Curiosity killed the cat
and it's got me flaming
far past the first degree
and her secret’s in the coup d’etat;

Now viewing the reality
of the Gemini’s hereby guarantee

At combat with the Technocrats
because they’re both too headstrong
Her lust for learning might sound
an occasionally lethal song
But for now her secret’s as confusing

as her sense of right and wrong
Nice to meet you, you can call me Catt.
The human condition may be
characterized by the posing
and re-posing of this most
fundamental of questions:
For what purpose, if any
is the suffering, the fear--
indeed, the utter bewilderment--
peculiar to Earthly existence
endured? Incessantly, we search
for an answer we can live with
and die for.
Antino Art Feb 9


14, 21

my cup overflows


keep walking

Ken Rafiñan Jan 21
Who are we?

No, really—

May we be
the dedicated.

Some pill-medicated race
in that phase—
a miserable place.

Many a furrowed face:
and painted by sadness,
and fear.

“We’re here!” we shout.
“We cannot get out!”
“We’ve gone too deep!”

Bore so low;
slope so steep—

All hope and happiness

The very air we breathe so full of chills
even the hills roll over.

Look up,
all around you.

Is it all over?

Are we done?

Is it gone?

Hast we
lost thee?

May we be
the resilient.

Some hyper-salient race
on this phase.

In a higher place—
metaphorically speaking—
seeking some metaphysical peak.

Peace such that has never been known:
a figment beyond our collective imagination.

The end.

A grand conclusion
to our great quest:
the noble exploration
of the Other
by the Self—
that supreme secret then known.

A resounding affirmation of absolutely everything.

An opening of all that was once closed.

Singularity of the many
in the plurality of one.

Our game is zero-sum.
Having a partner with mental illness is not a low-level quest.

Having a partner with mental illness is debatably the best quest in the game and has incredibly valuable Loot.

"I am farming so much exp off of this argument right now."

"I just scored some mad reputation points with your parents."

"Hey, can we do that over again? I didn't get the drop I wanted."
Quest of time,
nothing has changed
All that I tweet,

not able to devour
the meal I like,
Now incapable
to eat.

Ajay Amitabh Suman
All Rights Reserved
Sweara Ahmed Dec 2017
Stop living in the dark,
Just dive deep into your heart.
Dont let your demons control your mind,
Freedom is exactly what you need to find.
Fire up your thoughts and write it on,
Take out your word-hoard and shine it on.
Let the poetry wrap you up,
Gather the words and blow up.
Memories will try to take control,
Let 'em coz that's how you write your best.
It might hurt a bit in chest
But that will help you in solving your quest.
~Sweara Ahmed~
All rights reserved.
Michael Briefs Dec 2017
Dream and wander,
little one,
even in the dark.
Search heaven for stars,
find stardust in your
The brightsome scatter of lights,
fleeting before your eyes, leaps
forth from your listed and
longed for desires.
Even in the shivery
nightshade you waste
not a moment!
Your muse calls,
casting spells from a wand,
and you quest after, bravely,
A child's sojourn into the fabled forest,
with her stardust eyes,
her Hafling host leaves it's
trace in the snow, glistening.
Her breath, now vaporous, rises in pursuit.
The picture that this is based on can be seen at:
Arlene Corwin Nov 2017
I Can Write But I Can’t Speak

I can write but I can’t speak.
It’s as if God says,
“You have a message.  Write the words.
I’ll give written words a glaze,
But eloquence that can be heard’s
Off limits, for I slow you down
For honesty, integrity:
To kill the vanity you’ve sown.
I’ll make you stumble, clumsy, dumb,
Slow-thinking, witless,
Sounding somewhat girlish.
I’ve obscured your verbal self
So that you can’t impress.
I keep you in the house
So you must guess
What is and what is not success.

Left there to stammer,
Lose my language;
Syntax, grammar
In a sandwich
Of aphasic doublethink,
The phrases weak,
Technique oblique,
My karma manifestly leaking,
Left to do my dharmic seeking,
(Swim or sink)
Through scribbled, scratched and silent ink.

I Can Write But I Can’t Speak 2.11.2003
The quest for self's dharma as been solved.
I’m a man made of broken relations
one piece from each
each has a story of its own
one that gets me closer to being complete.

Sometimes I say to myself
that I need no one by my side
I convince my inner me
that I can be both -
the one that needs and
the one that fulfils.

I adore the darkness
yet I crave for the moonlit skies
In its calmness, I feel alive again
And continue my quest to find a better me.

I close my eyes, and I hear me breathe
I sway like the carefree wind
as they sing in harmony with the leaves.
As I open them, I find myself back in my den
searching for the switch to play it all over again.
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