Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Swanswart Aug 2016
In a city
In a room
With no thing
Save a rescued
Chair
There’s
A windowpane view
Without reflection
To the streets
Below

Sits
A man without
Purpose
With Determination
Broken
By

A Notion

You see
He thought himself
Conspicuously unusable
Sentenced
To Be

Some detached observer
Surfeited with suffering
Posing
What
Could be
Apart
From the pain
Yusof Asnan Jul 2016
The love of the dark,

The longing of the emptiness,

The sense of calmness in the sleepless nights,

Where else can I find such peace than seeing the coming.


Head sunk in thoughts,

To the paper beneath my fist,

With the smoke from the cigarette,

That would be what I write about.


I did not write to reach people,

But to step away from them,

Continuously struggling away from attachments,

Even if its the right one.


Anyone could be a hero,

Its the day by day action is my kryptonite,

Repeating the same routine,

That shall be the death of me.



-HIY
Ram B May 2016
Nobody owns anybody
Nobody owns anything
Yet we are given
Precious moments
to be holders, not owners

So when it's time to let go
When things, people or moments
must flow
Surrender to the Being
For He knows what He's doing

Be free of greed,
just delight
For the beauty
that you held
even for a night.

How much more
for a lifetime
Can't you just see?
The honor of holding it
and the dignity to set it free.
Cynthia Jean May 2016
accepting
what we cannot
change

but giving space
to
ourselves

boundaries

from
what hurts us

what is beyond
our endurance

to bear

cj 2016
one day at a time
Andje May 2016
I swore it to myself in a black room
Couldn't follow your lips, they could have led me astray
Inside a darker room
I found solace in repeating the same word
Repeating it ad nauseam
"Never"

I saw myself high
So high I could never sink to you
But you came to me, mirror that you are
And told me I was upside down
I want to turn off my ******* head
Danny Price Feb 2016
He drowns himself in cities:
Grey walls and blue lights.
Maturity, they call it, when
Blood turns brittle and eyes
Lock the soul. Warmth
Comes in bottles now.
Kris Dec 2015
maybe turn your back
on the glaring light of day
these things could wreck
your mind and make it fray

bile and venom line your lips
a wall you throw up with your tongue
spit it out, make a rip
in the world that stung
before anyone gets too close
Denel Kessler Nov 2015
It is possible to live
at a remove so mesmerizing
so glacial blue
the narrow crevasse
opening beneath
your careless toes
swallows you
grinding past - present - future
until there is no you
only time
       a tumbled moraine
                               a shrinking river.
Be well, my brother.
Tom M Oct 2015
Today at a library I spoke to Jim. Such a pleasant 82year old gentleman born on the Isle of Man. As I got to know him a bit more, I found out that he hasn't spoken to a single person in 3weeks! He did mention saying hi or hello to people you normally greet, but nobody wanted to take it from there and spend the time of their day just talking. We spent chatting roughly 20 minutes and every now and then he would almost feel uncomfortable having me around, asking if he wasn't "wasting" my time.
It saddens and angers me, that at an age where everyone feels so connected, we have grown so detached and so distant from each other, even from ourselves. Even our own friends, our own parents and relatives, let alone strangers. We avoid being vulnerable with each other. We project what we think would gather more likes or more acceptance from the society. But by doing so, we are undoing the very basic of the basics. Connection. We are ashamed and embarrassed to project vulnerability.
It all starts with a simple hello. Outside.
What does vulnerability mean to you?
Next page