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Àŧùl Sep 5
Mark is a wandless wizard,
But he's not wordless.
He weaves dreams and poems,
Neither is spineless.
It's such a treat to read your verses,
Mark Wanless, you have my regards.
Stay Blessed and Healthy.
My HP Poem #1980
©Atul Kaushal
Abi Winder Aug 30
life moves,
and people leave.

my skin will stretch
and my mind will learn.

and maybe it takes time,

but maybe i don’t want to wait,
maybe i don’t have time to waste.
Kagey Sage Aug 13
How does capitalism deeply impact my life?

I want to make music so bad, but I procrastinate with stupid ****.
I clean as if people could come over anytime and judge me superficially. I often go out and shop for things I futilely hope will organize me enough to make cleaning faster. I shop for obscure musical instruments and gear to feel like it'll make making music easier.

In capitalism, owning the machinery is more valuable than doing the work. We ingrain that in our soul, more and more. Negative liberty was always valuable, but when you had less you used to find others to help turn that liberty positive.  

I have a guitar, bass, and drums, but no band. Self-alienation at this point. All my friends play, but don't want to make it a thing.


Our leaders are just hype men and chaos actors to keep the mystery going. "Capitalism may be cruel, but it's the best system we got."

"Capitalism just means people have the right to go into business for themselves." No the owners are subservient to something greater too. They serve capital, they serve the absolution of all. Your automatic answer is "it wasn't my fault." It was incorporated, depersonalized.

So many dead and broken people. So much waste. Digging up so much petroleum, the plastic's in our veins. "It's no one's fault." If by some astronomical chance a concerned public win a Kafkaesque trial, all that's lost is money. No one goes to jail or suffers, if you own enough stuff.

But there's the pickle. "The things you own start to own you," of course, but what's much worse is the Nothing they serve needs to grow, until there's no humanity left. Becoming voids who only seek more efficient ways to delete.
Oskar Erikson Mar 27
it’s only i get a little scratchy across my shins at 1:33
forehead against work desk
leant down to run a track on my legs
phone untouched, shortcuts retraced
HTT ..PS//
ishouldntcheckyoursocials.      us.

couldn’t make me an addict of loss
which really is the untapped potential
for the future internet of things
safari, waystone.
safari, favourer of webpage rerunners,
safari, guide me back to a bookmarked
cliff-edge of ache.

cookies know me better than my housemate who’s sweetness blocked his accounts before something broke and we’d have to talk about it.

once the whiter lines appear on shinskin like my algorithm
I can sit back up
if not satiated at least appeased
the sound my lungs make isn’t really laughing or crying but
a wheeze.
I see the gold rubby diamond
rings on each one of my fingers
even though no rings I wear
but were promised and so
I see them a lifetime after.
I am wealthier then even you are
because I believe your plan works.
even though I survive dirt poor
in total lack, homelessness
is on my one left foot.
I AM a billionaire mind
if only I write my miserable fated
action inaction cause and effect
tragic life down without you.
Yes I missed the mark
how not to adore you JpcRk.
we remain glued.
You left treasures for me to find
all over you wanted us to go.
I am wealthier then even you are
because I believe in your amazing
bittersweet lost and found plan.
even though I found only myself
looking at myself naked
in the mirror.
~~~~
Mr and Mrs Andrews
And Karijinbba.
True love I miss you so much
iamgone Jan 2021
I remember it
like it was years ago
or maybe yesterday
snow falling around me
like the laughter
in my soul
my eyes finding refuge
in the fall upon my feet
tiny dancers
mocking
my reaction
or rather lack of
to the cold
i found myself
numb
i found myself
restless
and then i found
my eyes
wandering behind me
into the snow
finally taking notice
in the lack of footprints
that followed
my feet reaching nothing
but a shallow cry
and that's when I knew

the world would never see me again
Zeena Miedema Aug 2020
?A question mark tattooed on my forehead.
Still so many questions.
Why is it so difficult to live but even so much harder to die???
And you’ll remain a dream to me.
But I’m gonna enjoy every bit of it.?
08-08-20
kiran goswami Jul 2020
My mother told me to leave my mark
wherever I went.
When I asked her what did she mean,
She told me,
How she wanted me to leave
my name and my brand
as a symbol and signature
of my 'identity'.

'Identity', how would it look like...
Will it be tall so that it can
reach success even without climbing up.
Will it be hour-glass with curves
large enough to be liked.
Will it be fair so that it can be lonely too.
Will it be rich so that it can purchase Bugatti and Bentley.
Will it be smart so that it can create its success if it is not provided with any.
Will it be beautiful so that it can make people stop and stare.
Will it be kind so that it heals and saves what has been killed.
Or will it be soft so that it weighs every word before it speaks?

But then my mother told me your identity is 'you'.
But I cannot become my identity because I am not a signature to be looked at or a mark to be left.

So when I looked up in the dictionary
I found how mark is synonymous for
1.Stain
that I got on my sweatpant this morning.
2.Bruise
that has covered my neck like a mosaic painting.
3.Scratch
that has been carved on my legs by my own hands.
4.Blemish
that I have thrown on my parent's name and 'identity'.
5.Blot
that has covered my pages and hands because my pen is broken.
6.Scar
that stays on my heart.
7.Label
that I have put on myself and let others call me by it.
8.Identity
that I do not have.

My mother told me to leave my mark wherever I went.
But, wherever I went,
I gained one.
Ylzm Jul 2020
Sine qua non and election's affirmation
Knowing the unwritten and unrevealed
But, alas enlightened eyes see not its kind
Adrift in sea of strangers bearing the mark of man
muteD Jun 2020
not a flicker, nor a flame.‬
‪always invisible, unknown by name.‬
‪so now it is up to me‬
‪to leave a mark,‬
‪to go out with a bang‬
‪and leave my art.‬

‪-mD‬
There was this tweet that told us to write based on the picture that had attached .. it was my first time ever doing something like that and I only did it to see if I could.

Honestly I wish you guys could see the picture. Nonetheless, I’m really proud of this especially since I haven’t written any poetry all month.
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