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He looks so small now
The man who used to tower over me
Broad shoulders
Strong body
A mountain climber
Who walked through Europe in his youth

He was the strongest man I knew
The one who took me on adventures
Biking to the forest
Climbing ancient ruins
A world of knowledge
Collected through a life displayed on his shelves

Now he looks so small
Like I can pick him up
And carry him in a box
Barely even there
Vacant behind the eyes
Trapped in his own mind

This giant of a man
Made fragile by age
Time is cruel…
Lewis Aug 11
I find myself existing above where everything else is.
I do see the cars gliding in heavy rain, painting me with white Hollywood flashes but I could confidently argue that they wouldn't cast a shadow behind myself. I find myself existing outside of my body and away from everything I can see in some muted soft space in between.

I wonder if it is because I turn everything into symbols or is it because I am 26 and just trying to feel different. To feel smarter or better or kinder. Is that the goal of all this? There is space between everything I touch and no ability to feel the jagged edges or cold surfaces underneath my fingertips. A numbing that would drive me insane if I wasn't so bloated and churning with random thoughts; some good, some bad. Nothing specific.

I lay on the sofa and notice the moon reflected in the large windows. Two moons, a nice distance apart and somehow the same size and light. The only thing that tells me that one moon is a reflection is some guttural instinct. A discernment. I would love to say they emulated the eyes of a cunning cat or some other great power instead, but they looked blank. But they looked at me.

I feel myself reaching the end of this current mind shift. The one where everything has a meaning or everything is connected. I wonder if it has actually poisoned how I see things but I understand it is a natural progression. Instead I am moving towards the prophecies that things just happen. People can say things without meaning, things can exist without history. Pretty existential and less poetic. It should be less freeing but at the moment it feels more non-sensical and there is less music in everything. Ironic that I should find bliss in less blissful things and I wonder if that is an excuse. My next thing should be to write something beautiful.

To fashion something that is delicate with an expanding and deflating tidal force behind it so strong you could feel it in the muscles of your tongue. Or how the knocking on the door in the night pokes crashes of adrenaline into the top of your chest and contracts your torso with sickly electric, charging your muscles to move and how we are in all fact some weird victim to this wet newspaper slurry and sewage mosaic of stone greys and denim blues all coming together as one when you shake your head but leave your eyes open. And we are just trying and trying to swallow what things happen to us and around us all the time
When clouds chase my thoughts through the corridors of day,
My soul seeks its truth in the sun’s burning ray.

They murmur of realms where the veils are undone,
Where shadows are born from a brighter display.

Each drop is a flame in a robe of disguise,
That falls from the sky like a tear in delay.

I searched for still air, but the winds would not cease—
The tempest instructs in its own sovereign way.

The Self must arise where the silence is loud,
Where gold is not found but revealed through decay.

So let them pursue me, these clouds trimmed in fire,
Their chase is a summons I dare not betray.

O’ seeker, who wanders beneath the sun’s eye,
The blaze is your trial—be forged, not afraid.
The Chase of the Day 09/08/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
Lmystery Aug 8
Chasing Dreamlike Stars...
My father once told me.
Stars will always be in reach.
But they will never be to keep.
You will live your life.
Knowing you will never hold.
The essence of life as was told.
I denied and continued to chase.
The light that drips like dew drifting through space.
I'm needing to feel.
I yearn to heal.
I'm still young.
But yet holding.
The stars vapor in my lungs.
I shed tears hoping they will take form.
As a lovely, blazing orb.
My father was right.
Stars will always be in sight.
But they will never be held by a mortals might.
So may my eyes
Admire the stars light.
While I shed my tears.
Among my years.
Praying when I die.
I become that light.
High up in the lord's night sky.
For people to admire while high.
For I wish to incite this world.
Through sobbing like pearls.
And through surreal like dreams.
That could make even the emptiest eyes gleam.
Through poetry our world can shine.
Brighter than God's moonlight on the ocean line.
My poetry will heal a few in secret.
Even if our world doesn't need it.
I will still be elevated knowing.
I did something for this world even without it showing.
This my personal favorite.
Lmystery Aug 8
Father.
Your here.
But yet too far to reach.
You hang on to me like a leech.
draining me of my smiles.
I could tell you the total amount of floor tiles.
Since the floor is all I look at,
when I'm being lectured by you.
Each scar caused by you.
Every drop of blood I lost.
was from every line you crossed.
You always said you'd do no harm.
But every time you said,
"are you done crying like a *****"
Was another tally carved in my arm.
When we're together the silence gets thick.
Like the smoke from your cigarette stick.
But I live in the silence.
Especially since,
The feeling of your hands around my throat.
Still lingers from the time you had my neck in your hold,
and I nearly passed out from being choked.
But I guess it's fine now.
Since you put my trauma in a pretty nightgown.
You say I'm always overreacting.
And that I have a future in acting.
But your wrong.
I have a future in acting,
On my emotion.
Acting on compulsion.
You raised me this way.
Don't get scared now that,
I have **** to say.
You say family never wavers,
Never shakes.
That's of course until the glass breaks.
But yes, lets fix this.
For god's sake.
Let fix this just for it to fall again.
Just to watch you cry to God,
while I say amen.
You don't want to acknowledge my mental health.
You think you can handle it yourself.
But I need more help than you can give.
All your doing is draining the life,
I want to live.
But of course, you never see that.
You never think "hey maybe he's broken"
Let me get him the help he needs to fix that.
But you know what.
I don't want help.
I want you to look at what you've created.
Look at the boy YOU overweighted.
Look at all the blood I've spilt in your name.
I'm writing this to give you all the love and fame.
For breaking me until I was no longer sane.
Enjoy the fame.
I will watch while I bleed out in your name.
So, thank you for the pain.
please no hate...
Dear grandma moon
Lend me your wisdom
Give me the courage
To follow my heart
And walk my path

Dear grandma moon
Listen to my whisper
Help me see clearly
In this moment of despair
Where I don’t know my way

Dear grandma moon
I look to you now
Wondering how you do it
Staying so peaceful and wise
In this world of chaos

Dear grandma moon
Help me release stagnated energy
Guide me to my healing
And to my inner peace
Let me grow in your light

Dear grandma moon
I feel the fog surrounding me
I see your love shining through
I know you see my fight
Embracing me softly

Dear grandma moon
The time is now
For me to step into my light
For my heart to feel loved
Bless me with you energy
I’m on the right path
Loud as the rumbling thunder
My love roar with pride
Never ashamed of it’s power
I give it to those who needs it

Strong as a tidal wave
My love embraces with care
Healing wounds of the past
Tending to those in pain

Glowing like a lighthouse
Calling those who hunger for love
To safety in my light
Always protecting
You're hardly there...
sketched, into the backdrop
of my convalescence,
in hematite brush strokes.
Not a flicker, of breath
warms the cold curve, of my cheek,
but I feel you cup it, anyway.

My own hand,
bloodless, bleached
collapses, in pain.
Fatigued, it creeps,
across the coverlet
in a wraithlike half dose,
to seek you, sleepily
and pull you, across the void.
To capture you, by the mouth,
and bring you, like a magnet,
into another dimension.
Lips, press down, as if stitched;

the Cupid's bow,
folds itself, into the lower lip,
and sutures shut.
It forms a thin veil, of suppression,
and secrets.

Stay with me...
stay with me, a while...
stay with me, until I fall

...a...

...sleep, overtakes me.
I'm too weak, to wrestle with it,
and sink, below its dusky tides.
Darkly, they swallow me.
I float, in an indigestible stupor;

caustic waves, ripping away
at whatever remains,
of me:
half-consumed,
in the raging belly,
of the beast.

Still... the melted glaciers, of my eyes
seek you, above the insouciant turn,
of melancholy tides.

I wish to tangle myself,
all around you
to knot about you, composed,
comprised, in looping ties
like ropes... that only bite,
into the fruit, of your skin
if you draw me around you, tightly.  

And though, there's naught,
but an echo, of you,
above the seismic waves,
of pain

That same thought, rises
A shallow cry,
but it rips, through my soul
with the sudden release
of an arrow, leaving
the taut, aching pull,
of its bowstring.

Stay with me...

stay with me, til night, falls...
hold me, til the dawn, breaks...
love me,til our worlds,
collapse...

and, stay......
stay with me.
Nathan Roy Aug 4
The day lay quiet in rocky hill farms,
Brisk zephyr winds danced through the leaves.
Within the homestead knelt the farmer,
A barrel clenched between his teeth.

“God has forsaken me.
Cursed am I to know what I am not—
A creature living toward the end;
I am flesh, and I shall rot.”

Before the trigger could make its click,
Before the barrel could scream its blast,
A surge of flickering azure light
Revealed a being there at last.

A lady formed of hollow blue,
With voice as vast as a choir:
“My child, my dear—why?
Why do you cradle fire?”

The farmer, shocked yet strangely fearless,
Looked up and asked a question one:
“Oh tell me, why do I still live?”
At that moment he dropped his gun.

“My dear, why do the cows you **** die—
But to make meat for you and I?
The reason you walk upon this land
Is the reason cows serve fellow man.”
JOEL TURPIN Aug 1
Starseed Divine Essence

 A star seed from a time long ago.

Just drifting in this realm of timeless consciousness,
Awaiting the inevitable collision with its twin –
The unification of the universal contract
And the complete opposite,
Yet of the same substance,
Same composition,
Same cloth.

Maybe it’s just the essence we seek,
The essence of Devine
Just as it is the essence of everything,

As simple as returning to essence,
As easy as it is for essence to return.

Creator: Eljoel Adrian Turpin
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