Members
Poems
Rich
Aug 2018
Am I in the right headspace?
Do I travel the galaxies conjured by my thoughts just to end up in black holes?
I’m seeking epiphanies
You know, those elusive supernovas that defy even the eyes of gods
I claim to be rich in spirit, yes
Trying to measure my wealth with the hours I spend in the stratosphere
above every worry that injects my bones with the weight of 2 Earths-
the weight of a place that doesn’t want to ever wait
Yet it must
You can’t break a chrysalis and expect patterns on the wings
You’ll get misshapen kaleidoscopes
and fragmented isotopes
beings who’ve never climbed but will die trying to ascend ropes
Am I in the right headspace?
Is my consciousness a constellation waiting to take form?
What will be the shape?
I’ll never be strong enough to resemble the buckle on Orion’s belt
I’ll never be the mouth at the big dipper,
drunk on the secrets of the cosmos
I’d want to be the hands gripping Polaris
sharing light for the planets who only see a moon rise
Am I in the right headspace?
Because I’ve fallen into nebulas,
realms where humans stand on the heads of giants yet look no higher
I’ve seen flawed ideologies that challenge monuments with their size
I wonder what it’d take for us to realize that we could be immortals
free from the finite mentalities that stunt our growth from the very roots.
Do I travel the galaxies conjured by my thoughts just to end up in black holes?
I’m seeking epiphanies
You know, those elusive supernovas that defy even the eyes of gods
I claim to be rich in spirit, yes
Trying to measure my wealth with the hours I spend in the stratosphere
above every worry that injects my bones with the weight of 2 Earths-
the weight of a place that doesn’t want to ever wait
Yet it must
You can’t break a chrysalis and expect patterns on the wings
You’ll get misshapen kaleidoscopes
and fragmented isotopes
beings who’ve never climbed but will die trying to ascend ropes
Am I in the right headspace?
Is my consciousness a constellation waiting to take form?
What will be the shape?
I’ll never be strong enough to resemble the buckle on Orion’s belt
I’ll never be the mouth at the big dipper,
drunk on the secrets of the cosmos
I’d want to be the hands gripping Polaris
sharing light for the planets who only see a moon rise
Am I in the right headspace?
Because I’ve fallen into nebulas,
realms where humans stand on the heads of giants yet look no higher
I’ve seen flawed ideologies that challenge monuments with their size
I wonder what it’d take for us to realize that we could be immortals
free from the finite mentalities that stunt our growth from the very roots.
Destiny C
Nov 2017
Get out of my headspace ...
It's too clouded.
I'm no longer able to decipher the view outside ,
my eyes are no longer a window,
the brain just a sham of the thoughts once creatively flowed.
A raging storm within.
How long will this go on?
days ? weeks? months? years?
or perhaps maybe even an eternity?
It's a blizzard unfit for humanity ,
my deepest innermost thoughts are frozen solid ,
no longer spirits they once were,
you need to leave.
This headspace of mine cannot bare it any longer.
It may spread to my body.
The cold is numbing,
dehabiliting to the mind.
Imagine what it could do to my body,
halt all movement,
solidify the blood in every vain,
creating a state of frozen paralysis.
The only outcome is death.
Please leave my headspace.
You are no longer welcome.
These chills down my spine are a foreshadowing of the destruction to come to my temple.
It's too clouded.
I'm no longer able to decipher the view outside ,
my eyes are no longer a window,
the brain just a sham of the thoughts once creatively flowed.
A raging storm within.
How long will this go on?
days ? weeks? months? years?
or perhaps maybe even an eternity?
It's a blizzard unfit for humanity ,
my deepest innermost thoughts are frozen solid ,
no longer spirits they once were,
you need to leave.
This headspace of mine cannot bare it any longer.
It may spread to my body.
The cold is numbing,
dehabiliting to the mind.
Imagine what it could do to my body,
halt all movement,
solidify the blood in every vain,
creating a state of frozen paralysis.
The only outcome is death.
Please leave my headspace.
You are no longer welcome.
These chills down my spine are a foreshadowing of the destruction to come to my temple.
Miss Saitwal
Aug 2018
Places where we go and free our headspace,
spreading our hands and feeling the raindrops.
It felt like an unique amalgamation of fright, fury and pure joy.
Fright of all the obligations barged on the soul.
Fright of not being with the right people at the right time.
Fright of falling on our own feet.
Round & round on the playground,
with an overwhelming typsy feeling.
The joy of sliding on the slippery dip,
touching the sky hanging on the swing.
The breeze touching the feet, playing with the hair & ticking the ears, until we fear to fall on the ground.
The alarming feeling of how precious our life is.
The joy of constantly working on ourselves to improve in life.
The joy of keeping ourselves first.
The joy of not missing out & living in the moment;
The joy of emphatic long conversations,
The joy of selfless efforts with no expectations.
The joy of doing the right things,
always at an unsuitable time;
The joy of being intutive over calculative.
The joy of spending fruitful earnings;
& believing in karma.
Feeling no need to explain our way of doing things
& doing what makes us feel good about ourselves.
Absolute joy of not being too ******* ourselves.
All joyful things go wrong, because it is their job to.
We make all dreadful things right, because it is our job to.
It all makes sense now,
We must get up,
spread your hands,
feel the raindrops,
and say,
“We made it all worth.”
spreading our hands and feeling the raindrops.
It felt like an unique amalgamation of fright, fury and pure joy.
Fright of all the obligations barged on the soul.
Fright of not being with the right people at the right time.
Fright of falling on our own feet.
Round & round on the playground,
with an overwhelming typsy feeling.
The joy of sliding on the slippery dip,
touching the sky hanging on the swing.
The breeze touching the feet, playing with the hair & ticking the ears, until we fear to fall on the ground.
The alarming feeling of how precious our life is.
The joy of constantly working on ourselves to improve in life.
The joy of keeping ourselves first.
The joy of not missing out & living in the moment;
The joy of emphatic long conversations,
The joy of selfless efforts with no expectations.
The joy of doing the right things,
always at an unsuitable time;
The joy of being intutive over calculative.
The joy of spending fruitful earnings;
& believing in karma.
Feeling no need to explain our way of doing things
& doing what makes us feel good about ourselves.
Absolute joy of not being too ******* ourselves.
All joyful things go wrong, because it is their job to.
We make all dreadful things right, because it is our job to.
It all makes sense now,
We must get up,
spread your hands,
feel the raindrops,
and say,
“We made it all worth.”