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Xallan Dec 10
He just wrote it.
He buried himself in words.
He didn't need paper to succeed, he just flew
in an airplane suspended by thoughts-
not his, but big strong thoughts-
he flew,
upon letters of recommendation
and capital sentences:
to jump his bail, fly the coop, escape from jail.
He folded his passion in life ori-gami,
gave it some ****** with his mind,
and off it went,
finding some draft in the stale and lifeless air.
He lept off the cliff, and what luck-
He flew.
AshJ Dec 9
The table that remains a mere desk on usual days
Is now a study for me.
The hours that seem persistent to tick when bored,
Now seem to race me.

Books all around me, pen marks stain my hands that either remain clenched
In a hammering motion while memorising or
Tracing lines, page by page.
Yes, taking snaps of breaks while drawing an absurd portrait of a dog.
Creativity, I won't suppress you if you chose a better hour.

Warm tears swell up in my eye.
In the debate of no drive and greed for success.
"Scores don't matter!", "Studies are important" comments flying cross the room.
But not louder than the bedlam behind these eyes that droop.

Why don't I accept the turn out when I know I hadn't worked hard.
This greed that never stirs at the last piece of apple-crumble-with-cinnamon-hint,
Now panting like a flesh-hungry varmint.
"Success does not equal A+ on the report!"
Replying through the heavy breaths, "Right, however its only those A+'s that run the world."

Although I'm aware an ideas' value is the heaviest.
Beating the high scoring mass, looking over it in disdain.
I knock my head to spring some out.
Back to the table, stooping over the book aiming for the higher grade.
Gates and Zuckerberg have definitely proved it's an idea that takes to stir the world and make it spin on your pinky. But what if I don't seem to have an idea? Can I just sit waiting for it to pop? Left with no choice we all go after the a+, don't we?
vbdulrhman Dec 5
My successes
Eve Estelle Dec 4
Forgive yourself and fellows,
When footing has been lost;
One's fall from grace is torment,
The second has a cost;
Of flesh and blood you still remain,
Yet own your every err;
Accept the past you cannot change,
Confess that you were there;
Set right the things that tend to slip
Post-stumble, fall, or break;
Mend the wounds with loving hands,
That none are left to ache;
Lucid men are forged in fire,
Adepts are those who learn --
Without trial, sans blunder,
Success is not of our concern;
Decay takes to dusty wings,
But is down truly ever out?
Arise, for failure comes to those,
Only those, who sit and lie in doubt;
Certain words are intended to be bolded: Forgive [first line], Own [sixth line], Set right [ninth line], Learn [14th line], and Forthward [final line].
Michael Kelly Nov 30
I hated doors when I was a kid
I hated the floors
And pots with a lid
Comfort and ease were always at stake
That's why carrots and peas were last on my plate
The older I grew it was strange to see
The more that I knew made the world more for me
So, focused on self and with visions of wealth
I lead with my passions
And needed no help

To my dismay I remembered those doors
The light through the ***** seeping in through the floors
It's funny to think how without that small light
I'd grow fearful of all the unknowns of the night
I wonder what changes in minds of young men
When the switch to "I've made it"
Gets flipped in their head
All grown
And strong ***** stands a man so he thinks
Looks at his dealings through blind eyes that blink
But he's married
This would fix it he thought
The baggage I've carried can now be dropped off
She'll make me happy
And I'll give my best-
Seize without failing;
Save and invest
Dollars he thought...
"Why's she upset?"
By this time next year all our needs will be met
Know in your heart the real reason she cries
You're a well seasoned vet in promise turned lies
With justified thoughts and a rationalized soul
The tempter comes gleaning
For pure gold
And after awhile the young man looks back
Remembers the light spilling in through that *****
The comfort it brought to a scared fragile mind
Now lost in his years of "I'll take what's mine"
There's always a story
Someone else's we want
To me be the glory
I've been bought!
Slime-God Nov 22
I let another day slip by
do I really have a reason?
was it Too tough to try?
I haven’t had a good dream in years
but I’m well-passed mourning
and I’m Too tough for tears.
But yet I’m still here
I’m still here and breathing.
Don’t need dreams
and I don’t need meaning.
Don’t need anything,
despite this feeling
of change;

I do want meaning
and I do want purpose
but it doesn’t change the fact-
that I’m so ******* nervous,
for the future, I’m fearful
the past, I’m forgetful
presently I’m panicking
the situation’s stressful

I'm not asking to be successful...

I just want to be happy.
Anya Nov 14
Hey, past me from so close yet seeming long ago...

A knot from my sweater's bow I regret tying despite how unkempt the ribbons look hanging by my sides because now it's digging into my back

The hair I can't decide if I want out where it's pretty and makes me look less like a generic nerd yet gets in my face and food and life

The jeans I insist upon wearing without a belt even though their slipping down my **** may actually outweigh the pain of loosening the belt

The tennis shoes I'm too attached to give up that emit a constant squeak, squeak, squeaking through the hallways whether it's caused by residual rain from outside or not

The glasses, fond of slipping down my nose at frequent intervals, covered in smudges I rarely notice till they get out of hand

The phone whose screen happened to ***** at the most inopportune moment and takes forever to read my finger print

The jacket that should be a highlighter blue but rather presents itself as a canvas of the week's tomato stains

The face covered in acne-
The stomach with fat instead of muscle-
The arms lacking muscle-
The legs with too much hair-

I've always acknowledged that perfection is not possible, yet I have to at least try to strive

I think, as I sit at my desk, fingers typing fragmented sentences, attempting to convey thoughts speeding too fast to grasp

Yet, just a simple poem of reflection brings to light these numerous deficiencies, many of which I COULD fix were it not the invisible fiend upon whom I stamp the label-laziness

These deficiencies, many of which aren't even noticed by those around me, some of whom are better some are worse

But it's not as simple as that, I've known I can't just be "one of the people", I need to find something, some identity, some way out of my seemingly impossible to escape label of "just above average"

In academics, in extracurricular activities, EVERYTHING, I seem to be at a stagnant

I've done bad, I've done "just above average", but never above. What is the point if you get plenty of losses and plenty of "fine" but no victories?

It's something about me though, somehow I believe, subconsciously, I'm impeding myself. I'm holding myself back.


A rant. The use of long sentences which I rarely use was inspired by Marie Howe's "What the Living Do".
Gods1son Nov 14
Everyday, I see people's thirst to be the tree
The tree bearing precious fruits for others to eat, seeds for others to replant
The tree providing shade for others to cool
The tree releasing oxygen for others to breathe
The tree providing home for others to live
The tree looking beautiful for others to admire

That is many people's desire
But remember, the tree was once a seed
It took time for the tree to grow
The tree had to withstand adverse weather conditions
The harsh weather built the tree a strong foundation
Don't stress, give in to your cultivation!
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