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Willow shade Mar 5
I took care of others, walked in their shoes,
got their trivial pains and forgot my loyal legs...
If I present you the baneful thorns I have trodden,
would you be ready to follow me again and barefoot?
My mind will always be bitterly cold
as an intact valley and never understood...

Though I am sure that you do not care,
I feel well, very well, except longing.
Your dreams are flailing even everywhere
while I try to stop contemplating...
You know, I am a bit chatty when I am inspired
and the poet inside me never gets tired.

You can't grasp how painful it is to emanate a poem,
how you go out of your infatuated mind...
When 'clevers' seek for justice, but only for themselves,
there is nothing else purer than the tears of madmen.
So, happiness would have been an evident injustice,
if all of the people attained their desires.
I have faced many types of mental battles,
but no war is harder than the lack of love inside.
Love is living your life for another one's sake,
sacrificing everything with honor and pride...

Now I am sure that there exists no hate,
but just does the love of hatred indeed.
Before the absurdness of irrevocable fate
only love will save us in eternity...

No feeling will help you to be deeply blessed
while mass is spurious and loners are obsessed...
As you **** your hopes you gain fake freedom,
but free slavery will still be going on,
sometimes feeling oppressed, depressed, repressed...

However,
Invincible I am before such odd jobs
and I have found ways to keep myself up.
Now I live slowly till the time begins to blur,
paradoxes take place within my dark thoughts,
I divide the time to its perpetual aeons,
all the rules and limits I swear to deny
and save the endless time when we were eye to eye...
Through your looks the heavenly sky is clear
and all the possibilities are real there...
My benevolent angel,
let the eternity recur from the start,
only the eyes of blinds do not show their hearts...

I feel very sorry and deeply upset,
when the human inside silently regrets ...
Yet I am too clumsy to move mountains,
to achieve sanctity which I want to serve.
I wish I made you happy at my any chance,
But I can only make you happiness itself...
Gandy Lamb Mar 1
What does it mean to be a human?


























































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idk
im not even a human anyways
swaggmaster Feb 7
learning to be
aware of how to hold
my physical being
creeping into the christening
resistant fingers and toes
curled inward in fear
driven by woes
Ocean T Jan 30
i'm just trying to figure
out
m
y
e ve r yt hi n g
one-liners are the best kind.
Exert life than a void pray,
Gone my obey for: a lied rose,
Under the deep-deep sky, may the sea beneath,
Felt all the existence of died prose.

Identity of expiring beyond, an illusion of soon,
Or the city lights, may the lights of so moon.
And eyes oh eyes of my, heed existence,
Who humane instincts to materialise; to disobey chosen persistence.

I stood the defeat ; as vanished as die,
All hopes, legacy, ideas meaningless; heard I,
I stood by god, to hail nothingness and death,
Thence I tasted sour on the soliloquy of celebrated Macbeth.

For when he says; god is dead,
Its innocence absurd that we are his murderer,
A cynic, anti-foundationalism, epistemic to crave for more and more, oh i read,
For all my beliefs came to bright blur.

Today, when I ask a theory of tree makes sound or not when fallen alone,
Exculpate not, for I myself flown in the most questionable known.
Today, when I ask a theory of Sisyphus as a metaphor on existentialism,
Exculpate not, for I know more than seven colors of old prism.

Learner, me oh my, how I may counter not,
Nihilist not I, neither theory I ever caught.
I choose to choose, to see I see,
So; next when we revel, keep it over a beautiful night of spree.
Xandra Lynch Dec 2018
I convinced myself one day I could fly
Open my arms and allow the wind to carry me
Soaring through a brisk, warm air
Light-headed and dizzy as I see the earth rotate
From underneath my feet
And I realize the rotations that seemed ambient before
Have all gone away,
And I’ll be just like a bird
Bones hollow, a secret song swallowed away inside them
Free to go wherever I want
Without being looked upon
Surrounded by patches of deep, lovely, singing blue!

And I’ll forget what death means.
Forget blazing, unrelenting, merciless fire
Forget old salts and their adventures, in an honorable grave
In the slow, murky, wet, deep, dark, time-stopping coral grave underground;
I’ll forget muffled screams of dust and grime from six feet under
I forgot the wish
or dream
or ambition
or aspiration
or objective

So when I jump
There was no failing in my legs,
Or in my feeble, ****** heart
Or in my always-moving brain
There was no faltering in my breath
No secret wish for death
Just a quick, hasty JUMP!
Exhilaration and innocence
Frivolous yearning
An evanescence hoped for by many
Because it’s worth it.
JP Goss Dec 2018
The west seems impossible
Domestic country foreign
Left and right, up and down
Meet and aspect feint
As the universe turns miles fast
Beneath the laborless turn of the wrist,
A calm smile on my face belied by the whites
Of knuckles, eyes trained toward stars and dust betwixt.
I, a mote of solar stuff,
Hurtle past the known outstretched edge
Toward the center of my solar system.
It’s a challenge, a race, a pledge,
To outrun the dark recess
Too heavy for Apollo’s light,
In that impossible west—
Yes, far too massive
Far too massive
Far too massive.
Every move has reached its apex
Bourne tired on the fabric
Heavy lies its form
As I flex
Spreading over pillows, over sheets
And to the navy dour
Of home’s familiar door
Those moments shared by all,
Soft illuming like torches,
Move closer to the center
Where each affect glows like mothlight
On neighbor’s porches.
It gave me pause
For I thought nothing could escape
A blackhole
Once crossed that threshold reach.
Upon that event horizon I gave pause
And forced a humble laugh
To let what’s still
Lay besieged.
Lest it be him
Lest it be me
Looking back
Looking in
Over the veil where one as I cannot observe
Spreads sly reminders from the other end
That has inward turned:
The product will emerge rife
With absurd cosmic alchemy
Formed but missing name and birthright—
What shall we name him?
What shall we name him?
It’s clear these twisted do-overs
That one can only watch
Are responsibilities of life
O’er event horizon crossed
Despite the warnings shouted
The wishes to him I can’t observe,
To him standing, running still become
At best, vicious reforming features—
These turn to doubtful lines of reasoning
By childhood’s chimeral creatures
One can feel its phantom limb
One can hear the pseudonym
Left with little to identify:
So, what shall we name him?
What shall we name him?
Only fools, the crowd of past selves,
Headlong cross the event horizon
And follow north
The stone covered in moss
Till a once around the globe,
All upsides and down, sufficed,
Brings them to the river
They never cross twice,
Brings them to the river
They never cross twice,
Yet somehow repeats the past
As though it follows in tow
Renewed and dilated
In matter, in style forever cast.
No, this can never be, this dark flow
Looks back from impossible east
And returns to the future
With words of warning or of comfort
And all too hesitant,
The future is the memory
Of the past
Lived in the present.
sara Dec 2018
Yellow jade
                                                           through space and time
                                                            ­                                         my efforts
                                                         ­   dissipate
                   into depths
                                                          ­                       Oh, lying mind
                                                            ­                                  have i grown yet
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