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A colorless, eye-shaped smoke in the sky is my eyes,
That, instead of seeing, creates new skies,
New ground, and on it a new population.

None can be sure about my subjective realisation,
But what I see is more like a simplification
Of a horribly bad-mad world.

I myself am not sure how the colours are whirled;
The colours of dream- and under-world
As clothes in a washing machine.

Myself is supposed to whirl inside that machine,
Among the instinctive desires and unclean,
Inherited demands.

While my true existence that no one understands
Is beyond those dark-coloured commands,
Just dwelling for observation.
Love was never between
    Beautiful Faces
Love was between
     The **** experiences
Love was never about
     How happy you were
Love was about
     How sad you can be without them
Love shouldn't be
Love should be
Love is bound to nothing perfect
Ageless with wrinkles
Love is bound to flaws
And that's the uniqueness
Love varies in different people
In different ways
Of showing " I love you"
This is how I view love.
I cry blood-soaked tears,
My soul writhes in agony,
As my arms touch you.
I am merely a human,
A spectrum of emotion.

To whom shall I owe-
My own rationality?
My experience?
To feel and even not feel,
I own my conscience, my name.
A two-fold tanka (5-7-5-7-7) that showcases “cor et anima” or the heart and soul. Touches upon the subject of emotion, rationality, and conscience.
Justyn Huang Sep 17
“How heavy is the light you carry?”
, asked the kid.

The light itself weighs nothing
but is easily seen by all:
the good, the bad, the wandering
and eventually touches everyone
which makes it an easy target.

To bear the light, one must
wander through the consequence of their own desires.
Everyone can spot the light easily,
but darkness masks itself in many forms.
Eventually every individual is chosen at some point
in their lives to seek their true path.
But they must navigate the dark on their own.

The Universe has no wrong timing either.
They send each soul out when they are supposed to go.
But everyone encounters different things.
Some see dragons, others see pigs, or even
the shadows of ghosts - but in dealing with these,
each is granted their own weapon of choice
Which is sharpened and made stronger with each foe they slay.

Everyone is matched with monsters the
same size of their bravery and no one is pitted
against the things they cannot overcome.
It is believed to be of highest honors when
an individual is chosen to journey, and
during this time the people closest to them
must let go. Friends and family look away,
and the more they hold on, the longer it takes.

“What about those colorful stripes? How
did you get those?”, the kid asked tracing
the edges of colors that decorated the light bearer.

Oh these? Every time someone loses a battle
and falls to the darkness, they are marked with
a bright color - making them more easily spotted
by their enemies and must start over.

But every time they start over they have
gained the wisdom of practicality to navigate
the darkness better and begin glowing a hue brighter.

“Oh that’s really cool! You remind me of a
colorful Zebra and feel like a Daddy to me!
I’ll call you ZADDY!”

Oh, gawd. Please don’t facepalm

“When I grow up I want to be as colorful as you!”

Ah, for your sake I hope you keep your one true color.
A bush rustles nearby
Quick, look! There’s a shiny bulbasaur over there!
Let’s go catch it!!

And the light bearer flings parts of himself upon the ground
illuminating a glowing path for all that wander nearby to see.

"Everyday is like walking on magical rainbows with you"
A short story.
Hilary Sep 15
Standing on a mountain
looking around
at other mountains
is not growing

Growing is climbing down,
looking around,
and choosing another mountain to climb

and while they say
that life is a journey,
Exploration without knowing
what direction to walk
feels a lot like being lost


These things I thought I'd mastered

I was skimming the surface of a lake,
talking about things
I had reasoned were inside

Throwing myself into the water
changed my understanding of it

Maturity means more than growing older
Vulnerability means more than speaking my truth
Intent is never finished or checked off a list
Community is a two way street

Experience is not always expertise
Confidence is not always complementary

A year has shown me
that life really is a journey
and I know which direction
I want to walk
Seanathon Sep 9
You bade me come
Like blades of grass and shields of rye

Like wind in mountain meadows past
Like sun and moon and sky

Your hand outstretched a breath from mine
Midst mire known to sink

I reached
And took you in with a sight so deep

You bade me come alive
This one started with a sound, which lead to a sight, which lead to a question, and ultimately brought me here. THAT is how this came to be.
Starry Aug 30
After the first day of school
I remember getting into
So to avoid my parents yelling at me
I see on the back porch
Seeing the sun set
To quiet the mind
Zane Smith Aug 28
her petals wilted
a beautiful blue
radiating a subtle hue,
the suns beams reveal her glow
she carries her head high even when feeling low.
pushed and shoved
deserving of more love,
protect her with all your heart
please lean on me when you fall apart,
stronger brighter than any other.
the cold breeze and rough winds
bend your stem and take with them some petals
but babe your beautiful blue
your radiant hue,
will always and forever be a part of you
a poem I wrote about a close friend I was worried about but will forever cherish out friendship.
To reach beyond the stars in a restful headspace,
Only to pull a guise over it when we begin to think again.
We shelter ourselves in our pin point perception of reality, masking the reality as a dream to shroud out all questions that arise out of it.
We cling to this world, for it is all we have ever known. If we let go of what we know for a moment, we begin to see reality for what it is, not how we perceive it to be.
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