Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Isaace Oct 2024
I had been staring at corporate blocks of incestuous dual notation, rippling within a multitudinous sea horn. Many of my skins partook in the abuse of subterfuge in order to forget the sea horns. We would head into the night, deep into oblique dens of solitary apparition, conjuring that which had plagued our collective mental cognition.

With cascading light festering, lurid transcendence of encumbered paralysis began. Physical forms traversing innumerable alleyways of dread, between concrete moulded into the shape of modernity, and cables transpiring towards opaque operating systems which imported and exported collected consciousness for the trade of gelatinous brain matter, had overcame us.

Sliding into abyssal-black tar of stroking, crawling, writhing primal sludge; escaping through pores of sweat coagulation, allowing silk-woven experience to be spun within a lair of manifestation, coinciding with visions of mutilation, inspired by visions of arachnid dread— inspired by visions of arachnid dread!
Karma Nov 2024
When the world ended,
There was nobody,
Well, not to blame at least.

We all know
It was our fault
For trying to tame the beast

That was each other;
The ones above us,
Who enjoy their blazen yeast;

And the gods
Who roamed among us,
Who’d rather blame the feasts.

So we killed them:
Our friends, our enemies.
We tore down our economy.

We killed them:
Ourselves, each other.
Split necks, called it dichotomy.

We killed them:
Our world, our sins,
And practiced red topography.

We killed them:
Our sons, our men
And I pretend it doesn’t bother me.

It’s over, what can we do,
But bear our children
Directly into misery?

It never started, but whoever knew
A perfect world
Could fall into asymmetry

Was thought a god,
Like you humans do,
You who are yet to know of empathy

Claim to be gods
When all you can do
Is all but value your epiphanies.

When the world didn’t end,
Everyone noticed.
Well, at the most, it was done subconsciously.

As such, nobody knew,
And as humans do,
They’d continue their rule in cacophony.

They would each learn no lesson,
They’d die in succession,
And abandon design and biology.

They’d choose all that exists:
Good, evil, abyss,
And believe they were gods wholeheartedly.

When the world didn’t end, it bothered me,
As the fruit of that tree
Is a part of me.
When the world ends, it won't bother me
I won't be there
Not one a'part of me
Heavy Hearted Oct 2024
Oh, Genocide

A nation bathed in blood-
white flags now become
a leaf shaped body bag

With faded eyes, through  screams and cries-
we sift through falsehoods speech...
Colonial,
North
Holocaust:
Unatural Eulogy;

Ancient
Island
Soul,

Turtle's Mind-Spirit

The Land,
no slave to man

From far and wide, 
 oppress those left,
We sulk, in shame and greed.
To be read with the meter of the Canadian national Anthem- what a ******* international embarrassment.
ZACK GRAM Oct 2024
Im Scary
Youre Scary
Shes Scary
Hes Scary
Theyre Scary
Were Scary
Everyones Scary

Everyones Scary

Till They Find Out
Only Gods Scary
So Fear Me
Dissapear
Maimoona Tahir Oct 2024
We grace the sky by keeping sane and alive,
So it's not protecting a barren land,
And retains it's purpose,
Although my lifelessness would encourage,
A deserted deceased body,
Over a lifeless one,
Do I have the right to despise the tarnish in the monsoon sky?
The flowers and rain,
The ceaseless beauty of this land makes me sick,
Neither am I right full to chase it nor have it,
I have been bleeding while only noticing the beauty of my blood,
With its throbbing pain going unnoticed,
Because it's all I have been allowed to see,
My nature propells me to admire what I see,
My feeble cry of destain,
Abolished by the thundering sound of the rain,
I have successfully pursued your hate,
Yet,
I am not satisfied.
Ken Pepiton Sep 2024
Theandric
Relating to, or existing by,
the union of divine and human
operation in Christ, or the joint agency
of the divine and human nature…

in any ever after, timeless nature is thinkable,
first peaceable, gentle, easily made easy with,
free as the wind
true rest in coincidence, yes, the actual idea,
yes in opposition to no, and working together,
stirring in whole new precepts to judge with,
chaos and beauty, stormy weather and calm,
tobe ra', post internet literate inventory bots,
aiaiai
what could I have known,
had I read then what I read today, had it been
thinkable back in the times we made order,
made muscles remember qwerty gestures, ai,
as if we have a genius for testing best easy ways,
we build on each easier way, we meander theandric,
- as it is written whosoever is a grand inclusion
androautomatical informational intelligence leg-ends
collections of meaningful reasons for faith usage.
Garbs of right uses,
lose all value,
naked.
True.
Idleness at days end, gloaming sophist tries,
means of matching first impressions, is it real,
or Memorex, tell me wordless window watcher.
Watching infants gain first order for search
oh how happy we shall be, when we know our
ABC-DE
mmmmhmm four square frame of reference,
Hollies, look through any window/

now, I am the grandfather, proud, with no hubris,
as salt with no savor, good for preserving old paths.

Leave it be, today, I made these remarks,
at the same time something happened everywhere.

And now, these times of constant entertaining
information acquisition with intention
expand
to graphically appear in the mind of any ever
who ever rewatched "My Octopus Friend"

and American Utopia, and the Last Waltz,

Class action inclusive bubble develops, but now,
we stretch, was my grand father low or middle brow?

How long was America MAGA ablized, rooted

Caliche, soft lime, left deep ruts where braked
wagons ground recessed groves, we could see,

those mostly got eroded away after a century.

My grandfather rode from Sweetwater to Williams,
on horses he tamed and made useful,
on horses his father shod, and taught him to shoe,

such knacks as smith's must grow to feel known,
to any degree as fine as tempering spring steel,

using modified fires of inner solar ovens,
the size of the point of the smallest star you see.

Spot welding aitia precepticonical connection,
where chata left a gap open to chabad concoctions.
The itch to be read once, is almost addictive... but we are the first humans with this degree of global agreement starting whims of why not just say it like this...
Emery Feine Sep 2024
Twisting, tingling, spinning water
Rushing past to **** the old man's daughter

Glaring, entrancing, burning fire
Scorching the skin of priest o' sire

Twirling, whirling, spinning air
Leaving man's house behind with only a scare

Crushing, rumbling, shaking earthquake
That is how 782 families had to wake

The screams from the thunder storm
Were heard all throughout town
And that kind woman went to take her children inside
When a lightning strike came crashing down

I had always been so sure
That nothing like that could happen to me
Until one day while on a sandy beach
I saw a tsunami coming from the sea
this is my 32nd poem, written on 10/3/23. it was originally supposed to be abt the beauty of nature and then it turned into this so idrk
Magi Candelaria Sep 2024
Mother Nature shouted… Enough! Enough!
You need to slow down, be still, be quiet.
I need to breathe.
You are so ungrateful for all the gifts I have given.
I am exhausted and need to rest.
She had tried to get our attention before; earthquakes,
Tornados, locusts. Even the tsunami had little effect on us.
So she unleashed Pandemia and the world was silent.
The world was silent for days.
The days turned into weeks, turned into months.
The foxes came out to play.
Blue returned to the sky.
The fishes returned to the rivers.
Will we remember to be thankful?

   — Magi
Yvette Cerdon Sep 2024
I wish the earth
Had spun less
When you turn around
So I could take one more glances
Or spun more
So it could disconnect
Your eyes that captured
My soul
Ylzm Sep 2024
In the death of death, created,
In mutual annihilation
Of stars, collapsed and collided:
Gold; buried but not corrupted,
In the earth but not of earth,
Unstained and incorruptible;
A mere symbol, void of value
But idolatry's very roots;
As in reverence for just a name
Without knowledge of what's a name
Or a person's but an image,
For spirit's imperceptible
And unknowable in the flesh.
Next page