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March 29 2019

Like an insect are we
To those to blind to see
And so they step all over us
Carelessly

So small so tiny
So insignificant they walk by me
Without a notice or a glance
I live on. Survive
If only by chance

To be seen. Noticed
By predators or lovers
To be known focused
On fated dreams or endeavors

Moving swiftly through my trees
Life flies by us all so quickly
Please stop by once
Just speak with me
Even how much a God
Could be an insect. Just like we

Seen by all. Heard by none
All my life. I prayed for fun
Or more. Not to be ever adored
Just wishing always
For something. To make this insect
Something more. Than a stain
Destroyed across your floor
Ever think "gods" are just big bullies
All that fame. Fortune. Notoriety
Goes to their heads. Being an idol
Over being in the backgrounded
Forgotten. Unoticed. A shadow
We see the light
But who stares at the shadows
Who studies insects
And their daily routine. Life habits
Arisa Mar 2
Seven spotted ladybird,
Dancing in my mind.

Its shade a deep burgundy,
with a slight shine that sparkled
under the soft rays of the sun.

It wobbled its way across the hood of car.
And I poked it gently,
Making it clumsily fall on its back in the driveway.

I cupped the tiny thing in my hands,
And eventually, it flew away.
A poem about my experience with a ladybird  during my student exchange to New Zealand. A beautiful country.
Arisa Mar 2
An insect.
That crawls upon my body, except I can't quickly swat it away
Without causing attention to myself
and everyone noticing that my
white ******* are pulled
all the way down
to my ankles.

My lips are dry so I bite them.
Knuckles whitening while I hold onto the grip-strap
And I hear his heavy breathing against my neck.
I look at the tunnels, quickly passing by.
'Maybe this will end fast too?'

Naive of me to think so.

Sliding into my flower
Like a toxic, little aphid.
Stuck on my sticky leaves
As petals are parted and

I pour out of the open doors in Shinjuku station,
And run out, wiping a tear on my sleeve.
I tug up my decency
While I run to the ticket booth.
Angry foreigner was yelling at the old man who sits within.
The clock above strikes eight.
I decide that it's not worth it.
I won't tell anyone.
It doesn't matter.
Could be worse.
It's okay.
I'm okay.







I wasn't okay.
I recall a time where I was molested by a pervert in the trains of Tokyo when I was in middle school.
IncholPoem Jan 9
A  flying  insect
without   control
on  itself
touched   the  stomata.


A female spider's
hunting   net
was   covering  
the  empty  area
of    stomata.


It   did  bind
and  ****   that
insect.


But  that  insect
had  egg  to  fertilise
in  its body.
Pax Nov 2018
you lure me like
a mosquito
craving for your
blood
starving
for your
love.
But then
like any other
insects
you fear
Me.
Rei Coman Oct 2018
I once read a story about an ant
who set his mind to move a mountain.
An insect, a millimeter from jaw to legtip,
laboring against a mass of stone and
soil quadrillions of times his size.
But he worked
and worked
and worked
moving the bedrock one dram at a time,
year after year, season after season,
each trip melding into the next in an
endless march of mindless labor, until
where the mountain once stood,
a peaceful valley sank down. All because
of the labor of one very determined insect.

At the end of the fable, the writer tells us
never to give up, for what we choose
to work and persevere towards
will surely happen if we truly try.
As I read the story, I knew he was right.
Never give up.
Even if it takes a quadrillion trips,
1,000,000,000,000,000 trials,
before the mountain bows to you.
Even if your small, insectoid mind
cracks like a candy-cane under a sandbag,
even if you collapse and die after 6 decades
of exhaustion, millions more left to go.
Never give up.
Even if your task is impossible, and it
destroys your life, everything you love,
everything that makes your little ant-soul tick.
Never give up.
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
Feast your eyes upon all the
                                       mangled
                                                twitching
                                                            bodi­es

trapped in the grills of fat and
                                                        brown
                                                              pa­ckage
                                                           ­         trucks

so far away from the idyllic blades of
                                                                ­ green
                                                                ­        and
                                                                ­           sun

crossing ***-hole asphalted rivers where
                                                               alligators
                                                                ­        speed
                                                                ­            amuck

We all get hurt crossing seemingly
                                                       empty
                                                           perilous
                                                        ­           streets

and end up in some wolf-dressed-as-sheep
                                                                ­    machine's
                                                                ­               sharp
                                                                ­                     teeth

are we different from the insects
                                                 roaming
                                                              on­
                                                            inst­inct?

If only you could wiggle your body more to the side
but the alligator never slows and the wind is a bonafide
                                           bully.                                              
At least I can see whats ahead, might as well enjoy the ride.
Brandon Conway Aug 2018
From the thick green canopy
The rain oh how it wept
d                        d          d
r            d                        r
i             r           r
p            i                         i
              p          i
                          p            p
Creating a sad mucky galaxy
Where the mosquitoes brood is kept
Harley Hucof Aug 2018
I resonate
Smiling down from my room
Expectations kills reality
Just as reality kills fantasies

Are they my friends ?

I see the enemy in front of me
He is fearful and he is mocking me

Whispers and looks
Dishonest insects trying to be the center of attention in the room

I am aware of them
Their masks and uniforms
Their scent and their many forms

It is easy to be seduced
But not anymore
I will not be used

There are still many shapes for me to become
Wisdom is the opposite of freedom

I see the enemy in front of me
He is laughing and he is looking at me

I want to end this but he is not letting me

I see the enemy in front of me
Suddenly everything is clearer
I am looking at myself in the mirror

I can't feel anything

But i resonate

Words Of Harfouchism
I am my own enemy and my ego is stopping me from being happy
Andrew Kelly Jun 2018
How far can two legs take a person?
Longer than the innumerable amount takes a centipede.
Like a centipede I crawl on the floor
Covered with footsteps of dried mud and dog *****,
My kitchen is ridden with rotten fruit,
Not that I would have eaten it anyways.

I like the centipede
Am, per se, a neo-cannibal.
Devouring the smaller invertebrate that crawl
Along with myself on the kitchen floor.
Yet I do not devour others,
What makes me a cannibal is I devour myself.

Biting my cuticles, teeth crooked
From pressing my fingers to my mouth,
I rip the thin layer of stray flesh from myself.
I lick the blood that drips from my veins
Like the juice of an oversized strawberry,
And it always tastes tainted.
Sullied from the poison I put in my body,
Call it my bifenthrin,
Call it my muse,
One thing is for certain.

I am an insect,
Nothing more.
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