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Tat 3d
A tender sea rocks my boat
it is lulling me to sleep,
gentle breeze is like coat
I fall into it deep.

I trust this stormy water
I won't be on my own
endless waves sing softer
almost semi tone.

I love this sea, these seagulls
this noisy wind and sheer sky,
some stretched canvas on easel
and painting now is dyed.

https://youtu.be/MLIWD-uVus4
Мій човен гойдає море ласкаве.
Мене заколише, порину я в сон.
Покаже картинки: красиві й цікаві,
Мелодію хвиль намугикає в тон.


Хоч море бурхливе, йому довіряю:
нехай не залишить мене в самоті.
Не було початку, немає і краю -
Лиш хвилі і небо - все як у житті.


Люблю тебе море, шум вітру, крик чайок.
А ти мене море від бурь вбережи.
Помолюсь тобі про життя я потайки
А ти мені море про силу скажи.
I need to feed
to sate my greed
I need to kiss
the one I miss
I need to cry
but dry I sigh
I need to play
on another day
I need to laugh
also a bath
I need to scream
another bad dream
I need to drive
to keep me alive
I need to read
my soul to feed
I need to create
it's not to late
I need someone
for warmth and fun
I need to live
theres more to give
I need to care
for another out there.
fish-sama Jul 4
Do your eyes refuse to stay with mine because you're
seeing some secret world privy to you alone?
Weathered hands create life: piano melodies,
washed laundry, poetry, pieces shared on the phone.

Nine years I've been dreaming: subconscious feelings of
forever, no longer divided by two cities
and seeing you every day, every year, a new home
unreached. I'll continue to wonder alone.
yay!
sometimes i wake
from a fever-dream
spent with a mystery being –
evaporating too quickly
to savour
leftover feelings,
and hidden benefits
of a midnight affair
with someone
that doesn't exist.

when the day
is half gone,
i'm still lovesick,
incapable of
stopping my mind
from hoping
there’s a button somewhere
to hit re-wind.
this one is about the dreams that evoke feelings whilst asleep.
June 30, 2025
i dreamt about us —
a forbidden touch,
where hands met,
souls intertwined,
shirts unbuttoned,
drunk on wine.

i dreamt of the slowest burn —
sparks from your lips
merging with fuel from mine
tilting my entire world
upside down.

‘did you sleep well?’ you ask,
stirring your morning coffee.
i smile, face flushed with heat.
‘i had such an angelic dream.’
this one is about a housemate. the dream spoke for me — in the morning, I almost let it.
June 26, 2025
mysterie Jun 24
your face,
infront of mine --
you look so heavenly
up close.
your breath grazes mine,
our noses
almost touch...
but i blink,
and you're gone. 
you're just a figment
of my imagination.
date wrote: 25/6
Ken Pepiton Jun 11
Bottom line mind

Drip

Drip

Plop. Liquifacts

to think sleep fallingly
as annoying as
insomnia,
without
inspiration, then

You know, lowest realm,
fundus mundus real as ever.

Your most certain puddle
of all we knew, splashed
into and rippling

base line condensation, drips
seeping

desleeping po et
al ment potentcy
dropping,
ponding, deep below,

still, blackest black
to look into
using your
own curious wish
to follow
preinvested
mental funds first bet
on tomorrow being
worth rising
to find plain truth
as simple as pi and phi
in basic spirit satisfaction
-never failing perfectly

round and round and up to down

vision apparently evaluable
listened to as we spin

weighed
worth thinking through
wrong ways down

discerning bits useful

valuated trues exchanging
good guesses graces
for missed chances
to catch time lines
confluencing right

at terminal velocity, feeling still
as slowly as ifery falling

drips forming

meandering streamlets

infilling
curiousness wise
cerebral-itiosity's thought sea
of accumulated blessings and cursings

needed most assuredly to get through tonight.
Part parcel tongue translation leading me along memories that coincide with Palo Alto, History of California, Capitalism and the World we write inside
It’s a beautiful day,
A Saturday.
One of those effervescent Spring afternoons  that buzzes with sunny activity,
a neighborhoodly kind of
picture perfect blue sky kind of
everything’s gonna be okay kind of day.

I stare at it from the corner of the couch,
through the window at the lawns across the street from the corner of the couch
and look down at myself.
*****, covered in soil from head to toe.
So bright, too bright out there
through eyes that have been languishing overlong in the deep brown black of the underground,
behind masks and walls,
closed for fear of opening.

They dazzle now and squint,
watering at the light,
not watering,
crying, crying,
etching riverbeds upon my ***** face.
How long was I down there?
Dreaming awake and automatic,
watching her water the houseplants and
comfort the friends
and rock the child
while I shoveled earth over my living form
to protect this vulnerable animal,
to bury bury bury it.

The noise doesn’t reach me
there in my cocoon.
It threatens now to crack my fragile sanity; though madness I would greet as an old companion.
I reject the invitation beckoning me from somewhere deep inside,
push push push it down,
and wave to my neighbor through the window
as he mows his grass.

It’s a beautiful day,
A Saturday,
and my senses pulse with indignation against it.
Back to the dreaming
where I will wrap my mind in cotton
and try again tomorrow.
Sometimes my ADHD brain becomes overwhelmed and the effort of sensory processing exhausts me entirely.
irinia Apr 23
How many rythms we are and who listens.
We are inaudible.
No body can escape history, only in dreaming.
The dreams dream the missing body.
The mind escapes in its architecture, an unstable jungle.
it evades in dreams too
The dreamer dreams what one cannot think.
Concepts are birds on wire or double edge swords,
one edge cuts the density of the world, the other one cuts the body away. The body is the musical canvas of the mind.
Ideas don't exist without a hand, without a tongue.
Everything transforms into other than itself,
the body becomes mind, the mind becomes body.
Thoughts turn into motion, sensation  into image, images turn into words, colours, noise, an eternal hum,
we are the toys of a god of life. 
 Everything vibrates in a potential field of meaning.
Every tribe of cells has its own sense of time and grammar, 
In between the empty space improvises.
The mind is a martial artist, it rehearses its moves with conviction and pathos.
The body absorbs reality and feeds the mind,  it is an amplifier of life.  
These words are passing through my mind, my chest, my eyes, my hand,
I don't know exactly what they mean.
How much sense there is in a touch,
how light or rushed or heavy or shy or joyous or furious or screaming or ardous or defeated or uncertain or afraid.
I carry the other in me when I dream their bodies.
Then you move away, stay or dissapear, who knows.
 Communication moves through the body.
Everything that is alive finds a way to be. 
 Everything that is alive finds a way to destroy its aliveness.
The body resonates inside the body of the world.
The nuances of light gives the eye its intensity,
the movement of darkness moves the mind to fill the blanks.
A shared chemistry binds us and how much effort we put to disentangle.
Full succes is impossible.
There is no escape from being alive until we greet the great unknown, I suspect death is alive too after all.
we already know many ways of dying, we pretend not to know how life can render us lifeless.
Frozen, constricted, unflowing, circling, dying bit by bit.
Nowdays we die with speed in our eyes, with surprise.
What do words dream and who dreams the words?
Who dreams the world and who shares the dream?
I don't want to be captive in anyone's dream.
Let's share the dreaming,
from some dreams
there is no scape.
I close my eyes, what do I see?  
A world of wonders, just waiting for me...  
I’m drifting on the waves of my own reflection,  
Finding strength in my imperfection,  
In the quiet moments, my soul takes flight,  
Through the dreams that shimmer in the moonlight.  
Shimmer, shine...

I’m dreaming under the sky,
Where the stars whisper truths,

In the sea of my heart, I find my way,  
Find your way, find your way...  
With every dawn, it’s a brand new day.  

I see the colors, the lessons I learn,  
In the tides that rise, in the tides that churn,  
I’m anchored in the dreams that guide my soul,  
In the vastness of the sea, I am whole.  


And when the night falls, I’ll gaze up high,  
Knowing every dream is my reason why,  
I’ll keep on searching, no fear inside,  
No fear inside...  
In the sea of my dreams, I’m learning to ride.  
Ride the tide...

So let the dreams take flight, don’t let go,
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