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at this moment, right now,
as you read this
is a new beginning
in a series of new beginnings
that is constantly repeated
in a continuous cycle
and every moment beforehand
becomes a dream sequence
of non-existence and
wasted time
nothing comes back to haunt us
except the history of ourselves
we slaves to our decisions
prisoners to our internal form
anchored by trivialities
centered by nothing
broken records of regiment
to what we repeatedly do
everyday and continually
search for happiness
even if unhappiness
secures our bliss.
we are the everlasting breeders
to a succession of living corpses.
Deadwood Jawn Jan 2019
Ahaha.

You know
                                            If you must ignore me.




At least have the valour






                                                                  the bravery
the fortitude




to be honest about it.




                          Don't make my mind wander.
When your mind biases affect your perceptions and anxieties.
Astral Jan 2019
Sometimes feelings can be hard to interpret.
Its you, but you still can't tell what it means.
Maybe thats part of being human,
That we must be unknowing,
In almost all aspects of life,
Even our own.

I just wish,
That I could figure it out.
Figure out why I pushed you away,

But seem to miss you more everyday.
Unrelated to the poem, but I'm hecka stressed because of my history class.
Irina BBota Nov 2018
A little bit of reality and a little bit of chimera,
I'm sitting at the table of silence, lonely in this era.
My eyes are fixed on the ceiling like some projectors
towards sweet memories, listening some lectures.

It's a little bit early and it's a little bit late.
About yesterday or about tomorrow should I say?
Anyway, I'm not anything I seemed to be,
I'm not a brave Cupid of hearts that sets you free.

I feel a little bit cold and I feel a little bit warm,
like after the wine that makes everything have a form
which catches fire quickly both in love and anger,
motivated by infinite agony, searching for an answer.

Is that a little bit important, or is it a little bit trivial?
As a sparkle, a living heart of a strange ritual,
in which it seems for her of love to be unworthy,
then she looked in the mirror and learned about mercy.

My words have a little bit of sun and a little bit of storm.
Even if they're telling the ugly truth that wants to inform
that I want to hear enchanted songs of the waves again
but then I think, is my soul lying to me? It's going to drain?

The soul separates all and puts everything together,
even if it's a healed heart, or light as a feather.
Makes a little bit of damage, then something useful,
if it was sad sometimes, it was always truthful.

Doesn't matter if it's on Mondays or Sundays,
we all are an amalgam of tears and smiles in this maze.
Smiles that are hiding, then show up again and again
sometimes as a rough illusion that drives you insane.

Yes, it's a little bit absurd, but it's a little bit ordinary.
Not everything in this world is a cake with a cherry.
We all have inside a little bit of love, a little bit of hate,
as tough as it is, we accept that this is our fate.
Tate Dec 2017
There you are- minding your own **** business
Getting the **** done that you need to get done
And it hits you
A ******* papercut

Funny how something so seemingly harmless and innocent
Can cause so little damage
That bothers you so ******* much
A drop of blood and days of discomfort

Something so miniscule disrupting the simplest of tasks
Stinging like screams for attention
How are you supposed to move on
And make lemonade out of what life hands you
When the juice stings your fingertips
When relief is only resolved
When the issue is acknowledged.

But it’s fine you know
Everything is fine
Plenty of people use paper everyday and live to tell the tale
So really it’s not a big deal
Get enough and your fingertips will callus over
Soft things don’t go well with hard edges
Maybe by not being soft, then you can get more **** done

But by getting hard you’ll feel less
And wouldn’t it be nice to feel all things
Knowing fully well it’s worth the pain of a ******* paper cut
Shay Moore Nov 2017
Oh wouldn't it be nice
If we listened to learn
Rather than fight?
I feel like this would be much more productive but that's just me
Rose Nov 2017
Life is like Ikea,
Feels like it will never end,
But when it does,
It is too late.

A labyrinth you enter,
Beds and pillows guide the way,
Seems so cynical and perfect,
Still the hassle lies within.

It begins as an endless curiosity,
Soon trivially you follow the lines,
The excitement slowly fades,
It just has to be done.
Carlos Oct 2017
Here I've grown to accept the riddles of each day, to culminate into a coalesced mesh of disarray.
Never would the seeds down under sprout to see the sun at the mere sound of thunder.
X marks the spot somewhere dissolving in my gut, wrenching at the chance to give both some and none of which we call *****.
I've lost my faith in humanity,
I've lost humanity in my faith.
Yet I'd face my fate if only just to sate the state.
This flip book of stop.
Animation.
Assimilates fremescent assibilation,
And similarly tastes terrible,
Savoring like dry sponge, and tied tongues,
It's incredibly trivial, just a trivia of syllables stripped up to simple tools.
Simple tools.
Simple...
dvalentines Aug 2017
It all starts small
And then it accumulates
It gathers within a small compound
And the feeling explodes

With impact
And great strength
It affects
And it continues to grow

It was oh so trivial
But before you realised it
It had already happened

*And in that heat of the moment
A little thing became...
...everything
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