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Jeremy Betts Nov 17
Trying to find shades of myself
In the simple black and white
Trying to wade out in the middle
Of a basic wrong and right
Maybe I will or maybe I won't
But maybe I just might
I want to live in the twilight
There's too much darkness in the light

©2024
Jeremy Betts Jul 9
Is there inherent good in people?
Who's to say,
Nothing is that simple
With little to no meaningful example sample
One's left to guess what to shed and what's essential
For those not raised to be capable
Those who struggle with both an internal and external battle
Or wound up with a broken porcelain bone handle,
It's hard to shake the fragile label
And always surprising who is willing to use it as ammo
There is good, there is evil
Most linger somewhere near the middle
Remember though,
It's not that simple

©2024
Zywa Jan 29
Between star and night,

between black skin and white skin --


our fire is burning.
Poem "Yúya Karrabúra" ("Fire is Burning", 2015, Alice Eather)

Collection "SoulSenseSun"
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2023
those of us in the middle muddle,

do not know from sides, boundary lines,
drawn by others, right-sided, left-leaning,
mean nothing to us, who seek something solid
upon to rest, when the clarity others profess,
more than evades us, even escapes us, and
the muddles of life seem to require simplest,
middling answers that are unacceptably refused
by grail seekers whose cause for cause, means
cause to cost others regardless, for regard for
the middle is disdained, by two-sided posts,
the know nothings, and the know betters

irony of irony, the rigidity of imposition makes
me more adrift, more aimless, and the task of
meandering through seems almost holy, for the
obstacles of society, requirements of modern life,
are so damning, wild expectations superimposed,
truths not just hard to find, almost indiscernible,
so I lay my pen down hard, awaiting for the
whatever-while, for to return, to go walking with
only the simplest grids to guide, meanderings in
general directions, ahead, always ahead, keep moving,
keep touching and when optimism returns,

I shall be relieved
once more,
I shall be released
once again,

good words will be caught,
released, returned back
into the atmosphere so
they will grow in size by
the very act of sharing



undated
————————————————-


Everyone must leave something behind
when he dies, my grandfather said.
A child or a book or a painting or a house or
a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there.
It doesn't matter what you do, he said,
  so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away.  The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said. The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime. ~Ray Bradbury

(Book: Fahrenheit 451)
Zywa May 2023
The sand wants to be

here, or on the other side --


not in the middle.
The hourglass as a symbol for bipolarity

Novel "Ik ben er niet" ("I'm not there", 2020, Lize Spit), page 331

Collection "Shelter"
Jules Harper Aug 2022
Mid
Can one know what the middle feels like
Can one ever know what is just right
To not be too much and make all the mess
To be just enough and not a thing less

Can one know where to end the flow
Can one ever wake up and know
To not drag out way too far and long
To not shorten it and make all go wrong

Can one know when to stop feeling
Can one ever realize if it is teeming
To not let love overflow from heart
To not be empty that it's ripped apart

Can one know what they are doing
To not let life go in time a-flying
Prompt: teem (v.) to be full of that thing, or to have much of that thing inside

I reviewed one piece I wrote about how being in the middle ***** before reposting this one here. Me at 21 y/o realizes how the middle and I are in a love-hate relationship. One aspect of being in the middle kills me, the other aspect, which I'm still working to be in, keeps me dreaming of one day.
Andrew Rueter Mar 2022
When I’m feeling my highest
I want to take all your pain away
and when I’m at my lowest
I want you to take all my pain away.

All that pain we take from each other
is worth the time we spend in the middle.
Hermes Varini Dec 2021
Mid Guðrum sê lêodgebyrga eft
On wanre niht, monajjfyllene!
Wulfe mîn geniwung! ond heorudreór,
Forescýwum wældreor-randwíga Ic,
Nêarra heoruwearg forþgêng
Monajjfyllene swâ! on hê byrnes scan
Æfre! êacen ond eotonweard æghwær,
Weelseaxe! ond êacnum ecgum Ic wæs,
Swâ bælegsan sê Ôfer-mann nu hâten,
Heolstorscuwae nu Ic, Lígetsliehtes Þegn,
Mid mîn styrme, æcse ond heorwe swâ!
Sê Brynewielm-Sundorgenga nu Ic!
Selden ond tówunderlic swâ
Norðanwinde eac Ísenhelm hâten,
Æfre scielde sê Ôfer-mann swâ Ic!
Wulfes êagum! ond hwítum fængtóþum,
Binnan swâ sweart wudubearo,
Mîn ðæt wildor, hwæt! on gehwæðre hond,
Eft sweordwígend ond sweordwund
Réadede Ic swâ! wundor sceawian Ic!
Hwonne swâ mîn gúðgewæde,
Beorht bleóreádan bladesungum
Hwæt! æfre sê feorhléan wæs swâ,
Ond uferra sîn heolfrig andweorc
Swâ âstemped eft mîn cwealmdréor!
Ærdæd unsigefæst þær biþ
Mînes gewilles beadwum swâ,
Hwonne sprindlíce, giet monajjfyllene!
Beadwe-grîman Sceade Heorudreór gladaþ,
Hwonne swâ snyttrum ond singale!
Êcan arodscipes hringedstefna
Þunringe mîn ealdor-dôm âheardaþ,
Hwonne stearcheort on ecnesse swâ!
Onforeweard Þunores Heall heoru-drêore
Mîn scinn wiðerwinna flângeweorc
Ealfela! giet on wanre niht eftwyrde,
Stíele ond forescýwan! sê Ôfer-mann Ic,
Swâ wæpenþracu! Swâ sigorwuldor!
Æledfýre bisene Ic, sê Swígtíma-Wrecend!
Swâ Mônan Wulfe! dæges ond nihtes nu!
Hríðe mîn írenhelme gegangan:

HERMÓÐR REGIS GOTHORVM VLTOR
FVLMINE IGNIQVE IN BELLO TERRÆ
ÚLFHEÐINN VINDEX SVPREMVS
IN SPIRALIS VINDICTÆ SACRA FLAMMA
ET MAGNO CORVSCANTE SPECVLO
IVGITER ALTO INCENDIO MIHI REDITVS
CALIGINIS HRAFNSMERKI VEXILLAQVE
AB VLTIMA THVLE SACRA FLAMMA
IGNEO SANGVINEQVE HÖÐR EXPVGNATOR
SICVT LVPVS VLTIMÆ THVLE TONITRVQVE
DECIMO ANNO FELICIS VINDICTÆ
VINDEX SVPREMVS INVICTVSQVE DENVO
CÆRVLEO FVLMINE IN BELLO TERRÆ
SACRA FLAMMA OVERMAN SCYLD.
A composition of mine in full Anglo-Saxon, as ending in Classical Latin. “Scyld” is an Anglo-Saxon variant for “shield”. A message is contained, told in the first person again (“Ic” or “I”). The narrator walks through a dreary forest, wearing a Sutton Hoo type helmet (“beadwe-grîman” meaning “with the War-Mask”, a kenning, my own, for “helmet” and “írenhelme”), alone and wounded, indeed empowered with a Sacral Fire, at night (“on wanre niht”) and in a time of full moon (“monajjfyllene”). The whole alliteration focuses on “swâ” meaning “thus”, “so”, “therefore”. A Drakkar is mentioned, with its spiral figurehead associated with the motion in Pure Core Energy, that is, in my own Return of Power event, the latter granting, in purifying Heraclitean fire, the necessary Return of the Antithetical Overman. "Heolstorscuwae nu Ic, Lígetsliehtes Þegn" reads "now through the Darkness I, the Thane (historical title, Lord) of the Thunderbolt", "Wulfes êagum! ond hwítum fængtóþum" "with the wolf's eyes! and the white fangs" and “sê Swígtíma-Wrecend” “the Avenger of the Silence” (this latter a kenning, my own, for "warrior"). The god Þunor is also mentioned. As to the final verses, the Old Norse word “ÚLFHEÐINN” stands for “with a Wolfskin Cloak”, thus indicating a Berserker. “HRAFNSMERKI” refers to the Black Ravens of Odin as appearing on Viking battle standards (VEXILLA), these generally dark (CALIGINIS).
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