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White noise on the monitor
brittle and bitter loathing
excited by nothing but
the something under bed.

#speakless
#feelmore?
#twittering
all such useless noise.

Action is essential -
"pessimism of the intellect
optimism of the will"
wrote Gramsci, rotting in his cell.

Machine gun fire from my fingertips;
I feel the words flow like some
maelstrom of masculine violence
on some long lost mental battlefield
some monolith of shame,
Monkeys.

You don't speak, you don't listen
you're encased in your own cage.
So am I. Alive half-dead,
brittle to the core with the
threat of indifference.
Dead with the action of knowing that one is at peace
with it, the fear of the self, divided
  -in two
blue? Oh yes, blue blue blue, blue blue blue.

Red pill, blue pill, truth.
Yawn, boring internet culture.
Yawn the squalid indifference.
Yawn the 21st century
Yawn the 22nd century etc etc
Yawn the suffocating critic,
Yawn your inaction,
Yawn my pretension,
Yawn my failed attempts at caring -
Not natural.

"Yes very clever, post it on the wall and
gain applause from the decaying crowd" she says,
"as they self implode out the echoes of
emptiness, measured monolith"

I scrawl -
"no more of this".
Burning brain can crush and does frequently so don't tempt
it to go Godzilla, I can do it with ease.
Crush cities in my mind. Bombastic ******* when push
and shove meet in urban jungles.

Painful Pan Pen Ease, woodland industrial spirit crush
Boom.

The title is a clue,
Go away.
Through the light of day,
I see over the mountains,
I see the rich colours around me,
I see the vibrancy,
I see the light of day itself.

Is it really that pure?

So instead I wait for night.

I can’t see past the mountains, but why look?
Empty colours surround me.
I don’t see the filter; the alleged purity.

Overwhelmed, the context assaults me.
Darkness lances into me.
I yell. I writhe -

in my bleeding innocence, await salvation. “Saviour!” He escapes me.

“The light of day will save.”

I see the purity ****** itself down in beams.
I see the warmth on my body.
I see the good people.
But still, I see no succour.

I decide not to see, but to look.

I look for the humanity in purity, only blemishes are forthcoming.

Humanity, you have failed me.
Copyright © Sibastien

Often, we see the world from a falsified, optimistic perspective opposed to her true colours, and when we do finally see them, they're quite scary.
You are more than you see
A child stares at the movie screen
Strutting with the confidence of a cowboy
Imagining the characters that pops off the watercolor pages
As they jump up and down in their onesie
Holding tight to their plushy sidekick
That seems to whisper an end to moon landings
With every inch taller
You gaze at your potential like it sits on Everest's summit
So discouragingly out of reach
Your disappointment juts into your dreams
And makes you feel like the pinnacle of your being
Will only amount to a mound of dirt
But that isn't true
Every time you stand with the legs
That hold a rallying cry in its gait
Of the kind of independence
penned by our founding fathers
as an unalienable right
You gain footing
Up the rock face
That stuck its rocky tongue out at you
From the jester's thrown below
But you are far from a joke
A riddle maybe
The kind that a sphinx would lovingly smirk at
Its tail thumping with an instinctive eye roll
Mixed with the gaze of Eskimo kisses
Your hand holds lie
In the reach
That pulls you closer to the jewels
That dot the edges of your resolves
A bell ringing in the background
You're an angel who deserves their wings
And flying is falling
The first time a bird leaves the nest
Benji James May 2017
What happens when you've made,
All the mistakes you can make?
What happens when that part of you
That holds you up breaks?
What does it take
to make that part of you,
that you hate,
how do you make that fade?

Bless your soul
Your a rolling stone
Travelling down this,
long hard road
You use your inner strength
Yeah we got faith
We all know our
Trust in love
Is never misplaced

I've been killing off the demons
in my dreams
But they somehow come back
And grab a hold on me
How can I erase that pain?
How can I escape that fate?
When it's so deeply encrypted, into my brain?
Have you seen the strain I face?
Have you been to this place?
You know the part of you,
that you can't escape
There must be a way to clean the slate
Grab yourself an empty plate
So that you can start again
Or at least that's something I can dream

Bless your soul
Your a rolling stone
Travelling down this,
long hard road
You use your inner strength
Yeah we got faith
We all know our
Trust in love
Is never misplaced

I've seen the dark
Where red eyes linger
I've seen the fire
That burns away
the core of your soul
How can you come back from that all
We've all been low and knee deep
In the quicksand of life, it seems
But this is what happens
when you're buried six feet deep
And you're trying to get out
But you can't breathe
You've tried to use others
To get you out
But there only seems,
to be one way now
You need to dig your way out
Of this underground

Bless your soul
Your a rolling stone
Travelling down this,
long hard road
You use your inner strength
Yeah we got faith
We all know our
Trust in love
Is never misplaced

©2017 Written By Benji James
Laura Slaathaug May 2017
If scabs rip off
your skin like buttons
off your collar
and expose flowing blood,
wipe them clean and
retrieve sterile bandages.
Change them each day.
Repeat, watch your sores close.
You'll heal; take care.
And don’t mind if your skin scars.
Instead, take hope.
All you needed was time.
Ambiguous Frizz May 2017
I was hideously built
Terror, malice, lies were abundant as i grew
And then i died
I died for a million times
To live again
Now I am rebuilding my new self
With wings strong and hued
With aims clear, only good and true
And I thank the people
The circumstances
That led me to death
Just to let me live again
And bring me to a brighter
Promising world
That lets me shine
And fly free
for the aspiring hopefuls
Peter Roads May 2017
We are all dead
or we are all alive
We live in the grey
but there is no dividing line
Brown or pink
Black or white
Shades and shadows dividing
by what you think they think
  about why you are
  when what you are
            is living
In dying for difference
            we are lost
In thinking too much
and in not living enough
egalitarian dreamer
Joliver Apr 2017
I hope that some day
"Some day" won't be just a hope
hayley robertson Mar 2017
it's a strange occurrence
hearing sirens pulsate through the rough brick walls of the silent still sanctuary on sunday mornings
every sunday morning for as long as i can remember

the service doesn't stop and the sermon doesn't stop
but i can't help but wonder what would happen if they did
what would happen if we stopped worrying about our lives and started worrying about theirs - those who have been affected by that shrill call
every sunday morning for as long as i can remember

why is it that we receive the honor of being safe inside when there are people suffering outside
how do we say a prayer for healing but go about our daily lives not thinking about what we hear right outside our windows
every sunday morning for as long as i can remember

perhaps some people do let the sound interrupt their routine thoughts
are those the lucky few who are called angels?
it shouldn't be their job to save the world
if we let the warning resonate through our minds and not just through the rough brick walls then maybe sirens wouldn't be heard
every sunday morning for as long as i can remember
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