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Asher 17h
whenever i’m real,
nobody hears.
the media prefers silence
wrapped in static,
muted truths.

i speak of faith,
of laws,
of power
and watch the room
empty.

but sadness?
ah...
they lean in.
eyes soft,
nods rehearsed.
the ache is digestible.
the wound, relatable.

funny, isn’t it?
how we hush the loudest truths
yet cradle
our quiet despair
like it's holy.

we ignore the roots,
but mourn the rot.
it's funny.
almost.
I scream where no one ever stands,
With fractured voice and pleading hands.
I shout to skies, to winds, to dust
To bones like mine and hearts unjust.
No ear will bend, no soul draws near,
Yet still I scream through every year.

I am the grave, the end you flee,
The truth beneath your trembling knee.
You pass with flowers, soft and kind,
But none of you look deep to find
The words I hold beneath the clay,
Of life you waste, the price you pay.

I hold myself, I breathe in slow,
My scream turns quiet, soft and low.
Not anger now—just aching care,
A voice that only wants to spare
You from the race that kills your soul,
And leads you to this silent hole.

You fight for love, for dreams, for names,
You guard your world from loss and flames.
But when your breath begins to fall,
None of it will heed your call.
No gold, no touch, no lover's face
Will follow you to this still place.

I too had dreams, I too had pride,
I laughed, I bled, I broke inside.
I swore I'd never die alone
But here I lie, just dust and bone.
The ones I saved, the ones I knew,
Have long moved on, as you will too.

I tried to shout before the end,
I tried to tell you, tried to mend
The path you walk with blinded eyes,
But joy and fear both sell you lies.
You hear me not—you never do.
You think this end won't come for you.

I watch you cry, then chase the same,
You wipe your tears and play the game.
You mourn the dead, then forge ahead,
Ignoring all we ever said.
You want to live—but not to see
The weightless truth inside of me.

So I screamed again, until I cracked,
My voice like stone, my sorrow stacked.
I broke myself to make you hear
But silence grew with every year.
And then I knew—this world won't change.
To them, the grave is dark and strange.

I, too, once danced and looked away,
While older graves would plead and say:
“Don’t chase the wind, don’t chase the fire,
All ends in dust, your false desire”
But I just smiled, then turned aside
And laughed, and loved, and cursed, and died.

So now I rest. My screaming ends.
No more to beg. No more to bend.
Perhaps this world will only see
When all return to dust like me.
But should you stop, and hear one day
Know it was me… who tried to say.
Sasha 3d
People turn one way,
Backside to the hills.
Never admiring the grassy fields.

People turn one way,
Towards the waves.
But only for it's beauty and play.
Everyday I was in my room
Faltered play, not eating food
All these years, thought hidden well
How could you never tell?

hesitation when the day was to start
lessened elation to the arts
All these times, stuck in my shell
How could you never tell?

My messy ways, hair un-groomed
Everyday my stresses loomed
In this pit, so far I’ve fell
Please say to me that you could tell

confusion lit up in your face
The delusion that I’m not okay
Surely, it would ring a bell
What was there ever to tell?
“The one thing you shall not eat,
Can devour what you be.
The Red sweetness holds thee;
Core of poison, core of deceit.”

For many others without conscience tells,
They chant lies, they clang bells.
For power is not its conflict of corruption,
But a light to evil, a light of destruction.

Apple drops a head of thought.
Others, however, are long got.
For they have no will,
long gone they sought.

They boldly think, they blindly condemn,
Yet logic’s truth eludes each of them.
Because, presence wises the bird of them.

The worm that eats, the sweetness it brings.
The bird eats it so, masqueraded in wings.
For knowledge only gives moths light,
the tempt to corruption, arrogance flight.

And no told that numbers are right,
No knowledge of order, ultimate sight.
They chopped the apple tree, fuel it alight.
Now, they pay their price, their final blight.
If you think it’s knowledge that is poison, then your confidence fell into my trap. For the power of ignorance, hubris is inevitable.
Sudzedrebel Apr 25
They say,
"Ignorance is bliss."
Do you know why that is?
You're unaware of all the things you've "missed."

Things already in existence,
Things already happened,
Things happening;
That which is existing.

All that exists.
To reduce it,
We're all learning what 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 is.
Learning ignorance, decoding from it wisdom.

So what is it to be knowledgeable?
What is there that is knowledgeable?
What is knowledge?
Does intelligence exist?
Sudzedrebel Apr 24
What torture ignorance is!
When you treat ignorance as such,
Perhaps it is.
Being so ignorant,
I could see it.
For the foolishness of it
Is that it is the only route to wisdom!

In how we define it?
By how we describe it?
Of how we perceive it?

Perception birthing perspective,
Yet both products of their environment!
"Self-copulation?"

Of course, given context,
The definitions fluctuate.
So, then our perception of it
And thereby our descriptions of them,
Change or fluctuate also.

Like the rain falling.
Like ice forming.
Like water flowing.
Sudzedrebel Apr 24
Delineations on wisdom
Can be but delineations of ignorance!

Delineations of wisdom
Can be but disfigurations by the ignorant!

Is there a difference?

There is a difference!
How can it be proven?

It's true because 𝘐 said it!
Vista la Cappa porpora bruciata
dalla fiaccola del Mare uguale
e stufo della Corona che porto,
e con essa la prigionia, mi dissi:

or ora ** deciso:
lascerò alle fiere le mie stanche carni
ed alla tempesta i Lumi,
conservando avidamente
solo l'impura fiamma che strazia urlò:
"è l'ignoranza che porta al trono",


o almeno così avrei fatto se la mente
fosse timone dell'anima e il cuore
ridotto da un re assoluto ed invisibile
ad un ratto senza denti e ossa.

///

Having seen the purple Cape burned
by the torch of the equal Sea
and tired of the Crown that I wear,
and with it the captivity, I said to myself:

now I have decided:
I will leave my tired flesh to the beasts
and the Lights to the storm,
greedily preserving
only the impure flame that tears he shouted:
"it is ignorance that leads to the throne",

or at least I would have done so if the mind
were the rudder of the soul and the heart
reduced by an absolute and invisible king
to a rat without teeth and bones.
I'm not a King, I'm a leader
Many flames set asunder,
Each lighting the bark.
Many flames get its owns thunder,
Cracking the infinite dark.

It reshapes what is,
It annihilates what’s his.
God brought the light,
Men sought its might.

Each words carry meaning,
Each word burns the same.
Smoke riles thy beseeching tongue,
Sparking their ignorant flames.

They get crazy,
The crazy man.
It can said it talks,
But they never listen,
Stifling humanity’s walk.

They burn knowledge,
The very light they ate.
God punished not action,
But the poison apple, devils bait.

For now, no innocence sets entropy,
For stupidly of ignorant fools flame society,
Killing humanity’s last flame.

And now, darkness breaches realm,
As embers churn in rage, rage,
Against the dying of the  light.
The last of humanity, the last blight.
Gods wrath, now late, seeks no sight.

I rest here,
Could hope reset my dead ember?
I know not of eternity.
But I know it can be.
I had inspirations of knowledge, and the ever fight against ignorance that put the very flame of power in our hands. I got inspiration to use part of Dylan Thomas’s poem, “Do not go gentle in that good night,” as the fight is ever present today, as it must so. “The Crazy Man” also fits here, too.
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