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M Solav Mar 28
All of those past events
The mountain climb, and the descent
They're scrolling past to lay my
Destruction.

And once I'd gone to the other side
Despite all that I had left behind
They've started hunting for my
Salvation.

And they're gone,
Yes they're gone,
While I'm torn
In the maze of my
Contortions.

And they're gone,
Yes they're gone,
While I'm tearing
The fabric of my
Illusions.
Written on July 22, 2020.
Why do I have a million feelings when I wish I could just feel one?

Why do I feel like I could soar across the sky, or float on top of the clouds one day, but then crumble down below the earth the next day?

What causes the bubbly feeling of laughter to be suddenly replaced with the grey storms of a heavy cry?

Why do I feel so sure of myself at times to then switch sides with the sudden urge to hide?

Why do I feel extraordinary most days, but plain at other times?

Why are people so hurtful with their words when I am so delicate with mine?

Why are others so quick to judge your cover before they dive into what is inside?

Why do life events happen before the blink of an eye?

Why does time feel so special that it cannot wait, and why does it insist on rushing by?

Out of all the events, emotions, actions, and words, why is there a million questions of why?
Thomas Harvey Jan 15
I would like to take a moment to think about the present
To not look forward nor behind
But to enjoy the sunrise and the moons crescent
To see my life's shadow on those who are blind

In this world people make the past present
They scorn with hatred, please with evil
They move any way the choose, treating those of the world as peasants
Those who strike out against, are also strike down until they are weak and feeble

At the same time, there are imaginaries who wish to leave their problems behind
To step on a new earth, where nothing but greatness awaits
They ignore those around them in search of a new find
Through all the loneliness, all they discover is that they fell for the bait

When the two worlds collide, division is created
Yes far more than right or wrong and left or right
What is left is a society without purpose, one that's tainted
While the winner continues ruling with might

The ones they can't touch, are the one who live for today
Those who make the most out of day to night
Who focus on who they are, rather than what they have to say
For they are theones who keep the world shining bright
Wood burns from blue flames
Air drawn in does change
Prepared for events to unfold
Stationary held for take off
Past the count of numbers out
Breathing easier now
A transient being announced
Green lady elevates state
Orange eyes merge, lights diverge
Lifted into what seems to be
A tunnel of colourful multiple Vs
Pleasant fate when identity dissipates
No pain, no pressures, no claims
Just white space
Until pulled back into this place
To live a life again
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
History
Tells The Tale
of
Tomorrows Sorrow
History future
Rolloroberson Oct 2020
Harsh geographical tongues,
Set up against the asphalt gleaming in the bright light,
The A Crowd betwixt and between- efforting that cool knowing stance to cover the fear reeked knee **** bloodthirst their inadequacy always spawned.
The B Crowd simpers aghast at what unconscious desires to adopt the life husk of burned out hucksters has wrought.
The sentimental inspector dutifully tweaks the scales so we all have a tighter grasp on true value.
Postscript: Lord grant me the grace to disguise the portentous notions that I am anything other than what I pretend to be...


[Rolloroberson copyright 2020]
A flood of information late in the night
Naveen Malhotra Sep 2020
I am lost in the maze of events
Blazing trails to find no ends
Looking towards her spirit for guidance
Brilliance appears on the horizon
Leave it to Providence in silence
My beloved
And beautiful Faisal
You tell me the story
Of your horrific childhood
And ask
“Love me for me”

My beloved
Gift from Allah
I tell you
In bits about what happened
To me
And I say
“Love me for me”

We are two
Lonely
And broken souls
The product of the same
Source.....
Terrorism










‎محبوبي
‎ وجميل فيصل
‎ أخبرني القصة
‎ من طفولتك المرعبة
‎ و إسأل
‎ "أحبني لشخصي"

‎ محبوبي
‎ هبة من الله
‎ أقول لكم
‎ في أجزاء حول ما حدث
‎ إلي
‎ وأنا أقول
‎ "أحبني لشخصي"

‎ نحن اثنان
‎ وحيد
‎ ونفوس محطمة
‎ منتج نفس الشيء
‎ مصدر.....
‎ الإرهاب
Dante Rocío Sep 2020
Watching the schemes
of the World
and realising nothing
happens without
a cause yet
it seems so,
there it is
to see it
is not us
who choose events,
but they choose us,
since there are so many
mishaps on our
part.
As we know there is no coincidence in
the ways all Here flows to and fro,
one side of event must have premeditation.
Once we see how we are “accidents”
and can’t pinpoint it exactly,
there is no other way than to say
The other side takes course of it.
Gorba Sep 2020
I fell in a well full of emptiness
And crashed on a ground made of darkness
My body bears open wounds bleeding unanswered questions
While my mind flies over clouds of elusive notions

I’m lying down wondering about my future
Which is looking at me in disguise at the next corner
Arguing passionately with my past, wrinkled by memories, tired and naked
Trying to decide what the next step will be  
Leaving me, present, out of the conversation, obsolete, already almost dated
And showing me no sign of the slightest pity, no comfort to my misery

I’m looking for a saving remedy, for a narrow escape
But it seems like there is none, I see no gate
I will try to “be the change I wish to see in the world” instead
Hoping that I am not being in over my head

A tasteless soup of words is feeding my thoughts
That my brain tries to season with a pinch of sense
I’m trying to articulate what I mean, what my reflection brought
But everything is mashed up now, it feels too dense
I might need to heat the entire batched up
And start again, as many times as needed, I will never give up.
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