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Traveler Nov 2020
If it feels good do it again
In repetitive continuum

Take the mind for a ride
We are mechanically sound
The great and powerful
is hardly earthbound

In the freedom of subjectivity
can hardly exist

Traveling the synapses
Is a very blissful trip!
Traveler Tim

The empty boat is flooded with moonlight
Christian Simon Oct 2020
In the TV screen,
I see a reflection of who I want to be.
In the mirror,
I see a reflection of who I don't
In your eyes,
I see a reflection of who I can be.
But in my mind,
I fear I won't
Sohini Sep 2020
Two good, close
Separated by the
Existence of humans.
For they are
Misunderstood by
The species
They originally
Existed for.

Called themselves
Tried extensively to
Establish their individualism,
Yet holding hands to
Become mutually inclusive.

For they were
Lines drawn, fades.
Misunderstood by
Mutually inclusivity
As one.

Silly of the two friends,
Had no idea
Humans have failed
Humans for
The longest imaginable
For they were
Just mere Intangible,
Failing them is
And will remain
An easy possibility.
The confusion between Objectivity and Subjectivity and the fading lines between the two and the confused humans about how to separate the two, made me think and that's how I created this piece.
Carl D'Souza Jul 2019
Does each of us
see the universe
from our own perspective?
If so,
does each of us
live in our own perspective-universe?
If so,
is objectivity impossible
and only subjectivity happening?
If so,
to achieve a cooperative society
does each of us
have to empathise
with each other's
unique perspective-universe?
Anderson M Mar 2018
The stars are always in disarray
But at the mere thought of you they sashay
Before you twinkling and mingling in collective merriment.
How you whip up this loyal admiration is a fascination as ancient
As yesterday’s headlines. The sun wondrously
In isolation marvels at your brilliance that clearly
Manifests as your countenance. You thrive
On immortality’s soul as each nerve
On your body is as ageless as the sun.
You’re full of cheer and so much fun.
Yours is an incomparable beauty
My lovely and charming cutie.
A celestial masterpiece you are
Your eccentricity spreading wide and far.
Beauty's in the eye of the beholder.
Piotr Sordyl Jul 2017
Whenever one lays their eyes upon us,
What is perceived is something that exists
Only at the peripheries of their mind, while
Things that makes us, us, are the opposite.

One would gasp in awe at someone's beauty,
Shiver in excitement about their courage and might,
Imagine countless friends and lovers they have;
How success is their husband and joy is their wife.

Surely, for them, talent blossoms like a flowers,
And everyone knows when and why they laugh, and joins;
And if they ever cry(why would they at all?),
More than one soothing arm awaits their call.

While what is unseen lurks beneath beholder's delusions,
Who wants to see what one envies most and searches for
In oneself in vain. As how they see us is the opposite
of us, true, but the opposite of themselves at the time as well.
I lay here waiting in my skin for the tearing of the membrane
that seperates this world from the next one and I let myself
get carried along by a fresh stream of reasoning until I
flare up in the dark like a new species of amoeba

this balancing and spinning around on an atom and just not
falling off it becomes boring at times and maybe because of that
sporules once landed here to grant us the possibility
of another possibility

I lay here waiting and I manage not to drown just like only
an almost newborn baby can and being born in 1983
means nothing here in the swelling infinity
of the abnormal

my skin has been waiting for new atmospheres for decades
and the touch of unknown forms makes me shudder with
raw impervious happiness because invisible energy
effervesces alongside my arms and the eyes in my skull
could be anyone’s right now

suddenly the waiting is forgotten and I wallow myself
in the gathered fairy tales of every soul that preceded me
carelessly astonished and uncapable of understanding
the seriousness of this absurd life

inside me irrational poetry dances
like a tribe jumping around a bonfire

outside the universe
dances her own eternity
round and round
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