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Petra Dec 2021
My grandparents gave me a holiday card.
My grandfather wrote in it, "stay young as long as possible so we can watch you grow for a little longer."
In the card, they put a $20 bill for me to keep.

How ironic that they tell me to stay young then hand me the social construct of deconstruction; of internal combustion.
Part of being young is not understanding social constructs, like money, class, privilege.
Please don't hand me money if you want me to stay the way I am.

I truly do want to stay young, though. I want to stay oblivious.
It's hard when you hand me the world's struggle in the form of paper and tell me to stay happier for longer so you may have the privilege of watching my joy and be delighted for it.

dilshé Aug 2021
exploring the extramundane

a cosmos beyond the auditory,

visual & tactile

the mind's orphic in its anonymity

galaxies of oblivion,

yet imprisoned in the same isle.

By chance our curiosity-

collided with the unknown

Hallucinating on O2

knowing mysteries lie

outside of this dome.

A quest through neurotransmitters -

constellations of thoughts in gear

What is the unfiltered 'reality'

once the cryptic gas clears?
S May 2021
I am not afraid to live- for I have lived.
I am not afraid to die- for I have died.
All I can do- when faced with oblivion,
is stand with my arms outstretched-
and fall.
TomDoubty Apr 2021
We don’t have winds like this
Here in the shire
But right now the world is screaming
Squirming on its axis
I am here, it shouts
However much you **** me

A deafening rush
The trees could crush me
If the battling branches break
And fell me
The low clouds lumbar on
Indifferent, closing down the last sneak of blue

The west-south-westerly whips
All grass and grain flat
Against dark earth
Freshly turned by farmers blade
Autumn comes abruptly this year
As the leaves are torn to the ground

My path ahead a boil of branches
Lashing at me
The dry-gold giant Hogweed oscillates insanely
And the tall beeches mope and weep above
The wind is an inferno
The sound like steam is cleansing

The earth feels separate today
It says *******
It feels like the the wind can hear me
Shrieks back
My heart beats a little faster
And again that thought of oblivion
Like diving under waves

Heike Borgard Apr 2021
The pink strands in her black hair turned into dark violet
and her leather suite changed into a shirt of white linen..

the last chapter had begun
The veil between the world became translucent
being lifted far to early:
Beyond the veil - the long cold road to eternerty
                      that nobody wants to walk
  Right into the void
                        where nothing can remain                    
      no white light at the end of the tunnel....
      no welcome from anybody....

Just a fading whisper about her.... into dark violet - leather to linen...

                Echoing - dying  -
                                                         ­       Infinite Void

                              as if she had never existed

                                            nothing but
                                         DARK OBLIVION
a bit darker poem this time
*this does not apply for animals - animals go to the rainbow bridge !*
Madisen Kuhn Mar 2021
someday i’ll be too busy to notice the vampires
the sun wakes me up and i know who i am
maybe the chaos will always be there but
i’ll find a way to break it down into mulch and grow
pears and herbs and gardenias from what’s left of me
it takes a while to accept that the shadows matter
and i can’t pretend to know the watermelon lollipop
without the tongue that exists only to melt it away
to turn it into nothing until all that’s left is a paper stick
it might feel like freedom now but it can’t forever
i’ll pull down the curtains and never snooze an alarm again
the worst thing i can think of is writing the same poem
each day for the rest of my life and everyone knowing it
but me
Mhiko Simon Feb 2021
The dark filled the night sky,
Then she was born on the first of July.
Filled the dark with her light,
singing a song, with all her might.

Nothing could be more poetic,
with her songs to all that is cosmic.
But, the fear of falling,
would make her feel blue.
So, she would step down,
calls herself New.

Yet, she keeps everyone hopeful,
with all the phases, from crescent to full.
Despite the fear of falling,
she still watches from the sky,

Avoiding oblivion, watching,
with each of her eyes.

When darkness fills the sky,
she, and her Moonlight will be your guide.
Singing you a song, accompanying you

through oblivion.
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