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Em Apr 17
The depths
of nothing
rise and fall
creating tones
unknowable
to the human ear
invisible
to the eye
Creating a labyrinth
to confuse her
to evoke feelings in her
to make her revoke those feelings
and crush them into nothing
to be plunged into the depths
And become the depths themselves.
i made this up as i go (as i normally do ahfajfgh)
help me im bored
im procrastinating
Nat Lipstadt Mar 27
a quote of Bernard-Henri Lévy

~~~

the divers’ recovery, diverse,
shipwrecked salvage from different locations,
auctioned to the highest bidder,
tho the excised excerpts are exceptional,
none come to do the bidding,
for the provenance of words
belongs to all, and to none

~~
“so oft we trifle words,
expel them from the country of our body,
without passport and earnestness,
as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler,
day tourists, to be treated as leavings,
refuse for daily discardation,
barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance,
but leaving not, a mark of distinction”

“the addicted pleasure words granted to we privileged few,
like every enslaved soul to the mind, which I am, I am,
evening dreams, midnight thinkings, sunrise seeings,
how can I infect and thus protect the young to the liberty
to love the crafted content of our human essence to better
comprehend that a moment caught on tape of our shared
words is a holiday, a celebration for the ages...and every molecule,
becomes a human tuning fork in concert, in pitch identical, in blood tainted with the simplicity of we are all the same, only words, this will transmit”

“murmur me, with soft downy charms,
these words discovered
recoursed and intended well to
pointedly offset and contradict
their very own tumultuous discovery uncovering,
tear tongue me
with calming, lapping word  wages,
hymns harmonious and fine homilies,
a call, a request,
a bequest
to sedate my shrill life

“some cells, microscopic, preserved digitally,
aged to imperfection, thrash my eyes,
making me speak in tongues I do not recognize,
but fluently possess, no wonder there,
the memory place fairly empty,
room aplenty for passerby's and the imagery
                                                         ­­ of the vaguest of dearly departed

skin is not the only mot shed,
                                                sloughing of woeful words

“speak them slow and distinct,
for they arrive slow to you,
a trickling of refugees for your sheltering,
harbor them as full companions,
protected by natural law,
provision them well,
prepared and ever ready for a quick departure,
moor these words at the embarcadero,
for the next restless leg of endlessness,
which they themselves will inform you
will last longer than eternity,
long after there are no humans to speak them”
excerpts from a few old poems, after reading an interview with Bernard-Henri Lévy
https://www.newyorker.com/news/q-and-a/bernard-henri-levy-on-the-rights-of-women-and-of-the-accused
March 27, 2019 4:48 am
Help

I'm falling

In falling water

The lie is cold

And drives my soul

Sick irony takes a stroll

Down the black

I'm alone

In this winsome hole

That leads to the fall

To depths of icy gall

Monsters are at the bottom

They'll eat me

They'll maul

Help

I'm writhing

In the ice of the sun

But to me

It's a glacier

The falling water ends here

Oh no

I'll freeze

This is where I die

No


Longer



Me




Goodbye
I love you
It's a long hard fall to rock bottom
Seanathon Mar 17
Reach into the nothingness
With an outstretched arm Inquisitorial
And pull a star down from the sky
A scar from the skin
Or the sight from within a strangers eye
Look and see
All the potential within that unique life
The marring and falling
The look of a life lived once alive
Grasp
Seanathon Feb 28
To deny the curving turn of the earth
Is to deny your own subconscious depth
Your reasoning, wave and subtle worth
Depths
A M Ryder Feb 27
Wayward in the depths
Soon the shark shall strike frame
Only then will we understand
How the thunder and rain
Could explain love and pain
In ways Shakespeare never could

Hoping only that
In the eye of every beholder
Is an artist who draws
Gentler conclusions
Than the ones we have about ourselves
Glenn Currier Jan 16
I’ve always had a fear of water that’s deep
I remember my fright in the city pool
how I made friends with the shallow end
how close to the sides I’d keep.
I still recall that curved stone edge
how my fingers held on and I felt a fool
being so scared when the other kids
would jump in the deep end with joy
how I felt like such a silly scardy boy
and I envied their abandon and grit
the big splash when their cannonball hit.

But it’s true my daddy was never there
to teach me to swim
to help when I came up coughing for air.
Oh man, how I could have used him
and his strong arms to hold me
and show me the breast stroke
slap my back when I choked.

Now I still thirst for a father
when I get afraid of the deep water.
The difference is now I’ve got a dad
who’s always there when I’m afraid or sad.
In fact I look forward to the dive
into the deep where I’m so alive
centered and at peace.
But I’m still learning to let go and release
the edge of that deep pool
and breathe in the depths… of spirit fuel.
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