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Dipesh Jun 20
The Universe, is it big? Or is our imagination of it is?

Are we alone? Indebted to the loan of the

unknown

who created us and the other organisms

who we disown,



How far will we go?



Where will our tempt to know more lead us?



Will it take us to other places with other organisms whom we

shall fight because we are nothing but

selfish

we care about the selfies

and the money and the things which we

own,



How far will we go?



I am more fascinated by other organisms because

they are

different

then us, they don't

fight over a spilled bowl,

they don't have emotions like us all,

but still, they survive, at least they try to and we

do them the

opposite,

our own fall,



How far will we go?



I don't know when we will find

life outside of our planet but if we

do

Mark my words,

we shall not leave them alone

because it is our nature to

fight,

for our own survival, no for our

ego,

Now, we will **** them

all,



How far will we go?

~A poem.
Humans fascinate me. Our differences, our indifferences, are so small, yet large?
I don't know where we all are headed.
A pine cone swept in the timber
in blow with wooden needles
that a lantern was the wiles of birch
along the frills of enlightened where spores till
this deadwood manufacturing transport
with a pipe cleaner's lore of trees
whether they intertwine on the carpet again
in loom to manifold in the soil.
Dark and nostalgic,
like a cold atmosphere of night.
Brighter as glitters,
like the stars up in the sky.
                    Just like you,
beautiful and mesmerizing,
as i could see is your face.
Sweet and minuscule,
as i see my world inside your eyes.
It's pretty amusing,
like my aspiration and strange fascination
that i would like to reiterate
                       to you.
I can keep myself silent
but it's deafening like
deep inside my heart,
it shouts and bellows
that it'll make perfect,
                   to be with you.
You can be hard and fierce.
rough and rugged.
And if your love takes torture,
i can be mellower as what i see in your heart.
Passionate and reckless,
like obnoxious things.
but i can take it easy and simple.
it won't be hard.
It doesn't get any better than you.
The relentless effort to exhale
Emotions, with composed face,
That's me around you

Your presence alone
deprive me of the power of resistance
I Lose control, become irrational
That's me around you

Your flawless beauty, intoxicating my vision
Entertaining my every senses
Teasing the mere faculty to see beyond.
.........that's me around you.
Skye Carpenter Dec 2015
Oh how I love to sit,
drink tea and to a book commit.
To be taken into a beguiling imaginary place,
where anything is possible if only we embrace.
A true escapism from all of life's horrors,
we become the character's explorers.
It can be a despondent journey across the pages,
as I continually ponder what my life has become for ages.
I realise all the characters that I will never be;
recognise the adventures I alone will never see.
Although, it can be a beautiful experience if we read between the lines;
because we discover who we really are and build on virtues as we read the signs.
JayceeJellies Oct 2015
I'm sorry for mumbling
so often I'm nervous
I've been told too many
times to hush
or to be quiet
if I ever heard it from you
I'd probably fall silent
for many reasons actually
you're someone who truly
f a s c i n a t e s   me..
I'd hate to bore someone
who's just so intriguing
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
I am in levels. Past levels. This deep, intrinsic wonderful lost, the lawlessness of its fascinating expenditure of excite. Pushing through the wild and feral snow-dusted plains and timber ridges. Like red-spotted dots breathing through the cylinders called the spine. This descends into a narrow channel of scantly clad greenish scenery in a time-soaked visionary wilderness of snow,
Our crab legs dancing down wiry purple highways, our heads could not even look backwards if we had wanted.

Furious, love-latitudes, stalking breaths thwacking fork-ended tongues into a pinkish knot buried into the first layer of organic membrane on this railway of miniature canals, showing. And their pride snuck into the elbows, shooting down each vertebrae as it stepped with great precision every ledge that the currency emphasized. The raw accumulation of stolen heart-beats rattling between the interstices of new fuel careering these red engines. Crashing with exquisite pleasure into one another.

— The End —