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Zywa Jul 23
The dancer has died,

yet we are honouring life –


it's our murderer.
Vaslav Nijinski (Kiev 1889 – 1950 London)

"Wij zullen het leven op grootse wijze behandelen" ("We will treat life in a grand way", 1950, Hans Lodeizen)

Collection "Known"
Zywa May 21
In the beginning man created
the thought: everything, mankind
and the earth, is a miracle
with a beginning

and anything that procreates
will die, only the sun
the stars and the stones
had no end, until later

infinity was conceived, the being
of even never having begun

so the rest, actually everything
that is known, the world
will have to perish one day

and, if you dare
to think it out, also
the elusive time

will not last and already
now, nothing is left
but nullity
Collection “Being”
Lot May 15
Hands like bodies,
rough and calloused,
smooth and soft,
freckled knuckles,
blemished palms,
with cuts and scars littered like stars,
short and stubby or long and thin,
different skins and many strings.

Despite their difference,
they share the same sins,
capable of giving gifts,
but also skilled in petty theft.

Warm and kind caresses,
bruised and ****** stresses,
a gentle yet expressive message,
fingers trail like searing fire upon wry shaking lips.
Everything has duality. Even small things.
A Luzuriaga Mar 13
I know naught of the difference between the living and the dead. For here on Earth, though my heart is still beating, I cannot help but feel so horribly miserable. And it may be death is not the end of life, only the decay of the body and not of the soul, but I should not know in this life.  At the end of this miserable existence, we may be relieved by a euphoria. Still, at the end of a life so fruitful, we may be met with the burning pits of hell. And if I will not rot nor prosper all my miserable days would be meaningless. Every time I think I know heaven, a hell must break my spirits. And still, it is more dreadful to met by a boring bleakness that hugs my existence like a child holds their mothers. To my knowledge, I may already be dead, as no one recognizes the characteristics of death. Life to our knowledge could be our own form of hell, but it may also be the utopia. Here on this dying planet, we may live beautiful lives. On this dying planet, we will die. Our heartbeat is the ticking of a clock that will stop one day. But the clock that is the world will not stop for you my love, as it will not stop for me. Everything that is, will not be one day. The sun and the moon and all the treasures of this world will one day be nothing. All the people that are here now will not be. Everything must die, you and I dearest, we will die all the same. Time is a force older than anyone knows and it will never end. We are only here until we aren't. Our bodies end there, but where does our soul go. I know naught of the difference between the living and the dead. Because my flesh is fresh, but my mind is old. But on the inside, I feel decay. Live because there tomorrow isn't guaranteed. Live because you can. If you live for me, I'll live for you. The meaning of life, I don't think there is one really. We just do, we just live. That's all there is.
live for me darling
Logan Robertson Sep 2018
He turns the page
Of old age
For what was once the rage
Now sits in his cage
It's been a war to wage
This, life's final stage
The pressure gauge
Ticking on so outrage
Ticking by in ménage
For his book's cleavage
Untouched and derange
Year's wasted and disengaged
If only there was no leakage
Or ever such seepage
Life on his barren range
With no panacea to assuage
No wife ever, no cat, no life to engage
Nothing but red read rage
Now in his final chapter, this cage
This cage, death does he part this rampage
A life perched without marriage
For he married to himself backstage
Where his curtain veiled fruitage
In lieu of looking at the skies for dosage
He fell hostage to his hermitage
Yet this, his bottled pilgrimage
Sinking now in raging montage
He does sit beseeched in his passage
And hopes someday to bid bon voyage
With direr hopes of  turning a better page

Logan Robertson

9/27/2018
It's been Hell for him. Life was never easy. A solo crossing,
that yearned for a duet but that was not meant to be.
Note-Wow. Read this poem over and over, like looking into a mirror, truly sad.
Kem-Ann Aug 2017
I know giving up
is never really the answer

but why does

to keep living isn't even,
either
Aaron LaLux Nov 2016
The Great Pyramid

Scared to Death,
which makes sense,
nowhere to go but up,
from the top of The Great Pyramid,

no pictures here,
so free you can’t capture it,
white owls and black cats,
call me Alexandria,

honest what,
do you do when,
all of the wisdom,
gets spoken but people don’t listen.

Listen.

I’m at the top of the pyramid,
and I’m scared to death,
not scared of death,
but scared to death,

and that’s exactly what a paradox is,

Isis,
and Horus,
light the,
menorahs,

bless all,
our children,
the need,
more than hope when,
their families are dying,
and it’s not enough to just be trying,
need more than hope,
need to do more than try,
when you can walk no higher,
that is when it’s time to fly.

Scared to Death,
which makes sense,
nowhere to go but up,
from the top of The Great Pyramid.

Please God,
we are,
the Children of Egypt,

we created the pyramids,
and our pyramids created this,

so don’t expect,
a symphony of sympathy from us kids,
even if we,
we unconditionally accept it,

Oh God,
please don’t neglect,
can’t you see we did this all for you,
and all we ask for in return is your acceptance and respect,

Oh God,
I’m scared to death,
I’m stressed and I’m tense,
please allow me to relax,

and please,
when I reach your gates,
I pray you let me pass,

I am just a child of You,
and we are family especially in death,

yes,

I do believe the Light will prevail,
even if it hasn’t happened in this generation yet,
and I’m excited and I’m ready all my bags are packed,
and I’m climb up the steps to the top of The Great Pyramid,

and I’ll come when you call,
even when I’m scared to death…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

The Holy Trilogy Vol. 1; available worldwide: 11/11/16
Another True Story...
Hannah Reber May 2016
Waiting here on this earth,
For what?
My life to start?
My debt from childhood to diminish?
My act is not together!
I know you say, I'll get there.
But let me tell you,
It never starts until you;
Realize that debt,
Money,
Work,
All of this doesn't matter!



In the long run how are you going to die?
With money and satisfaction of greed?
With no experience,
But the only knowledge of;
At least I didn't risk my life so I could get here...

Risk is life,
Never stop risking,
Never stop running from society,
Because once you do,
Your life has ended...
Rob Sandman Apr 2016
This Poem is dedicated to the lives lost while climbing the most unforgiving Peaks in the world.
" "Why did you want to climb Mount Everest? * "
" *Because it's there.
"
George Leigh Mallory* 1923

Eyes stinging,I'm facing up to the test,
realising that this could could be the death of me yet,
take a peek at the peak from under my hood,
life sapping winds leech heat from blood.
Of a lesser one maybe,but me no never,
take the pace easy,got to box clever

As the hurricane howls I know I can't sweat,
if you do you lose heat,that's the kiss of death,
push endurance to the max through the **** zone,
keep your mind right cause you're on your own,
stay positive,already faced K2,
Savage Mountain behind me,time for take two*
taking on the monster,most unforgiving,
Goddess of the sky,sacrifices the living,
of the ones who tried 9% have died,
Sagarmatha- I say a silent prayer for their lives.

Don't want my name on the roll of the lost,
souls wandering the peak like a host of ghost's,

save a thought for the Sherpa's,unflinching guides,
without whom the attempt is sheer suicide


Is it Vanity?, Ego? that pushes us to climb,
the 8 thousand plus defy man and time
I can't answer-even though I know the ledge
all I know is life's sweeter when you're on the edge,
of the precipice the gap between life and death
preserve your oxygen-steal each breath,

Born risk taker- adrenaline drug of choice,
free-dived blue hole,flew Carl's walls heights,
but this is the big one,can't take fright-
or I'll be frozen like a statue,by the dawn's cold light,
point of no return strength got to summon it,
whole life leads to the push for the summit."
as it says at the top this is a Poem dedicated to the lives lost in the pursuit of the ultimate.
David Mar 2016
My old friend is unsettling
Looking, watching, listening
Waiting for me behind every corner
On every dark road
At the end of every knock
Behind every door.

Why can't I just go to the store?
I need to be armed.
Just in case someone means harm
You never know, you never know
How can you know?
What's waiting behind that door.

I hear you've been worried I'm here again, with more
Looking, watching, listening.
Don't you know I'm your only friend?
I've been here from the start.
You try to ignore my calls,
My breath on your neck

You're playing against a stacked deck.
My friend, don't you see?
I've never left
I'm here, I'm here,
I'm always here.
My hand is on the door.

You aren't a friend; you weren't here before
Looking, watching, listening.
But now you're coiled like a belt
Closing around my neck
Tied to the railing
Hung for all to see.

My friend? You're my worst enemy.
My friend would let me sleep.
My friend would say stop to eat.
My friend would give me space.
You aren't my friend.
I'm not opening that door.

I'll slide in, quiet, like death on the floor,
Looking, watching, listening.
I'll keep your eyes fixed and dilated
So you won't miss a thing
We'll stop that noisy wheezing
So you can appreciate me.

I am your friend
Your only friend that answers your calls
Your only friend that sees your pain
Your only friend.
Your only friend.
Your only friend, opening the door.

My friends are gone, lost in the war.
Looking, watching, listening,
You've kept me company,
Kept me warm.
You've fed my hate
Starved my love.
Kept me inside, never late

For my scheduled anxiety,
Which fills every second.
Every minute.
Every hour.
Every day.
I'm too busy to answer the door.

I'll let myself in, it isn't a chore.
Looking, watching, listening
I'll keep you company
While you work on your schedule.
We don't need to talk;
I already know.

I promise it won't interrupt
Or alter your rigid plans.
Staying inside is hard work
Without an old friend.
Let's get up.
Open this door.

I'd shut you up, if it weren't for your
Looking, watching, listening.
I have a friend made of steel and fire
Willing to have a chat with you
His voice is colossal with thunder
He'll stop your talk.

He'll stop your talk in a heartbeat.
He'll –
I have lost two military friends to suicide, both while I was on active duty. Every day, 22 veterans **** themselves. It's a real issue that deserves attention. I deal with ghosts every day. I know the struggle. If you need help, I'm here.
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