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 Dec 3
irinia
yes, it is real, as real as daylight
how history recycles itself
darkness is falling with the speed of thoughts
of certainties, of pathos, of a wounded hope
I feel like screaming, I feel like weeping and
this can change nothing, and I can't find a better metaphor
we hurt each other unwittingly if we stop thinking together
if we stop talking, stop listening to each other
how vulnerable we can be, how deceptive
how potent the unhealed wounds
they write history books

an abstract darkness is near, a concrete darkness
division and such pain in the depth of the living
a darkness without perfume but blind screaming
disguised in a blinding light,
so old that it keeps reinventing
the destruction of saturated worlds
the social body can not survive without a heart
without a multiple mind
 Jun 2023
irinia
"I'm not able to rid myself of my self."  Herve Guibert

days alienated from nights,
from the magnitude of their roots
in the absence of your touch
electric love poems on the tip of your tongue
an electric symetry seems to surface in me today
in the doorway

I surrender to the nascent desire and glance into
the protocol of impulse, the chemistry of freedom inhaled
energetic transference from your skin onto mine
a cave woman deeper than me insists to dress me
in your unknown selves since
I have nothing else to undress, like a wound
 Apr 2023
irinia
oh, how the world really functions
the most unbearable aliveness, pain
so good to have tears to offer to
the god of patience and enduring
I pray for a gentle pain,
a gentle sway of caring
the courage of dawn
 Sep 2018
PrttyBrd
i.

melted ice cream afternoons
bogged down

rising from asphalt
in magical mist
that transforms
the day into
a test of endurance

even dusk offers
no solace
in frozen watermelon bliss


ii.

smoke permeates fabric
hair and every surface
with peace and grit
wafting over
the crispy
edges of predawn

begging sleep
to the most stubborn
insomniac

rotisserie style dreams
till morning


iii.

there's less death today
waiting in line
in candy store nightmares
begging silence
from the jubilant

but the sky turned up
a dream state

in that beguiling beauty
is brilliance


iv.

in shadows
the earth falls silent

rustling through
tall tales
the moon births

images in hidden corners

evening strolls
turn adventures

and every day
burns quick
to be reborn slowly


v.

the weight of hell
in short tempered bites
**** will with a proficiency
unseen outside
a viper's silent hunt

ready for war
with fists losing
responsibility

breaking triple digit
pressure


vi.

Incessant banging through walls built faster than I am strong enough to demolish, cradling lace so it won't rip on my forked tongue. There is only so much care left to handle perception just trying to breathe through a smile.
91218
190w
 Sep 2018
Harley Hucof
Hunting for redemption to attain our immoral remission
We believe forgiveness is needed to endure our mission

Escaping our past in a vile bottle of wine
Wisdom is what we seek due to all the mistreated time

Sages and savages, the two faces of the coin
In this feral world, wich one was i born?


Words Of Harfouchism
 Aug 2018
Harley Hucof
I resonate
Smiling down from my room
Expectations kills reality
Just as reality kills fantasies

Are they my friends ?

I see the enemy in front of me
He is fearful and he is mocking me

Whispers and looks
Dishonest insects trying to be the center of attention in the room

I am aware of them
Their masks and uniforms
Their scent and their many forms

It is easy to be seduced
But not anymore
I will not be used

There are still many shapes for me to become
Wisdom is the opposite of freedom

I see the enemy in front of me
He is laughing and he is looking at me

I want to end this but he is not letting me

I see the enemy in front of me
Suddenly everything is clearer
I am looking at myself in the mirror

I can't feel anything

But i resonate

Words Of Harfouchism
I am my own enemy and my ego is stopping me from being happy
 Jul 2018
Harley Hucof
Do you ask yourself , like me ?
When will your obssesions leave you be ?

Will time ever stop so you can truly be free ?

Once again i am all by myself , facing the sea

the city is empty

I am leaking thoughts
Trying to make sense of the man i have become

I try to focus but i keep drifting away

The city is empty

There is a conflict inside of me full of sway
Lost in the thought of the voice i must obey
Far beyond myself, it is the only way to keep at bay

I let go as i fade away

In the background the echo of a queen made of clay: pray my son! You must pray!


Words Of Harfouchism
 May 2018
Megan
We were always crazy kids with crazy dreams.
And we never changed.
Crazy kids.
With their crazy ideas.
Ideas of world peace and of no hunger.
These crazy kids they say.
But I’m one of them.
A crazy kid with her own crazy ideas.
Crazy dreams.
Dreams full of nothing but the future.
Crazy girl. With your crazy thoughts.
Stop for a second.
They’ll say give up.
Don’t do it crazy kid.
Don’t ever look back.
Or down. Or away.
Crazy kid with your crazy thoughts.
What will you think of next?
I want to progress... I want to change things.
 Apr 2018
Jessy
I’m happy
(I’m depressed)

I love myself
(I hate myself)

I can’t wait to live my life
(I can’t wait to die)

I am lucky to have my friends
(why do they even like me?)

I have a family who loves me
(and I continue to disappoint them)

I am an excellent student
(I can’t focus in school)

I want to travel the world
(will I even live to do that?)

I’m fine
(I’m not fine)

I’m perfectly okay
(please help me)
 Mar 2018
Julian Delia
Picture –
The ancient slave
On one knee, hands in chains
From his dreams, he refrains
A soul destined
To follow his master
Like a beaten dog tied to a post.
The few who rebelled
Either died, or were expelled,
Outcasts for life,
Labelled as heretics, agents of strife.

The ancient slave
Was born a slave, a captive soul
Animated as a shadow, not a whole.
No freedom, no choice –
A voice
With its chords tied,
Its right to speak denied
Because slavers and a bill of sale said so.

Visualise –
The modern slave
The one who is born
Not with bonds made of chains
But of laws,
Of the systemic corruption
The incessant drive for consumption
And the illusion of freedom.
It is the modern slave
Who lives the greatest lie –
A purposeless drone who will die
Thinking he has lived
Because he had an affair with life.

A life fully savoured
Cannot be just this.
Working 40 – 60 hour weeks
A system that just reeks
Of exploitation,
Of the horrible foundation
On which everything we know is built.

Most of us
Work to eat, to provide,
No secret accounts to hide;
Most of us
Make enough to get by,
Maybe enjoy the weekend
When given the leave to do so.
Most of us
Have this affair with life
Living freely for a few hours
Like rain when it’s just summer showers
Brief flickers, drops of rain
Sprinkled onto an otherwise barren field of crops
Of which the main harvest is pain.



A few of us, however,
Endlessly profit and plunder;
The modern slave
Differs from his ancestor
For he chooses his master
And loves him.
He is conned
Into thinking his masters care
Allegiances are laid bare
Hands are cast in adulation
Rights undergo strangulation
And nobody bats an eyelid.

The modern slave
Caresses his chains,
Wears them like a badge of office
Distaste for dissidence of the state
Pouring out of every orifice.
The modern slave
Could learn and understand
Confront the shimmering illusion, the shifting sand
That is the realm of made men,
But doesn’t.

Rather than fight back
We consume the great lie like crack;
These made men
Will run our planet into the ground
Until it is no longer a home
But a graveyard made for us, by us.
These made men
Spin lies, smear the truth
Force them to mingle and interchange
Like mismatched lovers in a diner booth.
Reality has shifted
It has become unbelievably twisted,
Our perceptions are suffering.
Towards each other, we direct our hostility
Unable to grasp the possibility
Of a better way.

The modern slave
Is cosy in his prison cell;
The reality of the world outside
Is a structured, engineered hell
To be avoided.
So, we just build our own bubble
Outside of which
Our only, primary concern
Is how to get rich.

Life isn’t meant to be an affair;
Life shouldn’t be
Something we are given permission for
But a free pursuit of happiness,
A learning experience.
So, with this I will conclude –
Raise your fists in the air
If you are tired of living bare,
Resist
If you’re tired of a world that does not care.
 Feb 2018
Megan
Death and Life sat together
Watching as the sun
Went away that night and said
Goodnight to everyone

Death was looking at Life
Whose head was pointed to the ground
Why my beautiful Mistress
Do you carry such a frown?

Life replied sadly,
I am sad to only see
That tears and screams await you
And all the smiles go to me

Death now understood
Why his mistress was depressed
I can't explain it all, said he
But I'll try to do my best.

Death, hand in hand with Life,
Started to explain,
I am a Truth that can't be outrun,
But you are a Lie that they live away.

You are merely temporary,
But I am always imminent,
Although they want the opposite
I am stuck forever, permanent

But isn't there- said Life
Who was promptly stopped by Death,
No, he answered, there's none.
So she cried through broken breaths

Death heard a familiar ring;
And all too familiar it was.
I must be going.
And you should leave as well,
For reasons you should be knowing.

Yes, said Life
Through her broken cries,
For you are the Unwanted Truth,
And I am their Beautiful Lies.

Death began to chuckle,
Yes this is true.
That every Truth ends with me,
And every Lie begins with you.

So they walked away together
And through the hospital doors,
One to tell a Truth,
And the other to Lie once more.
I based this poem off of a cute comic I saw on tumblr. ^_^
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