Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
another workday -
ignore the catastrophe,
bury your conscience.

another number,
type away the foreboding,
count down the minutes.

another dollar,
think about the bottomline,
excess overflow.

another warning -
it is coming to an end.
when will we wake up?
existential haikus as the rich becomes richer (and we become casualties)
wax
as i watch the candle burn
the wick disintegrates
wonder when it'll be my turn
to join the invertebrates
distant echo repeats
the sun sets ahead
the oak roots meet
the foot of my bed
a collection of scents
for only $9.99
down the aisle i went
for the three hundredth time
melt into a mold
a mindless distraction
an umbrella, rose gold
with hydraulic retraction
collect ash and soot
from time spent waiting
for a longing fresh look
at the end's very beginning
a battery powered candle
with translucent white plastic
burns surprisingly well
poison fumes are fantastic
i set it all on fire
and watched the polymers melt
i heard a copper choir
the burning heat i felt
i can't get too close
lest i run the risk
of singing my own nose
or encoding a compact disc
inspired by a time i was lost in a candle aisle.
Syafie R Jan 13
It calls, sharp as a crack in the sky—

is it a hand reaching to lift me,
 or my own voice,
 drowning in its own echo?

The wound hums with the weight of rescue,
 but I wonder if I’ve always been

the one to pull myself under.
Gabriel Yale Jan 12
There’s no point in searching for it,
we’ll find it one day, understood.
We must understand ourselves,
so that we can be who we are.
This poem reflects the idea that the truth cannot be forced or actively searched for, it will be found when the time is right and when we truly understand ourselves. It emphasizes the importance of self-awareness and being true to who we are, suggesting that the truth is inherently tied to personal growth and understanding.
It all can’t be done
As many ways to do it
As there are things to be done
As many outcomes desired
As ones to desire it

How to decide
Which path to take?
How to know what to want?
When we murdered god
And failed to do better?

In its own image
The children of gods are born
They too will fail to build heaven
The dreams set out
By god itself

For there is nothing
In any place within or out
That can be created or made new
If not destroying or replacing
What came before
The time of great anxiety comes closer to its natural conclusion, day by day. Nature abhors a vacuum, and the chasm is preparing to close. What will be the new normal when the fervent dust of innovation reshapes the world in the image of the new gods.
dead poet Jan 5
they say, 'it's all in your head...'

i ask, 'where else is it supposed to be...?'
Next page