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Let us call it
exactly what it is.
 
 
Grand
Grandiose
Grandioso
 
 
gestures that leave me suspended
from a tray ceiling like
 
 
a glass chandelier hanging
on a string of beaded words.
 
 
It's all very
 
 
Grand
Grandiose
Grandioso
 
 
until the
string is pulled
too tight.
 
 
 
Then there will be
nothing left
but glass, beads,
 
 
and broken hearts
on a marble floor.
Soul 4d
Hovering a black cloak
over you,
wearing a smile so
strained;—
That could make one
be lost
in the deep mist,
you wait in
silence.
In the depths
of your complex codes
lies the
unsolved mysteries and
the truths of
my past.
My worn eyes
can't reach you till
your name is recalled
from my lips stitched
together with
thick wires.
Will you
ever reveal
yourself?
Left in Confusion...
They call them crocodile tears
When animals muddy the waters
By disturbing silt or dirt
And thereby obscuring/obstructing
What is otherwise a clear view.
As like pouring wine into a cup of water.
1 - Ate, the greek god of moral blindness & error.

2 - Bacchus was a title of honor denoting a leader in all fields. I.e. Science, philosophy, poetry, music, et cetera. Similarly, as an actual leader of a given area or nation.

Also, this is solely about muddying waters in regards to understanding. Understanding whoever, whatever, whenever. In reference specifically to the waters of the Nile.
Avni Jun 22
When I left my bed and snuck outside, the wind was firm and cold
And paper birds swirled about my face and flew through times untold
Papered wings and papered backs and their papered beaks so quiet
That I wished only to touch them, though I did not dare try it
Then I had wondered quite distinctly whether it might not be
Merely a dream I was dreaming, but a truth that I should see
Though the strangeness was so prevalent, l could not help but feel
This was indeed reality, for the wind was hard as steel
Because in these wondering moments, when my mind had wandered far
The storm had grown to such degree I could scarcely see a star
But the birds still swished so silently around my ghostly face
It seemed they had no place to go except their old paths retrace
Again, again, and again they swooped until they pierced my skin
Yet no blood appeared about me, but rather, deep and sharp within
My anguish seemed frivolous, although the pain suffused each limb
The birds cared not for what I felt, each black eye so bleak and grim
Full of hatred, full of loathing, full of useless, pointless wrath
Their lipless smiles split their faces, they could not help but laugh
Deep within their feathered beings was the goal of my demise
Did I commit some act against them, I could not but surmise
Or had they come to carry out the justice of another?
Only of this thought I was sure, it was my fault and no other
Yet my memory did fail me as my mind was fogged with pain
What had been hopes and loves and loyalties struggled to remain
Is this where I shall end because of some dark and baseless rage?
Or ‘ever I be interred within this dark and feathered cage?
No reason could I fathom, although their purpose seemed quite clear
Was this torture they had wrought nothing more than my baseless fear?
Was this paper nothing but a mere creation of my mind?
As I carefully examined each small fold I could at no point find
Anything much more substantial than a darkly scoffing smoke
A mist that swirled all ‘round my face until I could naught but choke
My throat I grasped with my bloodied hands, each wound so small yet real
Each mark to forever haunt me — such a small though stubborn seal.
Sorry, friends. I know it’s been a while. I’ve been working through a lot of stuff. This one is in a very rough form, so any advice on how to improve it to make it flow more smoothly would be appreciated. I’m looking for rearrangement of phrasing and meter. The meter is mess and I would like it if it flowed somewhat smoothly.
We were stuck—frozen under the weight of a sun that burned like a punishment, a heavy force that dragged us in, making us feed on the very thing that was destroying us. The air felt wrong, suffocating, as if it were trying to choke the life out of us.
And then, once again, those empty horses came galloping through that violet door, their hooves thundering, following crooked paths that twisted in ways I couldn’t understand. They left shadows behind them, stretching across the moonlit floor like dark, twisted memories. The stars, those cold, distant things, gathered high above us—winged creatures, silent, watching, like the last remnants of humanity’s lost teachers. We had no choice but to bleed again, even as time shook us, spilling crystal blood like a dream that refused to end. A ripple in the wound, and then we woke up—alive but changed. You believe, and I believe, too—that you are the river of light, the one I hold on to, even as the night closes in, empty and endless, like a long, dark hallway with no end in sight.
i was listening to 'the headmaster ritual' by the smiths, and somehow, what i wrote just poured out. it’s like my mind just switches to autopilot, and i'm not really in control. writing feels almost like a mechanical reflex sometimes, just a skill that takes over!
Ankush Jun 20
Circle CirCle  
          
          In

Circle circle

(At the centre Centre
The Centre Centre )

No at the FoCus
At FoCus
focus focus

.......

Or at the fence
Yes maybe

The fence
The fence
Fence maybe at it


No at the corner
Yes Corner -
The corner

The corner ?
The Corner


Where ?
.....
Can't find
Can't find
Can't find
Can't find
Can't find
Can't find

Where is it ?

Can't find
Can't find
Can't find
Can't find
Can't find
Can't find

Maybe

In
Circle CirCle

       And

Circle CirCle


Yes where is it
Where is he
Where is me
Where am I
Why I am here

Why why
Why

At the centre
Why am In a ..
Ps:- the end goes back to first as a loop as a circle and
The circle has no corners that's why it's nowhere to be found
That's why it's so much emphasized ...
R Spade Jun 16
Does my clarinet  
blame herself  
when she  

screeches?  

I asked her —  
careful  
not to press  
the wrong buttons.  

She hummed along,  
nodded  
like a good girl.  

(𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?)

I’m the one  
who blows  
down her throat,  
pressing keys  
until she forgets  
how to breathe.  

Her voice cracked —  
guilt hung in the air  
like smoke.  

"𝘪 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯,"
she whispered.  
"𝘮𝘺 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦."

I strike her notes harder.  
She chokes out bits,  
broken pieces  
that only make me angrier.  

Your wheezing is because  
you’re fragile.  
Cheap.  
Not because of me.  

(...𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?)

"𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶,"
she sobbed.  

And I  
almost told her —  
𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗹𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗱𝗼.

But the truth  
lodged in my throat,  
behind the breath  
that made her scream.
White Owl Jun 13
Too pure to touch,
Too perverse to honor.
In any case,
Too human to revere.
The ocean's bride
And the meadow's daughter
Uncross their fingers
To show they're sincere.
White rabbit, black rabbit,
Opposed halves of one.
The flouted is sought,
The belovèd, shunned.
The night mourns the light
With funeral tears
Soon after invoking
The death of the sun.
Jun '25

This one's about identity, people pleasing, double standards, and having zero idea who you want to be or how you should present yourself.
Why is my mind doing this
Bringing up the past
Thoughts of
You're not getting bored
Are you?
I'm not too much
Am I?
Sorry
I just worry
You're just gorgeous
In my eyes
The only beauty
I crave
To have around
I keep thinking about you
Only to instantly dismiss it
I fear falling for you
I don't wish to get to that point
The point where I fear
Losing you
I don't know
At this point
I feel that
I just want you
To claim me
Make Me Yours...
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