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What was the subject?”she asked.
“I scarcely know.
With Adam and Eve-que sais-je?

Was it a hymn to the beauty of the human form
Male and female, and the praise to nature, sublime, indifferent
Or maybe more naughty with lovely spirits, and cruel?
He extends his smile winkles and replied
It was strange and fantastic.
It was a vision of the beginnings of the world.
And the Garden of Eden that arrives to your dream often.

Yes, Beauty is my subject of entire life,
She looked his eyes and whispered: “especially with a painted the trees”
I see about myself in every day, every season
the alligator pears, the lily plants, and whatever
with an awful sense of the infinity of space
and of the endlessness of time.

I am the subject of BEAUTY…

The question is, is beauty really only skin deep, or does an attractive face actually reflect underlying good qualities? I tried to reflect the stereotype that “beautiful is good” does hold.
When we saw a lady/man in the nakedness of his primeval instincts, and you were afraid, for you saw yourself. Beauty, Easy on the eyes = Easy on the Brain.
Heidi Werner Sep 2021
I imagine walking on a balance beam
I have only just gotten the hang of it
Before this moment I had always fallen off.
I know that I'm going to mess up
I keep telling myself
“its ok to mess up you’re still learning”
Yet I feel an overwhelming need
To be successful, just this once.
To complete my walk.
And I do, I complete the walk.
So, because things have gone well
I walk again, and I find success
I begin to trust my own two feet
I walk again and again and again
Each time I make it to the other end
Each time I become more prideful
This next time I move too quickly
I try to go faster, still making it
I stagger half-way through
But I think nothing of it
So I hasten my step
And I stagger again
But my mind blocks out
The possibility of falling.
I go faster and faster
Until I am at a full on sprint
No longer am I teetering
On this beam below my feet
I believe that I am perfect
No one can touch me
I believe that I am the best
And that no one else can go this fast
I am in competition with the entire world
I am in competition with only myself
Only myself
I am nothing
I am a fake
I am useless
I am ugly and worthless
And the exact opposite of perfect
I quickly mask these thoughts
Telling myself
“You can push through”
And for a time I do
I have boundless energy
I can run as fast as possible
I make it to the other end of the balance beam
Then suddenly an impulse
My body takes over
And without explanation
I am flying through the air
100 miles a minute
Crashing into a bottomless abyss
I lie still for a moment on the mat below
Looking up towards the beam
Where I once stood so proud
I pick myself up
I decide I am an elite gymnast
And I am an astronaut
I am a long distance runner
And a 5 star chef
And a doctor
And a bird
And a rock climber
And a rock
And a brilliant professor
And an angel
And a world renowned artist
And, and, and, and
I twirl around and dance
I sing to no one
I am an opera singer
I rush to the water fountain
It is Niagara Falls
Splash, “watch out, you’ll get wet”
I say this to an audience of no one
I am an actor on broadway
“Ain’t no one round here as good as me”
Then in my periphery
There are shadows
I cannot stop moving
Never stop moving
If I stop moving the shadows will crawl around me
Creeping in through my nose
My mouth and my ears
Telling me things I never want to hear
So I run
I run so hard and so fast
That I forget everything
I am existing inside each moment only
I don’t know where I am or where I am heading
but I continue to run
Until I am surrounded by trees
And I remember everything again
I remember the balance beam
Why did I leave the balance beam?
It felt natural and simple
to just walk
to just walk and stay balanced
Why am I in the woods?
And then the thoughts come
And the shadows come with them
So I climb a tree
In hopes that the shadows
Will pass quietly underneath
I am painfully quiet
But the thoughts are still here
I cannot hide
I cannot run
I cannot get away
They race in my brain
They course through my veins
They are evil thoughts
They taunt me, saying
“This world is without reason”
“Your life is pointless”
“You are crazy”
“You will never be anything”
“Jump! jump! jump!”
I am high up in this tree
I am safe from the shadows here
But the thoughts never leave
I cannot break free
So I give in
Maybe if I listen to them
I will release the pressure that builds inside me
Suddenly I am compelled
To leap from this tree branch to the next
I fling myself through the air
believing I will fly like a bird
Because the thoughts said I could
I black out as I fall back to the earth
Suddenly I am on the ground
Not even remotely sure
Of how I got here
I lie there for a few moments
And then out of the corner of my eye
I see the shadows
They move through the woods like smoke
Like a black fog
Like death creeping towards me
So I quickly pull myself to my feet
And I am in a full on sprint once more
I don’t know which direction I am headed
Or where I am
Or if I'm even running
And then it hits me
A car
I am on the highway
flying over the hood of a sedan
Crashing into the ground
My skin burns as it moves across the asphalt
I become a mound In the middle of the road
I imagine that I am a pile of dirt
I will not move
I will just do what dirt does
What does dirt do?
My body burns, my skin is on fire
Can dirt catch fire?
The world moves slow
Does dirt move faster than the world around it
Does dirt experience time differently?
Someone is talking to me
Which is absurd
Who talks to dirt?
Sirens crowd the traffic of my cochlear nerve
It is the only thing I can hear
My brain starts to malfunction
Like a computer flooded with a virus
I hear the siren repeat
It loses a note with each repetition
Until all I hear is one note
One note
I close my eyes
I am completely numb
Something in me knows I have to fight
“I've forgotten what I started fighting for”
I believe that if my eyes are closed
No time passes
I allow this break in time to go on
I need to separate myself from time for a moment
Allow myself to think
To reassess
To gather what has occurred
What has occurred?
Feeling a little panicked at the thought of not knowing
I open my eyes
I am in a room
I try to move
But my body won’t listen to my intentions
I look down and see metal rods sticking out of me
Now, I remember
I am a robot getting serviced
That’s all this is
It’s probably why I malfunctioned
No biggie
a robotic technician walks in
she asks me how I feel
I answer
“What an absurd question,
Robots do not feel”
She looks at me with kind eyes
“Ok, thanks for your input”
She leaves the room
Closing the door behind her
The darkness licks at the bottom of the door
It seeps through and envelopes the room
I cannot see
I hold my breath
I do not feel
I give up
The darkness begins to course through my veins
It twists through every corner of my being
Walking through the corridors of my body
Leaving menacing thoughts in its wake
Then, without warning
Everything becomes red
Red feels like pain
It tastes like needles
So I try to occupy my mind with things
Anything to distract me from the pain
I scream audibly
I scream a song
If Im singing I am distracted
“I'm a little teacup short and stout
Here is my handle here is my spout”

I imagine all this
Stuck inside my own mind
Making up foolish stories
But, this is what it's like
This is what it will become
This is what I will become
Bipolar seeps through my brain
Attaching old forgotten pathways
Lighting them all up at once
Then with similar speed
Making them all go dark
In and out, up and down
A never ending merry-go-round
But, somewhere in all this
Is me.
Yenson Jun 2021
Let's face it
its more ******* warfare
culturally they are used to faking it
as thimbles and chipolatas in ninety seconds
do not reach first base much less seeing stars on cloud nine
hence they woke and fake the reality they chose be it feel or fright
in woke solidarity against frustrations they cloned their made-up foe
what better than sturdy shining Mandingo loaded and *******
there for the having to your heart's content
presented to you the untamed beast
the wild moor tooled hot and ready
raw animalistic unfettered passion
rock hard we can name him Rocky
that goer that delivers every time
the one that is all your men aren't
and can never be cause he's gifted
sleek like dolphin in rhythmic glide
tasty like fresh clean mushroom
Arabian stallion if ever there's one
with absolute pedigree and class
take a break from the mediocre
from the wham bangs no can dos
from the floppy quick-draws saps
imagine the dark horse with the most
in smooth soft pink leathery velvet
tis your secret your guilty pleasure
tis the obsession you made into a war
the fantasy that plays in your heads
tis behind fervours that haunts you
that you so well disguise in hatred
telling metaphors slip out Freud
hold him down, grind him hard
wear him out, let's wreck him so
the sado masochistic 'punishing him'
give him a hard time, it all says a lot
you twist innocent sentences into
****** innuendos and innocent actions
are falsely given ****** meanings
as morn noon and night you toil
you troll and agitate for attention
yes you twist turn  bite and nibble
in Freudian throes you talk love
you glaze unrequited love relentlessly
you close your eyes and dream sweet pain
yeah! get real, its no psyche warfare
its a flutters obsession, it's the classic '
"The lady doth protest too much, methinks."
its how you float your boats and and get yer thrills
you better face it you're all addicted
It's an ******* War-fare and you all know so.....
Claudia Cates Apr 2021
You’ve continued to Gaslight me
and minimize my concerns
whether they’re about me or you,
and it’s making me crazy; it’s making me doubt myself and
my every move
when it comes to you.
And sometimes
what i do with my life.
And I’m not sure anymore darling;
i don’t think this is light anymore.
This is dark—
it’s gotten quite dark.

When did it become midnight?
It’s pitch black out here,
and i didn’t notice until the pink faded away
and i turned to look at u
instead of the dark blue.

You were my distraction,
my medication,
my muse.

And what’s worse is that i still haven’t quite gotten a handle on deciphering between whether or not
to get upset over something that was not ill-intended...
but i do.
I always do.
And it’s my fault
because it’s my mind;
it’s something the chemicals in my brain do.
And i guess I just can’t do this anymore because
you’re not healthy for me.
My brain doesn’t seem to be producing those chemicals I need
when I'm without you.
Do you know what that’s called?

So I’d look at your eyes
instead of the night sky;
the sky that was as black as the ink in my journal,
where I write endlessly about the things you do that hurt me because I can’t, I (just) can’t tell you them.
(Your schizophrenia and depression do regardless.)
And anyway, you tell me otherwise.
You make me feel crazy, remember?
Like I have memory loss or an early onset of dementia...

You motherf*cker.

All the while,
I never realized we were in the dark.
We’re still in the dark.
So, what do I do?

What will I be left with if I do that thing you’re going to tell me to do?
wrote this after i couldn't take it anymore. am i crazy?
Can I ask you?

With vice and disguise,
Are you happy with what you are?
Inflated with pride,
Knotted with jealousy
The unknown balloon burst
With a just ***** of words.

Camouflaged beauty as you were,
Coated and polished to be the society,
Mastered were the words,
With strokes of affection,
Appreciated as I  felt.
I swam in the pits N holes
While thinking of the oceans

The deeper I tried to discover,
Shallower did you get.
Layers and layers of faces,
None uncovered to the core,
What you are still a mystery

I breathe in the pain of phrases,
Toxicity of incoherent love,
I feel the wrenching smirk,
Once which was a curved smile.

I hear the Echoes of my wails,
Strumming in the veins,
Tears were never there
But unseen scars dug deep.

In brighter days,
Darker shadow growing,
In hours,
A nightmare breeding.
You were what dismayed me,
Much more than breaking,  
Maybe a peaceful shattering .
Deciphering what you were ...
Gabriel Apr 2021
You wanna talk balance, huh?
You got a lecture to give,
and I’m not allowed to pour a drink
to get me through? Well ****,
if this ain’t ridiculous,
but I’ll listen. Nothing else to do
up here in the snow and the solitude and the shining.

You say things started alright,
and I nod, sip something unreal,
and say yes, my dear,
yes, perhaps I broke his arm
but I’ve vented the pressure
out of the boiler now.

And ain’t it a **** shame
that I don’t talk to Al any more?
‘Cept to sneer about the history
of a place that’s too far away to push
him back to drink.

So sure, tell me I’m unravelling,
and I’ll call you a *****
and you’ll lock yourself up in the room.
Give him the key, I’ll show him
that the **** in 217 is far worse
than a broken arm and a ruined career,
because this will take me away.

Who’s the other one inside me,
worming into a space
that I thought was mine?
Two in one body, a ******’ perfect
discount deal on everything
that can destroy a family;
check one, a son with a broken
arm and a fractured mind,
check two, a ***** for a wife,
and check three, me
the head of it all,
proclamation, divination, damnation
of the foundation of this stutter
looking over, overlooking,
a broken record skipping to the part
where I **** the pressure,
**** the boiler.

I’ll see you in the next one.
From a collection of poetry I wrote for a creative writing portfolio in second year of university, titled 'Spiral'.
Hex Apr 2021
On a night where no moon shines,
I lie and brood in my confines,
Nocturne's wolf has come to dine,
Gnashing canines with sharpened claws,
Over is night--devoured by the maw,
The wolf opens wide, an unhinged jaw,
I stare in awe, in saccharine fear,
A beastly roar is all I can hear,
Yet I feel no pain--Only a lonesome tear.

I open my eyes to a room bathed in black,
On the floor is a woman, in a dress of lilac,
She stands with a shiver, and turns me her back,
Dark hair covers cracked skin--porcelain but soft,
She stared at me gravely, shaking oft,
Then slowly she danced as I sat and watched,
She twirled, pranced, and spun, but once she botched,
Then she sat, knowing night had its victim notched,
The Ballet of Shadows had come to rest--
     --but not yet had my final test.

I slept again, and woke in the dark,
Now, there was a mirror, a saviour from stark,
Painted in white, it was fit for a monarch,
On top, a remark, a blackened skull,
My reflection itself, appearing so dulled,
My face was blank, and emotion was null,
My eyes were closed, but I could still see,
As I watched my smile twisting with glee,
And crimson nectar leaking through teeth,

The mirror shell cracked, my nerves were wracked,
From the mirror I retreat, but with me it backed,
My instincts raced, my psyche attacked,
The me in the mirror began to convulse,
Quickening was the beat of my pulse,
Beating like drums, a rhythm repulsed,
Then it stopped, the mirror froze,
And off to sleep I began to doze,
Not before my mirror had one last prose,

One finger raised--be silent, mouth closed.
An experiment with dark and disturbing poetry. Let me know if you think you can decode this one.
Zack Ripley Mar 2021
Pain has always been there
To help remind us that we're alive.
But not all pain hurts the same.
A broken heart starts with a shock.
A bullet, a hole of fire.
A stab or slice, a sting.
A punch or kick, an ache.
But the worst pain isn't physical.
It's psychological.
Over time, you may forget the pain
Of being shot, stabbed, or punched.
But you'll never forget the words
That were said or the fear you felt.
The point is,
There are different types of pain.
But none of them hurt
or heal the same.
Sun Drop Mar 2021
A million painted faces on a page of barren white
The awful newest symphony casts poison cross the hall
We found ourselves among a miser's quickly failing fight
The **** of aphrodite spans the conscience of us all

A hole through souls is burned until their psyche is left bare
The death to end all passions finds its way into the mind
A sense of dread and toxic gas begins to fill the air
We stand amongst our corpses and raise flags to e'er remind:

The sacrifices made by those before us shall not waste
A human mind cannot become a battleground of lies
The desperate isolation of a lover lonesome chaste
To frighten all opposing us, and who we most despise

A painting of normality remains upon the wall
The old conductor's growing old, his bones grow awful frail
We offer our condolences, though know that most of all
The new horizon's gleaming and it shines against the pale

Anew we birth ourselves into the wake of oceans pure
To see if we, against all odds, resist temptation's lure
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