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Jessica Feb 5
Patterns
As in math
Are a sign of consciousness
The universe
An ever-changing algorithm
The rain falls
In trigonometry
In awkward harmony
Notice the telemetry
Of the stars
God sighs
Heavenly
And the problem
Starts
Already solved
Mona Nov 2020
up late
sat upright
i contemplate

is it too late?
how much of a state is my mind state?

i feel stuck in time
am i stagnant or am i fluid?

i wanna leap off the bed or the earth
what is the symbolic meaning of a birth?
is there even such a thing?
if so, what is the symbolic meaning of death?

we all die
is that the symbol?
is it a parable?
who knows
your guess is as good as anyone elses

we pretend all day long
of our competencies
truth is, such endeavours
limit our ability to see
how the world is in raw form
we build our lives and wishes
within a simulation

we all subscribe to the simulation
in our own way

only till we own the simulations of our mind
can we really see
the ethereal and rich nature of reality
reality is not fixed
it cannot be named like a person
it is bigger than me or you
or any organism that inhabits it
let's have some humility
for Christ's sake
Mahe Barzh Sep 2020
" different from the first one. "


her fingers are glossy.

glossssssseeee

glossing. n

classy. i stand gazing.

like uh, a primitive, eye

she tells me their sensitive

and i believe her. because I

am quite the gullible guy

for sweet.. pretty..

cute.

.innocent. looking

things

ZAM.

she magnetically slapssss

and caresses the back of my dome.

tap tap... tap

' hmm a heavy stone, '

tap tap... tap

'it has a lot of content'... tap

tap tap .'oh'. tap tap tap

.

.

...

She begins her

journey

from the top of my head

slowly…

            tippy toeing        

                            down….

   My

            body

moving

         her  fragile nails

Like a

rehearsed fantasy..

she's been wanting

                                 to do.

she closes in

and rests her

index finger

across my neck like a

scythe shape sun....

she approaches  breathes.

in...and... whispers..

..

  “What are you thinking?”



And within that.

          my eyes smile.



[i don’t really know,  some sort of brain activity..... ]



                  “I think”



[your pretty, inside, outside,worldwide, ]



        [and ]



“I think”



[_<(^.^)> <(^.^<) (>^.^<) (>^.^)>]





             “nothing”



She still keeps going                                    [ it’s a long walk…………]

down,

slowly

maneuvering

in

elegant

moves.

before

closing in

....again.

this time in a more arrowed position across the more pronominal areas.



‘Why are you hesitant ?'

on being religiously

silly ?."



"Like if



    you dislike

                  

              the idea of



                         being  bright?’



[because

people are .........   ]





“Wait What???"





That’s not true.



only sometimes...



lol!@#!$!.

but still

“that's  so wrong



And misleading. "





















but please go on”.
Added on March 12, 2016, in https://www.writerscafe.org/writing/myenigma/1737792/
Last Updated on April 17, 2017
A Poet Jul 2020
Dwindling, spiraling, running out
Life is naught but a mayfly

No time but now
Yesterday, the only guarantee
But for a mayfly, there is no yesterday
And tomorrow is already out of the question
Yesterday and tomorrow
Mean nothing to the mayfly
And so we live today

Hummmmm
Goes the heart of the mayfly
Beating tirelessly, loving endlessly
Each indiscernible thump
Exuding the rich melody of life
Until it stops
And we return to dust

But oh! How passionately our hearts did beat!
Intoxicated by the pure joy of being
How could we be wrenched away
From the moments we shared
The moments we called trivial and routine that
We now romanticize

The mayfly lives for five minutes
The mayfly lives for the moment
The man lives for 79 years
The man lives for tomorrow
Until there are no more tomorrows

Until the cumulation of every unfulfilled dreams and desire
Come crashing down like a great wave and
We return to the dust

The mayfly has no tomorrow
The man needs not tomorrow

Dwindling, spiraling, running out
Life is naught but a mayfly
Ordeezy Jul 2020
What if God was a man, like mortal beings
He would be a man feared by kings
He would awe the world by doing unspeakable things,
The world will know of his name
Atheist would try but science can’t explain.

If God was a man,
He would seat on the throne of dilemma
Trying to answer the prayers of every man
The common man who prays for good health
For business sake, the coffin maker prays for death,
The common man who prays for peace in his place
The lawyer who prays for his case.

If God was a man,
One that I can touch this close
If man propose, how dare he dispose!
Isn’t he human like us?
Why does he find joy in our loss?

If God was a man,
Would he also fall in love?
Would that explain the birth of his son?
When he dies where will he go?
Would he tell us world secrets no one knows?

If God was a man,
Would we see him as God?
Would you believe if he performed miracles as God?
Or if he spoke in a heavenly voice?
Would you rather think
he is just a man seeking fame by force
J J Jul 2020
Halt the advice throw away your opinion
Your lips are rug burnt from all that dragging on
You're doing  nothing is ever
going to get better unless I let it
and that's my path I've got to carve on my own
I've been grown for forever (a term I've already wrote
but now it fits better)  picking apart my reflection
just so I could note the differences between us Both.

The waves of the uncrushable ocean sweeps the sky
like a supernatural flower blossoming beneath a frozen lake
and I extinguish my spliff  happy with where I'm at.
I am finished speaking  I have alot of changes to make.
Technosmith Jun 2020
We
I realise,
that I am more than what is within my skin.
I've grown together
with many beings.
To be perceived as this life,
this consciousness.
Together we navigate
simple and complex adventures,
ultimately decomposing
to join the next adventure.

We realise,
that we are more than what is within our skin.
created a isolated world
than plucked
myself into reality,
for impulsive reasons.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oRLQpHsItTI
H McDonald May 2020
My bones know things my mind does not.
What secrets can they tell?
They know of birth, of growth, of death
Of cartilage and cell.

They know no end, no waste, no rot
My bones forever be
Fused and mingled with earth,
In immortality.  

Years from now, when others ask
And dig and ponder on the past,
I’ll be there, still, my bones revive
My bones sustain, my bones, alive.
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