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Shruti Atri Dec 2014
The beauty of chaos is that,
It doesn't always stand for destruction;
Sometimes it's merely a lack of structure.
It's Fate, undergone a twisted lobotomy...

--

You're caught in a whirlwind, with no sense of direction;
Once the storm has passed
And the feeling of sanity is restored,
You get up and walk on,
On whatever path you've been dropped on;
And after a few miles you'll ask yourself:
*Was it all meant to be?
No matter the chaos, no matter the destruction, the confusion, it will always subside. There will always be a path to walk on after you've been thrown amock, remember to gather your courage and march on...
For, what else is better than to be alive?
Once upon a time I sought a structure
that decided not to be found.
Perhaps on a map I’d look
                                      but Nothing
would stare back at me as if questioning its own darkness
and speaking as if          submerged.  



And so it remained as though of treasure submerged
within the withering structure
                                                       ­                    of a sunken ship in darkness,
praying to never be found.
                                     Nothing
would do much to reserve a second look.


Yet every so often it would open its eye and look,
submerged
                 in Nothing,
building piece by piece its own little structure
                                             to look
through the darkness.

And when complete, a light drowned the darkness
and gave away the slightest chance to look,
                 but to be found
                                                 in the vanishing darkness
would prove fatal to the structure
         and so it died and returned to Nothing.

I had thought it would all be for nothing,
maybe a chance to wade through the darkness
would wither            away the need for the structure.
                                                 I wondered if it would be of use to look,
even in those places so deep and submerged
    where nothing would be found.

   Or maybe all along it had been found
   and the light had since destroyed the Nothing,    
leaving it to wither away submerged
and drifting to the empty void of darkness.
With a feeling of peace to stop and look,
a gentle glint of light revealed the structure.

But what to do when the structure was found?
Was to hold it for a look worth nothing?
Should something of such darkness be submerged?
Erin Atkinson Oct 2014
The absurdity
is in the conclusion,
                                   but it's also
                                          the cliff
                  from which I jumped
From Chaos,
                      To Chaos.
                                             All that is left
                              is a futile attempt to understand
                                       the silly habit of living:
    *A constant battle between
Order          and          Disorder
Nicole Sep 2014
I want to feel, yet
I want to die..no
I just want to go back
  to an easier time.
When life made sense
When people were there
When you didn't have to worry
  if they even cared.
If not for now, then what?
If not here, where would I be?
If I'd changed my mind in the beginning
  I know this wouldn't be me.
She brings me back down when
She holds my hand in hers
She usually keeps these feelings
  from getting so much worse.
Home isn't where the heart is and
Home won't set me free
Home won't stop my aching chest
  or **** this insanity.
fun with structure but also this is really how I feel
Kevin Eli Sep 2014
Time and space in which we think we are.
I wonder where it ends, and the beginning starts.
Somewhere past the infrared,
Between the black and ultraviolet,
The vibration's hum is endless, but seems so still and quiet.

Heat from suns and cold, empty distance
Keeps perfect balance for our existence.
A symmetry for simple structure
Expanding in explosive nature.
Life is sparked in the darkness.

Pressure buckles under construction,
Mountains skip and oceans boil
Struggle for substance in the morsel
Whether microscopic, or colossal.
Evolution keeps threading the needle.

Vicious fire, ice and flying rock
Versus a little blue bubble, that one day will pop.
It's too much to take in, like counting raindrops
Appreciate the beauty and forget-me-nots.
Because one day, this might all stop.

What an overwhelming universe.
Structure.

Stability.

Rigidity.

Critical view.

Thoroughness.

Totality.

Honesty.
Lani Foronda Jul 2014
I don't like labels.
Labels mean restrictions.
Oh, you want to do that?
No no, you can't!

Labels mean expectations and
Expectations means disappointment.
Labels mean something has to be
Ought to be
Like this
& not like that.
We'd constantly be thinking if what we were doing
Was what we should be doing.

I like labels.
Labels mean structure,
And structure means order.
If everything was in its place-
Exactly as it ought to be-
We'd be okay.
We wouldn't have to worry about crossing over the lines
That the world has drawn up against us.
We'd know what to expect
And what to feel.
September26,2013
preservationman Jun 2014
An Aunt and a Nephew on an adventure to explore
It all happened at the Macy’s Herald Square Store
It was the marquee eyes and yellow buses that caught the attention in a little fellow being wise
As a tot, I picked up the yellow bus
I had to have the bus being a must
My Aunt saw the bus in my hand
She told me to put back at her command
But a tot determined to get the bus became my demand
I made such a fuss for that bus
My Aunt was forced to buy the yellow school bus
My persuasion in maneuver became a must
My passion for any bus became my reality with no fuss
Buses have become my hobby from that start
I have a complete 2,000 Bus collection in making my mark
From the start of the engine to the movement with exhaust
A bus hobby I love
The structure and wheels I think of
From a bus pioneers point of view
Here is a more detailed clue
My apartment is a like a bus collector’s paradise
Each bus I have represent themselves
Yes, they fit quite comfortably on the shelves
But it’s Greyhound ahead on the mount
I have so many busses you simply can’t count
It’s my Greyhound glass stretched hound
It doesn’t make a sound
However it stands on my bookshelf being sturdy bound
Buses have become what I missed
I don’t intend to ever dis
My buses have become my catch
They are my assortments like a batch
My buses are just for fun, but everlasting as the shining sun.
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