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Simon Oct 4
Being in-between is never the lackluster of choice. I heed choices around like flyers wanting to join a cause. Imaginary circus of arts that never heed the claims of self choice. Choice disregards the claims of the imaginary circus. Disregarding all claims. Flyers flying around the in-between being free. Captured within there realm. Realm full of artistic surges! Extending past its bubble. Purging a focus deeming itself without worthy statements. Since actuality isn’t much of a focus for being in-between. A bubble surrounding even greater surfaces. One marked by choices. Marked by claims. Even marking self choice. Anti disregarding symptoms. Caring for what actually happens. An illusion in the light, that purges the shade holding two halves into one singular point. Points too judgy for claims, such as responsibility. No yes’s and no’s to be the counter balance. Imaginary circus becoming somewhat tainted. Heeds around choices without claims to care. Surging the realm full of arts. Nothing happens, until it chooses to act. I am in-between. And I am balance itself.
Growing up while fissuring my way through multiple crowds, heeding my choices between their claims.
Jeff Lewis Sep 26
Stale airs stalled in a fetid grasp;
Wilting both body and soul.

Seems for years wishing on sargasso seas for even yet the barest breeze.

Without direction. The birds, the gulls, the albatross have left me to my fate.

Sweating life which I canpppp ill afford,
I pace this motionless deck.

Recalling, wishing the storms of youth. Then, at least, there was movement

In fevered dreams, I faced down gales.
On a dying ship I approached that shore.

The sun peels, cooking flesh, but here
not even scavengers deem to come.
Thomas C Sep 15
Like a droplet in a river we travel. No clue of direction.
Yet we ever flow through the path carved out of us by an entity unknown.
Slowly we reach, yet unaware of it, to our destination.
Then we fall, by the millions unto the next flow of life.
Latifah Aug 21
You’re lo lost
In a place you don’t belong
You’re trying to find your way out
But you don’t know which is the right direction
You keep roaming around in circles
Coming back to the starting point
I just hope you won’t stay lost forever.
I was searching answers in the wrong direction.
I was serching answers in the haze.
I was listen broken microphones.
The Record singing always same song.
I was looking in the wrong  direction.
I was always made this same correction.
It was wrong.
I was looking in the wrong direction.
TD Aug 12
The shape of your oceans'
crescent moons and trumpets cast
exude music insipid--inspired
mellifluous, austere, untamed.

Their restless hands raised,
lilting rivulets
emboldened, brash.

In the shallows
coaxing sighs from darting thoughts
curved lips that sip at soul-searching.

In the deep
your presence billows, gapes
the lustrous strands of time
lapping at the shore
pillaging our rocky clefts.

Your form
free, like words that
slick the pages of our moments
steeped in yesteryears
dark with depth, boundless.

If I plunder your lines
seek out the sullen darkness
tread your sunlit blues,
dare I? Should I?

Amid your tempting swells
and endless salutations
I'm prone to lose sight
of what is more than oceans
and what is less than real.

Yet, you are the tears that linger
in the peripheral,
the million eyes
meeting their purpose
on a stormy night.

And I begin to build
my rudderless vessel
in hopes of catching a glimpse
of your veiled treasures
because I can't find my own.

ऊ सुनमा पीतल मिसाउछ

मलाई टुलुटुलु हेर्न निर्देशन गर्छ
साउन ६ को अखवार
Genre: Experimental
Theme: निशब्द
KHY Jul 17
I'm on my way but I don't know
I'm slinging sacks over everyone I know
I'm on my way but I don't know
They all go in different directions I'm left alone
I'm on my way but I don't know
Why I gave anything to anyone
The feeling remains
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