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LadyM Aug 12
I've been dragged away
from the edge of the water,
even though I wanted to jump right in

I'd been only swimming
in the shallow corners,
almost learned to let go
and give in

Give in to the waves
let them pull me further from the shore
Give in to the tide,
hear the ocean roar

But something happened then
and I lost my sight of how and when
For a minute I closed my eyes,
thought I was lost at sea,
but when I looked around
there was no water to be seen

Just like someone
came and took my hand
and pulled me far away
off to dry lands

Felt like memory loss,
tried but couldn't remember
why my feet were still so wet
when I was in the centre
of the forest splendour

And sometimes I recall
the memories of the time
when I almost had it all

I was getting so close,
could barely believe
that I had found the purpose of my reality

But not everything works out
Lost sight of my true silhouette
My head has been dry for so long,
but my feet are still wet

Out of place
Out of my mind
Lost in the woods
Lost track of time
Take me back
Now I recall
why my feet are still wet
I can still have it all

I'll drag myself back
to the edge of the water
and jump right in like I was meant to

I'll be swimming away
into the deep end
Giving in to the waves
Giving in to the tide
Giving in to the voices that I've kept inside

My feet are still wet
and now I know why
A song (with a melody in mind) that I've written tonight. 🎵 For months I've felt like I was losing myself more each day. Fading... I've been feeling completely lost - like my life is going but I'm not really in it. Or not meant to be in it in this way. Out of place - this has been my most common thought. With my last poem published on this page in 2019, I've indeed lost touch with who I am. And after today's major breakdown, I finally know why I've been feeling so lost - because I keep trying to be someone who I am not. I am a songwriter, I knew this since I was 10. I wish I'd never let it slip away. But I want to get back. I know it will take time and practice to pick up a lost dream, but if I continue being who I am not, I will lose myself completely.
Vi Aug 6
Still more, in words

In experience

Confusing Familiarity with Comfort

Confusing Comfort with Peace

Reifying confusion, but not successfully

Yielding, on my knees, heart to the sky

Forgetting

Seeing through, a single pinhole in a perfectly realistic backdrop

Pinholes everywhere, more than can be contained

Not containing

Torn all over

Dispelling everything

Stripping away the Stripping away

Trying to stand very still and very quite so I can feel, hear, sense

Perfect realism

Wanting to be convinced by rage

Agitation, but only conceptual

Feeling tight

Feeling rehearsed

Feeling like an imposter

Wanting to impress

Wanting to be convinced of Self, of Realness

Fortified by others knowing, or preferably- admiration

Like being constructed out of sets of other peoples' eyes

Like being made real by propagating in more minds, many more minds, specific minds. In countless beating and virtual hearts, likes, thumbs up

Not wanting to be forgotten, while alive, while dead

Taxed by maintenance and constant imminent collapse

Compassion, like collapsing into a safe lap

Relinquishing

No pretense

Bare being

More naked than when unclothed

Total exposure

Outed, in the light of knowing

Self forgetting and glimpses of freedom

Trusting sighing

Always loving Sad, not despondent, just sad

Feeling continuous

Feeling fragmented

Feeling like motion, like flow

Feeling like thousands of still frames, constant flickering

Grasping at impermanence, visceral

Resting in the middle

Dancing down the tightrope

Knowing perfect poise, brief equilibrium

Reifying stability. Gone.

Everything is hysterically funny

Hysterically

But also, sometimes, just plain humorous

And absurd

Crying

Loving people

Grateful for people

Seeing beauty everywhere

Encountering this, intimate, me, indistinguishable being, but everywhere

Ouch

Awareness

Always coming back

Like an epic

Like a great love story

Like the last wring of that silk dress you weren't supposed to squeeze dry

Feeling like I shouldn't know what I know, like I couldn't. This must be illegal, cosmically illegal

Knowing the inside of my hand

Knowing teenage shame

Knowing being yelled at, towered over, by my dad, in a narrow hallway, eyes glued to speckled floor tiles, feeling small

Loving with my body, with my hands, with my mouth, with my whole entire strong softness

Loving with understanding

Loving with teeth and nails

Music, lacerating

Crying with tears, and snot, and heaving

Becoming one single, concentrated point

Wanting to envelope everything. Really. Actually. Like physically with my body.

Knowing I am not this voice

Or this writer

Or this narrator

Though I am also all that
I couldn't edit my previous Poem for some reason. There is therefore repetition here from "The Art of Selfing". I do not prefer it this way.
Vi Aug 5
Sleep deprivation

***

Guilt

Sense-making and maps of meaning

Revisiting memories

Crying

Staying away from scary corners of my mind

Deliberately going toward scariness

Not resisting

Yes resisting

Respecting resistance

Compulsive tv watching

Dropping or letting go over and over again

Exploring

Curiosity

Forgetting and then remembering that it’s all happening on its own, noticing this, knowing this, realizing this

Realizing that realization comes and goes on its own

Being in love with everything

Crying

Playing with time and concepts

Craving emptiness

Love

Catastrophizing

Ranking what "works" (i.e. sleep deprivation is effective), noticing that the metric of “effective” and "works" is = resulting in greater illusions of "forgetting" with a capital F

Loving everything

Being everything

Self-flagellation

Not really believing any of the stories or narratives

Procrastinating

Being irresponsible

Getting off on self-loathing

Forcing intimacy

Compassion, large, whole, unrelenting, everywhere

Oversharing

Falling in love with a homeless person at a traffic stop

Being bored and sad and hopeless and desperate

Remembering inherent wholeness

Being stubborn

Getting out of the way always feels like dying

Loving dying

Loving mourning dying

Dramatizing dying

Wanting to be seen and loved

Self-loathing

Intensity

Craving intensity

Hating craving intensity

Knowing that nothing is a problem

Suffering

Being impatient

Being very very patient

Feeling like I don’t belong in the world, like people and things and money and social media are alien, foreign and scary

Feeling like I am the world

Forgetting that knowing how to verbalize isn’t the same as knowing

Wanting knowing with words to be the same as Knowing

Wanting knowing to be a Real, solid thing

Fear

Mortal fear

Bewilderment

Constant background anxiety

Hating this body

Not caring for this body

Being burdened by this body

Feeling trapped in a body

Feeling more trapped in a mind

Wanting knowing to resolve everything

Wanting to be saved

Thinking that I probably don’t need to be saved

Thinking or knowing(?) there’s nothing to be saved from

Knowing that I can’t be saved

Feeling open

Feeling vulnerable

Feeling exposed

Feeling bad

Feeling like I'm doing it wrong

Believing it all

Wanting to both believe it and have a choice about when, where, and to what extent I believe it

Not knowing where the edge is until I've fallen off

Feeling violated

Feeling like existence is non-consensual

Somehow trusting all of it, totally, exactly as it is

Watching the panicking

More crying

Being one

Being very very aware

Noticing and letting go of effort in one swift move

Compulsive clenching

Compassion

Dissolving

Disillusion

Dying without the novelty

Being ok vey very briefly and for no apparent reason/because of no reason./?

Wanting distraction

Respecting needing distraction

Getting out of the way of intelligent coping mechanisms

Villifying coping mechanisms

Understanding only in retrospect

Frustration

Compassion, deep, like warm water

Compassion, hard, like being ****** vey very slowly

Torture

Life-giving torture

Never wanting to stop

Marveling

Abundance like grace, like not deserving, like not needing to be deserving, like deserving is perverse language

Tasting everything

Endless kaleidoscopes of being and tasting and knowing

Non visual seeing

Clarity, brightness, nothing is a problem

Being alive

Being sososo tired

Wanting to rest, to die into void and nothing

Wanting to hibernate

Wanting to still

Dying to get off

Begging to get off

Finding the edge more thrilling than the center (because then the center can be anything at all?)

Loving all the previous versions of this being

Needing to hate, loathe, earlier renditions of this being

Hating repulsion

Trusting repulsion

Getting stuck because resisting repulsion

Knowing that there's no way out

Knowing that the way out that I'm seeking isn't a way out

Not wanting to do the work

Dancing around the center, constantly

Feeling dizzy with chaos, with knowledge of power

Feeling comfortable with mediocrity

Hating mediocrity

Waking up with jaw tension from the enormity of my own suppressed power

Telling stories about sensations

Relying on self-bullying methods I know don't work

Perfecting the art of pretending

Perfecting the art of self-deception

Wanting to make the stakes higher

Being overwhelmed by my own storytelling

Not wanting to give stories credibility by dispelling them

Naval gazing

Loving philosophy

Feeling dried up, tired, stagnant, disinterested, not engaged, not here.

Sleepwalking. Sleep writing. Sleep talking. Sleep caring

Not sleeping

Vivid dreaming

High weirdness

Questioning my sanity

Romanticizing insanity

Wanting to blur all boundaries

Wanting to smooth the edges of reality

Questioning reality

Destabilizing reality

Feeling destabilized

Feeling irresponsible

Guilt

Feeling sick and tired

Feeling scared

Feeling hopeless

Wanting to reach out

Feeling like everything is inevitable

Feeling like suffering is inevitable

Recognizing kindness

Discerning well (properly? Clearly? Well.)

Fearful trusting

Thinking too much

Not wanting to love my dad as much as I do.

Chasing the intellectual high

Disappointment

No need for resolution

Feeling caught in existence

Feeling caught up. Like in a potato sack; I can explore the exact measure of my confinement, the sensorial elements, the scratchiness, the filtering light from the outside, the stagnation, the wanting to stretch.

I love this being.

This. It's not a problem.

Confusing familiarity with comfort

Confusing comfort with peace

Reifying confusion, but not really

Yielding, on my knees, heart to the sky

Seeing through, like pinholes in a perfectly realistic backdrop

Dispelling everything

Stripping away the Stripping away

Trying to stand still and feel

Wanting to be convinced by rage

Always loving Sad, not despondent, just sad

Feeling continuous

Feeling fragmented

Feeling like motion, like flow

Feeling like thousands of still frames, constant flickering

Grasping at impermanence

Resting in the middle

Dancing down the tightrope

Knowing perfect poise, so so brief

Everything is hysterically funny

Hysterically

But also just plain humorous

And absurd

Loving people

Feeling grateful for people

Seeing beauty everywhere

Always coming back

Like an epic

Like a great love story

Like a violin solo in a forbidden song

Like the last wring of that silk dress you're not supposed to squeeze dry

Knowing the inside of my hand

Knowing teenage shame

Knowing being yelled at, towered over, by my dad, in a narrow
hallway, eyes glued to speckled floor tiles, feeling small, nowhere to go

Loving with my body, with my hands, with my mouth, with my whole entire strong soft body

Crying with tears, and snot, and heaving

Becoming one single, concentrated point

Wanting to envelope everything. Really. Actually. With my body.

I am not this voice

Or this writer

Or this narrator

Though I am also all that
tainted black Jul 11
i dreamt once to be swept away
by love like waves; set astray
feelings loose like golden sand
by every sweep of someone's hand

yet when it came---
it felt like troubled waters
chaotic but full of wonders
then I began to ponder,


love is like tidal waves,
larger than shallow tides
nothing like a little light---
but something that gives sunburned heart.
a little memory of mine as i came back from the sea.
A Jun 21
The worst part is that I actually never needed him

- but what took so long was to realize I needed myself more than he needed me
Farah Taskin Jun 16
I was greeted by
unearthly
midnight
or stellar light

I'm hypnotized by
the evening clouds

I espy
the busy
passers-by
or the silly
vagabonds

The round
earth doesn't pause
Proxima Centauri
doesn't pause
Ursa Major
doesn't pause

Colours change
The game
continues

I close my
eyes
This is how I can perceive
the sound
of silence
This is how I meet myself
I'm neither
a nihilist
nor
a hedonist
I'm simply
a monotheist

A gust
of wind blusters
My gossamer
scarf flutters

I open my inquisitive
eyes
I discover the mysterious
scene
A cool Summer morning.

6am, leaving a party.

Stayed up, all night,
With people I'm not close with.

Trying to disintegrate
Thoughts
Of You,
With a bonfire.

In the car, driving home.
The sky visible
In my rear view.
A muddled color palette
Of you and me.

Blues and pinks separated.
Struggling to mix
Into a shade of
Purple morning sky.

I might crash.
I can't keep my eyes off the Past.
Too consumed, with sleep in my eyes.

My clothes drenched, with smoke particles
Hanging still
In the air. touching my lips.

Dark blue skies
Ahead of me.

Doubts of never finding
Purple skies
I'm dreaming of.

God.

If only I could close my eyes.

Right here on the freeway.

Allowing my car a freedom
I'm craving.

To guide me
Into
Purple skies.
I wrote this poem after a breakup. When the confusion of what lies ahead is so strong that you want to relinquish control. This is a reminder that if you and your partner didn't mix well, then it wasn't meant to be. Keep searching for your person who will make purple skies with you. Even if the future only looks like dark blue skies, they're out there. I know it.
Kautilya or Katyayan,
They were the best examples in their own essence.

Khana or Galileo,
Couldn't be to become too dear to many.

Van Gogh or Jibanananda Das,
Society did not recognize them, all were delusions.

Sukarno or Kamal Ataturk,
Have they got the real happiness of freedom?

Asking questions back to whom today,
To answer these, who remains there!
Perimeter is perimeter-
Its diameter, radius is constant.
And for the necessities of life
Around that perimeter,
Continuously coming and going.

Alas destiny!
Do you want to return without any need?
In the twilight hours, or on a catastrophic morning.
Will I be able to see you.

What a zero perception!
Ah, what a repetitive format -
Torn pages of a fragmentary novel,
In the bitterness of summer, in the footsteps of memory
There was a murmur,
However, it is very indistinct.

Shrouded in the thick fog of thought,
That destiny-
Cannot be seen even in successive incarnations.
That is indestructibly invisible!
m lang Dec 2021
a feeling i once thought was lost,
is blooming in me
just as though i’m a flower in a spring.
reborn again,
loving myself again,
and again and again choosing me.
sprouting up from the seeds
and nurturing my needs.
as the grass starts growing
and there’s blooming in the trees.
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