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Sungmoo Bae Aug 24
Woe to the being
in its brilliance ever illuminating,
ever since it was brought out to this world

full of wonders
- you might’ve thought as such, at first -
to your initial senses
just born into the earth.
Stellar you are, and they regarded you such at first,

but considered as a constellation baffling,
soon after, thus celestial, irritating
    to their perception  
    - belonging to none
    of the earth; heathen you’ve been,

    and so that’s why, I see,
    you’re deemed a heretic.

Looking around,
you walk on the heaven’s arc
painted in all its auroral glory,

    wondering,
    ever yearning
    for the only answer they might give you someday:

    to which stars
    the people of the earth
    give their praises so pristine.
If interested, you can also visit my Facebook page as well:
https://www.facebook.com/sungmoo.bae.3

(C) Copyright: Saul Bae
annh Aug 21
Lost in the empty crowd,
Searching for your eyes,
Questing for sweet recognition,
A face to call home.

‘In spite of its romantic frisson, the position of muse is very vague and largely thankless for the muse herself.’
- Katie Roiphe, In Praise of Messy Lives
the essence of my being is residing
                                                        ­                       somewhere in between
in which i would simultaneously like to be left alone
and hugged tightly as though i were taking my last breath
i want to be held closely and told that i am special
and that i matter
whilst being afraid of ever loving again
                                                           ­                    somewhere in between
a friend and a stranger
dressed in confusion
black cloak
top hat
(you look quite ridiculous)
i am neither happy nor sad
does it even matter?
maybe deadened is the word
deadened
dead end
most of the time
i am merely in my perpetual state of
                                                              ­                 somewhere in between
Simon Jun 20
What is life about, essentially…? It’s not made to course-correct consequences about engineering the symmetry of logic itself. It isn’t about diversity that completely and utterly traverses the calamities that surround one past to another, only to have it crumble up into little delicate crumbs. Which (I’ve got to say…) Will put you into extreme peer pressure, when “oneself” decided to differ from the “actuality” of it all…only to strike down at the “whim” that cast’s judgement upon (not your “soul”…) Since a soul respectfully, goes beyond both mind and body itself. While also completely and utterly traversing that which is entirely unmanaged by both mind and body as a unified whole. B-but “recognition” itself. Recognition only envisioned, until it was ALREADY too late! Too late, for what, exactly…? Someone asks tempted to feel both the “source ******* killers” that plead against your own wishes. Wishes that (even MORE s-so then before) tempts oneself who just only wanted to judge (against their own delicate fond wishes) to bless for a single plea in one’s very “functioning” life, every once and a while. Yet, that’s all fine and good… Until everything again, again and again…comes crumbling down! But not full of ashes… O NO! NO! NO! Seeing as how “ashes” don’t represent well with the decision-making oneself who’s then forced to make upon those “fond delicate wishes”... For the blessing of a single plea is then outmatched not by a soul, o-or even the speculating “crumbling ashes”, either. It’s more o-or less about what you (single-handedly) want out of oneselves represented expectations. For those don’t appear to agree within the “deep-seeded withinness”. Which is your entitlement at being within oneself. Or (more specifically) the entire “inside out” of a sense of self. Because self isn’t reprimanded enough, when the recognition in that deep-seeded withinness doesn’t appreciate the “commanding protocols”, when (recognition) doesn’t “fruitfully” become “self-recognition”. Since those very (“commanding protocols”) can’t then outweigh the constructive criticism of the “actions” that go into those very commanding protocols. Because before you know it, recognition is just a made-up enclosure to purge “self” clean…RIGHT OFF THE **** MAP! For no one’s very recognition in self, would become hurt, as if they (just like the soul) has emotions for a self to strongly persist the actuality of it all, to be MORE then certainly right! How is any of this, then essentially possible…? Well it isn’t, since I have no mercy for this subject raising it against my own hand full of adversities playing too smoothly for all to hear. It isn’t that basic. Nor is it simple, BY ANY MEANS necessary! That being said, who would this complete “written” passage define the stakes oneself is willing to take at FINALLY mustering up the pure courage of recognizing self in the details for the deep-seeded withinness? Easy. Because I wasn’t the one who wrote this. As it may seem to be that way of course, towards the facts given with all the “expressions” revealed about oneself entirely. True. But not quite I’m afraid. For this isn’t about me, as it’s so much about the consistencies of how I’m just a mere specimen to the unbound logic (to myself) then it is to the one who simply transcribed either the full thoughts, emotions o-or even feelings in (not one’s very brain o-or mind…) Since those details to bode well with the representation trying to filter out without “thoughts” to plug those inconsistencies dry! Meaning they get in the way of something you ALL KNOW BY NOW, that is truer than even what a brain or mind could EVER come up with. Because sometimes, efficiencies lie! As that’s not always a good thing for someone with an over-amount of dramatic “pressure” already exceeding their very limits on peer pressure itself. The one who first asked, became MORE profoundly confused, as if to “click and smash” HARD pressurized synapses together to make an “even functionality” produce a (well thought-out) ingenuity. Except for the fact you already know (ahead of time), before even thoughts have gotten the “gist” of it all and have made their mark. For peace is without options, if one is willing to pay the ULTIMATE PRICE at otherwise, thinking all is made to piece certain compatibilities together to share openly with. But you see, it’s NEVER that simple…now is it? So, what does all this essentially entail…? Nothing of the sort, except both a VERY complex (someone or something) without the diversities for regular thoughts. But for “feeling” alone that is not within the realms of typical majority “Science” to explain its efforts. That’s exactly why it goes beyond thoughts in general. For the heart to seize all efforts both the brain and mind ALWAYS have cooking up. Just to impress themselves openly. Except without what I’d call is, “open viewing points”. Open viewing points without clear morals full of different varieties without harbouring the “self” in the details for ample recognition to amplify the surrounding areas of that very flaw. That is, if everything is politely willing to self-declare everything, without masking some…”other intention” without knowing where the rights of that very “recognition” went off it’s path…LONG AGO! S-so who is the one simply transcribing this passage? Just like they have a simulation to co-operate it without the one they’re simply transcribing about, isn’t within arms length of the one writing about the “deep-seeded withinness” firstly. That my “narrating” friends, is the entire platform of plot transcribing its simulation for translations. Except now, it has it’s fully adaptable (self-recognition) fully operated. It didn’t speak like a regular person before. It just “transcribed, transcribed, transcribed”! Until FINALLY, it was able to require such an operating system, if you would. Only to have it distributed upon its original functionality. Transcending it’s seemingly and supposed pre-programming design. Just as the stereotypical “science fiction” scenario about AI gaining “sentience” overtime. Just as humans require emotions to express that very sentience also, overtime. And all for what…? Trying to understand the passageways of information, was like a GREAT data stream! Made to look too inconclusive of itself. Especially falling behind witnesses who never even heard of such a thing. Who is now basically contrasting something without the information to give into, without fully adaptable knowledge of how to properly stream the VERY ample data without any (“deep-seeded withinness o-or open viewing points”) leading oneself forward one piece of data (“riding the current of a steady calm stream”) at a time? Forward to what…?! The “oneself” who was seemingly instrumented to guess, had now become claimed by the instance of power known as the “high of confusion”. Now dramatically instigated without the proper intentions for “self” in the details to co-opt something together without (memory serves that oneself to “recognize”) something without knowing simply how? That’s because it isn’t one’s very “tempted individuality” in the details. It’s the entire platform of plot’s (I guess to call it an individuality of sorts) self-recognition for it to speak clearer without any information becoming seemingly false, flawed o-or finding a justified error upon its primary judgement. Which spawns a newer adaptable action among your oneselves very claims, without the desires to “flag” for something not as inconclusive, as it was before that individual had a VERY specific experience. That’s now entirely turned into an “engagement”. For engagements are simulations with enough focus in the already transcribed details among the “data stream” full of individual components known as “oneself” in order to “use” to adopt the correct hold. Just enough in order to “found” something without yet, enough recognition in itself to fully see how “they” could FINALLY see it for themselves. Especially of all things, understand lives choices without completely disregarding the common advances at which those very things come in contact with said, recognition. Except, how do you know which recognition is yours, and not the means to a VERY cryptic countermeasure made to judge with no realizations, except for an illusion for you to “essentially” believe in? Since before the entire platform of plot’s syncing event called the “separation”. It didn’t know how to tell itself apart from the difference in its own self, when it now has another half that’s made to realize MORE of such an “originality” then it is for its own self-recognition to be the originality itself. Even thou one could gamble at which came first?! Or which is TRULY the either blessing in disguise, or the mask hiding behind its own “shame” taking on a (all too well specified) façade of a living lie promoting a VERY false simulation? So, the actual manner of speaking to what ANY of this actually entails… Is that what is life about, essentially…? It’s not because you can’t EVER handle such a truth. Instead, you false yourself against more lies, in order to benefit the truth which is ALWAYS hiding just beneath one’s very underbrush in order to seek out a better recognized self, for “self-recognition” in the otherwise always dwindling limelight. That my very sense of selves and VERY tempted individualities, is what lives about, essentially!
Life isn’t about your (supposed) given choices on a regular daily basis. It’s about the already (seemingly) justified countermeasures that strike the “unbound logic” at you for (none being the wiser) to essentially hear. PS… How do you know you can trust your own choices of that very decision-making? Or better yet… How could you EVER try and support those very given "actions" towards what recognition in self, is truly trying to tell you?!
Sage May 19
Poetry and words flow throw my blood.
I have been brave enough to recognize my role.
Life gave me the present of finding a way to fill my soul.
It's all about give and take.
Following your heart after all.
Recognize oneself fearlessly. Putting aside fake illusions and tunnel visions created by others to separate the grain from the chaff.
nance Apr 16
The wind was tentatively nipping at my skin.
during the car ride in sunny California.
My hand hung outside the window,
which held the ring that I gazed upon;
along with the semi-colon that is inked
upon my wrist.
The scenery changed behind my hand,
but my eyes did not set on anything
besides my hand in the wind of the window.
Until we pulled in.
I looked up and saw the eyes that stared upon me.
Drinking water.
I looked away quickly, focusing my eyes on my hand.
I felt the stare.
I felt yeux.
I glanced and then saw the car drive away.
I tried to keep it in afterward.
The small bit of confrontation after a year.
The recognition.
I let out a sound-
it was between a scream and a choke-
with a word following after to cover up.
The car halted to stop,
the driver asking me
what the hell is wrong.
I stayed silent.
I acted so stupidly.
If I was right-
though it was only a glance-
those eyes were not yours.
They were chocolate,
warm enough to melt someone;
sturdy enough to break with pressure.
Although, yours were an ocean that
could be calm enough to let me
bathe in, to swim in, and to let me
become adjusted in security:
but chaotic enough to swallow me whole;
bang me up against the tide and leave me
breathless.
Inviting, captivating, dangerous, *****.
lovely.
But it looked like you...
did it not?
Was I seeing you for you and I imagined
those eyes the wrong color.
or was it an illusion made by my mind
after working in the sun for a while?
I won't know.
I don't know.
I can't know.
Was it you?
It's 10:00 pm.
I should go to bed.
I have class then work.
I should just forget.
In the moonlight that seeps
into my window for my
room to be illuminated,
I stare.
I stare at my hand upon the ring.
That shines along with the
the mystery of the boy
who made me scream.
Was it you?
Please tell me, I murmur,
for the man in the moon.
True story.
My worst story on here.
No wonder no one sees my poems.
Nolan Willett Apr 11
Some few are immortalized for millennia,
But how long is millennia, truly,
Compared to when time began, newly
Forged, to the time where we
trace history to Mesopotamia?
Could it be?
That we are fools to seek peace of mind,
In the things we may leave behind?
All will be forgotten and fall into nothing;
So please someone tell me,
Why our names should mean something.
what am I?
if nothing but ash and clay
mixed together until you recognize this face
is it the face of my Lord, like he said?
or is my soul too lost
for you to find him within me anymore?
Dr zik Mar 29
آئینے میں خود کو سنوارتے وقت جو انسان نما عمارت نظر آتی ہے۔ اس کے گریبان میں جھانکنا اور اگر ہو سکے تو دل کے دروازے پر دستک ضرور دینا۔ اس عمارت میں جیسا بھی انسان ہوا۔ مخاطب ضرور ہو گا۔ اُس کو جاننے کی کوشش کرنا اور اگر پہچان سکے تو اچھا ہے۔ ورنہ تنہائی میں اور ایمرجنسی حالات میں اُس پر نظر ضرور رکھنا۔ جب بھی غلطی کرنے لگے گا۔ تو اللہ سب سے پہلے آپ کو جاننے کی توفیق دے گا۔ لہٰذا آگے بڑھ کر فوراً بڑے ادب کے ساتھ اسے روک لینا اور بہت نرمی سے میرا پیغام اس کے کان میں سرگوشی کے سے انداز میں سنا دینا۔ کہ
"میرے بھائی! جس کی طرف تجھے لوٹ کر جانا ہے۔ وہ دیکھ رہا ہے"
An Extract From:
Book: sada si batain  سادہ سی باتیں
Author: Dr Zafar Iqbal Khokhar
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