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Luke Vandillen Oct 2024
We are all like wildflowers. We fall to the ground as seeds, some are swept away without a chance, while others begin to germinate and sprout after some time in utter darkness, enveloped with earth for what must feel like an eternity.

We begin to form ourselves into the ideal shape under ideal conditions, and even under conditions which would more than likely do us in, by the grace of the universe and process itself.

We gather up sunlight as the manifestation of motivation and courage, and we begin to satiate our spirits with unspoken gratitude, which spills over into joy and laughter, which we commit to our subconscious memory, and we let it build us up into stronger, more beautiful versions of our truest selves.

But this inertia and energy only lasts so long, until we are buffeted by the harsh winds of unfortunate events and circumstances, until we require rejuvenation from the universe and from the very depths of our subconscious once again. There is a waiting period for this to occur, which I would call depression. When we feel like it’s not worth the effort, when we feel like giving up or not pushing ourselves to our limits, or even when we feel like just not so much as enjoying the passing moment, we must gain strength from outside of ourselves at times when we feel we do not have what it takes to keep pushing.

The beauty and magnificence of life is ultimately contagious, and when we realize that bad times breed good times, we realize that good times ultimately spill over into inevitable bad times. The Yin and Yang is a good example of this. “As above, so below, as within, so without.”-The Emerald Tablets.

When we reach our peak, our flowering stage in life, we are so beautiful and full of radiance, and everyone around us thinks so too. That’s what I mean when I say the beauty and magnificence of life are ultimately contagious, but the same can be said for negativity, doubt, hatred, self loathing, fear, pessimism, and the false idea that life is only to be enjoyed by the rich, and that there’s no hope for the average individual. These thought patterns will hold you hostage, they will break you down, and they will make you virtually unable to process any sort of joy regarding this incredible experience we call life.

The only way to break the cycle of negative thoughts, is to take a step back and practice gratitude and awe for the absolutely insane process of our evolution, and our growth as a species, our growth as wildflowers, who are strewn about the countryside basking in the sunlight, swaying in the breeze like our very emotional states often do. We are a thing of untold majesty, the true personification of all that is, and when we finally say goodbye to our oldest and closest friend, Gaia herself, the planet, the life cycle, our temporary blip in the history of mankind, we can we can hear her laughing, giggling like a young girl at the antics of a playful kitten, telling us that this life had not gone to waste, and that our memories and energy will live on, and that all of us, no matter how seemingly insignificant, have made an indescribably positive impact on the world around us, and that the world was made infinitely better because we were here. We, the wildflowers, are here to give people joy, and to see the beauty in us, and ultimately all around us.
If
If I were eyes, you would be sunset
If I were ears, you'd be a sonnet
If I were nose, you'd be perfume
If I were sky, you'd be the moon

If I were salt, you would be tears
I was the sea, you'd be the waves
If I was grass, you'd be the sun
If life's a party, you're the fun
In it.

If I was run, you'd be slow down
If I'm a circus, you're the clown
If I was rain, you would be thunder
If I was travel, you'd be wonder.

If I were Mountains, you'd be wind
If I were color, you'd be tint
If I were death, you'd be my schythe
If I were Dante, you'd be strife

If I was flower, you'd be ground
If I was thinking, you'd be out loud
If I were one, you would be two
If I were me, you would be you.
Anastasia Oct 2024
Lighting strikes at the base of my roots.
It climbs up my limbs
Charring my flesh It bites into me
Chewing my nerves
Stabbing needles into my veins
I cannot move.
I am intertwined with this place.
I am bound here.
Lightning does not strike once.
It strikes again.
Again.
And again.
And every time, It is excruciating.
the cycle has finally broken.
Anastasia Oct 2024
I wait eagerly for you to return
Though I know your presence is temporary
I still swallow up every morsel of attention I can get
And though I have a fear of needles
I shoot each bit of love you can muster for me into my veins
I beg you silently to stay
With actions I'd never think would exist within me
Each time you go, it's unexpected
And each time, I tremble in your absence
I crave the high you set me on
The feeling of being adored
Of being worth something
Anything
i'm never going back.
Artur Oct 2024
My portrait is hidden in my basement;
The azure paint,
Like skies of June,
Is flaking like the waning moon,
Revealing a monotone landscape.
The hyacinth smell,
Is usurped
By dry, withered grass.
The serpent,
Dream-like,
Slithers
Through the underbrush,
Of the tree
From which I hung
My soul.
Let me back into
Paradise lost;
A blind man searching
In a room full of girls
For his lover.
I’m searching for what
Was lost,
For the haven
We abandoned,
While the serpent
Slithers ever closer
To my
Swaying soul.
Ariannah Sep 2024
I wish I were a bird.
Smart and independent,
Free and liberal.
No rules to respect,
No one to neglect.

I would fly as far as my eyes can see;
I would live for as long as I wish to be,
Known to place foot on this earth
For the freedom I wish to unlock.

But I'm stuck in a cage,
With wings I can't yet claim;
Watching my friends fly through the storm,
Not realizing things will take a turn.
Idk I just want to be free ig
Yes, I abetted
Albeit, not the sum of gelt
You know that's my heart.
Two voices speak loud,
Each truth holds half of the light,
Wisdom in balance.
Listen to the entire album
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2024
humor, irony, metaphor,
many other language twisty
stuff makes our poetry fabulous,
intricate,
wordplay that humans
themselves
oft finds themselves
stumped, even stupefied but most
importantly,
delighted…

no piece of *****
computer program will ever
feel delight, nor learn how to write
better than
what I possess
in my souled
consciousness

no matter how many times that
neural connect,
is electrified…
7:21am
september
a month i dislike
2024
RueSE Sep 2024
Dying petals adorn the sidewalk
They're varying pigments document life's varying stages of leaving,
Thwarts drafts of wind, their nature
to revel in my gaze
Not in act of personification,
They are not the object of attraction
No,
But a messenger to the careful stepper,
“Look up.”
What do you see?
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