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Oh right. I forgot.
There's actually ******* out there
Who are serious
About their homophobia.
About hate of
Consenual relations
Between any grown individuals
Which doesn't conform
To their perspective of love.
Righteous love.
Fanatic heterosexuals.
Ay, I can't knock women.
Obviously,
There's so much more
To loving a partner.
So much more
To a loving partner.
The life you build together,
What you do with it.
But let's hone in
On dictating individuality
And harming individual rights.

Oh right. I forgot.
There's this thing
Called the constitution.
Oh right. I forgot.
There's these things
Called amendments.

Silly me,
I guess I was on
A personal "freak."
Silly me,
I guess I waged
A personal "streak."

Oh right. I forgot.
There's this thing
Called proper interpretation.
Oh right. I forgot.
There's these things
Called existing judgements.

Ah, ****!
I guess I'm against
State & church seperation.
Ah, shucks!
I guess I'm for
Totalitarian fascism.
But, but, you can't have state & church in fascist societies!
But, but, you can't have dissenting opinions in totalitarian systems!
One might call the leading sentiments today feudal in nature and/or completely autocratic.
Bello.
Non ** idea del perché.
Ma è bello questo paesaggio.

Grazie, cittadella in riposo.
Grazie, cielo puro e ammaliante.
Grazie, finestra cara,
che mi hai dato la possibilità
di vedere questo invisibile spettacolo.

Case semplici, piante non molto alte, alcune secche,
come in una terra all’industria
del necessario e il minimo per il buono.

Luce di lampioni
che illumina disordinata le strade,
come se il panico diurno fosse
congelato nel tempo dalla luce.
Eppure, anche nella pace,
l’uomo lo trascina con sé.

Tralicci che tagliano un cielo
senza nuvole e senza stelle,
non degno di essere amato dagli urbani,
che cercano solo il bello canonico,
antico, sterile.

Ma fortemente illuminato dalle città, il cielo,
che lo uccidono per convenienza.
E noi, sordi,
nemmeno ne udiamo il grido.

E poi, laggiù in fondo,
oltre l’autostrada,
altri grandi lampioni.
Pagane colonne d’Ercole,
Ignorate per voler del nostro
antropocentrismo,
lasciate a sbiadire
sul fondale.

Tutto nel silenzio di un istante
che non si apprezza più,
perché è memoria lontana
il tempo da perdere.


Non è nulla di che, a pensarci.
Eppure mi affascina.
La prima volta che, forse,
e dico solo forse,
trovo la magia nell’ordinario.

Forse ora capisco i grandi scrittori.
Forse la capirò meglio anch’io,
se davvero c’è magia.

Comunque,
so solo che questa visione è ferma,
vuota, angosciante per certi versi,
disperata,
morta.

Mi fa paura.

Ma, nonostante ciò,
mi fa stare bene.
E ne sono grato.

Grazie, cittaccia assassina.
Grazie, falso cielo ormai defunto.
Grazie, finestra svelatrice,
che mi hai permesso di vedere
questo melodrammatico spettacolo.

///

Beautiful.
I have no idea why.
But this landscape is beautiful.

Thank you, citadel in repose.
Thank you, pure and enchanting sky.
Thank you, dear window,
that you gave me the chance
to see this invisible spectacle.

Simple houses, plants not very tall, some dry,
as in a land of industry
of the necessary and the minimum for the good.

Light of street lamps
that illuminates the streets in a disorderly way,
as if the daytime panic was
frozen in time by the light.
And yet, even in peace,
man drags it with him.

Pylons that cut a sky
without clouds and without stars,
not worthy of being loved by urbanites,
who seek only the canonical beauty,
ancient, sterile.

But strongly illuminated by cities, the sky,
that **** it for convenience.
And we, deaf,
do not even hear its cry.

And then, down there,
beyond the highway,
other large streetlights.
Pagan Pillars of Hercules,
Ignored by the will of our
anthropocentrism,
left to fade
on the seabed.

All in the silence of a moment
that is no longer appreciated,
because it is a distant memory
the time to waste.

It is nothing special, if you think about it.
And yet it fascinates me.
The first time that, perhaps,
and I say only perhaps,
I find magic in the ordinary.

Perhaps now I understand the great writers.
Perhaps I will understand it better too,
if there really is magic.

In any case,
I only know that this vision is still,
empty, distressing in some ways,
desperate,
dead.

It scares me.

But, despite this,
it makes me feel good.
And I am grateful for it.

Thank you, murderous city.
Thank you, false sky now defunct.
Thank you, revealing window,
that allowed me to see
this melodramatic spectacle.
When the view talks
Sudzedrebel Apr 17
Look, I smashed them all together!
Look, I tore it all to tatters!
Look, I sewed it all back together!

Look, I wasn't familiar with the formula.
Look, I didn't understand the directions.
Look, I lost the thread all connecting.

Look, look!
Look, I even changed interpretations!

To listen to all the stupid rambles!

Look, I've got a narrative!

To ignore every answer!
Dianali Mar 15
I’m stuck in my bedroom.
There’s a whole in the wall.
That’s figurative speech,
Of course.
The wall is my heart.
I’m watching another show.
It’s about the life of some girls—
I’m trying so desperately to relate.
After some episodes, I finally succeed.
Somehow I make this about me too.
Now I’m imagining how my own life
Would play out for the masses.
Would I be a fan favourite?
Would he be the villain?
Would I be?

I stop.
I REALIZE—
I’m not that interesting.

Just perfectly,
randomly,
average,

             me.
Sudzedrebel Feb 13
In between the lines
There's the hint at some opinion
And not just pictures you hang crooked
On flimsy nails you drive.
I'd rather keep the vocabulary
Short & simple,
If there's more from it
Who might be reached
Or that might be derived.

I know you think you're something
Just as much as I,
I know I think you're something
Just as much as I.

If you can't see, you can have mine;
I've already given up on one eye.
If you can't sense it,
I can go on deprived.
To me it makes no difference,
I'm only trying to help.
Come what may, I'll survive.
I eagerly await another day of attempting to meet new people.
Students amble through our campus, up and down the hill,
Listening to music, staring at the ground, or caught up in their head,
Past a new potential friend: me.

I’ve got my friends, ones of the highest quality,
In the city, just half an hour north of me.
I don’t see them much, though, and I have no way to leave.
We can’t speak much, either; they’ve got jobs and loves and lives.

So, to maximize my social potential, I put myself to work.
I’ve mastered the art and science alike of socializing;
“Use this register”; “smile at this distance”; “speak to listen, don’t wait to talk”.
Studying it all extensively to figure out what’s best.

They’re everywhere, I hear, in the dozens, maybe hundreds.
Folks just like me: trying to overcome the awkward and build a bond.
So where are they all, and why do my paintings remain unseen?
Why do my endless chemistry attempts produce no reaction?

Well, a girl said “hello” in the stairwell as I headed for my dorm.
She smiled, seeming to be one of few to acknowledge my attempts.
Just a friendly gesture, sure, yet I think of it often, her unaware of its value.
I cross paths with many daily, yet I’ve seen no interaction like it since.

I let my confidence carry me toward new opportunities and situations I desire,
Yet, whenever I go to approach them, something nags at me.
A hand that pulls me back; a wall that stops me in my tracks.
It’s Anxiety, and he’s back, worse than ever.

Within this conundrum lies a great irony; a twist that tears at my conscience.
The closer I get to making friends, the tighter Anxiety’s grasp grips me.
“No, what if your words are taken wrong?”. “The bond won’t last.” “...But your eating…”
The reward, even if achieved, seems not to be without caveats, he claims.

He’s right; at a distance, I am safe; nobody can see me struggle to eat,
Yet this sentences me to suffer the animosity of my esophagus in solitude.
I am shielded from criticism, watchful eyes, and the projections of my mind,
Yet I am my most isolated in the most social of the places I’ve ever lived.

So, I eagerly await that new day of attempting to meet new people.
Fellow loners who walk ‘cross pathways, through buildings, and to their dorms.
Cradling their digital safety net in-hand, perhaps fearing what I fear,
Past their new potential friend.
Finished on 2023-09-24.

From my first day at a new university until the end of September 2023, I had very few people to talk to at school, and I did everything I could to fix that. As I did, though, anxiety started to keep me from doing it, and fighting it was a battle in itself. This chronicles how it felt, roughly in chronological order throughout the weeks. Real feelings and anecdotes from my first few weeks are baked in.
Lizzie Bevis Jan 16
When my imagination ignites a wildfire,
you commit my words to the pyre,
but, with every smouldering ember
my vision grows;
Breaking the boundaries
that you imposed,
and within the remnants of my creation,
I openly disregard your blatant damnation.

©️Lizzie Bevis
midnight blue Oct 2024
Haunting me every second
Holding me captive every minute
Caging me every hour
If only I could control my thoughts

Criticizing me every second
Scolding me every minute
Hating me every hour
If only I can minimize my thoughts

Overthinking every second
Keeping me awake every minute
Replaying my mistakes every hour
If only I can shut off my thoughts
I was inspired to write this poem by another poem from a book I read called “Every Last Word” but I wrote about overthinking and negative thinking. Something that I feel like never ends sometimes.
KarmaPolice Sep 2024
You took a sip of my pain,
And mocked your fellow man.
Take the whole bottle-
Let's see if your
Still standing

Man

By Darren Wall ©
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