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Mystic Ink Plus Nov 2018
In the land of
Uncertainty

Gods too are
Refugees
Genre: Observational
Theme: When the faith itself needs protection
Leila Valencia Apr 2018
We can not go,
This, I have said this to myself millions of times.

But, that day my heart took the driver’s seat.
My mind stopped working like a well-oiled machine.

I was in the middle of the urban jungle, the concrete city of cars, traffic, and cookie-cutter homes...
The land of squared, sanitized spaces, and constant noises from technology, automobiles, and the noise in our heads to keep up with the rat race.

I closed my eyes

Then, I opened them again.

A different reality!
A dream, of course!

I found myself in a jungle of green, moist, humid sweat.
This was the land of  kaleidoscopic dreams;
The monkey’s howls pierce the air -
birds symphonically, swimming together in the air-
Life in every single layer of nature

I felt myself
Losing myself in the greenery
The lushness
The awe

I had time to contemplate
In my contemplation, I decided, the only thing in life is real is the story I create in life

And as I go through the forest
My thoughts become more developed and articulated

I slash at everything that does not make sense
I slash at every idea
Every preconceived notion
Of
Who I thought
I am

I cut like a savage warrior
On a mission
Branches, dangling distractions
Temptations of fruits and branches that grab at my waist,
And more branches, like physical arms tieing me down like chains

I slash the blade
I cut with no intention of where I want to go

Exhausted, I rest my head

In the darkness in the middle of the amazon

A jaguar comes to me
With their yellow eyes waiting in the corner - It observes me in the bushes
I sit still
Is this a message for me?

Wanting to hear what I have to say
I wait and wait
I stay up all night.

As I wait for prophecies
The jaguar eventually leaves me alone in the darkness

Dissapointment rages inside me
I am left in more uncertainity

But, my heart spoke really loud today
Something took a hold of me
I was not rationale.
I was not cautious..

I opened my backpack and dumped everything off a cliff
I ran and jumped in the blue ocean

Finally
I listened to my heart
Finally...
This is for all of those who do not know where life will take them. This is for all of those who are not sure where they want to go next. I think it is really, really important to just keep going and eventually you will find yourself just enjoying life. Chasing feelings, chasing your heart, and getting out of your head.
Vyiirt'aan Nov 2017
If I were different
Would the sky shelter me
Would the clouds
Cover my head

If I were different
Would nature accept me
Would it nurture me
A thorny embrace

Thoughts cascading
Internally
And I wish that
Hopefully

If I were different
Would you still love me?
What is... perfection?
Vyiirt'aan Nov 2017
Needles sting my pulsing heart
An inner bond, unbroken
Wisps of yarn, tufts of string
Cover my hand

Creases, torn and broken skin
A trail of pain, an endless path
The holes in my hand, gaping wide
Long for completion

If two magnets attract each other
Why do we repel so far away
One final glance
A turned back

Compel me
Wouldn't you stay with me?
Mazen Edlibi Nov 2016
How those pages will be filled with or what...will be interesting!
The excitement is that "Uncertainty" is not becoming a fear!
I am behaving like a dummy...ignoring urges of getting answers!
getting emotions in return!
Feelings are standing on the corner of Uncertainty, questioning the path it taking!
Questioning who is there in the road, they will meet!
Questioning why they were revived after ages of sleeping in silence!
If I love...Do I have to be Lost!
Those are my pages to you!
Guen Sy May 2016
i find pleasure in chasing,
wheres the fun in it
if its bound to happen
im in it for the thrill
of the uncertain,
a delicious ambiguity.
Jason Sep 2015
I've thrown myself off the cliff of uncertainty
and I fall
fast

scraping into
my shadows and
anxieties;
I hit my fears
face.
first.

The Plunge of Faith
comes hand in hand
with the Purge of
Eradication,
Deformation,
And
Illumination;

and with this pain-
this process
of being smashed open
Broken,
everything I thought I was
Dismantles,

and the mirror of the dark night
is created;

from which,
I am able to see
Everything I Am,
already Was,
and will always Be.

Within the pieces of
this dark night mirror,
I am finally able to see,
Me.
JM McCann May 2015
I don’t tell them I’m going to a protest,
as I know they will not say no, it really
is far safer.
The police have been pretty fair, only a couple
of ******* arrests and cause white privilege
I probably won’t get arrested.
In a black and white democracy color is prohibited.
I never have been close in a protest yet, the police always tolerant
maybe the commissioner doesn’t ****.
I don’t boast to them about starting a chapter in my
school.
I don’t them that the chapter I started with them was finished hundreds
of pages ago.

I don’t tell them I cut class to protest the B.S minimum wage
how I ****** the very thing I’m trying to start cause 
I was in a pissy mood.

I don’t them about how my friend and I were okay
with paying a guy trying to sell us **** to buy
us alcohol, later losing 20$
and not okay with going into a tattoo shop for the same purpose.
I don’t tell them about wandering around Chinatown
feeling like we should be drunk.

About the girl who in eighth grade asked me to touch
her *****, and I don’t tell them how
two years later we start hanging out— over facebook.
She moved to London.
About how she will be in the city the day my family goes away,
about trading facebooks for fifteen minutes
and having weird *** crap on my Facebook
and talk of how Jesus is an improper child on hers.

Nor do I my parents about meeting up with a
girl who I meet a month ago at a pillow fight,
and how right they were when they said ******
tables manners will catch up to you,
about how leaving a protest cause "my parents
are ******" and later seeing those people at the burger place.
I tell my parents I’m chilling with my buddies.
I tell them that I got pizza instead of burgers.
Because friends are safer to parents than a nineteen year
old girl you met at a pillow fight and how the entire time you
could not tell if it was friends meeting up or
people who wanted more.

I don’t tell them the reason why I’m so ******* fragile
is that I can’t tell if I’m manipulating myself or being real,
or how I’m the only one who is hurting me,
for fear of saying what I just told you.

Now all of this ******* **** lives in me and I have
nobody to proofread this.
Lovely.
Again kind of me in a less than stunning place I will for sure be editing this and creating a few new poems off this
Connected through corruption
Entangled
Snared in the web of The Unknown
Uncertainty's hands
Tightening on our throats

We become shadows
Pigmentation drained
The hope to overcome
Trickling down the gutter

Forever swimming
The raging seas of doubt
Anchored
By memories
We beg to forget

We're both drowning
Swelling tides
Of what could have been
Please, take my hand
We can make it to the other side
We can beat it

— The End —