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A Simillacrum Jun 2018
I want to live, but
I want to crawl inside my past.
Personal history
will set me free at last,
regardless of what burns my tongue
as if it's on the cusp of being said.
If I find my womb again, well,
good enough for me, I guess,
that I will have won.

I want to live!
I want to crawl inside my mind.
I haven't found dogs that write scripture
for all that I've searched.
While I realize it could be,
I ask myself, "How long will you toil
in the name of agency
all to find
someone to take your shame
and make it palatable?"

Trend is set from continued action
My inaction left me numb and blind
The trend is set that my earthly distributors
May take of me as they find me if I'm turned off
The trend is still the same as the dreams
My grandparents had for a better world
Trend toward full automation

Fine for '56
What am I doing now?
How do I live without
knowledge?

My distributors and keepers
kept me wet
in their fluids
using my blood
before but

They will not win this war.
I commit myself to sit and reconnect.
If a hand offers me happiness,
I'll ask, first, Which conglomerate?
If my choices seem chiseled
In the mint of coins
And the choices fit perfectly opposed
I'll remember my nose and sniff
Out the metals that fund this war.
I'll ask then, Whose coin is this?

And it's not ungrateful
When those with all the excess
Try and rule the world
Because of how bored with
What Is they've become
And exactly absolute

Well, what if
I decide there's no war?
Well, what if
I bow my head and take a knee?

People of my same society will laugh at me,
And chastise my every thought before
They say, for sure, "It's just how it works."
Then either crush me from high
Or forget me and play State of Decay
Until they forget how much they're worth.

I hold.
There is no war.
This is not a game.
This is our Existence.
Fragile at best.
This is beyond
Humility.
This is actual
Neglect.
Is it that no one wants to learn?

No.

It's that knowledge has been made secret.

Lies and secrets consume my world.
fiachra breac Jun 2018
Where once feelings lay,
Only strange copies remain.
The sense of what should be experienced
Or what is supposed to be felt.

A reflection of the original -
Twisted and distorted -
Not yet beyond recognition,
But increasingly hard to decipher.

Familiarity  - with this place -
Is all that marks its irregularity.
Knowledge that this has been before
Signals it is happening again.

A worrying trend, when abnormality
Becomes the mundane.
You’d think that being depressed made you sad all the time but I’m not sad that often, merely empty. Blank and drifting between self-made disasters. I’m not sure if I orchestrate them so that I achieve maximum pain or if they just happen that way because I’m a **** person.

I’d like it all to stop now please.
Emmiasky Ojex Jun 2018
They say heaven and hell
will be the final in one’s end
But to us, we’re already there
We’re already witnessing stage one on planet earth

We’ve got so much as nothing to eat
and so to the streets, we take to feed
We just have to not die but live
since they’ll always be that caring hand who is willing to give

We’re children of those with nothing
We’re living in a place with nothing
living with a life of anything (comes and goes)
and so we too do not think of becoming something

Please, can you help us?
We don’t really think of becoming more
But you who is strong and can conceive greater thoughts
Please, teach us how we can live life with joy!

Please teach us what it’s like to be a child
To growing to youthful ages and then a fully bred man/woman
Please help us grow wise
And live our lives while on the right path!

Please, we do know we’ve got nothing to offer
and if we continue on this, we’ll grow wild
we’ll only set our minds on getting the cash
and if begging wouldn’t provide, we can just turn to rob people and banks.

Please, save our lives
For we know this we are children of circumstance
But we too want to become people of substance
and surely make impact.

Please save a dying soul.

©Emmiasky Ojex
Help someone hungry get better in life.

You never may know what they're passing through!
Emmiasky Ojex Jun 2018
We are children of beggars
we have no choice but to automatically harness our little talent
or what we know it as
knowing how to beg and prolly wash cars

Since we’re surrounded by poverty
penury, and a radical outlook of insanity
We live our lives with no strings attached to it
all we do is just for us and those in our surroundings (family)

We’re children of beggars
Life’s hard those on the outside
They complain of mere power outs
But then, do we even know what’s called light?

In here is pitch-black
our raggy clothes own their rags
Even us is black and dark
Life for us is to black that it’s gone stark

Please help we children of beggars
We don’t know what is called life
To us, it’s just pure strife and massive plights
But with your help, we can have in life,  better times

©Emmiasky Ojex
The above poem is a work to reflect on the thoughts of those who lack the basic necessities of life we all have at our disposal, though we may think we don't have enough at least we do have what keeps us living; they do not and take to doing things that are not okay or morally legal.

Learn from THE CHILDREN OF BEGGARS.
fs yousaf Jun 2018
Do not blame yourself
for the lack of faith
when you do your best
to believe.
The feeling of love
will come
at the right moment.
Louisa Coller Jun 2018
lipstick can leave stains,
rooted deep within my soul.
Ocean eyes ran dry,
as the air around us all,
Our love has become detached.
When you play the game, it’s hard to get out of the game. Time passed and this perfect love at first sight began becoming faded. In truth, I was very concealed with how I felt, he wasn’t aware of how little he gave in contrast.

One person I really adored I ended up using pretty badly and shared a romantic love for them when hopes of my relationship had died, but I didn’t feel right. Essentially, I was so torn up and emotionally confused that it was selfish of me to consider dating as a whole at this time.

I took a break.

I did want it to work with my prior partner, but I lied to people, hurt people and in the end, I felt ashamed and embarassed of what I had done to everyone involved. Mixing shame and confusion is a bad time for anyone. It’s definitely not something fun to encounter.

I luckily still have my friend with me to this day and I treasure them as a friend. I do feel lucky to have my friends from many years prior come back into my life, but sometimes, you aren’t always ‘lucky’. So treasure those around you. Don’t do what I did, it was very narcissistic. I showed so little empathy and in the end that’s what left me alone.

Since then, this event taught me to treat people with respect, to not assume people’s lives are always ‘filled with sunshine’. I learnt to care for others as well as myself.

This poem is a Tanka poem, they are a little like haikus but they have a lot more syllables. I will admit, when researching I did notice sometimes Tankas show themes of nature alongside passion, so I wanted to really tackle a mixture of both.

Tankas weren’t easy to try first-time, I did enjoy some of the metaphors I used regarding the start of the poem. Definitely something I need to practice.

I did, reference an album I like a lot on purpose, I referenced Ocean Eyes which is an Owl City album I really adore.
Lynn May 2018
So many people know of my struggles
yet no one has spoken or said anything about it
no one has asked me whether im okay
no one has checked in on me from day to day
no one cares
how could you be so careless??

it's silly actually
the fact that i dont feel sane unless someone else makes me feel
worth it
its kind of silly
how people are terrified of death
why isnt anyone scared for me?
hm
Clara E May 2018
I remember being offered the same bed. It was a joke amongst friends, amongst friends who'd already heard my heart flutter when I'd brought you along for quiet drinks in the kitchen. You couldn't sleep without a smoke you said after everyone had gone to bed.

In the summer air I joined you outside, turning down the cigarette when you offered. Something about the summer haze made it only natural why I'd followed you out in the early hours.

We used to talk about our lives and our feelings and the flitting of people through them. I recall the grass being wet as you paced, insisting you were holding on for something better and it was coming, you just didn't know when.

Last year in that morning dusk all I recall is the content quiet, the improbable, the quiet of the garden as your company became the volume. This was never love, this was a collection of moments that put the bird calls in the day. Placed us in orbit around the sun. Made days feel like days and nights feel like night.

(Early fondness)
Within a year we weren't speaking but this is a fond thought.
Share your heartbreaks.
Nayana Nair May 2018
For me, every moment of contentment
is often followed by the realization
of having a lack of either ambition
or the means or ability to achieve it.
And though I can live with the lack of both.
I often wonder
why do we feel the need to be validated
by some measure,
by some reason,
to belong in one of the circles
that the world is divided into.
When we end up questioning our self,
“Who would be actually there for me
if not for the pieces of me
that I am feeding them everyday?”
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