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vik Jul 18
i will dissolve
                    into every window i’ve never looked through
into the faces i passed and never asked their names
i will wear their voices
                                           like wet fabric
and let their lives
               press salt into my skin

i will walk
               barefoot into the golden streetlight
where shadows kneel quietly
                                       beside electric trees
i will open my ribs
                                and let the evening pour in

i will not be me
                              not only
i will bloom
               inside the laughter of someone i’ll never meet
                                                           who once kissed someone i never will
and still
                     i will mean it

i will sit beside oceans
                                     as her
as him
as the child still learning how to cry
and in each breath
                                 i will carry
the hunger
             to feel it all

i will speak
                in unfamiliar tongues
to moons that do not rise for me
                                        and still say
yes

i will press my fingers
              into the dusk
                      until it softens
and teaches me
                                    how to vanish gently

i will love
               like a stranger
like a thousand strangers
                                             each with different hands
and hearts that end
                                  too soon

i will rise
               carrying cities
and regrets
               and a boy who once drew birds in the dirt
i will rise
                       and walk into the last light
wearing every name but my own

and just before the clock splits
                       i will
                                              finally
                                              be.
🕰️
Yash Shukla Jul 11
समुद्रासारखं आहे आयुष्य –
कधी आनंदाची लाट, कधी दुःखाची सर.
रस्त्यासारखं आहे आयुष्य –
कधी अपयशाचा खड्डा, कधी यशाची भर.

आकाशासारखं आहे आयुष्य –
कधी स्वच्छ सोपं, कधी दाट अवघड.
शाळेतल्या वर्गासारखं आहे आयुष्य –
कधी स्मशान शांतता, कधी खूप बडबड.

आयुष्याच्या या तुलनांचा
खूप गहन अभ्यास करावा,
परिस्थितीच्या अटी पाहून मगच
आयुष्याचा फॉर्म भरावा.
ही कविता १२ जून २०२० रोजी लिहिलेली आहे
TonyNoon Jun 30
It isn’t Paris but it is.

As the light washes
over late afternoon
walls full of us and
other people’s lives.

As the music charms
our old bones we can
add context to our list
of rolodex happenings.

As the shadows hint at
mystery beneath every
shining moment we can
justifiably glint and smile.

It isn’t Paris…but it is.



Tony Noon
Kasansa Kuya Jun 24
Today I woke into a nightmare.
I rushed out the door, already late for work.
Behind the stream of cars the sun greeted me
with refractive beauty only seen in the greatest masterpieces.
I remarked that my eyes hurt.
the streams slow flow,
Increased my despair.
A twisted metal monolith,
caused the trucks to come in tow.
I drove past a chaotic scene.
I was annoyed at my lack of discipline.
A wayward bubble trapped in a slow stream.
Never wondering how I was supposed to know.
As a well rested wonderer I sat in my chair,
Ended the day with good time spared.
My birthday had proceeded without a hitch.
Neither laid out on a road or sickly in my bed.
The indifferent world greeted me,
with every boon it had to spare
I'm 27 today!
Zywa Jun 24
My heart knows no stopping
it pulls through

within the trinity of time
from the green beginning
of my fate, getting myself
on my feet

with passion and jumping back
into the stream of experiences
swimming a stroke every now
and then, drifting along a little

and letting a lot pass by
beauty and cruelty
waves of feelings and
caresses of life

under the foam of my consciousness
the white soul of time
- The red passion and will, nature's dynamic lust for life (rajas)
- The green body, nature's structure (tamas)
- The white soul, the balanced whole of nature (sattva)

Collection "web tissue"
Zywa Jun 14
The movie actress

sits on horsehair, you see it --


because she feels it.
Film "The Phoenician Scheme" (2025, Wes Anderson) - Liesl sits on a horsehair mattress

Collection "Local inconveniences"
Kyle Kulseth Jun 6
I'm damp from soaking in my spite and
I don't have a jacket.
I'm dumb for eating up your crumbs and
filling up on famine.

Your hands
     are death traps
Your eyes
     are road maps
faking destinations.
Making preparations
     to sever me off spitefully...
     lacerate me, sight unseen

     Our town is an eraser, now, and you've made me into fade marks
     Stayed quiet on the margins til I marked your words and got smart
     Smarting heart and scabbing memories...Already! Let me peel it off
          Let me peel it off. Destroy me and then peel it off.

Street lights are laughing cruel again and
I can't even blame them.
Stupid, I drowned in the belief that
believing was an agent.

Your words
     false star maps
Your laughter?
     A death trap--
A blooded incantation
A prepared exhalation
     So sever me off spitefully...
     slash out my eyes so I can't see.

                                      Claw me up, while I wait
                                      tear every single atom
                                                    I have
                                                     in me
                                                  from me

     Our town is an eraser, now, and you've made me into fade marks
     Stayed quiet on the margins til I marked your words and got smart
     Smarting heart and scabbing memories...Already! Let me peel it off
          Let me peel it off. Destroy me and then peel it off.
Ain't it just the pits?
In a luminous lost space, my ego dissolved.
I’ve tasted the nectar, of cosmic resolve.
Through swirling patterns, a map would unfold.
I’ve traced the connections, of the timeless and bold.

A symphonic wonder, a radiant flow.
Where boundaries blurred, and darkness glowed.
The world expanded to a canvas so bright,  
And I, one of darkness, was bathed in its light.

My ego dissolves. What a gentle release.
I merge with it all, I merge with its peace.
The unity of being all truth was revealed.
In every single pulse, a bond is being sealed.

I observed full potential in a quantum bound space.
My energy, my soul. We morph with the waves.
In this transcendence, did I finally belong?
I’ve stitched harmonies from an out of tune song.

No darkness lives here, no shadows to hide,
Just pure ecstasy on an ever-living tide.
The veil, it lifted. Revealing the mind.
With every atom, sculpting this sacred design.
supposedly a mature
well-put-together
functioning adult
who has travelled
both up and
down escalators
     of all sizes
countless times
throughout his life
there will always be
a fleeting moment
a child-like panic
as he shuffles onto
the grinning maw
of those toothy steps
still experiencing
that lingering
sense of unease
he would get
while younger
climbing or descending
dragged along
by driven parents
or rushing onwards
to keep pace with
assured friends

in that split second
before sole
and metal conjoin
overwhelmed by
the constant shifting
of this unwelcoming
corrugated tread
with calculations of
when and where
to place his feet
in time with
the ever-moving
conveyor of steps
frozen momentarily
with the thought
that he might
miss his footing
trip and fall
even though
deep down he knows
he has managed this
innumerable
times before
Zywa May 23
It's hailing thick ice

bullets and the clouds beat tens --


of thousands of drums.
Novella "De heilige Antonio" ("The Saint of the Impossible" / "Saint Antonio", 1998, Arnon Grunberg), chapter 15

Collection "Stream"
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