tell you. I don’t have to tell you. Things could be different and I could be somewhere else. But no. Instead I am here.
I don’t want to have to tell you. But maybe you should know.
Thoughts from an anxious worrier.
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