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Brett Jul 2
The wick is fading, and I have no matches left
In this dark abyss where I sit depressed
My valiant heart has become a perch for crows
Smile shaped in stone
Each embrace stiff and cold from my marbled soul
My arms depict a grasping hand
Reaching for a world these etched eyes will never know
Trapped in the heart of a withered artist
His mad dealings mold and make me
A victim of his musings
Crafted in a candlelit madness
Delicate delusions and vague allusions
To courage in the many veiled faces of death
Carved and set at the base of the steps
Statuesque
Brett Jun 16
What can I say? Another one dead and gone away.
Lost to ignorance, or
Possibly blind to addictions hooked grip.
One day your dangling a toe
Just over the edge. The next,
Your staring up wondering
How you lost your footing. I could say he’s a ******, but
Lord knows the elixirs I have invented
To dispel the dark heart of my depression.

Though I stand stoic, life has taught me
To never shame a smile. The sun rises for the living, and
Dead men fall short of tomorrow.
The amorphous soul slips through the seams
Of hands grasping to hold. So, when death discards its cloak and
Swirls its specters all around me
I’ll raise up life like a guiding lantern
And
Step through existence with my convictions.
Rest peacefully to all I have lost to the chase for a high. To all those running towards death to escape life, may you find some solemn quiet in the next life.
Jamesb Jan 5
A person who can endure pain or hardship
Without showing their feelings or complaining,
Yep
That is me,
Stiff upper lip and a face of stone,
I will not betray the pain inside,
But what no one seems to remember,
Not even the stoics themselves,
Is that not showing and not feeling
Are not the same,
Not the same at all,
And although my face and tone
Deny the truth
The fact is I ****** HURT!
My heart and my soul
Are curled in a bleeding
Ball in an obscure corner,
Out of sight of the world,
If only they were out of my ****** mind!
Man Nov 2020
resolve to say much with little
to speak more with less
listing for silence

bend your words to air
and see them flow
bleeding forth
amid absent effort
the genuine stuff
As I walk towards the shrine of blood and gold,

Reeking of the fallen and of the old

Unbeknownst to what might lay beyond,

A ******* in what comes after, a ******* in what came before.

This sack of maimed flesh that you see

A conquered ***** of the soul

This skin worn by all but one

A temple broken down to the bone.

Where once was a mind delighted,

A crown of jewels, of dreams of flight and

Of merriment and of might

A child of the stars that I once was

Burnt embers of olden coal that I am now.

Hence here I lay, astray, with no greed

No rage, no radiance and no leads

A destitute of life, fed and dressed

A king of the barren, a pastor amongst the wicked and unblessed.

And as I stand now at the altar of the fallen ghouls,

From suitor to gatekeeper of my own poisoned muse

Guiding sheep to a slaughter frayed

A purgatorial monument, unraveled and unswayed.
Alicia Moore Sep 2020
I’m grateful for the
calm winds of stoicism
exhaling from you.
David Jul 2020
You'll never get to experience the depth of the still water until you're submerged.
The iceberg of the mind...
There are no mistakes, only lessons manifesting in various degrees of challenge.
Adversity is the crucible through which character is shaped.
Let my equanimity be mistaken for indifference,
as my tolerance is for acceptance.
Because the mountain piercing the heavens is actually a dormant volcano.
What a time to be alive,
Where words have no value
It is easier to understand animals than people,
Where people love in a cryptic language
only they understand,
Where being one to being apart
Takes just about a weekend,
Where the world is in political chaos
Capitalism is still at the top,
Religion and race still matter,
As if we got stuck in the same history chapter.
Where people don't say what they feel
But often feel what they say
Their voice lacking a clear purpose,
With thoughts running all over the place.
Empathy is a thing of the past it seems,
With nobody to hold your hand when you fall
But pretending they are in it for the long hall.


Are you a stoic? Is it keeping you at bay?
It seldom works as emotions always get in your way,
Times are trying, they are uncertain
Today every misdemeanour is costly,
Every mistake is sinful,
Times when silence is as good as violence.
Where people are seeking therapy but no one wants
To work towards finding happiness,
Where everyone wants to talk but,
With no one to listen
It sparks fear to even think about
bringing a child into this world.
Has the world gone far into the deep end?
Do you still want to pretend,
Like nothing has happened
And we are still the same?
Or do you want to take a stand
To make things better?
Rise from the ashes to save the world
Maybe it can't be saved,
Maybe this is it - the dystopia
Maybe we are just brave,
To even hold this thought of a change!
Kelsey Banerjee Jun 2020
knuckles ache
peel back the page:
Aurelius, Seneca, Epictetus
cluck the tongue
boys outside throw jabs
over a cracked
cricket bat
a father frets over
investments and client work,
simple things.
I read on
wondering how so many words
committed to tranquility
could be attributed to so many men
when women
trained stoics since the womb
would pen epics -
if only they were not plucking stones from rice.
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