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Hunter 1d
In the chamber's cold embrace I lay,
A harbinger of despair, a silent plea.
Whispered secrets sealed in metallic skin,
Destined to bear the weight of a desperate sin.

Molded in the shadows I embraced my role,
Not by choice but by the hands that stole
A moment's respite in life's dark despair,
A choice, a whisper, suspended in the air.

From the barrel's mouth I was set free,
A messenger of sorrow, a tragic decree.
Through the void, I journeyed without refrain,
A vessel of anguish, an embodiment of pain.

Not for glory, nor a battlefield's embrace,
But to carve an exit from life's haunting space.
In that fleeting moment of cosmic disdain,
I traced a trajectory, untethered from the sane.

No solace in the cold metal that confined,
No redemption in the trajectory I defined.
A passage through the void, a desperate flight,
A silent scream swallowed by the endless night.

In the aftermath, echoes of a silenced cry,
A hollow testament to a soul's goodbye.
I bear witness to the aftermath's desolation,
As I rest in the silence of my own grim creation.
Francis Nov 8
Old Man Joe says,
Black and white is the art form,
When images can be captured,
Rendered in color.

To him,
The true art is in the frame,
The composition,
The contrast,
Light versus dark.

He says color makes it an image,
But monochrome makes it a treasure,
Such simplicity,
Relying on such grey,
To convey…

A story?
An emotion?
A statement?

Black and white,
If life were only that simple,
As it is filled with pigments,
A spectrum of *******,
To him.

My dear friend detests,
The rendition of color.
Through the glass,
He sees nothing but shades,
Of nothing.
Jess B Oct 23
Dancing on the waters edge
Warm Bright Light

Kissing the Mountain Tops
As we say good night

Penetrating skin's surface
Could soothe or burn

Near Infrared Light
Said to heal we learn

But the sky is changing
or are we just further away

Sunken in tunnels
With lights of blue

Far from you...
distracted yet again by
the fullest of moons
on an unexceptional night
blown out of proportion
by undue reverence
and misplaced relevance
looming larger than it seems
nature should allow
a false sense of light
marred by hues
of orange and red
forced upon it by
this unseasonably late
summer's twilight
there are those who
will assign meaning to
this sight and to any
signs thus associated
guided by the symbolic
grounded in the scientific
somehow the truest
of explanations are overlooked
the simple will always
be far less appealing
than the convoluted
Jeremy Betts May 9
It's far easier to hate than forgive, can't give myself a break when the case study's retrospective
I hate that it's easier to die than to live, pull up just shy and see it all fall in and out of perspective
To be here, right here, year after year is the objective but the inner chatter from my dark passenger is persuasive
Life escapes through each back stab wound like a fleshy sieve, how much can one individual give
Just meaningless crumbs aren't attractive, I'm a no good, very bad human representative
So primitive, the smooth brain collective not selective enough to be proactive instead of reactive
The crazies run the nut house and the clubs exclusive, drunk off two fifths, the front doors elusive
I'm no detective, I just hope my karma is something I can outlive

Dark thoughts are combative, my own mind is abusive, held captive with no clear motive
The rush from anger becomes addictive even when self destructive
The me I want to be has lost all adhesive and every step towards a concept that moves forward feels counterproductive
From my perspective I should embrace the paradox, go back in time and hand my mom a contraceptive
I'd rather not exist than to be a relative to this bloodline that feels radioactive
But what's the alternative, trading one mess for another is gonna get repetitive
And every time, the byproduct gets more carossive, the rust forms a husk that falls away exposing the explosive
One that goes off erratically 'cause real change isn't a newspaper, or soothsayer, real help is expensive

Hand me that sedative, this repetitive narrative is too intensive, Lucifer's obsessive and I, compulsive
Destructive to a fault and so one sided I'm not even competitive
A cognitive function nowhere near adaptive, straight to punishment, bypassing corrective
Leaving me to always be on the defensive but that alone will fail to be effective
At least for the collection of the negative that is a bigger percentage of the me that's reflective
One of a fugitive on the run from my formative years, all the hardwired fears still active
Each with a different authoritative directive and all for the worse, who the hell's even driving this locomotive?
My words sound figurative, at least enough to label it an overactive imagination, so creative
But it's imperative that this is looked at as informative, a documentary type narrative

Rainswood Sep 3
Walking alone
On the First cool morning
of the season,
It’s bright and clear
And I notice, for the first time
In a long time
That I can feel the Sun on my face.
Somehow I’d forgotten
My love
for these beautiful mountains so blue
Behind The hill that’s been blocking my view.
A dump site for resentment
and sadness.
Now that I’m
Observing the world again
instead of ruminating
This is my future,
My home.
My view.
he asked a question
and without waiting
for a response
drew three cards
from that divinatory deck
usually carrying as little
meaning as a tossed coin
scoffed at and swiftly ignored
this time seemed to tell
a recognisable tale
unexpected in its providence
a fortune perhaps
to favour the brave

the hanging man
with his eight swords
and his eight wands
these cards showed him
the start of a journey
not necessarily a life
turned upside-down
instead that a change
of perspective is needed
the octet of swords
unveiled his cage
of indecision
uncertainty and fear
a need to upset
the balance of the inert
a reasoning for destruction
in order to create
and those upright wands
carrying with them
such signs of movement
a willingness to decide
a commitment to progress

either that or
the pack was simply
reshuffled and dealt
again and again
until it foretold
that which needed
to be heard
Man Jul 10
Persons who, not agreeing with you,
Will tell you, your perspective is wrong.
That lived experience,
Has clouded your lense of reality.
But they offer no real difference
Nothing so substantive
As to say,
Mine is fixed
And based in a place
Of true, unbiased rationality.
Mazzy Ram Jun 26
Same place
  same state
  same memory

What if
  its our essence
  no movement
  sanction to experience
  what is
  no motion to distract
and within the malaise
        shifted orientation

Breath reawakening

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