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Meruem 3h
I admire the moon this much;
Being alone, not an issue.
Overshadowed by the Sun, still
Gives light on our darkest days.
December 10, 2018 - 11:09

Manila, Philippines
Star BG 4h
Earth without music is empty.
Earth without forgiveness is lonely.
Earth without compassion is unnatural.
Earth with out laughter is sad.
Earth without light is darkness.
Earth without love is impossible.
Earth without art is Eh.

Earth... climb on board and live,
Live with love, art, laughter, forgiveness, compassion, music, and Light.
Its the only way to be
I was inspired by the anonymous quote "earth without art is eh" and thus this write was born.
acacia 4h
my steed, steady waters (and wars) crash into you,
burn onto you atop your haven so tall
and striped. giving light to a new man —
to a lost man.
and you smell of sea salt, youknow —
you reek of brooding eyes, calamity and  
anger.
you root your soles into the wooden
floorboard, digging them as deep as you can
to mark something, anything.

i won’t kiss anywhere but on your lips -
square on those lips,
as to not touch the roots growing out from your
very pores, the wiry copper silk that tastes even more of the sea than your skin.

and in your solitude up here,
up where the skies are dark and clouds
roll,
time does not skip,
time is there and you are present.
playing cards — you are there.
the tide’s never ending attempt to grasp onto the shore — you see it every day.

it’s a marvel to know you are down here
despite being way up above us all.
i wonder if you are still sheltered from the rain like we are,
if you are still facing your back towards the wind as we are.

your dark knitted hat clinging to your bronze hair,
and in the lighthouse it is warm,
the candle warms you, the fire warms you,
the light wanes you.
trimming the wick, wicking away, as you guide him and the fish and the sea
back to these rocks, to our shores.

days seem longer to you up there,
or maybe days just seem shorter to us —
who knows?
whatever it is, you are a mystery.

my eyes are wet but my shoes are wetter
as i trek up these mountain-steps;
you there?
the door is closed, and the whir and whish of the morning breeze ruffles papers from the inside.
i open the door and then knock — out of order, i know. i always seem to do things out of order.

thomas, you’re silly. look at you, instead of in your rocking chair you are sitting on the floor, back against the corner of the wall.
your skin has never looked clearer,
and the floors were beginning to collect dust.

a book filled your hand: the most dangerous game.
this must have filled your simple room with
great ideas, great action, great movement;
for it all to stay inside of your great mind would be a waste. (is a room not most useful when it is empty?)
next to you is ovid, oscar wilde, homer, and anne carson.
a simple radio unplugged lies on the floor beneath the tall standing bookshelf with huge dictionaries and classics and


half-full and half-empty glasses of water.
sea water. you just couldn’t get the taste of the sea out of your lips, out of you. you’d always
like to look at me and say,

“by the sea all worries wash away,”
and to you it meant everything. to you it meant safety. to provide safety and being provided with safety.

so by the sea, you stood tall and brooding,  trimming the wick and wicking away,
guiding the men and the fish and tide back to home, back to the rocks, back to the shore, back to you.
let me tell you something, my old friend
Becca 5h
should I do for me or
should I do for commonality?
When do we live?

Between 9 to 5 political ****
And mortgages and schools
Saturday's filled with vacuuming
Sunday's stuck in halls
A "quick" traverse in peak traffic
An aversion to a new letter
A coffee catch up full of black words
1 million complaints of the weather

Grey suits, black dresses, white sneakers
Global warming, terrorism, grim reapers

Who's hotter and richer than you
More likes, more shares
How many countries and bunjees
Neck tattoos
Who the **** cares

Straw hut villages with broadband
Switch off your mind, switch on the box
And watch how ******* control our land

Tell me, at what point do we really live?
When do we notice our breath,  the air
Do you know you have the universe in you?
Are you blind to the light you wear?
isn't it wonderful to think that the light that I am seeking is also seeking me
healing may come in waves and so does missing you
but I'm giving myself a few more days and days may turn into months and that's okay
because I might not be where I'd like
but I am surely on my way
Abby M 1d
My grandmother once told me
A fantastic story
Of moonlight that was lost
From beneath the moon's pale frost
She said it floated off at night
And turned into the small pale lights
That I now see in the sky
Brighter than the moon's dim eye

Oh stars in yonder sky
Born of moonlight, learned to fly
You left La Lune behind
Gently weeping faded light
Whilst sleeping going through the gateway
of my dreams on a magic carpet ride travelling
my deepest of thoughts
that had laid untouched
from human
thought
Passing over bridges crossed and burnt along
time ago faces coming out of nowhere some I knew
and most I'd didn't, places
been to places seen, all flashing by In but a blink of an eye
No time to stand still and wonder why being taken somewhere a reason I guess, out of my control travelling at what
seemed like hundreds of
miles an
hour
Everything a blur no time to focus on any one thing seen, then all of a sudden everything around fading to black no colours or light to be
seen
Travelling blindly no longer able to see, what seemed like an age then far off and Into the distance a tiny ray of light to be seen, I seemed to be slowing down as I drew closer to where I could see It was that of a spotlight that had shone from a distance so brightly
for me
And there on a stage a chair and sat upon that chair a pretty young
girl but no ordinary girl this girl was that of Helen my wife she looked stunning everyone
was standing cheering chapping hands, somehow I had found her through my dreams we kissed then held hand and bowed to the crowd as If we had just
finished a performance of a stage
play
We turned to each and smiled It was then I felt myself hit the floor I fallen from bed, and awoken from my Heavenly dream.
This was a dream I had been writing and thinking of Helen
so much I find easy to dream of her wonderful dreams mind you It probably help I'm taking
medication
carole 2d
Let me tell you a tale.

A tale passed down
From mother to son
Father to Daughter.
The tale of Chaos.

Chaos is the beginning and the end.
It was there before and it will be here after.
This is not a story about the Chaos you know,
Not the man-made synonym of mayhem.
This is a tale of Chaos in its purest form
It is everything and nothing at once
Both darkness and light
Pain and bliss
Sanity and madness
Past and future.
A senseless contradiction and the perfect combination.

This tale is one that we all seek,
For it is the answer to all our questions.
And once, we finally rejoin the stars,
Greeting death with a smile,
We all become part of it.
So maybe you do not need me to tell the tale,
For you are living it.
Strength is shining the light where darkness was intended.
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