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no I never died no
I was never born no I
never developed no I
never swallowed nothing
I'm not alone I'm not the only one in my
many millions of eyes and deaths
I am the whole world and even the future and
the past has never been in the world
everything was only and only once
once and only just now
all that was the sixteenth century
seventeenth eighteenth and now
and now it's all in one moment
all in a jiffy just now was not
I have a birth and I did not have death
will not be tomorrow and will not be yesterday and was not
tomorrow and there was never and never before

no I never died no
I've never been born no I never
I did not feel nowhere to feel
go after all this whole world of
an unfavorable corner and place
every girl and every man of every character
every word every poem every torch every love
every eye and every color every moon and sun every
clouds all this all this all
this all this is me and only
only and only and only and only
and only me and I and I and I
every time every time every artist
and every composer
every poet every deceased every newborn is all equal
they were never and never were born there was no being
being has always been and is all this
I all this I all this is me

Prithvi 2d
Who Am I ?

Defined by Occupation,
Or branded by Designation,
Is my identity beyond my Workstation ?

Relationships Galore,
Friend, son, lover, even a Mentor,
Transiting perceptions, is there More ?

Worshiping a higher Power,
A Temple, a Mosque or a Church Tower,
Labeled for my faith of the Hour ?

A mirror unraveling my Quest,
Permeating through the mind Possessed,
Finding my true self Unsuppressed.

Who Am I ?
A Flowing Potential
Renhui Sep 10
In the deep
   center of being

I saw you at your garden

You looked at me
    Your eyes wet with tears
    Your face darkened with sorrow

You opened your mouth to speak
    Yet no words came

Flowers in the garden moved
    and formed the shape of
     a heart

I cried
Look into the night.

There is neither calm
nor joy nor light.

Feel along the wall
with fingers
gather in the sharp and rough
and the coldness lingers.

Smell the air
inhale the putrid stench
of death or dying
breathe in
catch your breath.

Echoes haunt
cries or shouts reload
along vibrations
neither to care nor love
nor embrace
but bring spiders or webs
against your face.

Deep dark
falling feeling
reaching out or up
seeing nothing
nothing revealing.

Into night's arms
and dark's breath
waiting unending
unknowing until death.
Hartaz Kaur Sep 6
In the quiet moments by day
And wakeful hours by night
Recollections reside in our thoughts
holding a presence
that is all the more felt,
coz it cannot be seen
Reminding us,
our experiences tho past,
are never lost
They are instead,
brought into our being
For having been too
is a kind of being
And perhaps
the most indisputable
kind of being
or anyone,
or someone;
who tries too hard
   to achieve the abstract
     ideas of perfection;
     who takes too much pride
   in hiding behind facades
of forced adaptations;
who relies most of the time
   on the unnecessary
     (...words, lines
       line breaks
     and the like...)
   poetic presentations;
who is anyone
because a poem
  is neither something
    nor anything;
      a poem is a part
        of a person's being
          as a poet,
        as a writer,
      or as anyone
    for that matter
  because a poem
is that person
        in words more than
and creative conotations;
        it's what encapsulates
        and transcends
        a person into being more
        than a being of oneself.
-poets, poems, and what transcend each other
Amit Pokhrel Sep 2
Oh! Wilderness!

My friend from the futile land

I, a devoid soul, of emancipation

Of the wilder lands—

Where covets and virtues of the past

Do not have their say.

The morbid authority of present

Does not have its reign.

And, you from the epitome of pulsating catharsis,


The falsifying dreams of redemption

Doesn’t bite with it’s jaws

And, doesn’t gnaw with it’s claws!

I seek you

Over and throughout

Where dark alleys do not contain

Souls weeping it’s heart out

Like never-ending rain shower.

I seek you

A longing for the warmth

Where the scorching desert suns

Do not burn the nativity down

Into human ashes!

I seek you

Like in a search for the continuum

Where meek hearts don’t dare to sedate themselves

In the near fear of the dragon inside—


Oh! Wilderness, my friend

I dream of you—

As a mother gazelle teaches its fawn to nibble grass leaves at dawn

As a clear stream runs south drenching the feeble land

As a man who forgives the crime of a mute with silence

And, as a smile that brightens up the face of a child

—herein, a meek human heart

Dreams of you!

Oh! Wilderness—

You shall be the rays of hope when I run dry,

Oh! Wilderness—

You shall be the joy when I wrench my heart out for a cry,

Oh! Wilderness—

You be the ivy wrath I shall put on when I’m to die!

Dear wilderness,

Let there be no servitude—

Only be there a desire—

To conquer the vacancy in the soul—

The eternal fear of eternity

And, the end of it!
Sam Sep 1
First you gain my absolute trust
Then you get close to my friend
Next you start dating her
Finally you emotionally manipulate her.

But guess what?
She’s actually fine
Because she knows what she’s gotta do
To help herself

You talk about being newly popular
But I bet you’re a scared little girl
A scared newbie
Who tried to hurt my friend

Just because you didn’t get your way
You decide to shit talk a group
Right after you knew they almost got hurt
And you didn’t care

But you expect everyone to drop everything
And help you when you feel hurt
I’m fucking done

Done with your bullshit
Done with your toxicity
Done with how you act to others
Done with you

You manipulative little girl
You’re only gonna get worse
I could see that from the moment I met you


Don’t fucking come back

You won’t be welcome
Here’s my hefty, over-lumbered
case to put you in:
suggestions on a pin
to prick your dogma,
error’s commas captivating
run-ons with their length
prolonged for lack of strength
unseen in staying parts -
your wants is off the charts!
But needs are nadirs; we all stoop
to let them talk us into something.
Independence (bum thing) wrecks your time
and chews your peace apart.
Your heart beats out
a chapter shorter now each night -
the longing makes it right
and lubs the biggest dub of all -
recordings of the ball,
the master moldering in some storage tomb
alone for adding rooms
onto the house you’ll owe forever for.
Why snore you with my secret?
Loud man come, inventing orders -
hupping-to shreds being into blue.
Who showed me out of there?
Who whisked without a care
and smashed the batter of your special batch:
for sure, at times, a catch,
but else an error, comma,
rappelling down your robe of risk?
Isaac Aug 30
It's been 10 days now
since I turned 20.

There are 3640 days
till I'm 30.

The truth is I
could die before then.

What an honour to live out
2 lots of 10.

However many days
I have on this ball,

I'm excited to make
the most of them all.
Written 30 August 2018
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