Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Oct 2014
The Messiah Complex
You & I,
are a lullaby

We're the deafening *silence

just after the crash
we are moments of happiness
that never last

We're a riddle
that has no answer
we are both the cure
and the cancer

We've read this book
a thousand times, and in our hearts
we both know this fairytale
can never have a happy ending
I wish it did.....
 Oct 2014
GitacharYa VedaLa
Eyes are mine
Tears are mine
The finger is mine

And yes, optimism is a mine
As you dig
So you get

The gold
 Oct 2014
Sia Jane
I'm made of all;
The books I've ever read
Poems I've ever written
Faces who have smiled at me
Hugs that have wrapped around me
Caresses that have graced my inner thigh
Countries & continents my feet have touched
The lovers as we simultaneously reach ecstasy within
Lonely nights shedding tear drops
Nights gazing black skies moon & stars
Children falling asleep to my heartbeat
Animals whose soul was found through reflective eye stares
Conversations spoken in French, Spanish, Italian, Xhosa, Afrikaans, Norwegian, German
Years of ******-, cognitive-, dialectical-, art-, drama-, music-, mindfulness-, trauma-, psychiatry-; therapies
The drinks & drugs & mind altering substances dispersing my mind
In all I'm made of;
Love
Lust
Greed
Fear
Joy
Freedom
Longing
Dreams
Despair
Sadne­ss
Anger
Frustrations
Happiness
Anxieties
Insecurities....

In all I'm made of;

A soul; securely contained within a body of battled scars;
over;
pain & triumphs, losses & gains, rejections & acceptances, dishonours & accolades...

With the hope; she too, can live life through.

© Sia Jane
Written at 1.53am
 Oct 2014
Forgotten Heart
i'm cheating myself
with that one feeling - that
"may be he loves me secretly
without telling me"
but i know he won't love me
 Oct 2014
Amitav Radiance
Set the paint brushes on fire
Brush your feelings on paper
To paint the most beautiful picture
With the exclusive hues
Every word immersed in love
Colors of the soul and pure emotions
Sweeping across the paper
 Oct 2014
GitacharYa VedaLa
They are the parallel lines that meet
In the cerebral heat
All that chatter
Everything that matter
Creates life
Without the power of knife

In the rumble of their feet
It's nonsense that they defeat

They are the parallel lines that meet
In the cerebral heat
One of my personal favourites
 Oct 2014
Rupal
Alone
yet accompanied
by the sea
called humanity
I walk each day.

A step
closer to You.

My loved ones
nothing but
porcelain dolls,
to be
handled with care,
fragile
so easily broken...
i dare not hold
with trembling hands.

Am I your thought,
your desire,
a mantra you chant,
your creation
OR
a figment
of my
own imagination...

ALONE,
yet accompanied...
 Oct 2014
st64
The poverty of yesterday was less squalid than the poverty we purchase with our industry today.
Fortunes were smaller then as well.
(The Elderly Lady)




After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open

With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.


After a while you learn…
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure…
That you really are strong
And you really do have worth…
And you learn and learn…

With every good-bye you learn.





{…}



As I think of the many myths, there is one that is very harmful, and that is the myth of countries. I mean, why should I think of myself as being an Argentine, and not a Chilean, and not an Uruguayan.
I don't know really.
All of those myths that we impose on ourselves — and they make for hatred, for war, for enmity — are very harmful.
Well, I suppose in the long run, governments and countries will die out and we'll be just, well, cosmopolitans.*    --J. L. Borges
Jorge Luis Borges (24 August 1899 – 14 June 1986) was an Argentine writer who is considered one of the foremost literary figures of the 20th century.
Most famous in the English speaking world for his short stories and fictive essays, Borges was also a poet, critic, translator and man of letters.



Words by Jorge Luis Borges

1.
"All things have been given to us for a purpose, and an artist must feel this more intensely. All that happens to us, including our humiliations, our misfortunes, our embarrassments, all is given to us as raw material, as clay, so that we may shape our art." ----- J.L. Borges


2.
"Doubt is one of the names of intelligence."


3.
"May Heaven exist, even if my place is Hell.
Let me be tortured and battered and annihilated,
but let there be one instant, one creature,
wherein thy enormous Library may find its justification."

4.
"Dictatorships foster oppression, dictatorships foster servitude, dictatorships foster cruelty; more abominable is the fact that they foster idiocy.
(Statement to the Argentine Society of Letters, c.1946)

5.
I would define the baroque as that style that deliberately exhausts (or tries to exhaust) its own possibilities, and that borders on self-caricature.
The baroque is the final stage in all art, when art flaunts and squanders its resources.
(A Universal History of Iniquity, preface to the 1954 edition)

6.
Do you want to see what human eyes have never seen?
Look at the moon.
Do you want to hear what ears have never heard?
Listen to the bird's cry.
Do you want to touch what hands have never touched?
Touch the earth.
Verily I say that God is about to create the world.
(The Theologians)


7.
Years of solitude had taught him that, in one's memory, all days tend to be the same, but that there is not a day, not even in jail or in the hospital, which does not bring surprises, which is not a translucent network of minimal surprises.
(The Waiting)



8.
Being with you and not being with you is the only way I have to measure time.
(The Threatened)


9.
Truly fine poetry must be read aloud. A good poem does not allow itself to be read in a low voice or silently. If we can read it silently, it is not a valid poem: a poem demands pronunciation.
Poetry always remembers that it was an oral art before it was a written art. It remembers that it was first song.
(The Divine Comedy) (1977)

10.
Time carries him as the river carries
A leaf in the downstream water.
No matter. The enchanted one insists
And shapes God with delicate geometry.
Since his illness, since his birth,
He goes on constructing God with the word.
The mightiest love was granted him
Love that does not expect to be loved.
(Baruch Spinoza)
 Oct 2014
Petal pie
To you I may just be a grain of sand, caught between your toes
But you will not have my experience, so you cannot know
How it feels to float on a shark fin or rest on a mermaid's breast
Or do a jig with a conga eel, now  that really was the best
So before you cast me aside to clean your human foot
Take a super duper microscope and take a closer look
At me and my sparkly sandy compatriots as we glisten in the light
A dazzling array of shell fragments and glass nuggets so bright!
 Oct 2014
Doy A
This is where we are now
You, holding my hand
And me, holding my breath
Uncertain, unknowing
Uneasy, uncaring
Together, we swim onwards
Drifting ever closer, closer
In this ocean, open water
Finally, *finally.
 Sep 2014
jeffrey robin
(                                                                
)            
(                                                        
)                          
(                                                
\/                                                
/\                                                  
/    \                                                  
####



The wisdom of ages          Lingers

We walk Ancient Hills

••

Gentle maidens
                                       Children 's spirits

//   //                      
Pure Warriors
                         //  //

LOVE

•     •

The winds !

Her sacred breath reflecting

Perfect Reasons                                                  


Free people !

( memories    !  )

///

In the MATRIX  and ILLUMINATI chains

We are

But we are raring to escape !

//    ::   //

Gently

Wisdom yields

Be a Lover !

( reveal your Face )

From out the Prison walls

Unto the Holy Sanctuary

Unto the Pure lit company

Of those who love with no constraint
 Sep 2014
M
I tried keeping my love to myself and it left me empty-

Bottling up all I have left me heavy.

The weight anchored me to a quiet ocean floor beyond the sunlight.

So I took my love and divided it up in ways I can give to everyone-

The corny yet punny sense of humor, the hand to hold, the advice even when you don't want it, the adventure seeker, the invested listening, the lover, the 2 am "I'm thinking too much my heart might implode" texter, the hopeful disposition, the empathy, the person you can call only when you need.

I learned that keeping all my love kept me in the dark,

And giving it all to one left me eventually alone.

I learned that in order to float back up from the depths, I had to love far and wide;

I learned that this is how I must be to stay alive.
I know that I do love people and at that, I don't always do it well. I struggle most with loving myself and loving other people. Ironically those are the two types of love I want most. I've learned though, that in loving many has helped me more than giving it all away or bottling it all up. I sometimes feel sad that I'm not any one persons perse number one person but I am indeed a person for many. I am lucky to know the amount of people I do, and at that know them well enough that I could turn to just about any of them.
 Sep 2014
SG Holter
I scroll down your pages,
Each line making me hungry for
The next.

Father Eagle, wings spanning
Across multiple decades
Of strong life lived.

How many poetlings have you
Hatched from the cold, solid
Shells of their insecurity?

How many hearts have you
Guided from the darker corners
Of creativity, and

Into the light of a broader sprecrum
Of impression and expression?
How many lives

May just have been saved by the
Firm foundations of the attitudes you
Gift us with?

Keep challenging us, uncle Joe.
Keep soaring above the landscapes
Of ink and paper, of fingers

Painting themselves through keyboards,  
On nights where sleep has to yield
To the force of inspiration,

And remember...
You will live forever in the hearts
You have touched.

Long after your work is done in  
This world you made more beautiful and
Meaningful to so many;  

Once you become one with the trees,
Flowers, fields and woods that you
Love; even making those

Landscapes with which we all must
Merge more wonderful with your
Own perpetual grace,

You will be thought of. Spoken of,
Written of, reminisced about.
You tremendous man,

Friend, inspirator, teacher, creator.
May you live forever. A king cloathed
In ashes; humble.

A god, wearing Man, loving every
Strand of grass he graces with
His footprint.

You hold a thousand pens. You conduct
Legions of observers and transmitters.
You are the leaf you asked us to

Write about; at its most beautiful in
Autumn. Yellow. Dry enough to leave
Its tree and flutter through

It all. Unattached.
Unconcerned with
Winter.
Next page