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Simon May 1
A "Tireless Impression" is nothing but pure nonsense, when you finally come to grips with what is mostly costly away from what makes up something that starts (as an impression), then abruptly transmits directly over towards the impression that gives good advice...that can't give good advice for itself.
The Tireless part, is the only remedy to an awakening that doesn't count for the (already built up nonsense) that can't keep it's own self away from such sudden shame... That it adopts a certain willpower that counts itself lucky enough...to literally become increasingly ill-tempered at the very lifestyle it chose, for the very direct impression... Of a Tireless will.
Tireless impression is about someone not agreeing with what is truly happening with their very current standards in life. (Even thou it looks like everything is seemingly going more than possibly right for themselves, as that's not an already obvious enough potential benefit hanging too high in the air, for its own good.)
Sergio Gonzalez Aug 2020
I look at the skies
As I think to myself
somber and lonely
Better days come
Even when the sun won’t shine

As I think of you
Bittersweet moments haunt my dreams
Beautiful scenes that will never be
I cross past the treacherous waters
But I’m far too calm
I’m far too stoic
It’s not the first storm I’ve ever seen

I’m not the one who you’re used to
The ghost of him travels with my shadows
It’s the past and so it seems
Time came and said hello
But now it’s time to go  

I’m over the moon that you’ve moved on
But take it day by day
You left in search for the new  
things may never be the same again

My mind plays tricks on my emotions
But as I go through the motions
I’m left with nothing but broken promises
Waiting for a sign if I’ll ever see you again
Ash Mar 2019
We blindly type out of memorization,
We blindly write from practiced habit,
We blindly skip paragraphs, ignore articles, and pensively print upon the line without realization of what we’re saying at all.
We never truly see,
We deteriorate out of muscle memory
Absently offering an embrace neglecting to fully eyes-closed experience the wonderfulenss of it at all.
We go through the motions,
Dwelling in our minds straining its relation to our souls,
We no longer act in love,
But the muscle memory of it.
We look, but don’t truthfully see,
We touch, but forget to truly feel,
We hear, but we no longer listen,
We have flesh, yet we are merely programmed.
Advanced, but empty,
Knowledge unimaginable, yet still lacking,
Right, left, up, down, but do we realize the palpability and tenderness of the action?
Or are we too much on automatic?
In over drive,
That we forget to live out the littlest things and realize them to the fullest
Adrianna Jul 2018
I began my life active with sports and other meaningless award systems.
Girl's recreational soccer, basketball, bike riding, math competitions, the works
Today, I feel weightless
useless would be best fit
As if all the running, jumping, yelling, point requiring statuses pushed the light out of my transitioned life.

I find myself sitting in one area often, as one may do
But different than sitting on a bench or sitting actively in company of others
I sit wondering exactly who I am looking at
Why am I empty lifeless longing towards an imaginary spot in the distant wall
I imagine some events in these minutes of stoic despair
Hearing goes weak and frozen, in this second, while I continue my Sunday brunch with non-conformative attitudes and her mother, the sweet old dementia
I don't mean to have their meetings often, I must of first acquainted as the first grade trauma or the Broadway rendition of Alone Thoughts featuring the Broken High School Years.
I hope to work the wheels again, to end these meetings and to live for once, in the midst of motion and pause.
This time, stopping and starting as I please.
Hi everyone, this is my first poem! I write a lot when I am thinking of my life and this world. Hope you enjoy
I rise late
My love is away
Going through the motions
Such a sorry state
The cold numbs me today
Water falls on my face
Put on the uniform
Grab my mask
I drive twenty five
Empty halls are the norm
As I complete mundane tasks
Hours roll by
Sitting alone
Back to work
I sigh
Glance anxiously at the clock
104 or 5 to 6
Speed home
Lights out
I miss her
The fairer chromosome
My heart filled with doubt
Does she miss me
Do I cross her mind
I think of her always
I lie in dark solitude
My empty tears are blind
As I fall away in a haze
Goodbye everyone
Just a note fiance is out of town on a trip, every seconds an eternity without her. I am not suicidal so please stop asking.
Paul Jones Jul 2017
In the spherical     motions of my mind,
there is an orbit     of thought around you.
00:25 - 28/07/17

State of mind: pensive; longing.
Perspective: personal; universal.

Thoughts: from feeling - like I miss someone.

Listening to: John Murphy - Adagio in D Minor

Questions: none.
Angelique Apr 2016
Searching for some sort of relevance
Something to tie me down
                    -or lift me up
Something to keep me in motion
                    -out of my emotions
On a path forward
Not back around
To when I was
                Sad and Disillusioned
´

You  came to me
as a vision
as a mirage
as soft shadows
landing low

Warmly loving
the hot bouncy
paws
and their
delicate dance
across Dali's

Tangible
soundless motions
obssesive mushy
desserted sands
of time's

Kaleidoscopic
fractal falling

Swirling
back into
the theatre of dreams

Tuning a
migrating
midnight to
those silent, evanescent
melodies
yearning
craving
to be played
once more
and adored on longplays

Spiraling and spinning
in my memory
like a skilled
reindeer wafting
wet air through fresh
nostrils, a defiant elegance
fluttering around as colourful
wings move the magnificent
leap of a sinew lyinx
to tremble
among spring greenery

Got to develop gentle moves.
Silent. Soundless. Elegant.
Imagined by
Impeccable Space
Poetic soundlessness
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
kneedleknees Jul 2015
cankerous open mouths.
dead breath like exhaust.
this is your world,
you who would not have it.
pockmarked by age
and pockmarked by plague
and a palpitating heart.
repeating pleasure as if it were a litany.
a cowl to wrap yourself in
and create a new identity.
and it's the weight of your heart
that matters
no matter how small.
and with pooling abscesses
and with enough drained blood
you could fill a new world.
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