Breeze-Mist Aug 2016

A random thought
(Take it as you will):
I've been in every hotel
On this little hill

I guess sixteen years
Is enough time
To see every inn
I'm this road's line

DRXX Jul 2016

Centimeters were needles
And meters were knives
Are you coming home?
Can you ever be mine?

For the one that I loved who will board a ship soon.
Raylene Lu Nov 2015

We are pieces of grass
Not washing liquid, not pancakes
Our blood is green, not red
Our bodies are thick, with fibre
We are strong!
With the soil
With the fellow worms and slugs
We will rule nature!
WE WILL NOT DIE!
HUMANS WILL DO WHAT THEY DO
ANIMALS WILL DO WHAT THEY DO
HUMANS SHALL SQUISH US IN THOUSANDS
ANIMALS SHALL NIPPLE OUR POINTY HEADS
But what we can't do
IS DIE!
WE WILL USE OUR BLADES!
WE WILL USE OUR TIPS! TO STAB!
WE WILL LEARN TAICHI!
From the bugs, the butterflies and that TREE!
PIECES OF GRASS WILL LIVE ON!

So, my fellow pieces of grass
What are you waiting for?!
LIVE ON, GIVE BIRTH!
GIVE WAY TO YOUR GREAT SEEDS!
AND PUSH, PUSH HARD!
FOR GENERATIONS AND GENERATIONS
WE WILL SURVIVE!
Look, look beside the nearest Seven Eleven store!
LOOK AT THAT FAT PIECE OF GRASS GETTING BLOWN BY THE WIND!
LOOK HOW HE SUFFERS, OF NO SOIL!
We are not like any other
WE CAN FLY!
WE CAN TRAVEL! TO CHINA!
To the most populated country!
TO KILL THE MOST HUMANS!
We will have a secret weapon
We will bring so forth
PEANUT BUTTER!
WE WILL NOT GIVE UP!
WE MUST REMEMBER, who we are
We shall make something like no other
We will weave, A BASKET!
PEANUT BUTTER WILL NOT BE WASTED
BY THE HUMANS!
WE WILL GET OUR REVENGE!
WE WILL SACRIFACE OURSELVES,
TO LIFT!
THE PEANUT BUTTER!
INTO!
THE BASKET!
Until the mighty lump of peanut butter is plunged onto China
WE!
WILL NOT!
REST!
Our plan, WILL WORK!

Now, you may be thinking
That I am just a random piece of grass on the internet,
Playing a 3 millimetre laptop!
But I am not just any piece of grass
I CAN SPELL!
I have what is called,
A BRAIN!
DO NOT LET THE HUMANS RUIN OUR SPELLING!

We may lose soldiers in a battle, but as a whole, we conquer!
Best read when listening to the most dramatic music on Youtube
Mark Lecuona Sep 2015

I walked so far
And who I was, I left behind
Then I found something new
And now that I’ve lived this life
The time has come to stop
The direction has become a circle

Is there a God in my midst
Is it what I have already met
Or what has already left?

Who could expect more
To walk inside a dream
And then another
To know what you want
To become the dream

But to wake up
Not wondering what you saw
Or if it made sense
But instead knowing
All the pieces were there
Is it time for a new dream
Or to try to live it after it is over?

Can I really cross the sea
When it won't let me be?
The revolution is the dream
But peace makes my soul free
I can't tell time anymore
What was so far has become today
The eagles I once saw
Are no longer leading the way
Hovering over the waters
The spirit still silently waits
The promise is still being kept
But this time it may be too late

What can be said
An entire religion has answered the question
It has been said
It has been lived
But I have not lived it
And I have not said it
What is left is gripped tightly
Held together by life
By responsibility
But is it unhealthy fight for every goal
Is it when it is not who you are anymore
When the challenge is not achievement
But instead sanity in the midst of someone else’s dream
A dream that is no longer worthy of your own
A dream from which you have awaken
A dream that cannot exist within your own

What is real is love
What is real is love
What is real is love

Where is the plan for this
Is it to walk the streets of a crowded city
To meet someone either as scared as you
Or someone who is not scared at all
Do you tell them who you are
What you have said
What has happened to you
But to which face in which you see do you speak
I could smile at buildings
And at a poor woman cleaning the building
Ask her how she feels
But what if she cries
Should I begin where her tears dry?
Should I begin where her problems lie?
Is it her problems that is love?

Where in the night is the woman who lives in another city
Where in the night is the woman who has heard me speak
Where in the night is the woman who loves but cannot trust

I made her that way

And now there is something else
Is it love?
Is it art?
Is it just to live
With memories
Or with hope?

I have to find a way
Find a way to be in my head with a new dream
But the last one was so perfect
And it ended the way it was written

iris grace Jul 2015
You

I was never a believer of love, of soul mates or happy endings
But when I saw you sitting near the door of an old café,
E.E Cummings in one hand, coffee in the other
I knew you were the one.

You looked so focused on the poem you were reading
A furrow to your brow, a pout on your lips,
A gaze so transfixed on the text, the world around you barely existed.
You were in your world, and I wanted to be part of it.

And as if my mind and heart had an agreement, my legs started to move
Closer and closer, my hand reached the door, went inside, walked a few more steps
Just a bit more I told myself, I started to reach for you, to ask if I may talk with you
But before I could, you looked up at me, smiled, and the breath I didn’t know I was holding in for so long was knocked out of me.
You were so beautiful.

Your eyes were the shade of the finest and richest of chocolates,
Your cheeks the most beautiful of roses,
Your lips the perfect canvas for mine to paint,
And your smile the sweetest of honeys.

Closer I went and finally I reached you.
I grabbed your hand, E.E Cummings shortly forgotten, sat in front of you and with all the courage I could muster, I spoke your favorite verse.
“I carry your heart with me, I carry it in my heart. Wherever I go my dear, you go.”

I looked like a lovesick fool and you looked confused.
You smiled, intertwined our fingers and asked what was wrong.
I said everything is fine. Ever since you allowed me to carry your heart and you carried mine, everything has been better than fine

kassie robinson Jun 2015

The stars aren't they beautiful?
As they shine down on us and show us the way.
Like little eyes watching over us.

Mike Essig Jun 2015

The mysterious pregnancy
of the present moment.
Call it hazard, randomness
whatever you like.

Contained in that moment,
all the possibilities of life.
The locus of existence.
Whatever you do could
change everything.

You are 21 and sitting in a bar.
You walk out the door and turn right.
One life looms. Hazard.
You walk out the door and turn left.
A different life. Hazard.
You stay at the bar;
someone sits down beside you.
A third life opens up. Hazard.

Forget choice. You didn't choose,
you just unthinkingly did.
Yet so many possibilities
in that innocent instant.
Mythic, timeless, un-contemporary.
Powerful as a Black Hole.

We speak of good choices,
bad choices, as if we control
our lives absolutely.

Wrong. Worse than wrong: absurd.
Ego. You believe yourself a god?

First comes the random hazardous moment,
numinous and fecund with an unknown power.

Choice only follows that moment.
You choose within the arena of hazard.

Only then, thumbs up or down.

Fuck people and their insistence that we choose everything and are responsible for every choice. Just an ego driven device for praising ourselves and blaming others.
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