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paul Aug 13
I love spouting nonsense / like the man down the street / somewhere in the world where / fairies dance in the meadow / jiuweihu, where are you? / I sat down once / and wrote and wrote / until I was writing no more / the willow quivered / suddenly / the little lady by the river waved her little wave / and I sipped tea from tea cups wiser than me / and I wonder whether / the wind swept me here / or if the words became alive / and took me into their arms / suddenly / existentialism unravels / nothing but now / as I twirl / with my nine-tailed companion / sing with the sirens by the sea / farewell to the gray / settling in little stone houses / and / suddenly / the quiet song of the scholar rises / like odorless smoke / curling around the trees / singing to the universe / in sophistication / it begs simplicity / here is loneliness / here is a beautiful lotus / drowning after her lover / in the Qingshui river / here is the Summer monsoon / precious rain of life / here is the harsh winter / suddenly / death / I spoke to the guqin / I asked him if he knew / what it was I needed to do / to escape his claw / he said / shift your perspective / I laughed / what a silly guqin you are! / yet his whisper resounded in my mind / you are as sad as you think you are / and the willow quivered / and I realized in my waking / I am as sad as I think I am.
paul Aug 13
I lied to the moon / said that the sun is just around the corner / like an old friend / waiting / for fiery topaz chrysanthemums / or tears like rivers / or even just a glimpse / at the lost grains of sand / coming together in / a strange wind / forming a familiar stranger’s face // I lied to the moon / the silver mirror in the sky / reflecting lovers’ radiance / or unbounded sadness / I was fearful / of the reflection of the night / its personality frightened me / as I stared into my own depthless eyes // I lied to the moon / I promised him / the day had come / many days ago / until time left us faded / time is no friend of ours / and like my reflection / with silver hair / a tired smile / and foggy eyes / my spirit sighed // and I saw you again / my fire topaz / solid lifestone / my vital muse / I see you / in the weakness of my spirit / in the fading moonlight / in the golden sunrise / I see you again // Smiling back and waving farewell / I saw you again.
paul Jun 4
and as pale as death himself,
haggard from his infinitely
long trek amongst the lamplights
in the sandbox of the gods,
he stands.

Up, upon the rock he stands.
the place no other has dared trek or
where flesh had failed the spirit,
above the open blue sky of opportunity,
perhaps heaven?

Eyes of gold befitting lion heart and
rags, damp with blood and mud,
manifest the deepest, darkest
room within mortal hearts.
beautiful greed.

Thunder in hand; the King's throne.
and gazing down from his summit,
a chuckle, or a crooked howl
escapes the cracks of his
deformed face.

The peak is cold, a zephyr cuts
like a blade of ice. The hearth is empty,
the table has withered, the gods
are betrayed by Death.
yes, Death.

and as desperate as life herself,
outstretched his hands, unclean
from Pandora's demons, clutching
at that which he gave up;
human nevermore.
Hi! Sorry I haven’t been posting on hp recently...here’s one of my favorites!
paul Nov 2018
In a smile,
a hundred jagged
cuts.
In a smile,
a thousand cold
tears.
In a smile,
a drowning
flame.

In a smile,
a single
spark.

smile, smile, smile
kindle, kindle, kindle
burn, burn, burn,
burn the broken,
the burden,
the bitter.

smile.
paul Oct 2018
These days,
I feel
angry.
crimson.
unsatisfied,
grey,
mediocre.

Compare,
comp­are, compare,
compare, compare, compare.
every second,
every
single
moment.
———
Mirror, mirror,
on the wall,
who's the greatest
of them all?
Not you, not you.
Not you,
you
insignificant
plebeian.
————
A person,
passing by
in
the
background.
all
are
blurred faces.
one is two,
two is nine.
they're all
the same.
——
I guess
we'll be us,
cretino-us
and
jealo-us.
—————
I guess
I'll be me.
me-diocre.
streamlined
down
the
middle
.
  Oct 2018 paul
Grace Conde
I exist
on the border
between Reality,
and the Imaginary.

I breathe in belligerent Black,
and Withering whites.
I am incapable of grays,
a gradient of gruesome Grief.

I dance on the Border,
exhaling exuberant fragility,
my border is made of glass.

And I rise from the ashes,
a Byproduct of the
bridges I've burned.
Craving soothing touch,
Yet silently seeking
Incriminating Isolation,
Addicted to my own destruction.

A shattered soul dutifully
Dances on the Border,
Held captive by her sins.
Trapped between Good
and Bad. Happiness
and Heartbreak. Lost
and Found. Death
and Resurrection.

Born on the Border, a
Simple Figment of
Immoral Imagination.
paul Oct 2018
A vast expanse of
blue and despair,
a grand view,
but a lonely one.
Wind on my skin,
an icy grip,
a hand from the past,
never forgotten.
I wish you were here,
with me.

I didn't do anything today.
I couldn't.
Not with the great blue covering me,
with that arrow through my heart,
shattering it.

I'm scared of many things,
but mostly I'm afraid of nothing.
The nothingness inside my heart,
that void,
that blackness.
That I'll be a hollow man,
empty of love.
Sometimes I reach out,
but mostly I don't,
because that too,
I am scared of.
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