Here I can think
without hindrance or bother,
amid towering pines and
the cowering bramble and
the river that rifts the soil
into pleasant little hillocks,
made home for the wild
and the earthly and the pure.
Here I am not harried by the
howling song of man,
no motorcades of lunacy
can touch my private ear,
traded for the placid, honest
sounds of earth (a song
that can't be echoed).
Here I'm left to ponder
or not ponder, just the same,
the truth of my soul or
the meaning of my given name.
Here I have not lost myself,
though should I do just that,
if I follow the bends of the river,
the road that isn't crowded,
I'll be brought back to nothing
but peace.

Don't try too hard to be happy.
Honor the Truth,"
And the Truth will set you free.
If you feel free,
Happiness ceases to be so critical,
If your busy trying to please others
Your sense of well-being is always
Impacted by their whims.
Whose decisions and behavior
You can't control.

Chan S 2d

See, breath comes so easily to us.
Yet, Trust?
Not so much.
We're always talking about the surface things-
And never the things,
the things that make us feel-alive    
the things that make us stick around
the things that make us wanna thrive
and hit the ground -running-
Toward the Truth!
Toward the beauty of it!
Toward the ugly!
Toward the feelings that make us feel all crumby!
But it's the truth!
What's so bad about the truth?!
It may hurt.
It may scare you.
But what's life without fear and pain
If not to obtain a wealth in knowledgeable gain
Take off the masks, they're suffocating the love and compassionate from our very lungs
That we need to

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit or send a letter to Creative Commons, PO Box 1866, Mountain View, CA 94042, USA.

It’s okay
To think
What seems possible
The intangible
Keeps us

i couldn't tell you
so i lied.
i couldn't face you,
so i had to hide.
it's cowardly,
i know.
but honestly,
i wasn't meant to be loved.
and when we end,
i'll hit up an old friend,
because i can't stand to be alone.
i'll kiss their lips,
and hate myself for doing it,
but that won't stop me from going to their home.
it's a twisted way to live,
i must be delirious...
but to give,
and be returned with nothing?
that makes you feel so small,
so i may need some help growing again .
i could never tell you that though,
instead i'll make excuse after excuse,
after all this is a cowards truth.
so you can blame me for destroying us.
but tell me,
how can you destroy something that just isn't there?

You make me hungry
Let me try again

We sat and watched
Walked and touched
Stood and kissed

I promise I do more than just sweat

Oh I wanted to apologize
For breaking your stuff
For being flakey
For the way the universe spun our destinies in an inexplicable, individual intersection rather than a permanent, parallel path.

AND I wanted to thank you
For all the funny videos
For being my crash course
For your thoughts, your consistent focus, your dependability in a GOD FORSAKEN world at the times I needed clarity and all I could see was the back of the lenses made to help me see farther

Tell me, does this sound like a goodbye?

Let's just be genuine like we always are

I dig you.

I don't want to be the one to bury you.
I know a good amount of your scars and I don't want my name on one of them.

Not one

So before we do this,
before we commit
to this perishable product and it's ever approaching expiration date.

Let's be genuine like we always are

Tell me it won't hurt. Tell me you can take it. Tell me... The truth?
Is that what I want?

I thought I wanted the truth. Now I only want it if it's not what I expect.


is that what I'm trying to say?

I'm a sucker for surprises
I mean
Aren't we all?
Don't we all
Need a good shock to the system every now and then?
And that's all you've ever been to me

So you'll tell me what I want to hear and call it the truth, harboring ulterior motives.
And I'll buy into it and call it acceptable, thinking, "things have changed" "it's different now" "this can work"
You can make a man lie to himself so easily, you know that?

Not really

What is it?

You make me hungry
Let me try again


Not again

Ash Slade Jun 15

Tell it to me straight.
Spin me no fancy tales.
Let it come easily without
If it doesn't I'll accept it
Don't change it to
Fit your plans.
Move on
Let it be
Don't sow seeds of disharmony
Let it be.
Tell it to me straight.
Don't tie fancy ribbons 'round
I don't care if shits messy
Naturally speak.
I request honesty
Please give that to me.
That being said ----
I understand if you cannot
Just don't lure
With false hope.
Let it go
Let it go
Move on.

Does truth even exist Anymore? If so, what is It?
Donna Jones Jun 12

the more I write
the more my heart bleeds
leaving feelings
of hunger
festering into
my heart and soul
where I silently cry
for your return
yet all I am
is a lonely girl
who yearns the love
from a mother
whose love cannot
be offered freely
unless bitterness
is promoted
upon her dry cracked lips
as she wanders
aimlessly in desert
plumed with cactuses

Releasing negativity

Traces of tiredness excavate deep into his skin,
Daily, as I enter with a volatile smile, weekly,
In search of my dose of earthly blood, pretending
I am blind to my perception, neglecting my intuition.

Assumptions lead to consider he’s always had one
Too many, and perhaps something more, should I guess
An alkaloid passing off as his friend, allowing him to keep
Going, beyond his natural forces and strength.

He’s ageing prematurely, worries and silver curls
For taxes and suppliers, a runny nose and a bloated belly,
Four years of activity, complots and conspiracy,
Courting customers who vary, trading loyalty for markdowns.

Experience acquired by the day, market research,
Watching the big shots being relieved, treating debts
By way of mathematical games as he pays
For each and every one of his mistakes.

His little dog assumes his likes, long grey hair
Covering his eyes, not to see, the infamy.
For that particular rum you can only ask Velier,
He sets the price, no bargains, no payables, barely any gain.

On the black market however, other stories are told.
Creative Naples, its entrepreneurs and financial guards
Guide you from depots to highways exchanging farewells
At the tollbooth. Your risk, your gloom, your despair.

The rum in his car boot costs less but is the same,
Same brand, same bottle, same taste, had to pass through Velier.
Nervous as a reluctant crook, his required foxiness impedes
Timid tears from rolling down his cheeks and give in.

As he questions the rules of the illegitimate system,
Cursing those deprived of scruples, dwelling
With notions of honesty and integrity, he too compelled
To evasion to merely survive,

His conclusion resolves in a simple explanation,
“If you are willing to give up morals, honour and passion
You can too attempt to succeed
In the wine bar industry.”

Vanessa Grace Jun 11

I suppose if I respected myself
and I mean, if I truly could
     I would have gathered up some courage
          to save
     and admit when I've been
     If only I could
     I could run far from that place
where my fears of
have kept me prisoner,
ever since I first learned the phrase
          "I'm sorry"

If suppose if I could do all that,
then I could make it out in the world


Ever find yourself apologizing all the time, over the smallest things?
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