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cloudyx Oct 2020
The glistening palm trees cast a Cimmerian shade, stretching far across. Odd was how the dark wavering imprint was perceivable in the tenebrosity of the night. The moon, smothered by the viscous clouds, was unable to fulfill its illuminating role. The wind sang for the nightingales perched on the trees an entrancing sorrowful hymn, a disconsolate requiem, meant solely to succor. All in vain. Such are the innerworkings of a soul tainted by grief and vehement rage. He would ask for forgiveness, but only if he knew how, and even if he did, who would he ask. Once the soul has been blotted, it hardly ever finds its way back to its purity. The same wretched purity that inculcated the need for self-imposed harm. 'Tis true men will desire oblivion rather than not desire at all. He knew all this since the earliest drop of ichor was divulged on his account. Then it streamed, like a river with the steadiest of currents. His hands were, for the first time, sanctified as they soaked the blood. If only he knew how to foster the fire, leaving the trees incinerated, while forsaking the land of all shadow except that of the nightingales fleeing.
Jason Trinh Oct 2020
Should you not find me...
Defining life by seconds
Etching memories on my hands
Should you not find me...
Rehearsing methods in the dressing room
Defining life, I assume
Gin and tonic
Misprint logic
Should you not find me...
Beautifully catastrophic
Sabika H Jul 2020
Young child,
Remember the promise,
The contract signed from
your very first heartbeat.

Your first breath of life was not easy
And it never will be.

Young child,
You did not open your eyes
To live the rest of your life
Dreaming;
Your very first speech
Was you screaming -
Young child,
You came to us
Squealing
Asking:
"What are these feelings I'm feeling?"

And I told you
This is pain,
You are alive,
And your promise is
Struggle and heartbreak
With the occasional smile,
Young Child,
Your promise is death
For a while.
Is birth really a joyful event?
Sabika H Jun 2020
I'm in love with a lover
Who is loved by another
and I'd die just to see you
smile at me.

He's the son of a daughter
Who is married to his father
And they're all the children
Of humanity.

I'm stronger in sorrow
I carry till tomorrow
And I'm productive
In insanity

As I chase the devil
The path becomes narrow
And I hate the incarnation
Of profanity.

Here I am.
Do you see me?

I am lost
I'm alone
Lead me to my
Destiny.

I am man.
All men are me.
And I live with this truth
Vicariously.

I'm indebted to your kindness
My lord, you are the finest
And there's no denying
Reality.

I have found my purpose
Help me to stay focused
And save me from your
Calamity.
Mona May 2020
i was born
i lay in a cot
my heart beat rang
i sang and i sang
i gave my voice away
as i matured
naively i was lured
into adulthood
without a hood
naked, i stood
out of breath
no stability
looked for divinity
but nothing concrete
looked back
empty and bleak
but my eyebrows were on fleek
submission
to an ideal
i ride
but i never lay still
i dreamt
but dreaming is to ****
**** reality
**** your own insanity
**** your own vanity
no baby
please keep yo "sanity"
rarae aves May 2020
When we view our lives
through the same magnifying
lens as we view others..
uncanny revelations are guaranteed..
much needed revolution, there will be.
-elixir- Apr 2020
The grim face of chaos

sets in as the world gets

chained to the cacophony.

Speech of silence is unknown,

The silent tortured in their mental cages.
Sabika H Jan 2020
Tell me my purpose
If I was dead before I was born,
And will die when I am dead.

If death is immortal,
Eternal,
Necessary;
Yet life is frail,
Conditional,
Temporary.

Tell me why I am here
In my joy,
My fury,
My agony.

I suffer,
I change.
I am pushed to my limits and beyond
Burdened with freedom and empathy.

Tell me why I feel such emotions
That last
And alas
Here I am
Triumphant.

So
“Give me hell,
Give me heaven,
All your visions of life.”
OC Sep 2019
The truth is
There’s always dishes to do
a floor to mop up
a phone call to make
food to cook
fences to paint
people to see
about a dog, about a cat

About a life
you never own up to
because of all the little hurdles
all the small achievements
you rake in your confined Zen garden
neatly piling skipping stones
as if boulders don’t exist outside
as if there’s no mountains that require scaling
as if the big issues
Who you are? Why you are? When will you be?
are not looming over in the distance
casting shadow in the twilight of your days

The truth is
all these notches on your belt
are the sum effort of your laying lows
the trophies for your standing stills
the “what if”s you stifle into the pillow
because you know the odds
never scale with the effort

Truth is
minimal struggle dictates the average
but you decide on the endeavor
blessed are the meek
for they shall inherit the barrens
13th installment in this series of poems inspired by physics (for details, read the first one in the series here: https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3122578). Shared this with a struggling friend recently, let him know we all struggle.

For more information: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boltzmann_distribution

Thoughts and comments are always welcome
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