Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Billie Marie Jun 8
I thought one time
that I was something separate
like you can order a burger
without the meat
if you do
isn't it something else then?
it isn't like that
not like that at all
not like you can order a burger
that isn't food
all of it is food
the burger gets it's meaning
from the fact that is it food
burger is a cow
what are you?
where do you get your meaning from?
what are you a piece or particle of?
are you like this?
look, you can see.
Brett Jun 7
If there is one thing I have learned on my travels,
it is that
the currency of eternity is the fingerprints you leave on the fabric.

The slow imprint of a million miles walked. Set free your timid heart and
leave behind an outline of an essence.

An amorphous mold that denies the shape of the world around it.
Be a surprise.
Let them label you a miracle or a sickness.

In time they will come to realize
the edge of the world is a place to dance.
Reach forward, and gift sound to silence.
Lela May 31
I just feel dizy
Where all the time go
Nothing is logical and I've lot the sense of purpose
And even though
I'm still a human
My body makes me feel like I'm just a reject
Reject of stars
Reject of life
Nothing  is logical and I've lost the sense of purpose
My body's flying
But I stay put down
Is this really the end of my existance?
Who even are we?
MoonFlow May 27
I inhale forgiveness.
And exhale all my vengeance.
Like taking a word from my right ear,
And throwing it out from the other
It hurts to say this:
Saying "Marhaba" to misfortune with warm hugs
Know why I do this?
I wait for serendipity
To surprise me with a confetti of lilies.
I'll fly with each petal...
But,
Why do I forget that there's always a purpose behind an accident?
Brett May 20
As a man, I contemplate my thoughts just beyond the boundary of breaking waves on the shore. An endless symmetry stands before me. The ocean with its crash and calm takes any and all forms. Yet though it morphs its shape, its nature always remains. To be life and to contemplate life. A mere thought that has enchained the minds of greater men. In the grand symphony of time, we find ourselves in the 21st Century. Where there are those who postulate the Theory of Illusion. Each of our own odysseys reduced to the hallucinatory will of my brain. Tell me then, how does one illusion contemplate its own existence from within? My gaze refocuses out to the endless blue horizon, and I imagine the shape of it all. Though we take many forms, our nature prevails. Social animals some would say. I prefer a different metaphor, shepherds of knowledge. Though our collective knowledge flaunts many costumes, our true nature perseveres unfettered. Through the ages we carry all human ingenuity, meanings, and purpose inside some unspoken tome. It does not erode against the battering winds of time. It can not be sunken to the depths. It endures in this very contemplation. My wandering inquisitive mind cannot help but wonder what abstract thought will be captured in this very spot a thousand years from now. For some this conjures a mysterious existential dread, but I can only stand and smile. My mind lets me step outside the binding flow of time and watch the world unfold. Campfires under the crescent moon to villages etched out on verdant ground, and here now to the grand gusto of modern cities. Endless forms and shapes pushing towards our ultimate nature. To understand that purpose in the universe if left by our boot impressions on the mud. The cosmos is our endless ocean. Out there; waiting, for our contemplative minds to shape it.
Johnnyqu33r May 4
Who would have known
This rust was gold the whole time
Lashings and last lines
Letters lacking signatures
Permanent solutions to
Permanent problems

Wet blue eyes always skyward
There's a purpose right?
But this feels less like a fight
As times limbs effortlessly spin
This feels like a sitcom
I've gone off the script

Who would have known
I was an alchemist the whole time
Turning my soul into gold
Forged with heat and force
All the pressures I've endured
I've turned myself into a sword
Kenny Anthony Apr 22
The echo effect of water
when raindrops hit the surface
send ripples of space and time
never needing a purpose.
Does she need a purpose
to create the fractals of her living?
Needn't she be, whom she be
and just be?
Without the unforgiving
need of a purpose
-elixir- Apr 19
The walls seem to fade in colour,
the ones that held on to my valour.
The rain breaks out wild,
as my thoughts revile
the dubious washed walls.
Till then I seek refuge in the lost halls.
While I count my marbles,
to the evergreen warbles.
Mr Quiet Apr 17
Life is an artwork; it is not obligated to give you a meaning or purpose. So what do we do about it? Give it interpretations.

Alot of us don't realize the privilege that we have of not having an objective purpose, we are not eternally bound to do one thing because that would be a curse rather than a gift. Life gave us a chance, and that chance is to give a meaning to life itself. So what is the point of living? The answer can be as ambiguous as the amount of stars in the universe.

Do not cage yourself into one meaning, instead, explore the vastness of meanings that each living creature interpretates from the greatest artwork of all time: life.
Hello, everyone. This will be the last poem/letter that I will upload in this blog. It has been a long time since I've last wrote here and my life has definitely changed tremendously. Thank you, everyone. And if you're interested in what I'm doing lately, all my platforms are in the link in my bio, I now make my own music. Stay safe and keep improving.

Farewell,
Mr. Quiet (Dave Sison)
Next page