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Harley Hucof Apr 2020
The pen of the past write the future in the present
People pretend and never learn their lessons.

And they fight their ego, but it always prevails
God's existence doesn't make sense,
Life's not fair
I guess Nietzsche was right ,
God is dead.

The pen of the past write the future in the present
What i am trying to say is that your choices will haunt you forever
And make you lose control and forget that you are blessed
Aliens are the new religion and GOD is dead.

As i declare it
I write it and turn to sleep
If GOD is dead, he is living in my head
I say my prayer and fade away
In the dreamworld where the ego always prevails .

Words Of Harfouchism.
Loop
Alex Smith Feb 2020
Plug it into the amplifier,
Record the data.
It's easy.
I wish it really was.

EEG labs are bland,
Boring -
But mostly
Anxiety-inducing
Stressing
Centers for science.

My dream was broken at one of these,
As I came in each day,
Expecting to do great research work
And learn -
Work with data first hand!

That's not how things play out.
I was left without guidance -
Or at least not the guidance I resonate with.

I graduated university bright-eyed and hoping,
Just hoping,
That I could make something of myself.
This is how I felt when I started as well.

I had a dream of helping people.
It feels like I can't get there now.
I walk into the lab
And the others,
My "colleagues"
Speak down to me.
As if I don't have a degree,
As if I am not trying so ******* hard
To do something here.

I want to be part of a project,
I do.
I want to work with data,
I do.
I want this experience to move
On to my PhD
And do my own research
And help people -
I really ******* do.

But this topic is as sticky
As the gel that glues
Electrodes to the participants
Abraded scalp.
I feel trapped,
Not able to convey this to the supervisors -
I could be judged,
I could possibly be looked down on even more.

So,
I re-read the training protocols
And try to get the one more sign-off
To run appointments.
And fail again,
But then try again.

What else am I supposed to do without guidance?
My professors at UIC saw something in me,
I wish the researchers I work with now did.
I wish I saw something in me as well.
This is probably one of the weirdest poems I wrote. Different than most, but it is honest and I don't give a **** if you all don't like it.
MisfitOfSociety Feb 2020
Owning up to the fact that I cast a shadow.
One that seems to have no end.
Hiding just behind me.
Mechanisms to keep it out of view.
Catch it in the act before it gets past you.

Turn your back to your devil,
And you will see the shadow that it casts.
The reach of its shadow,
Grows larger the longer you hide,
Until all you can see is darkness.
Our devil figure,
Reflects in another.
The Archenemy,
Is buried inside me.

We are our own devil,
And make everyone else our devil.

I cast my devil onto you,
And now you are my devil too.

Your archenemy,
Don’t push that onto me.

Your misery,
Don’t make it mine too.

Your elegy,
See that the devil is you.

Own up to the dark.
Amend yourself.
Catch your devil out in the open,
Trying to make an enemy out of someone.
Blameless, you believe,
You hide the shadow beneath your feet.
Unveil the creature,
Walk through it,
Until it is not your devil anymore.
MisfitOfSociety Feb 2020
Standing right behind me,
Just out of view.
In direct sunlight,
I cast a shadow of you.

I draw you back under my feet.
Where I can't see you.
Daan Feb 2020
I, on and off, catch myself asking why
and hushing my worries by guessing: 'just try',
which fails to answer the question so wry,
what are we doing and does someone know why?

People have told me to just go along,
whatever happens, the bad makes you strong.
Others compared, saying: 'you have it sweeter
than most who are born and early on greet her.

Many have said:
'please, just go to bed'.
But that's where I cry:
'Thoughts, please, tell me why!'.

I reckon to crack on ain't no full-time solution,
there's many more worries, like death or pollution.
And sometimes my guess is: 'it's goals I should seek,
to chase after change, even just for a week.'

The passing of time, more delightful when doing,
asides the asks loved and the asks worth their booing.
It may easily be, it differs for many
or for some we don't know, there isn't even any.

Now when the asking is on,
I need it less gone.
When the asking is not,
I'm amused by the thought:
I'm probably doing
something worthwile.
And the 'no question, no bluing'
alone makes me smile.

Even if blurry, it all has it's aim,
there's just no instructions to life's little game.
Sometimes you ask: 'How do I live up?'
sometimes you reply.
They both have a purpose, so please do not give up
on asking the why.
There's ups and downs,
purpose and frowns.
My personal solution/long term goal is loving,
showing love and making others happy in whatever
way I can.

But it certainly is not particularly bad or good to question that sometimes.
Things don't have to be wholly bad or good.

Now and then, that's easily forgotten.
Yash Feb 2020
Deceit, false flags waving.
Accusations, Gavel of Injustice.
Apate controls your mind.
Mentiras, Você mente.

Crying witches
bodies in the river.
Forest rituals
laughter and dance.

The Crucible, great Aurther.
White coated, glass-eyed
Judge John Hawthorne, you are.
Don't believe Abigail Williams

Salem witch trials commence.
Screaming ****** ******
Witchcraft! Sociopathy!
Don't throw me in the river.

Believe the innocent.
5 lives, central park 5
liars are adults, kids are angels.
Don't throw me behind bars.

Erro de diagnóstico.
White walls, white lies
empty promises, filled pockets
lamb in wolf´s cave.

Happy little pills.
Serotonin, mess up his mind
make him an empty shell.
**** him up, porque quem se importa.

White angel in white hell.
Josef Mengele, don't touch me
evildoer, you are. **** salute
go back to screaming Heil ******.

Touch me once, I will resist.
Tell me twice, I will talk.
Tame me thrice, I will scream.
Trail of final letters, suicídio.
Portugese
Mentiras - lies
Você mente - you lie
Erro de diagnóstico - Misdiagnosis
Porque quem se importa - Because who cares
Suicídio - Suicide
Tina RSH Jan 2020
Baby I pray you find peace among the broken pieces of your mind.
That which you claim to be whole

I pray you never have to torture anyone's heart
To console your own tortured soul

I have stuck my love together with glistening tears
and bear you no ill will at all

Sweet baby of mine, I pray you heal
from the black pain you projected on me like nightfall

Be safe baby and I pray you find peace  
for in the cage of your heart there's a door to release.

By #TinaRSH
And now life has shown its cards..and here I am..all broken and tattered with a heart that loved too much.
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