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I’ve been snapped out of the void before
Endless relenting overthinking never did me any good
But with ego
I stubbornly persist

On an overground tram
Heading back from a casual birthday party
Casual by default since her mum insisted
On jack in the box games and a caterpillar cake at nineteen

I told her all about the online echo chamber
For my newfound identity
For which she held the same
Did she have these same experiences
These strangers liked to insist?

I will never forget how she so cool told me no
And like a slap in the face I was reminded
Of the futility of my own overthinking.
There didn’t need to be some grand explanation
For my cosmic being in the universe
I just had to exist
I wrote this on a tram in Croydon.
Ikimi Festus May 19
They say you're the embodiment of hope, a beacon in the darkness,
The one who listens when prayers are whispered, and responds with love and kindness.
They say you're the salvation, the one who offers forgiveness,
No begging required, for your grace is boundless and endless.

They say you're the way, guiding us through life's strife,
And as we forge our own paths, you're with us in every step of life.
They say you're near, intimately involved in our joys and our pains,
You never abandon us, even when doubts and questions remain.

They say you're the divine, beyond what our eyes can behold,
Yet your presence is felt, in every story left untold.
They say you're the healer, mending broken hearts and souls,
Restoring the innocence, making us whole.

They say you're the power, mighty and grand,
Yet you're found in the humble, the meek, and the sand.
They say you're the reason, the purpose we seek,
To trust in you, to find strength when we're weak.

So when you ask, "Who do you say I am?"
I say you're the embodiment of love, the Great I Am.
as the rest move in a herd in time, fixed and onward
some remain at a pace of their own
wallowing in crevices, an act of conscious apartheid
familiar with the shortage of influence, that is, separation.
wandering by will
vicariously living through a phobia of confusion
hence why lost souls remain lost
fear of false direction, fear of decision
uncertainty amongst hysteria
a deadly duo for the few
settlement has become still
and those lost are familiar with movement
2 steps forward, 12 steps scattered
here and there and it's unclear
up and down
its all around the dance to delusion goes to no sound
but illusion.
distress within the body whose mind follows curiosity
incessant pondering yields a detriment
to the thinker,
be about
your quest and breed your farewell to the
blissful life of ignorance
that now follows you
is there a solace to be found for these creatures?
has the point of no return passed?
the distance behind is immeasurable
for the path previously paved is dimly lit
to decipher the single instance is a feat of all men
does the lone wolf recall?
would love feedback on this one.
Zywa Apr 15
I can be a saint

in helping people, I should --

try that out to know.
Novel "The time of the angels" (1966, Iris Murdoch), § 8

Collection "Unspoken"
Lyrical Dream Apr 11
As I speak these words, may the dead borrow my tongue and tell their stories from the grave. I no longer lust to lie by them. I want to live and live loudly— let my voice linger as I leave, if not from my tired throat, than from the ink of my pen. I may be rotting but my words are immortal.

I am alive.

If the sun can shine so shamelessly, then so should I. And I, as she, shan’t somber to save your eye.

I am blinding.

A rose, draped in her dainty dress, can make a man bleed— thorns sharp beneath her scarlet skirt tail, his fingertips dripping to match it.

I am brutal.

I have seen the sea swallow strangers whole—suffocate them beneath her shimmering surface. She roars. She rages. She’s rough. And if she can reap her revenge with her gentle waters rippling with sapphire; if she can balance anger and allure, then so can I. Her grace is violent—her beauty fatal.

I am soft, but I am rageful. I am calm, but I burn with hellfire beneath my skin. I am silent, but my throat is raw—my voice tearing it red, ripping its way to freedom.
I'm trying to focus,
I'm trying to be better than who I was yesterday,
but it's a struggle.
The best parts of me have been sealed behind a wall for so long that they're strange to me now.
I'm not sure when it started,
I have some good ideas,
but I don't know if that matter at this point.
I just know the person that I want to be is somewhere in my heart, drowning alone,
In a place that I haven't been to in so long,
I can't remember how I got there in the first place.
Daylight 4U2C Mar 16
Something different burrows in my skin,
tells me I am kin, but I am not- but I am.
Something different swirls atop my head and feels so close as I am led, but so far- but I am.
Something different tugs and tells from different mouths who to be and what to do but I do what I do and- I am.
Something different shoots fire across the sky and gas across the streets as they fight or they flee and I see that- I am.
Something different is the 'gangs' against gangs with silver tongues and lined gold pockets, shedding dignity and love to live and- I am.
Something different is learning what I don't know and understanding what I didn't experience because I may not look it, I may not always feel it- but I know it.
I am.

I am milk in a coffee, but the milk isn't me.
My experience isn't pure coffee bean or soy vegan extra foam.
I am a latté.
Stirred with flavor and flow so I know as I grow I am what I am and-
I am me.

Something different is in my bones and brains and story.
Not black, not white. Not day or night.
I am the between.
I am the grey.
I am something different-
and that's okay.
Zywa Mar 12
I want to go there or see a movie
about it: the steppes

the jungle, the Himalayas
I want to shine my light
in trenches, I want to know

everything, made manageable
so that the whole world becomes mine
and I become a true citizen of the world, no
I want more, be a cosmo citizen

between spirits, angels and gods
exist forever, I want to experience

space adventures, but near
home, because I already am so tiny
a minor matter, a speck on mountain

or sea, interchangeable in the crowd
I don't want to relativise away
my efforts, not to be completely
invisible in universe and time
Collection "Ifless"
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