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“Have you ever been in love?” He asked.

“Ugh,” I groaned. “I love tech,” I revealed, “oh, and the Internet,” I confessed, “I LOVE the Internet!”

He looked disappointed. “You know what I mean,” he said.

I sighed. It’s hard to escape the long shadows cast by experiences and expectations.

“Love’s inscrutable!” I said, helpfully.

“Maybe I’ve never been in a relationship long enough for it to be love?” I asked the universe.

He tilted his head as if he were calculating something.

“What IS love anyway?” I asked. “Does love have to be an instant transcendence?”

“This isn’t going well”, I thought, his silence stood out like a curse in a cathedral.

“Let’s go to Dairy Queen!” I suggested, because that ALWAYS makes things better.

“I need an ice cream,” I said, as he looked ready to say something but didn't, “cake.” I finished.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Inscrutable: "difficult to comprehend or mysterious”
pictures from
this new telescope
unveiled
glimpses of
an early universe
in spirals
clusters
and clouds
      of colour
amidst
an ever-changing
luminescent haze
stretched across
the bespeckled
vastness of black;
a cosmic dance
of light
through time
and space
both answering
and posing
countless potentials

even so
it is difficult
not to compare
these images
with what
can be seen
by looking through
a child's kaleidoscope
Kassan Jahmal Jul 24
As the stars aligned, in constant of a Moon.
The dancing oceans; twirling and twirling in circles.
Eyes focused—on the horizons of waking under new Sun.
Warm as the lips that kissed me with it's light.

I did have a question of...there being a life in between;
Settling on the grey areas that are non existent?

The answer...

Life is simple as black and white, darkness and light,
As there's only good and bad. We fall only on one side.

To fall in love: would it be a good, or a bad experience,
To fall into depression: to inspire courage, or fears of dark,
To fall back: avoiding rebellious conflict, or being too comfortable,
To fall asleep: in the rest of hard labour, or sleeping on our dreams,
To fall out: of those pulling us down, or those who value us,

We fall only on one side. Which side do I choose to fall?
Leah Carr Jul 19
I don't know, it just seems so stupid to me.

I mean,
Chefs know how to cook.
Gardeners know how to garden.
Builders know how to build things.

So answer me this:

Why do most carers not have the first clue how to care?
I S A A C Jul 12
?
asking questions to fill the space
too many questions
puzzle pieces my mind hides from me
too many questions
wondering what i am bound to be?
is there any choice, should i rejoice?
in the unshakability of my story
or should i try to break the mold?
colour outside of the lines, abandon the box
I've been told a lot, i've been sold a lot
of fake dreams, anxiety brewing
too many questions
what am i doing?
Zywa Jul 9
So it happened there,

by the old castle-tower --


How old is it then?
"De toren" ("The tower", 2004, Luc Huybrechts)

Collection "Over"
I smiled
And you smiled back
At times
We laughed hard

As Usual
But hope this feeling is mutual

We chatted
Like we used to
Seem acted
You're in the movie too

Unusual
But hope this feeling is mutual

You speak
With your eyes in silence
While I breath
Yet my heart is quiet

Unfactual
But hope this feeling is mutual

You loved
In privy
I love to be loved
More lively

To be factual
Hoping this feeling is mutual
Common is uncommon nowadays
#mutual or #one-sided
Ave Maria Jun 6
What is there left, when humanity can no longer ensue? When our kind is wiped off the face of Mother Earth? Will the planet be destroyed itself from the sun, or from our own foolish actions? Or will the earth instead remain with our souls tied to it as we wander aimlessly, our ashes permeating within the dirt? How many places will our souls be within? Heaven and earth together? Will the animals be with us in spirit or in a different realm? Will a new kind be brought forth, or perhaps a new planet?
Kassan Jahmal May 18
What am I doing so wrong in my life, to not be moving any
further ahead? How many counts do I need make, to soon realize
I’m running out of breath?

Am I dead?

No, not yet!

But as close to the feeling, with blood running through my eyes,
to only see red. It could be my last time to wake up alive in my bed.
The confusing phrase of, “he/she woke up dead”

Where I rest my head, lays the thoughts of dealing with life’s pressures
and pointless cares. Gaining less of self-respect, and losing some of
my hairs. Especially at an early stage, as I disengage from people who
act my age.

Well the previous one at the least.

Being too young doesn’t have much to give, but just wasted time.
Living without much direction, missing every sign. Pretending you’re
all fine. Flipping girls over for a change of finding a dime. I’m funding
my love, but quickly losing interest. They could be so many out
there, but I’m not a fan of all the kinds of fishes.

Those constant sweet nothings, and long tongued kisses. Not
really much of a fan, when my opinions to them are blowing in
the wind. I’m just blowing in the wind, with the echoes of it
tickling me down in my knees.

Sigh! I take a few minutes to quietly breathe.

Testing my own winds, to see if I still feel. Ha, I’ve watched an
emotion develop into being. Proceeding far ahead of my delusions
that trick my out of the things that are real.

Sigh! I take a few minutes to quietly breathe.

Blowing in the winds, blowing in the winds, blowing in the winds.
A windmill of my life, all of which spins on repeat.

How do I stop myself from blowing in the winds?
Kassan Jahmal May 15
Mountains that are tall, cover the dreams
that are shallow. Valleys that are long,
are the lives that are too short,

Love that is blind, is a tragedy to eyes. Words
that are sweet, are sour to the years.
Beauty that is made, is the grief of an early
morning,

Choices that are made, is the shaping of
their future. Creatures of a thousand
breaths, are all under one Death,

Tears of now, aren’t the ones of forever.
Spirits to be filled, are of those empty vessels.
Transformation isn’t a sudden, but all a
continuous event,

All that we want to be, can all be.
The question is only,—

when?

When do you choose to move, in all
the things of life holding you back,
When do you choose to be brave, in all
the fears you constantly have to face,
When do you fix a broken world, in all
of the brokenness to be fixed in you,
When do you choose to love another, in all
of the less love they have for you,
And truly when do you make a change for yourself,
in all a society trying to change you,—

tell me when?
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