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Zywa May 27
Something sings beneath

reality, there's the beat --


of a heart, loudly.
"Underneath" (2022, Jasna Velickovic), composition for hyperorgan, part 1 of a chain composition by ten composers, performed by her in the Organpark on May 20th, 2022

Collection "org anp ark" #208
Eyithen Apr 8
Why do we distort beauty?
Beauty can be power, but it can also be a burden
I never understood, but now I do

When we are not bestowed with it,
We cage it by any and all means possible
We mock those who lack it and hate those who have it

Green monsters rise in us
We blur the pure with cold blacks and angry reds
We blame them while we try to be them
I suppose jealousy is a fickle thing

In the stories of old, they say one is blessed with beauty
To gain the admirable attention of others,
How it must feel to be dotted on

But then comes the curse
Of having too much attention
Of getting the wrong attention
Of being objectified and not respected
Of being catcalled in the streets and attempting to ignore crass comments and rude remarks.

Like the attention
Don't like the attention
To be called beautiful is such a nice thing
Until it's not.
Zywa Jan 3
Listen to me, as half as I am
Talk to me, talk about me
to your loved ones, to your friends
Talk!
about my big eyes, my crazy dreams
And I, what I want, is lots of things
to tell you, to touch you
Yeah, that's it

.....Here, this is who I am
.....Here I stand, naked in front of you, yes
.....I am afraid
.....Here I stand, silent in the fuss

Look at me, look at least
to what's left of me
Look at me, before I hate myself
What can I tell you that
no one else would tell you?
Just a few things, but
it's me, who I am, I offer you all
I have, here you go

.....Here, this is who I am
.....as naked as I stand here
.....there is nothing more
.....This is my mouth, my cry
.....okay, this is me
.....Here, here, here I am I
.....my dreams, my desires
.....the way I expose myself, the way I smile
.....Here I stand, silent in the fuss

Don't leave, please, stay for a long time
even if it won't save me, no
but without you I don't know how
Love me like you love a friend
who is leaving forever
I want you to love me
because I don't know that well
how I should love my half me

.....Here, this is who I am
.....as naked as I stand here
.....there is nothing more
.....Here I stand in the fuss and in the storm
.....Please look at me
.....to my eyes and my hands
.....This is all I have to offer
.....my mouth, my cry
.....Here I am, here I am, here
.....here, here
.....here, here
Free translation of the song "Voilà" ("Here I am", 2021, Barbara Pravi)

For Maria Godschalk #154

Collection "Reaching out"
Naeem Dec 2021
Just another self-indulged addict
Addicted to the attention writing brings
So I indulge this hobby that separates me from them
In hopes you'll give me my next fix
And sustain me the days my creativity runs dry
A writers block
An addicts road to recovery

I write to be different
I write for the attention
I write for my addiction.
a poet, an addict, where's the difference?
Zywa Nov 2021
Is waiting waiting

if you start having a talk --


about who you are?
Waiting room --- Collection "The drama"
Minnie Chuer Oct 2021
It's posed a question
In consideration of your feelings
"Would you like to?"
But really it's a plea
A desire
An outstretched hand
Reaching out during an icy storm

I don't always need to ask for your attention
but I fear waiting for it is not enough
So I open my heart
and bear the icy storm
blindly pushing through the snow
in hopes I happen to walk into your open arms
i just want my friends to lov me plz i care about them so much
Sarah Delaney Oct 2021
I remember twirling around in circles, bare feet on the gray concrete floor of the one car garage.
The space filling with the thick smoke from your cigar drifting about, filling both our lungs with the poisonous chemicals.
My five year old self wearing a loose fitted Barbie dress,
“Daddy, look at me! I’m a Princess!” I shout with laughter, posing dramatically.
“Not now, the adults are talking!” You said sternly.
I cower away from you and go back to my childish dancing,
Oh, how badly I wanted your validation,
Your love and attention.
But I was a mere child,
Not worthy of your time.
Perhaps, that was how I learned to be silent,
To be submissive.
How I lost my voice,
But did I ever have one to begin with?
You stole my voice before I even found it.

~sdr
-elixir- Sep 2021
The eyes have made their way back
once again, to pry on what I lack.

The eyes open wider as I undress
the layers of old skin that I won't address.

The eyes skim on each hair
that stands up as I lay bare.

The eyes that once died have resurrected again
to see what's in store for them to gain.

The eyes drown in opportunities,
as they fail to see their inner mutinies.

Yet, their eyes never dry out
from their bed of lies from which they live out.
Zywa Aug 2021
Flashes of lightning

briefly reveal the garden --


a flower at night.
Evening primrose

Collection "On living on"
Zywa Aug 2021
She waves to me: mummy look
She plays in the grass, the earth is turning
She shouts throughout summer and rains

from white sand to black sand
She is a little pig, gruntgrunt
and one more time, one more time

One two see sour sive
singers she has, and ***** seet
that climb everything: mummy look

Her hands want to take everything
feeling the whole grown-up life
herself, caution, it is hot

She drags my bag with her like a lady
She likes sweet gruel and bread
without crust, cheeks with peanut butter

She cheers for the gnomes: mummy look
who always come to help her
at night when she sleeps
Collection "Ifless"
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