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N M N Sep 30
What am I, what's the meaning of me,
I asked the stars by the silent sea,
Am I but dust in an endless flow,
A fleeting breath where no winds blow?

In the mirror, time unraveled thin,
A face I know, yet never begin,
Am I the ripple or am I the stone?
Forever seeking, forever alone
Standing on the mountain, looking towards the sea
Knowing they’ll both be here long after me
How long have I been here, how long will I stay
Is the time that’s left more than the time that’s passed away?

When I was young, I felt that I’d been here before
It all seems familiar, but I couldn’t say for sure
I don’t know if I’m lost, or I’m just getting one more glance
Or could it just be that God is giving me one more chance

Why we’re here is an idea that nobody is meant to know
The only fact we have is that one day we’ll have to go
Tomorrow is something that one day I won’t get to see
And my Yesterdays will be the only definition there is of me

I’m an old soul, but my body still feels young
My mind has heard the song, but the song I’ve never sung
Time knows all of the things that are still meant to be
Am sometimes I wonder, did Time forget about me?
M Nov 2022
i’ve seen a lot of men jump off bridges
hearing their ironic screams from across
many of them were heartbroken *******
because people don’t jump without a cause

you seek consolation in a desert
where things themselves touch thy sanity
where the small shining sun stings skin and dirt
is there hope for thee? there’s no hope for thee

i regret all that has and would’ve been
(i apologize for the pessimism)
i’m a stupid man who’s gone by nineteen
(i apologize for the nihilism)

but oh am i greatly sorry—alas!
it seems there ain’t tomorrow, my fellas
unironically a banger of a poem ?
16 December 2018
i read an article
on self-realisation today
about how
we are an echo
of the universe
and how we can use
that awareness
to unlock our greatness

it stated that
an echo is merely
a vibration bouncing
from point
   to point
across an expanse
it explained that
all objects
throughout the universe
pulsate with energy
that all objects
are a manifestation
of energy;
therefore we are
nothing more than
clusters of energy
vibrating
           bouncing
     ricocheting
through space and time

over time
echoes weaken and fade
into nothingness
returning to
the universe's preferred
state of equilibrium
that cosmic balance
between order and chaos
which existed long before
our disturbance and
will surely return again

the article was meant to be
an aid for practicing inner peace
but it seems i may have
missed the point
the dead bird Sep 2021
What am I supposed to do with all
Of this
Unhinged
Passion —
Okay, calling it passion is a stretch.
It’s boiling ******* anger
For my own existence.

What am I to do?
Share it? With whom?
Who might appreciate?
Even if they do,
I’d probably be dissatisfied
About something.
I’m sure of it.

Why am I so
Existentially dissatisfied?
At what point will I think
Anything is enough,
Or worthy of my
Approval?

Does it need to destroy me in order for me to respect it?

I’m making myself sound like a *****.
Really, I am
But a self aware one.
Like, I realize that I’m a pretentious *******
And I hate myself for it,
So that you don’t have to.

Why do I long for attention,
When I am so
Disgusted
By it

Just pathetic,
It’s like I think
the window which I’m looking out of
Makes me better
Than those who have a different view.

Sometimes I wish I was stupid so that I wouldn’t think I was better than other people.
Or at least stupid enough
To ignore my own hypocrisy.
Why the ****
does it always come back to
That story about
The flowers for that dead ******* rat

Is it too late to get a lobotomy?
I hate myself for hating myself for hating other people. Also yes I did really want to be a nihilist when I first studied Camus & the three schools ****. I settled on exestential nihilism for awhile. now, me and the Absurd sit and smoke blunts together and laugh at my pathetic existence
Daisy Hemlock Jul 2021
I've learned to know without thinking
In fact, I barely even use my brain
I'm dumb.
But I know a few things
And at least I have a heart
Todd Paropacic May 2021
Sycophants and Salisbury!
What does the basket in your heart hold?
Doris Dearess,
The where has gone
And sold away the wind.
Now my little hairs
Stand cold,
And I feel older than old.
Todd Paropacic May 2021
Kool-Aid and calculated risk taking,

A brisk walk on the mild side

Has left you wanting more.

The line is breaking,

But be careful what you fish for.

There’s a knock on the door

And it’s for you,

Yeah, so it’s for you.




I remember stepping into the brine

As you tip tapped the tick tock

To keep it in line.

It was running out of rhyme and time

Was set to trickling

And tickling from inside.




Doris day and Doris night!

The stars about won’t start a fight

If you talk to them like that,

My dear.

Celestial bodies are not fans

Of blood,

And blood breeds bad seeds

That shoot at the moon

Like thieves.




The gull are shook,

Rattling frigid looks,

And the crooks are creeping

Up the hall.

Oh, Doris,

I can see them all,

And they call like crows

In a catered carrion free for all.




As the sun fades

Into its aquatic grave,

I save a test from the ******* past

And, Doris,

You have loaned stones to my

House of glass.

You’ve crashed,

And you’ve bashed,

And you’ve lashed yourself

To a mast

That you aren’t willing to steer.

In this instance,

I can still hear the bruising pier,

Cheering and jeering,

Until it believed its last.
This is part one in a ten part narrative poem. The whole thing tells the story of some unidentified incident, a nasty time in an unknown person's life. Doris may be many things. Doris may be nothing.
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