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K Balachandran Nov 2018
Past coral garden,
Dive to the depth of blue night;
Blissful oblivion!
I
starstrike Nov 2018
Why would you trade a future for a friend?
Looks like this is the end
Better say our goodbyes
Don’t let them see us cry

How can you just walk away
After all of these years?
The good times and the bad times
All the screams and cheers

Don’t walk away from me
Don’t turn your back and go
You’re the only one who saved me
When the shadows changed me so
What will I do when you’re gone?
Your silhouette is all I can hang on to

Will the skies exist tomorrow?
Is oblivion far, far away?
Will sentiment reap my sorrow?
Sunshine don’t matter if my mind’s a sky of gray

How can you just walk away
After all of these years?
The good times and the bad times
All the screams and cheers

Will the skies exist tomorrow?
Is oblivion far, far away?
Gone but I can’t follow
Now my sky is gray

Don’t let them see us cry
Time to say our last goodbyes
It looks like this is the end
Cause why would you trade a future for a friend?
Letters from Lia Nov 2018
I admire how your light
Cast shadows in my heart
Like an endless poetry
Or a prose that may be.
Like a spark of light
in a wide oblivion
Take me to the muse
of your words
Take me to your
boundless thoughts
Let's get lost
to the wonders, and
fantasies of our hearts.
Let's get lost
to our words, and
desires.
Let's get lost
And never come back.
—Take me

siin.li
Ria Kabra Oct 2018
The fire cackled behind her,
Sending sparks into the night,
The flames reflecting upon the water,
Like stars fallen from the sky.

She gazed out at the ocean,
Mesmerized by the dancing lights,
Mixed with wisps of darkness,
Drawing her to her demise.

Slowly she moved forward,  
Sinking into the ocean's silky depths,
Her battered body embracing the coldness,
Welcoming what lay ahead.

Further and further she drifted,
Feeling a strange sense of calm,
And she floated over the waters,
Ignoring her slight, last minute qualms.

The fire roared behind her,
But she couldn't hear the noise,
That shattered the silent darkness,
All she heard was a soft voice.

It pulled her in deeper,
Swallowing her in waves of inky black,
Until she was nothing more,
Than a carcass in the ocean's depths.                        

Washed ashore a year later,
Her absence never felt,
Her body emerged out of oblivion,
Her soul finally free, floating out of reach of humanity,
And what she called hell.
aj ochavo Oct 2018
How can it be?
I didn’t know that i was already falling.

Gravity pulled me back to the ground like it never touched me before.

Oblivion is you. I fell unconciously, filled with innocence of how im going to feel after the fall.
Amanda Kay Burke Oct 2018
Awakens to a new day like thousands before
Gone from sight, searches for hope
On the cold dirt she solemnly walks
No trace of possibility in her scope.

"Are you okay?" I long to ask her
Easily seeing she is everything but
Each inch of her body quivers
Lights are off, her heart is shut.

A complex cavern of misunderstanding
Sensory overload dreaded routine
Treacherous image none bothered to question
Screaming child stuck in an eternal daydream.

Starlight mimicking a faint compass
Guiding through the map surrounding
The world gives conflicting directions
Lost in the atlas, heartbeat starts pounding.

Putting trust in uneven difficult terrain
She drags her broken spirit along
A replica of the beauty she once captured
Her touch gentle, bravery strong.

Tossed by foamy waves
In the streets, out at sea
Tired and hungry, long ago spit out
After being chewed by cruel society.

Down and out, no longer expecting
The universe to show any remorse
Bearing her misery alone in the chaos
Oblivion the destination marking the end of her course.
This isn't about anyone in particular although I am the inspiration behind it. This is one of the more vague non-personal pieces I've written.
Maya Sep 2018
all we are:
lonely hearts
looking for anything
to bridge the gap.

oh, medusaesque
****** blade with a diamond hilt
clean cut house with padded walls
storm hidden in the cloudy valley.

red-laced bottle of pride
running fast as your legs can go to keep away the
terrors.

busy is a lifestyle to
fiercly avoid the memories.
you can keep them one step behind
as long as you don't ever stop.

sometimes i think you're eight out of nine lives away from dying on the front step.

but
this cat
always lands on its feet.
'rev the ignition
straight on to oblivion
into a void
as pure as they come'
- pat the bunny
Easterly Sep 2018
God is above
Of all and other things
Adam bit the apple,
Who had all this vision seen?

Follow the Lord or follow the horde?
Even one was heavy then,
Chastening in a trembling Eden;
A coiled serpent yawning in each head.
Caleb Hess Aug 2018
It goes in a straight path for miles. The glossy, black marble walls on either side of me and the red velvet carpet under my bare feet. A pitch black sky lay above my head with thousands of stars. This hallway seems never ending, to go on forever. I run. I run but I don’t want to, I have no control over my body. Sometimes it feels like I’m walking and when it does I think more about what could be at the end of the hallway, I fear it. This hallway feels like home, it’s all I know so I can’t imagine anything else. Sometimes I still wonder what the end will look like, though. Will there be a wider hallway? Will the walls be velvet and the floor be marble? What if marble will have lots of spots on it like the sky? I do fear the day I finally make my escape although I know it’s inevitable.
A poem about fearing death and wondering about life after death.
Choderlos Aug 2018
The sun sets on the little huts
Made of mud and roofs thatched
The African child
With smiles on his face
He hasn't a cause to worry
Running to and fro in the scorching sun
Lost in the midst of tall trees
Humming to the gentle breeze
He is a happy child

He is oblivious of the hard truth
That a sad future awaits him
Full of challenges and misery
Little does he know
Those smiles he once had
Widely drawn on his face
May dissolve into frowns of anguish

Committing neither an offence nor crime
There may come a time
The beautiful fantasies
The hopes, dreams and aspirations
Everything he once believed in
May come tumbling down

Nevertheless, he is relentless
There is a ray of hope
In this utter darkness
Full of vigour and energy
By might or magic
He will fight his way through
He is the African child.
Telling the tale of the underprivileged Africa child through poetry; from personal experience and encounters.
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