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Zywa Apr 2023
Reality flows

out of the war camp, between --

dream and welfare work.
Novel "The time of the angels" (1966, Iris Murdoch), § 5

Collection "Unspoken"
Odd Odyssey Poet Feb 2022
Hitchhiking at night, caught a lift with
the sun. Riding around the many of stars.
The heavens close at hand, hell conspiring;
while the world was burning.

I must of been roaming around
Judgment Day. At the edge of oblivion;
wondering which place I should go.

Limbo it was; uncertain like the ghosts
of their incomplete dues.
Two extremes, of the crowded silence;
and emptiness of all their screams.

                   Was it only a dream?

While my eyes were still open;
but blinded in their tears.
Bare hands that hold onto the heaviest
of all my greatest sins.

Cold and paralysed; I came back to life.
Soon to return back to earth.

                        Oh what a trip!
marïama May 2021
I feel like I am on a never ending train.
No next stop.
All this precious time I’ve wasted.
God, look how much time I’ve wasted.
I have wrote of you twice before
Once after the first “I Love you”
Again after I knew you.
And now after I’ve known you..
The raging fire once felt now reduced to a flicker.
I can now see you without a glimmer
So many misunderstandings we never planned
No one would ever understand.
Who are you?
Someone I should know but it feels as though you are a stranger
Destined to be two halves
Your noise echos in my ears
Flashing memories of laughter brought
While your betrayal vibrates in my body
Leaving my stomach in knots
Am I to forgive you for wanting to be whole.
Sacrifice myself for you to be whole.
I’ve rebuilt my wall.
Brick by ******* brick
Every piece to so sadly fall
My tears it’s unyielding glue
Leaving no clue
Of the destruction it’s previously been through
Now I know the true lesson in love
To love until it is forevermore
For in hope of another life where may meet again
As lovers with a chance once more.
Carlo C Gomez Apr 2021
in limbo, paralyzed by inaction
and unsure of how to move forward
moodier and more menacing than ever before
a delicate state of mind is explored
all about seeing the beauty
in the darkness of futility
digging wells and all to happy
to throw us all down there
as images painted on an ancient vase, exploring
what it means to be frozen
in a moment of time for all eternity

joey Dec 2020
we're in that weird kind of limbo
not the party kind of limbo
that friendship to relationship bridge of limbo
and i don't even know
if you feel the same way
but i had to say
i can't wait anymore
written on april seventh of twenty ninteen
old willow Sep 2020
I walk through life,
writing countless stories.
Surely of thousands stories,
a dozen would be deaths.
Plucking death from life;
is plucking seed from a fruit.

What is there to gain?
We say life have no reason, purpose, nor excuses.
So what say we live?

Plucking the seeds;
I witness countless threads.
From the bitterness of fate;
to the sadness of departure;
down to the solitary of loneliness.

I fear fighting those who have nothing,
those with nothing find comfort in death.
But... is death truly nothing?
Life is full, but emptied to the eyes of death;
Therefore, I tend to see life as nothing
and death as nothing;
ultimately, seeing through life and death.
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