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nyant May 25
I'm at the brink of my ink,
the more time to think,
the deeper I sink,
it hits the fan,
the room starts to stink,
change the web of my patterns,
trying to see the link,
little extra ****** oil left in my lantern,
my light burns dimly,
you said you won't be quick to ***** a smoldering wick,
I'm tired and sick,
sad stories and tragedies,
got me feeling like faith is a fallacy,
recently all I've had is grief in my gallery,
concerned by my comfort with pain,
tell my brother not to be like professor X but I often do the same,
carry the weight of the world,
thinking that will bring some change.

If you're just about to quit,
jump, hang or slit,
I don't blame you,
this place can break you,
before you leave,
have you ever been?
have you ever seen?
The pitiable prince of peace?
I don't refer to the replicas but the real thing,
the true King,
have you ever picked up his call and let his words ring?
don't leave his message unread,
if you feel like the walking dead,
he's prepared a table for those who,
thirst for water and hunger for bread,
I can't guarantee an easier road,
but I can testify that trusting Jesus lightens the load.

After visiting his gallery,
I was perplexed by his power,
curious of his character,
lopsided by his love.

I hope he gives you enough to hold on.
nyant May 24
Can't forget the depths from which we were brought,
that would waste the weight of all
we were taught,
the tension in the string,
as puppets pass the plate,
hoping it will decide their eternal fate,
little knowing the price was paid in full,
sometimes it matters where you go to school.

Now the brain is bullied and battered,
as the oppressor is the professor,
divulging deceit so they can never find their feet,
there's a dependency on piety as to a diety,
drinking from a stagnant stream,
thirsty for fresh waters,
calling all sons and daughters to the river of life,
branch on to the vine that satisfies the soul.

Wrestling in the centre of the ring,
the compression in the spring,
once slaves to the waves that toss,
count it all as loss just to know the one who paid a great cost.
nyant May 17
Is all fair in love and war?
Clothe me when I'm naked and bare,
Put off excuses that you are unaware,
Do you see me? Do you care?
I'm flailing in flames yet you simply stare.

What are you running from?
Do you see that we are all refugees?
Seeking our own ideas of peace and harmony,
We all just want to be free.

I had an Israeli peer named Mahdi,
a Palestine named Ali,
both came to my country to live regularly,
they could have been great friends but war makes a stranger an enemy.

What is the price of the wars we wage?
nyant Apr 24
I used to think I was humble till it was tested,
Same goes for patience, honesty, loyalty and every virtue you can measure,
Can't be a healthy dog if I've never been vetted.

At my most creative when in a crisis,
those momentary lapses when the pooh hits the ceiling and there's no piglet in sight to console me,
yeah no homie just the mirror,
all's left bare and I see a little clearer,
they say draw near to Him and He'll draw nearer...

All in all it's always easier to theorise a response,
I'm starting to realise there's more to myself,
gotta stop being a spectator and get in the driving seat,
will I gain sweet victory or defeat?
We'll have to weight and see.

To some we are serpents to some saints,
I guess it all depends on the picture one paints,
I've learned not to bother to greatly about perception,
there's a deformity of person hood that comes with the fear of rejection.

I'm out of time but I can't let that rush me,
most errors are made in a hurry,
I need a dream team of people,
perhaps that's the difference between LeBron and Curry (lol respect to both),
though I can't tell between the wolves and the sheep though,
haha that sounds a little hypocritical right?
Didn't I just say earlier that to some we are such and such?
Well I too reside among the some,
with people that I've learned to distrust,
iron sharpens iron but the wrong friends can make the whole structure rust.
Nonetheless if they moving shaky,
still might offer a hand of help.

Here's to the pursuit of life in existence,
going against the grain,
the resistance,
when you're trying to preserve things,
you take everything with a grain of salt.

I hope you find something valuable in my random rumination,
I guess it's goodbye till my next 'revelation'.
nyant Apr 20
Tik tok kilks the clock,
Twitter when I'm bitter,
Insta when anxt,
Facebook for a quick look at my standing on the social strata,
what's the cost to my oblongata?
nyant Apr 16
"Clocks" coldly plays in my ears,
"...part of the cure or the disease?"
It's amazing how misunderstandings (and music) can help one cope.
When I feel short of oil in my lamp,
the right words at the right time act like an amp,
"Rage rage against the dying of the light."
As Dylan Thomas mourned paternal mortality,
in ignorance the words of the weeping Welshman gave me temporal vitality,
even now that I'm aware of their accurate intent,
to my own interpretation I remain bent because if I don't hold the meaning that I first saw I lose breath as they become irrelevent.

Hence, in a an era of persistent pandemics, "progress" and injustice,
my spirit crawls with a flickering wick,
body weighed weak like a walking stick,
mind searching for life in a eulogy,
still seeking to slay the cynic in me,
wishing for wrongs to be made right,
raging against the dying...
nyant Mar 23
Life appears as a sea of disease,
with waves that whelm woefully,
while wisdom wails from the deep,
"Perhaps in pain, they'll notice me".

What a mess we've made,
foolish game we've played,
the scene is tense,
at what expense?

Nonetheless we must not cower to fear in this new year.

Be cruelly kind,
frightfully fearless,
expedietly patient,
drunkenly sober.

Believe a better story,
knead a neater narrative,
apathy is insidious,
for every sickening sad tale,
seek a double dose of positive too.

There is a call to resolve,
till the final curtain creeps,
there is a call to dissolve,
till one's final baited breath,
there is a call to live in love,
embodied and embellished,
laying awake with a dream of a better day in the face of apparent decay,
putting on the full shield,
we must not yield,
either hand is the upper hand,
having done all we can, we must stand.
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