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AK93 Sep 2016
Now I know I've lost my mind
I've gone back to what I left behind
Forgot the progress that I procured
Let myself slip into a state unsure

**I let the universe collapse again
Umi  Jun 2018
The Painted Wolrd
Umi Jun 2018
When everything has been said,
What is left to speak, but recurrance in my speach, over and over..
Alike a painting, drawn within a single colour which fades into darkness, as there is nothing left the sweet, majestic ink could cover.
What is the sense for me to write if the message stays the very same?
Verily, I have forgotten the answer for this question a long time ago.
Perhaps it is, but the sign that the message can be conveyed in many possibilities, ways and forms, such as stories what makes them uniqe.
So even if a painting looks all the same at some point or another,
It is still art, brought from the depths of thoughts, from within a heart
A painting is a world of it's own, but so is a poem, or a simple novel.
Because each contains the hopes and wishes, the effort and care of the person, who made it their passion to create a wonderful piece of art.
Return to the same old place, with the same old pace and you might find  joy in what you came to see yet again, before your tired eyes.
Alike an imaginated landscape drawn within your heart, the memories of a happier time might paint you a world in your head.

~ Umi
I want to give up, I really do
WA West Sep 2018
Moans were heard at a distance,
there a point of separation
between deed and sound
untethered from chance,
dragged time is repeating,
beholden to a frail passage
in the eyes of the yielding sun.
acacia Sep 2018
She wades, she ebbs, and she flows.
She ripples when you touch her, screams as if she's more scared than I.
That isn't true. How could it be?
Fact: she splashes back defensively, exploding onto any being and thing
near her.
What's even more strange about her: she camouflages.
(Though, I must admit she camouflages horribly.)

She belongs to everyone yet no one, though she continues repeating.
She's wide, she's far, she's shallow, she's deeper than our veins.
She's God's original creation (some say she was here before God);
the embodiment of the omniscient. She's like the wind,
like the trees, like the hills.

My fear manifests into anger. She blinds us with her fractals,
dispersing all of the Sun's and Moon's light. She dares to call our names,
tempting us day and night. Calls to us like she knows us as if we
all know her -- we are nothing but strangers.
She even has the audacity to make herself feel so important,
to contribute to our lives. She is the face of youth, of health, of humanity.

Still, as angry as she makes me, she has these magic powers. She calms
and pacifies. By her, all worries wash away.

Still, I have a vendetta.
She gets away with the ****** of me, she gets away with ******
every year. All along the coasts.

On my bed in the evening, I think of ways to get back.
On my bed in the evening, I'm a captive in sleep.
On my bed in the evening, there is no tracing her currents --

there is no carrying her waves.
she is scared of the literal ocean, why
Lizzy Oct 2015
i've tricked them once again
i made them believe that everything was fine.
******* I'm good,
even after all this time.

i'm too good at lying at lying to myself,
I'm too good at pushing away the pain.
and even tricking myself
into believing I'm okay.

you're telling me to breathe
but my throat keeps closing.
you tell me to sleep,
but every night is darkness without dreams.

how am i supposed to write,
without spilling blood on the page.
but this is my job now,
and i need a decent grade.

like forcing a bird to sing for food,
you're wringing me out.
my mind dripping to the floor,
i can't create beautiful things anymore.

i'm writing everything over again.
repeating
repeating
repeating myself.

what do you want me to say?
that everything will be okay?
you want me to make my own light,
give myself a nicholas sparks ending.  

because now I'm exposed,
I'm standing in front of you all.
and you can practically see the blood
dripping down my wrists.

with the world standing behind me,
its hard to keep my focus.
"make it pretty" she says,
"don't let them see you're already dead."

i can't turn tears to holy water,
or my own blood into wine.
i can't create beauty,
staring Darkness in the eyes.
pitch black god8 Aug 2018
~a question of a thousand dreams~^

“Where are you going now my love? Where will you be tomorrow? Will you bring me happiness?  Will you bring me sorrow? All the questions of a thousand dreams, what you do and what you see”

this one composes itself
for all dreams go unremembered
the first, the thousandth, the  every in between,
erased by the push button of opening eyes

but dreams come, marching in, saints mining the raw materiel
the quartermaster has stored, awaiting requisition by an
unarmed unnamed corp, witnessed but never seen

these dreams wisped soft willow budded, tempting taunting,
leaving nothing but unanswered questions that colored come
in black and white

elementary clues,
a pillow indentation,
single hair that stretches
across the sea between two pillows that is blonde or red  
but
certainly unmine,  
dregs of soured sentiment linger like the
aftertaste of too many coffees and stainless steel beers

heated summers breezes give no succor or relief,
and the rain following gives no pleasure,
for now you are hot and soaked,

but somewhere in there a dream is part replayed,
and eyes widening in major league surprise,
the question acknowledged, the dreams quest hinted  

she has gone, neither happiness or sorrow will she
provide on the morrow, no toweling of your wet hair fair,
and you awake sweat besotted, it is not rain, just pain,
and it is only one dream a thousand times repeated

and what you do and what you see
is the abraded night ahead, and
you bitter laugh, for there is no more other than to think,
the question answered, and you beg relief by
uttering
perchance to dream

3:49 pm

see the notes!!


someone accuses me of Plagiarism
because  I did not acknowledge that the quote in marks and Italics was from a famous song written 39 years ago

so here is my response to
“just saying”

congratulations on ******* me off
and yes I agree, you do not know the rules

“#1: Quotation Marks Are for Quoting People—Verbatim
Perhaps it should go without saying, but quotation marks are for quoting people. Quoting doesn’t mean summarizing or paraphrasing; it means repeating exactly what someone said. If you put double quotes around a phrase, your reader will often assume  that someone, somewhere, said that exact phrase or sentence.“

http://thevisualcommunicationguy.com/2013/09/11/10-things-you-really-need-to-know-about-quotation-marks/
lyric  from “Carry On”
by Crosby Stills Nash and Young

which is why it is in quotation marks

but you knew that already

my god strikes me dead ic I ever plagiarized in my life; no splotches of apologies needed
Iska  Dec 2018
Childish Chance
Iska Dec 2018
A chance

All that I ask for is a chance
A chance to meet and not divide
We’ve played this game,
Time and again
And throughout it all
we still remained friends
But to write off someone
based on what you lack
Is a sorry thing
that you have a knack
Of repeating again and again.
I’m not begging for you
to be chummy ole pals
Only I plead for you to meet
without a judgmental scowl.
Though a childish endeavor
I know it to be,
For once I just wish
You could see what I see.
With out the taint of jealousy.
To give a chance and then to decide
Is one thing
But to allow yourself to be clouded with envy and fear
Is a prison noone should be forced to endure.
~Iska
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