Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Simon Oct 2019
Engaging the processes that never matter, is blasphemy! Coating with coaxed visions of what wasn’t the usual demeanor of completion. Magnifying a matter of consequence over structures of doubt. Magnifying another matter entirely. Switching off the coax disposition. Processes becoming enraged. Engaging what it truly wanted to open up onto itself. Performances exiled. Properties fallen silent for non being the wiser. Trippy situations become sensitive desires. Opting situational premises. Offered to become desolate in the spotlight. Spotlight blips out for a few moments of data being processed over along period of space. The time was undetermined by valid postures. Valid postures filtering out neat and tidy. Only wanting to look it’s best. The blips mean more to what time can’t separate. The space occupies reason. Reason being pushed into uncertainties. Uncertainties becoming trapped. Disillusioned in the path that processes an easy way out. Filtering more reasoning on pure logic alone. Logic is great. Yet undecided. Everything caught in tumbling transmissions. Engaging the processes that never matter, isn’t blasphemy. Until you find the route of measure. Opting more devices from within to escort the spotlight into submission. Submission prompting more blips in the spotlight. More processes become enraged! The blips being the true mask to what uncertainty flips around like a rag doll. Its design isn’t enraged because it can’t decide its own reasoning. It’s enraged because it’s engaging with itself. Similarities being too of the same varieties for one process over the other to notice in finite detail. A mirror reflecting off one component between another. Never noticing the illusion of itself being the only one of its kind. The twist! Being what it can’t recognize. Is the acknowledgement of another like it? Programmed to twist, turn, pull its way to victory in undetermined results. The logic is careless. Showing adaptions aren’t perfect. Tries and tries. Until something clicks for the escort route out of the blasphemy. Rooting you in place. Each component reflecting its own processes off mirrors one can only acknowledge. Wait! If one can twist its desires around itself, reflecting it like a mirror. Then how does it communicate with another component? The fate isn’t in the details. But for you to figure out. A fated bland disposition regains control. Processes become engaged once more!
Processes are messy, struggling idiots that can't depend on its own local frame. It takes time for itself to notice what itself is tasked for. Only then will it stop shining more light against its own mirror.
Naya Feb 2019
A visable beam of light,
gleaming through the darkest of clouds and down into the bay

A beautiful sight ahead of us,
forever engraved

A moon so large, I can draw the happiest face
All I can do is inhale the cold breeze and smile at the sky
Then I softy say,
I am truly thankful for this feeling,
as the sky is my only ceiling
And in this moment,

I am more than just alive
I doubt,
Therefore, I think
Therefore, I am.

I see.
I take in the colours around me.
The patterns, the lights, the rainbow.
I see the night, and the stars that glow.
I dream.
Therefore, I think.
Therefore, I am.

I smell.
The perfumes, the roses.
The stench, the rotten, the putrid.
The aromas, cooking.
The green, the forest, the trees.
I inhale,
Therefore, I think.
Therefore, I am.

I hear.
The noises. The people, the cheer.
The wails, the screams, the tears.
The rejoicing and happiness.
I hear.
Therefore, I think.
Therefore, I am.

I taste.
The sweetness, the fire.
The treats and savoury delights.
The sourness, the bitterness.
I eat,
Therefore, I think.
Therefore, I am.

I speak.
Short messages. Long speeches.
Quiet whispers. Bellowing noises.
I scream,
Therefore, I think,
Therefore, I am.

I feel.
The despair, the fear, the anguish.
The joy. The pride. The seething.
The envy, greed, and jealousy.
The cold, the heat, the shivering.
The pain, the sickness, the ageing.

I die.
Therefore, I lived.
Therefore, I was.
This poem is a spin of the famous saying by René Descartes. Enjoy.
Sketcher Nov 2018
Sorry if this letter makes you feel gray,
I'm happy that I can make someone's day,
I'm not into the way you like to sway,
We can be brothers but bro, I'm not gay.
I have always been the one to obey,
Morales were developed by my padre,
Religion from Monday until Sunday,
Suddenly he became a divorcee,
Ever since then I've been asexual,
Hopefully my words are effectual,
I hope my response is consensual,
I hope that this poem was effectual.
I'm not asexual. I'm gray ace.
Let the spiders eat me away
i'm not finding life any less constricting that the webs they lay
Life is too short anyway
whats the point in adding more hope to the already bent tray
I won't find joy in pretending to be okay
I won't find myself counted with the pretenders who pray
that one day they'll wake up and be what they say
Instead i'll thread the waters of life's turbulent bay
with the thought that everything will end at the end of the day
i'm more that happy to live and die this way
Josh G Sep 2018
Ask me why I write
And I'll stop and think
There's beauty in this world
And it passes in a blink
I explore these thoughts
And write them down
For words hold value
Whether it brings a smile, or a frown
It gives you insight
Into someone's mind
The way they feel
If you take the time
So that's why I write
For I enjoy it so
Because without poetry
The world would never know
I often get asked by friends and colleagues why I write and this pretty much sums it up for me.
Next page