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Erwinism Oct 2024
From the swing;
the playground,
when the mind is clear
as honeyed water,
there,
ever on the road goes,
slithering into the shadows
of the sleeping horizon,
and
when my feet
were big enough to fill
the muddied shoes,
I sauntered,
then walked,
then trudged,
until my toes were nailed
to the asphalt,
until I came upon
where the road has crumbled,
its debris scattered.

And stood this body,
two sizes too big for this tiny soul,
swathed in layers of expectations,
dragging sagging lumps of age around
past this old carnival.

Forsaken years in the rear view mirror
once painted with life,
proud stallions
here, stand still and gray,
golden poles tarnished,
Their hand crafted eyes
wide-open,
staring through the smudged glass mirror at the lives they missed.  
while the music box wheezes—
a slowing tune,
a dying sound,
as shadows lengthen
on this fairground.

Deep in my pocket,
my fingers exhume
yesterday’s cold corpses
no longer jingling,
just grating tired,
clutched a handful of
these tokens—forgotten currencies,
now just pieces of obol for the eyes,
obsolete,
for games whose booths have long since shattered.

The Ferris wheel creaks,
half-dismantled,
Its empty seats
Swinging
in the twilight’s breeze,
crying tears
of rusted nuts and bolts,
groans high above my head,  
emitting light
a weaker pulse
against the night.  
As if they were embers
holding on to their glow,
if for a moment until the breeze snatches their soul out of their ashy bed.

I stand beneath it,
feel the wind brush past  
And wonder if I’ll ever climb again,  
or if this ride has ended with the spark  
of something breaking,
and like with most
it is something I can’t fix.
Klausyuer Oct 2024
"
Should we just die?
But why?
Our show wanders far and wide— Through bustling streets
And eerie ones too.
Our act brings joy.
We smile,
we dance,
Juggling frowns,
masking tears,
Just to please the lively crowds.
Their cheers define our dreams,
Yet so many burdens
Hinder my act,
With each ticket sold for my demise, Trading laughter for sorrow.
My show, my stage—
A slaughterhouse.
For my show,
It makes me cry.

Yet beneath the laughter,
a voice lingers:
“Not doing good?
Did you forget
That we’re alright?
Mom values honesty, but not you.
You cherish lies,
For no one speaks the truth.
I don’t blame you.
Have you read the script?
Life is generous,
Joyously watching our shock,
For the cruel script.”

The flashing lights reveal my tears,
But I can’t see them.
Numbed by the cold,
with no warmth to cope,
Only silence screams for me.
I can’t accept it,
but the show must go on,
Because that’s what actors do—
Performing life and death
until night bleeds into day,
Just to please the crowd.
But I’m no fool,
so I bow.
I want to retire,
but they crave more—
More from my foolish act.
I wear my mask and smile,
So light yet so heavy.
I hate it,
But you tell me,
We’ll be fine,
For lies keep us sane.

My mind is a friend I never asked for.
Even if I’m mute,
you speak for me.
You love to act, right?
Playing life—
Left and right,
Far and wide.
I am proud of you
For enduring.
See that light?
Yes, I want it,
That act I can’t perform—
It’s hope,
But it feels too far,
too hard.

Lost in my head,
My only paradise,
Teetering between hope and doubt,
As bright lights
And trembling legs
Make my script fall,
Expecting me to embrace death.

The actor’s mask fell,
A broken man,
A wounded soul,
Waiting to be loved and heard.
Yet the crowd goes wild.
Awe and shock flash on their faces
As I cry on the ground,
Waiting for help.
They cheer and celebrate my fall,
My painful act.
Each applause stings my heart.
I’m scared, alone,
But you keep telling me to dance—
DanCe!
DAncE!
DaNCe!
They love my mask,
My act, and lies.
They want the show to go on and on.

I can’t take it anymore.
It’s too dark to see.
The only light I find in despair
Is the ending script,
A final curtain call,
And the credits roll.

Here and now,
Ready to end it all,
My only friend,
My lies, my head Screech their plea:
“Don’t leave me be.
The show must go on, right?
There’s more to act.
See life’s script—
Someone will perform your cherished truth,
That we are loved and cherished.
So keep lying and wear your mask until then,
Don’t do the final act.”

It deafens my ears,
Waking me from the brink of demise.

I put my mask down
And read my script.
I cry all night,
Alone,
But I read hope.
That’s how long the show is,
how hard life can be
When you hide it all
And skip the script Just for an act.
It’s not my first performance,
So I’ll be fine.
I’ll act once more tomorrow,
But for tonight,
I’ll finish my monodrama.
The show must go on,
after all.
"


-Klausyuer: The ****** Poet
Taking inspiration from "i am fine" & "Behind the Dancing Clown"
rooN Sep 2024
Expectations, vessels of hope
The root to your demise.
A mountain which grows with each milestone met
With triumphs- mirages of fulfillment
As the fog clears to unveil heights more expectations
And the weight of others’ aspirations
Overshadowing the joys of past achievements.
And as you ascend, echos of your weakness haunt you
Then only your failures are whispered about
And forgotten will be the trials you passed
As the summit continues to rise.
I don’t really know how I feel about this. So much to say but not enough words to describe the feelings
Flo Sep 2024
I often ponder and struggle
Being decisive is hard and
I tend to freeze up
In times I need to make up my mind
I tend to lose my way

The fear and anxiety
Of a future that may not be
Of dreams that may never come true
And ambitions that end up in failure
It often leaves me paralyzed

I start to regret choices
Before they are made
And I mourn
The opportunities forever lost

Things will never change
If you choose to remain stagnant
A simple fact and
A cruel truth

Moving forward requires courage
It requires a leap of faith
And the ability to believe in yourself
Thing’s I have long since forgotten

Who could have thought
Seeking change could be this hard
I cannot stop but feel burdened
By the person I’ve become
And by the person I aspire to be
Jeremy Betts May 2024
Addiction
Oh what a complication
Repetition
Needs no invitation
Depression
Defies limitation
Immersion
Beyond expectation
A relation
With my elimination
Intention
Only to silence the negative reflection

©2024
Zywa Mar 2024
Making people laugh

is risky, because they will --


force you to do it.
Novella "De grote wereld" ("The upper world", 2006, Arthur Japin), chapter 5 --- Collection "Wean Di"
Zywa Feb 2024
The sky is clear blue,

the day is new, I am free --


from expectations.
Personal transmission-composition "Occam ocean" for orchestra (2015, Éliane Radigue), performed in the Organpark on February 3rd, 2024, by ensemble ONCEIM (L'Orchestre de Nouvelles Créations, Expérimentations, et Improvisations Musicales) and others - @percussion, @brass section

Collection "org anp ark" #358
Six children and a suburban home
Don't it hurt you to see me like this?
One of yours, and still so alone?

First daughter assigned third wife
I've done it all wrong again,
Haven't I?

Sprawled all across this spiky green turf
Drinking up the merciless sunshine
Trying to keep it down

Weeping about my friend's father
Watching for a hint of remorse in your stern frown
I wait for you to ask for my forgiveness
Go on, ask
Let me for once be the one to deny
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