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Ken Pepiton Apr 21
What, where is the poetry

it is 4:20, on 4-20-2020,

my wife walks in right after I enter an early evening
re-read to make it seem

poetically planned to hatmonize perfectly

she says, if we can get to El Cajon by 4:20,

I think perfect,
she wants me to do the impossible, again

but then I remember spring ahead that we voted
to stop doing but they did,

I must not have, sprung ahead, for a poetic moment up there,

if we can get to El Cajon by 4:20,

they can **** our dog. Oh...

and a whole long story began, which is why

after all is said and done, 4-20-2020 is a global holiday.
Begin with the end in mind if life is full of riddles must be full of life.
Jace Joseph Apr 10
In him theres something undeniably wrong
Something fundamentally misplaced
Though we all know he's failed to be headstrong
Now he's thinking it was all a waste
Hands trembling as he feels over his scarred skin
He's pulling out all his hair
Mind runs as the slicing starts to begin
For he just doesn't care
Emotion breaks though his hollowed eyes
He falls completely down
Misguided from years of sad little lies
His tears fall to his frown
There is no return from the sea of fears
Especially when he started to cry Shattered Tears
"In a mad world, only the mad are sane"
Clearly stated by K. Akira.

What is freedom?
How close is it to insanity?

Is that a freedom when one has to lose peace of mind? Is that a freedom where finally one has to ask ownself, who am I? And may regret what I have become. Is that a freedom where you search for the thousand Suns when you know one is enough? Is that a freedom where you have to sell the soul to exist a new time? Freedom is questionable.

Never ask that freedom when you are not ready for. Never ask that freedom where you don't belong. Never ask that freedom where finally one has to shed tears. Never ask that freedom where foundation of life ends. Isn't it insanity, freedom beyond control? And you may have observed where weeds florish, lotus thrives.

Balanced freedom is conscious state of being where no outer stimuli distracts, and one could flourish. Freedom in any form is always neutal, but the person who execute it, could be wrong. And forgive me if it is illogical, Earth revolving around it's axis is universal example of how much freedom one needs.

What is freedom?
How close is it to insanity?
As the saying goes, your freedom to swing your fist ends just where my nose begins.
Yes, should I repeat that?
Reasonably never ask the insane, what freedom is. At that instant they will justify everything, where they are always right.
It will be scarier that time.
Thus freedom itself is never the issue, for what cause it is exercised, is.
Nothing more.
Genre: Observational
Theme: Better Human Project
No one Apr 8
The cup of coffee sits still on the table

the dark liquid boiling, bubbling

the steam suffocating; filling my lungs.

My hand around its neck;

my nose inhaling the toxicity.

my mouth falling from the sky;

drowning in the ocean.

Dark liquid surrounds my mind;

i have lost it.

My fingers grazing the magma,

an unfazed gaze on the wall

where the sun twirls.

Slowly sinking in the ground,

a late morning; early afternoon.

The cup of coffee sits still on the table

the light liquid freezing, static

the steam condensed; watered-down foam.
People never change;
they adapt or
learn to do things differently

I remember that I told her I'd change and make everything right. She was right. People don't change, but she has a better life now right? Right? RIGHT!?
Lela Mar 29
You ignore me for days
And I start to go insane
I catch myself looking at my phone hoping you would text me way more than I should
I try to convince mysef that you're the bad guy and It's not my fault
But it's not that easy when I love you with all of my heart and soul

You don't appreciate me at all
You can't bother to pick up the phone
You hug me only when you need to feel loved
I start to think you don't even LIKE me at all

But wait, you get mad when I don't have the time?
When I'm too tired to kiss you goodbye?
When I put myself first, even  before you?

How dare you
I don't know why I let you call me your Boo
Alex Mars Mar 27
Empty and shaking
I sound insane
But I really am
So I guess it's ok
Cries turn to laughs
Cries for humor
Laughs for help
Wring out the arms for blood
And the eyes for lies
Pooling on the floor
Seeping through the tiles
Karma’s a *****
But I’ll do you one better
Look you in the eyes
And I twist the weapon
Not for the fun
For the revenge
On all those that scared me
On all those who helped me
Laugh out the last of my guts
Cry out my lungs
Always the same
Repeating sensations
Fleeting rotations
Murderous flirtations
Mourning probations
But it's worth the pain
And the fear
And the guilt
For the ties and knots
They clog up my throat
To appear in my windpipe
And disappear in my scars
Hold back no words and show no silence
Dani Mar 24
In a forest without trees
Where only a buzz is heard, not seen
She laid on black ground
Her belly up and her face down
She stared at the missing stars
Empty spaces of used up light, now just scars

Bathing in a sea of mud
She lifted her hands and saw blood
LIFE she thought, so from the ****** muddy pulp
A melting body she tried to sculpt
To bring to life from the wet dirt
A being to love her, although formed in a chaotic birth
To fill the voids with light and sense
Instead, a being stood, made of nonsense
Upsidebackwords and a grievous grin
For which she hugged dispute the sin

Pretending that light magically appeared
Knowing it was only her sanity that disappeared
Upsidebackwords and a spinning head
She would be okay here, amongst the dead
Living in an empty chaos was better than not
So she gave up what she had originally sought

Spent her life in the upsidebackwords, and forgot
That she created this being to aid her escape, but it was all for not.
Inspired by "Two dead boys" by  Tyler Rager and the dark spaces within our minds that are so hard to explain.
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