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Carlo C Gomez Oct 29
Our inheritance
is loss

I don't care
about liberation

Freedom is
the ignis fatuus

Everyone's a slave
to something
Spriha Kant Sep 30
Some people erase my warm feelings for themselves by their blindness and deafness for my feelings and tell others in my absence that Spriha has changed.
Some people are like this.
Have you ever had such experience with such people ?
Carlo C Gomez Sep 27
Shine like it does

You set the sun against me

And here I fell

Only to find my feet

Along the blinding path

To dust, the persecuting heart returned

So too, the spirit flew

And like scales

The veil lifted

And I caught sight

Of something quite intangible

Yet, therein I found true freedom

In slaving for you

As a fisher of men
Caage Gaber Sep 18
Tasting each flavor like abstract art
Smelling the slightest changes
Soaking the beat of sound in the heart
Feeling the keys and the how it arranges

Inhaling the crisp air of an ocean breeze
Caressed by tempos and harmony
The sparsest sweet aroma noticed by the ease
Stroking skin and sinking in lovingly

Drowning deep with tears flowing
The ****** tang soaking the tongue
Navigated by melodies controlling
Heat slicing skin and searing lungs

Each sense fully fine-tuned
Gathering the missing to advance
Using each process to overcome wounds
Yet still the wish for sight given a chance
I've heard blind people commonly have better senses of taste, smell, sound, and touch. Sometimes I wish I could lose a sense. Would I wish for its return or would I truly appreciate the world more without it? I guess I won't know unless it happens...
The clean church Christ
hangs on rusty nails,
dozen-fold years
denied a resurrection,
tied to everlasting
pain and death,
heaven denied,
mortal redemption denied
because the flesh,
existing between hope and despair,
refuses the soul’s release.

The congregation
is dead to peace,
only knowing the scrapping
of their knuckles on the smooth stone-
dead to the light,
seeing only the night,
dead to divine comprehension,
dead to the angels hiding
in their coarse crosses
of common wood.

Outside the lamb
bleats in the snow
wandering unheard
in the wilderness,
fearing slaughter
more than charity,
wandering far from
their muffled mouths,
wandering far from
their questioning,
wandering far from
their sense of things.
Carmen Jane Aug 24
You took your rays, you silly sun,
You thought you'd play a game
You thought that I would wait
Until you come back..

You did came back,
The second day
And I was still there
But, you just didn't recognize me
You shone your rays so you could find me
You melted glaciers for me,
But the more stronger your light,
The more blind you became
As I shone, too
Corey Boiko Jul 30
I finally found a way
To tear my gaze away.
I read all day
In preparation.

Then my eyes blurred all kinds,
I was
to type.

And I smiled,
Without regard to if

I saw my
What does red look like?
Asked the blind man.
Red Is the feeling of the hot sun in summer, it's the colour of shame, and anger, but also the colour of blushing.

What does green look like?
Asked the blind Man.
Green is the colour of life, and forests. Green is the feeling of of a tangled jungle, and fresh flowers.

What about yellow?
He asked quietly.
Yellow is the colour of sunshine, and warmth, and smiles. Yellow is the feeling of joy, and friendship.

And blue?
The blind man asked.
Put your hands into a bowl of cool water on a hot day, that peaceful feeling is blue. The feeling of blue is when you are in a pool, or floating down a river. Blue is relaxation and peace.
Ces Jul 11
Pondering existence itself:
mere deadweight for "success"
this narrative of the times
must be upheld as sacred

The religion of modernity is that
of willful blindness taken
as a virtue

or so we are led to believe:

that it is the mark of a healthy man
to never use his brain!
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