Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
A language not only in words but tones that either shake me or soothe me to the bone,
It's when your heart giggles and you can not help but smile.

It's more than just music
It's the lobotomy to my soul
It's when your listen with your ears but let your heart immerse
Hear my signature for I feel your scales,
Play my chords so we can dances to these strings.
This is my high when I close my eyes.
Emotional vulnerability through art, the sacred and the sensual that heal you even in surrender
Quantum Poet Sep 15
There was a melodic hum in the wind that had no source to name.
And I saw how the trees would sway in rhythm with the skies,
Although I'd never heard of it being noticed in others' claims.
Still, I'd hint confusion but never got meaningful replies.

I remember how all the other kids, and how they'd run together,
A hundred feet would be syncopated in rhythms just alike.
And how I’d never even consider me trying to participate,
I'd learned that I must hide all the reasons I'd be seen as “not right.”

So, I grew up alone and light to me, was the fractures on the wall.
The animated shadow that for some reason, I was scared to touch,
I'd study each of their directional patterns like a sacred compass,
And laugh it off with the trendy phrase, “I think way much”

I wasn't just thinking, I was noticing how shadows would pause,
Just before they would switch to either side of me and then flee.
By then, I'd come to realize, this was more like their language
Epiphany struck a realization. “They've always been calling to me.

The nighttime air seemed to grow thicker and slower.
I felt the connection with what had become of my veins,
The heat pushed though in pulses beneath my thinning skin.
This heat was strange; it coiled and sounded like liquid chains.

When my mirrors cracked, they left symmetrical patterns of intent.
In perfect shapes, but no one was ever there but me to see.
Dirt made molds and somehow learned to study my imprints.
By doing so, devised a way to lead by my own feet.

Awake for days at a time, I'd spent too much time typing away.
I recall writing “breathing is all that sets me apart from computers.
In a poem I'd forgotten about called, “wires give life in a way.”
I still can't deny the fact we're built the same, but they're built truer.

Skies were flickering currents that my eyes began to catch,
With colors vibrating unsteady like electrical streams.
The wind was telling secrets of things that I could dispatch,
New imagery would find a home in my impossible dreams.

Interactions with others confused me, like codes I'd misread,
Each glance in my direction drew a map I couldn't align.
I'd trace the steps of the ghosts of God's, living and dead.
Instead of truth, all I found was static in the myth of time.

My best friend was the moon, the only calm I knew at night,
Its glow had certain energy making me feel I'm Awaited there.
I'd stand in the path of its rays and hoped they'd just ignite.
And take my mind and soul away from my body in golden flares.

Instead, I open my eyes confused, I saw doors that didn't exist.
Reality had edges, they would fold wide open in the air.
To be normal I'll blame it on curiosity and my inability to resist.
But truth is that gravity was pulling me into nothing, into nowhere.

These days, existence is just another signal I've come to know,
The language that sets the course of our paths, naturally convulsed.
But yet, waves of my frequency fall from order, no ebb to the flow.
I must be Half-human half-nothing, and naturally convulsed.

Trees of comprehension from forbidden seeds have grown.
In my mind, they stretch metallic roots, as if I'm conscious soil.
So now I sing, influenced by lagging rhythms of glitch in the code,
Somehow stepping out of the matrix through my mortal turmoil.

It's not so bad, but I don't sleep. My hard drive won't forget.
It's like the cosmos is trapped behind the cage of my eyes.
As I move in rhythm with time, like synthetic silent wires of mesh.
Half-light, half-shadow, still not seen but I'm no longer disguised.
girlinflames Aug 25
Have the people who can write poetry
somehow transcended?
Have they understood something
about the universe
that no one else has?
We realize our ephemerality when we face infirmity.
A question then arises:
Are you going to transcend your last moments so that you can live forever?
In A Corner
Utterly mine, in the deep silence,
in a house of purest white,
On the cusp of a morning,
with my soul utterly serene.
In the garden of the soul,
among the butterflies,
softly fluttering,
gently whispering,
poems,
within me.
For me,
sighs,
tranquil and hushed,
from that weary breath,
that still persists,
whispering poems,
even as I drown,
in this life that is not mine.
While I await my flight,
to soar from my corner to another place.
That distant realm where the soul takes wing,
where peace knows no end,
where living no longer burdens,
where I shall never tire,
where all is beautiful,
on the very wings of God,
in my own place,
so far away.
Meanwhile,
time softly slips by,
and I still gaze out,
from this beautiful corner,
of a soul that has grown weary of living.

EN UN RINCON

Muy mío, en el silencio,

en una casa blanca pura,

Al borde de una mañana,

con mi alma sosegada.

En el jardín del alma,

entre mariposas,

revoloteando,

susurrando,

poemas,

en mí.

Para mí,

suspiros,

tranquilos,

de ese respirar,

cansado, que sigue,

susurrando poemas,

a pesar de ahogarme,

en esa vida que no es mía.

Mientras espero despegar,

y volar de mi rincón a otro lado.

Ese sitio lejano donde el alma vuela,

donde la paz nunca se acaba,

donde ya no cuesta vivir,

donde ya no me canse,

donde todo es bello,

en las alas de Dios,

en mi lugar,

lejano.

Mientras,

pasa el tiempo,

y yo me asomo aún,

en ese rincón tan hermoso,

de un alma que se cansa de vivir.
Quantum Poet Jun 2
In a luminous lost space, my ego dissolved.
I’ve tasted the nectar, of cosmic resolve.
Through swirling patterns, a map would unfold.
I’ve traced the connections, of the timeless and bold.

A symphonic wonder, a radiant flow.
Where boundaries blurred, and darkness glowed.
The world expanded to a canvas so bright,  
And I, one of darkness, was bathed in its light.

My ego dissolves. What a gentle release.
I merge with it all, I merge with its peace.
The unity of being all truth was revealed.
In every single pulse, a bond is being sealed.

I observed full potential in a quantum bound space.
My energy, my soul. We morph with the waves.
In this transcendence, did I finally belong?
I’ve stitched harmonies from an out of tune song.

No darkness lives here, no shadows to hide,
Just pure ecstasy on an ever-living tide.
The veil, it lifted. Revealing the mind.
With every atom, sculpting this sacred design.
JAMIL HUSSAIN May 10
Turn thy beautiful eyes toward me,
Not as mere mortal meets the sea,
But as the dawn with reverent flame
Beholds the night, and speaks its name.

A pilgrim lone, through shadowed vale,
I seek the breath behind the veil.
Not ease I crave, nor lover’s kiss,
But that which dwells in deeper bliss.

The world is but a fleeting shade,
Its glories brief, its colours fade.
Yet in thine eyes—a sovereign fire,
That stirs the dust with old desire.

Not roses red, nor spring’s perfume,
But Truth that blossoms from the tomb.
A voice that calls from heights unknown,
To rise, to stand, to be alone.

Thy gaze recalls that golden hour
When man walked forth in sacred power.
Thou art the mirror vast and wide,
Wherein my higher self doth hide.

So turn thy gaze, and lift me hence
Beyond the stars, beyond the sense.
Let this poor self in light be lost—
For all is gain, whate’er the cost.
The Eye Within the Eye 10/05/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
Feathers fill an earthenware vase
                                         Tall quills  
Suiting ink wells
Scribing words beneath candle
Signing treaty’s  
                           Secured with wax
The Magna Carta
The Declaration of Independence
                         Momentous things

But these are simple feathers
Collected for aesthetics
For smudging
For connection
   For reasons other than to write
Quantum Poet Mar 31
I want to hold the moon, in the stillness.
As a newly healed being, forgetting his illness.
With transcendent secrets, long lost, and unheard.
Converge with the earth, my body returned.

It's not just the glow that my soul truly seeks-
But the calling of a gnosis, at its brilliant peak.
The kind that would nurture without word or touch.
With pulses divine, surging through me in flux.

I want to push oceans, form the tides Mighty sway.
As nova's light the way, even brighter than the day.
Not where I am dying, but drifting sublime.
Through a cosmic stimulation of emotions and mind.

To hold the moon is to be as the dark,
The Infinite void with no ending or start.
To weave through galaxies in quantum ascent.
To be untethered, unmeasured, and unbent.

For there's a place where echoes of gnosis still call.
Where darkness is divine, as it stands without fall.
For when all existence comes to end, as we know it.
Darkness not only lives but will thrive by the moment.

The stars told a secret, the divine know our depths.
Our intentions are gold. We're not at fault for our steps.
I want to walk where quantum waves ebb and flow,
And merge with the calm, only the moon has ever shown.

To hold the moon is to live as the night.
No longer chasing myths of a misguiding light.
To rest with the shadows, unobserved in their allure.
My failing charred heart, reborn by the nights cure.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦
Quantum Poet Mar 31
I want to hold the sun, as a flame.
As a shroud that no longer needs his name.
Devalues his origin, and the costs incurred.
I'll dissolve in the furnace, my body deferred.

It is not the burning that I truly seek,
But a quiet surrender, at a radiant peak.
The kind that evaporates matter aligned,
In myths of forever, leaving time behind.

I want to watch as light rays become dust.
As suns burn hollow, saturate and then rust.
Not where I'm dying, but morphing sublime.
A process dissolving emotions and mind.

To hold the sun is to grasp at gold.
Abandon the flesh, that's grown tired and cold.
To slip through the cracks where mortality turns.
And breathe in the silence as lungs start to burn.

For there is a place where the ashes belong.
Where shadows are living and scream with a song.
Where the afterlife is not just a realm I'll behold,
But a quiet ascension to a gnosis untold.

With stars I share a secret. "The Divine are forgiving".
Their quantum doorways are their gift to the living.
I want to walk through, with that luminous flow.
My transmogrification into the unknown.

To hold the sun is to become its light,
To no longer struggle in the dark cosmic fight.
To emerge as the stardust that I know is pure.
Lay the illness of a life in defeat by Deaths Cure.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦
Next page