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Aditya Sep 2018
A  Tunnel  shielding  my  Battle,
Is  there  Light  or  a mere  Illusion?
Concealing  every  emotion  and  Struggle,
A  Mind  in  pursuit  of  a  Revolution.
There is no light at the end of the tunnel until you seek the truth. Open your mind (tunnel) to new possibilities and fight your battle to experience the revolution you desire!
Lorie Laconico Sep 2018
There are days in which my mind seeks poetry
Poetry of all forms and aspects,
Poetry in its truest, simplest form
In a form only I can feel

A poetry of free formity, balance, and stature
That equates to thoughts and structures
Of my free mind

There are days in which the poetry I seek doesn’t reach me
Just existing as a mere thought
Through which I wonder,
Will my poetry ever reach me?
Ken Pepiton Aug 2018
A pocket of thought, ideas.
Impulses, has beens

epi-phenom-enal-con-currencies-synchron-icity
sorting places, thens and nows vying for attention

you see
we till stories in search of true tomorrows
not true
yesterdays (till, I said, not tell)
we **** the hard rows no one else will ***
so seed lies sown are never lies told, if the lies are never taught
or if the liars are caught before convincing the
intended crop to lie and swear a common liege Lord,
or die
for lack of knowing. Non-nascence, simplest
symptom to not see.
Whose death is yours to respond responsibly
to? My child's, or yourn?
In the early days, we knew less than we know now
about how knowing and growing were all
intended
to cost time. Ticks, ono motto whatever, the sound
gears and spiral springs pushing cogs
tick, one tooth tick at atime make

this rough, un polished, un glossed, is it wrong or

as I imagine a diamond in the rough must seem to a share cropper
experienced in diamond hunting, diamond prospecting,

prospecting expecting inspection to permit
seeing a 3.52 specific gravity,
specific
specify

species or spectacles,
spectators or special-if-eye-cation
value-en-abled. Weigh your mind in balance
with mine. I claim the mind of Christ.
What are the odds?

A wandering path, injoyable enable if-i-abble,
pacing is

everything, timing is everything, time is the test.

Time is the metagame.
Take your time. One word formed sylabble at a time.
Babble on, your confusion makes you mortal, to my mind.
Tick.
A quanta of time. Does time come in bits and pieces cernible,
but undiscernible from reality?

Babble.

Of course, time will tell. We learned that in our sleep, did we not?

Aesop taught us more than Moses, no,
Aesop taught us less than Moses.

But, we could learn to walk bearing the weight of knowing what
Aesop taught,
while we could not stand under the weight
Moses was said
to have taught.

Caught you, Jewboy. Whatchewknow?
The moral of the story.

THE IDEA is to win.
Beware the concision decision.
incisive devices, witty inventions.

Flip the shell, roll the bones, cast the runes and,
as luck might have it, die before your time.

Why factors are lies more oft than how factors.
Benefactors rule malefactors or
how or why would we invest our time in seeking reasons
to believe?

Is this the polished piece, the gemstone of specific gravity
(which currently means nothing to you. Here, you find too light
or too heavy, too weighty on the scale of specific value.)

Hard. Value hard, diamond hard, on Mr. Moore's scaled model of
Knowing exploding for reason's sake, raison d'etre, eh?
Too hard?
Not Mohs,
don't get me wrong.
We been Moore's law breaker all along.
We be manifested destinatory stories of heroes gone wrong.

Outlawed
knowing exploding to be reasoned with, by kind
children destined to become
written in stone, scarred by lies

Diamonds cutting diamonds, iron whetting iron
on eternity's edge.

Babylon, was it Bel's gate or fusion from below rising?

Magma fountains with diamond claws tearing the lands asunder
Is asunder still a word?, let me, allow me to define...
"into a position apart, separate,
into separate parts,"
mid-12c., contraction of Old English on sundran 
Middle English used to know asunder for
"distinguish, tell apart."
From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/asunder>
----

mumbler's humbler PIE, bowing before the knowers who
know nothing of my work.
Set apart, art thou holy aware?

Hermit me, meet the rest of me. The true rest that remained.
We live, you and I. Trust me, next is worth the wait.

Suffer needs no pain to make its point. Waiting is.

Grokk. WHO would believe that idea could live
through telegraphese to be tweet meets for the
Cosplay clans. How never grokked a rock,  why even less.

Strange, not be long in this
place. if
place this be. Odd
set aside
torn asunder
blown away.
Awake, little birdie, tell me true,
what's a man like me to do?

Did you meet the famous Mr. Blake?
I cleaned his chimney, way back when, chimbly's whut
we called em. Smoke stacks belchin' black
makin' black moths invisible to voracious
gulls.
Now the peppered moths are free
to be white-ish, for better or worse.

----

right, now, do right or

miss the mark,
the specific mark you made, maybe,
imagining, abstract obstructions missed
by the skin on Job's teeth as you run past

right now to more. You know?

----=

Story telling was the same as lying when I was a child, to me.

Telling stories was my gift I never took. Or am I lying? or mad,
in the old way.
Chailot's rag picker was my best friend.

No noble thought ever found it's home in my head, once
I thunk it, it stunk to high heaven, for me stinkin' thinkin' it.

Po' ems sang sour to fiddles wit' one strang and drums with no
cymbals
Screamin' he owed m' soul the comp'ny sto' bang bang thud.

I died, he lied, and lived to tell this story, ****** if I know,
****** if I don't.

True as true can be. I am lost, but once was found,
lyin' rough, uncut in acres of unseen gems.
----
* Voltaire refused to teach me any thing I could not define:
late 14c., deffinen, diffinen, "to specify; to fix or establish authoritatively;" of words, phrases, etc., "state the signification of, explain what is meant by, describe in detail," from Old French defenir, definir "to finish, conclude, come to an end; bring to an end; define, determine with precision," and directly from Medieval Latin diffinire, definire, from Latin definire "to limit, determine, explain," from de "completely" (see de-) + finire "to bound, limit," from finis "boundary, end" (see finish (v.)). From c. 1400 as "determine, declare, or mark the limit of." Related: Defined; defining.

So, imagine facets unseen, I am at least a meme, a bubble rising on the tide. Think, as you will. Amen?
Incorporating radical (root-related) definitions via cut and paste is my way of acknowledging that I have no ex-uses left for using words in a wrong, thus lying, way.
Janna Jul 2018
The hand of my Creator
Was knocking on the door step
Of my heart
Patiently waiting
Always seeking
His lost daughter and child
To return into His mighty arms
- soulwriterj
I found my way back home.
Krishnapriya Jul 2018
We travel the world
searching
book to book, blog to blog
Guru to guru, mentor to trainer
Looking, finding, losing

Ultimately return
Empty handed

Only to find it all
And then some more
In the secret
smile
of the heart
Reza Bavar Jul 2018
I’m going mining today
I’m digging in that place between
My pain
And
My grave

My hands are covered in it
The dirt and the ****
Of a lifetime
Of the lifetimes before me
So far back no one knows their names

I’m searching for treasure
It has to be here somewhere
But so far
It’s just the dirt
The dirt
And
The ****

I’ve dug so deep
I can’t crawl back out
I can’t forget about it
I can’t let it go

It’s death
Or
Treasure

One of them is definitely down here
It’s as simple as that

And so…

I’m going mining today
Like I did yesterday
And the day before… and for everyday I can remember

I’ll dig and dig
Until memory of me fades
And my dreams fall from the sky
Past the stories that promised happiness
Beyond the eyes that captured my heart
Away from the lights of the shore… Into the oily blackness I’ll swim
That place no one wants to follow me to
That place everyone tells me doesn’t exist
I’ll dig
Long enough
Hard enough
With everything I have
And…
When I arrive
I’ll send you a card

I’ll invite you to mine
Follow the tears, the blood, and the sweat
Look for the light of my soul

“That was the treasure!” I’ll declare
“Now let’s find yours”

I’m going mining today
You don’t have to… you can stay
I’m already covered in it…

The dirt
The ****.
Give me something,
I just need anything I can get,
To try to heal it.
I'm trying my best,
Not to forget how to be without it.

I am searching the lines,
Creating new stanzas,
In a hopeless attempt
To get it all together again.

Lately I'm starting to see
Myself seeking attention,
Even if ever so slightly.
I realise I've clung onto things tight,
That make me feel needed,
Those who paid me attention,
And then those same people who then did the opposite:
Because everyone gets bored eventually.

Now I feel like I'm just waiting,
For someone else to forget me,
Another person saying **** it they don't need me.
In addition for a while now,
I've felt my siblings slowly slipping away and away further
To him.

But that's not what this is about,
This is about how self centred I am,
Once again, I guess it will always come back then.
The past years seem to be a sequence of:
Thinking I'm better,
When really I'm just changing the order of the pattern,
I'm just expressing it in different ways.

But I don't know how many more strategies I have left.
Kewayne Wadley Jul 2018
And if such a time comes.
I ask for courage anew, happier eyes.
To delve into sweet slumber without sigh.
Time neither passes or retracts.


And in addition I find the least bit bearable.
Unable to drown in total sleep.
The sights seen precious.
I forget where I place my head.


And I hold no grievance against thee.
Heavily affectioned to many a sight.
My eyes swallowed whole,
At happiness's interpretation.


Whilst I not forget, Sandman,
I dream with open eyes
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