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Juliana Apr 20
I am bamboozled.
The instructions are
a monotonous contradiction.

For every tale
I read of traitorous bloodlust,
of holy hypocrisy,
my motivation to finish
this ****** bibliography
escapes my body,
flailing itself into
the constellations.

I am left nothing more
then a gelatinous sack,
a sorrowful student
resembling some
squashed cranberries.
Juno Jan 3
I like to think
all these years of schooling and essays and grammar
existed so i could one day adequately describe my Love for you.
Nylee Dec 2020
In this life there is
hidden misery in every sentences.
But by the end of the sentence
there is full stop,
the only sign of peace,
But more words come,
to fill my life sentence,
To write the essay I've become.
peter Nov 2020
effortlessly typing an essay
neurons firing away
jack kerouac with the synap-
tic cleft running neurotransmitters
at the speed that my hand stumble
this machine;

fury storm.

this machine that im using and a part of;
paying for it in cogs and oil, precious precious oil;

i am the next shakespeare, said the mad man;
full of energy, full of life;
ideas automatic
write it down, force of habit;

i want it to be known
just finished reading the dharma bums
Kathryn Apr 2020
People say to me, “How can you believe in God? You must know it’s all just a fairytale.”

And this is my reply:

Have you ever slept in the woods with no lantern, no light, and all the stars and moonlight blocked by the treetops? Then you know what darkness is, you know what fear and uncertainty are. That was my life. I lived in that Night. I can’t explain what years of darkness feel like as a child but it felt like a never ending night-terror that I endured alone.

Hearing God speak to me was a beam of moonlight piercing through the dark and scattering the branches to come and meet with me. He met with me in my deepest pain & loneliness, and He has ever walked with me since. I’ve never known a soul so faithful or kind, so easily pleased or so quick to forgive. He is the deepest, wildest, strangest sort of Lover.

So call me a fool for believing that Someone so marvelous could exist, and naive that He would notice me, and absurd that He would even go as far as to love me. There were moments I thought it too wonderful as well. But can you see why I would fling my life into His arms? Can you see why I’d trust Him with all my life, my soul, my heart? Can you blame me for giving Him everything I have and calling it too small a gift?

While my fragile frame still wanders here, I will be His with every inch of me I have to give. And should He take me tomorrow or decades yet to come, I will fall into His embrace with a sigh of long-suffering finally eased.

He is not so different from a fairytale because He is too strange and wonderful to explain. Almost too much to believe. But until you’ve felt the moonbeam fall across your face and your spirit quickened by its touch, and heard a silvan voice murmur through the windless trees, don’t be too quick to disbelieve.

This is not a complete prose-y/essay yet. I’m still mulling it over but I thought I’d share what I have so far. Feedback always welcome!

**no image because I haven’t found one I like yet
All feedback is welcomed and much appreciated!
Lyner Apr 2020
The stars sparkle like
LED lights
Hung upon the walls of a celestial dorm
A college student in the skies
studies the small creatures below
She writes her essays on myths
that humans told long ago
Her professor grades the paper
judging not on fact, but on prose
Classmates chat in the halls
About classes, about dating, about parties
But the lunar lady continues watching
with a cautious eye
As we go about our daily lives
JΛM Jan 2020
It's going to start the playlist with the second video saying the first is unavailable. The first is available so go ahead and just start it from "The Power of Smile by Tupac Shakur".
Adrian Dec 2019
My life is in shambles.
As destitute as that essay...
For English. This sounds wrong...
3 things:
1, camel notation is a way to name variables in computer coding
2, look closely at the haiku, i messed something up on purpose.
3, I may fancy myself as a poet (idk if i can call myself one) but ******* i am horrible at writing essays.
Olena Y Sep 2019
Barn swallows swarm in the nests near the ridge of the roof – they never fly away for the winter because summer in that garden is not ruled by the calendar.

Pears always ripen there, sweet purple grapevines are covered with wasps and apples fall right on to the table…
Here I will always cut flowers into bouquets and make wreaths of dainty mummy’s dahlias and cosmos…

I’ll always collect my herbs and press them to dry in an old book. I just want to preserve my memories…

…how our kitten caught the lizard and how I plucked her to safety. How I held her small body in the palm of my hand and studied the patterns on her skin. How still she was…resigned to her fate. This time you’re in luck, babe. I let you go to the warm cover of the well… you disappeared just like that…will you survive the winter?

I can already feel the coolness of autumn and wrap myself in a blanket to sit down on the porch to sip my tea.

I do the same things I have done so many times in my life…
...ever since you showed me how at midnight Ursa Major and her baby bear walk around our roof, how a salty, starry road leads south and drops its stars in our garden…over and over again in a circle…

The only thing I am sure of now is that shooting stars pay no heed at all to our wishes – they just burn up in the atmosphere and leave no trace behind.
A Dedication.
to My Father
Starry Sep 2019
I don't care about popular belief but this is my take on tantra and tantric ***.   Though I have never tried it and DON'T WANT TO because of my experience with its **** and from others I know.  It's is an evil and degenerative thing to do. It more ***.
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