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Spicy Digits Sep 2023
I am going to pluck that illuminated corner of the night sky
and graft it to my palm.
I am sorry, precious sky, that we have been so distant
for so long.
John McCafferty May 2021
Infinity curls on and in itself,
opposing motions continue to spin.
We're drawn upon to observe
the urges of others in ourselves.

Waves unseen through idle eyes,
stillness mounts to moments of uttering.
When the sirens sing amongst us
translucent strings pull from within.

Propelled through unified switches,
laws of enchanted lure are felt.
Reflected thoughts enforce or repel,
concluded no ends over again.
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Melody Mann Apr 2021
Boundless is the darkness that blankets our consciousness,
Infinite is our desire which lies hidden in our whispers,
Empty are our hearts at sunrise,
A forsaken encounter for memories unified.
Iska Sep 2020
Life is all about perception. The people we meet, the memories we create, the chances we take. Every story is a thread. And every thread is, in some way or another, attached to a different string of threads. This goes on and on until it all weaves together into a massive tapestry that is our reality. Therefore, to you, I am only as you perceive me to be. no more, no less.

I’ve met many a person who picked up my threads and twirled them around, claiming to recognize the colors and the feeling of the strings in their hands, only to realize what they thought was purple, was green all along and they simply felt cotton when it was actually a mess of silks and twine. All those threads they believed were theirs to hold through out all of time, belonged to no one at all, because they were mine.

And so too have I met, the quiet few, who glanced at the threads we weave with our lives and instantly knew, there was no “mine” or “theirs” or “you” because perception is blind and we are all new. Not one story is the same, and yet not one is unique, for we are all the same tapestry
and I am the you, that you seek.
I am only as to perceive me to be.
Who are you?
Katlyn Orthman Nov 2019
Subtle breeze
Blowing trees
As we lay here
Eyes turned up

Broken hearts
Fall apart
As we lay here
Hands locked together

Energy electrifies
Breathing intensifies
As we lay here
Lips trace each other

Needing you
Needing me
As we lay here
One together

Moving bodies
Shattered hobbies
As we are here

Torment me
Torment you
As we lay here
No longer one

All alone
Next to me
You disappear
With the breeze
Into the trees
Jon Sawyer Dec 2017
I. There exists only the Fractal.
II. The Fractal contains itself.
III. Everything else is derived.
10 Dec 2017 - Behold, the answer to Unified Field Theory in just 3 statements and 18 words.
Dawn of Lighten Jun 2016
It is the ink propelled with mold and feces,
And the grandeur of dogma littered with arrogance.

The persistent deconstruction of ideals covered with dust,
and yet it screams openly to the audience of deaf.

Forbidding irk come with forbidden shadows beyond it's own screech,
And the scatching of the chalkboard has friendlier tone than unoriginal scribes of embellishments.

The act of taken lives from people who do not deverse your pardon need not be your tropies,
For those actions of hate deserve no love or pity.

For this is the land of united people of places and hope,
For you can not divide us with words,
Or sword upon freedom.

The vigilant light shall warm us,
Your hate will only fuel us,
You shall never silence us.

For we shall live for the dead,
And their memories will not be forgotten.

We will defeat your hate with our compassion,
And we will prevail where you so sought to undo,
For love will defeat your prideful destruction.

Say good bye to your yesterday,
For no song of your will be heard but in the mist of ocean,
And our choir will muddle your preformance.

For your last act stood as an epilogue,
And ours has become the prologue.

Have you truly succeeded?

I think our cheers shall resonate the true answer.
Quiet mouth never gets fed,
So let us feast by opening our voice.
“Decolonize your mind before you become a new black slave.” He whispered to me before pushing one of his dreads behind his ear and grinning wildly at my perplexed expression. I lowered the straightener and stared at him for a while – I had loved him because of the way he was self-assured, it never faltered and I knew an explanation would follow as I leaned forward, raising an eyebrow, questioning him.
“You know you’re a queen right?” He continued, interrupting my train of thought, while turning off the straightener at the plug point.
“Ja, I know.” I answered blatantly.  
“ Then decolonize your mind.” He shouted before thrusting his hands into the sky and exiting my room. I think he knew I would figure it out for myself because as I stared at the straightener on my desk- it clicked. The statement vibrated in the very depths of my soul and an untapped reserve of energy was suddenly channelled into my aura. I could feel my ancestors, I could hear their cries, I could feel the weight of shackles, I could feel a whip, I could feel resentment, I could feel hatred, I could feel the power of a God who didn’t look like me, I could feel my peoples names that were written out of history books, I could taste blood in my mouth, I could feel blood on the cotton, I could feel what it meant to be black.
It was an epiphany, induced both by drink as well as the stench of my burnt hair. The epiphany spoke to me, reminding me that who I am was holy. That black was undeniably beautiful and not in the clichéd way that I learnt of in history when people averted their eyes, avoiding discomfort presented in an unacknowledged truth. It was in earnest, that I realised that my melanin was paramount to a glorious dynasty that I was privileged enough to be a part of. I would wear my ancestry daily and no longer shy away from the truth of my being. I am sun kissed, I am regal, I am Cleopatra, I am King Shaka, I am the soil and the trees and everything that matters in this universe, I am a closed fist lifted in a rally where mercy has intersected rage, resulting in non-violence.
The only violence that is accepted is that which vehemently opposes the status quo that my people are not good enough. That is what was meant when he told me to decolonize my mind.
“ You will be villianized in your pursuit for emancipation because the margin of melanin present in our people will always render you a slave so choose now what you will subscribe to. “ and I made a decision, standing upon the raw backs of my ancestors- I chose a discarded truth and the truth is this-  I am art. We, are art and art cannot be subjugated or castrated by a close minded agenda, set by people who have never bothered to understand you nor will they ever begin to.
I am  a poem that breathes and speaks and therefor has no choice but to be remembered. I will be etched into the minds of people who would rather forget me. I will be written down in history books next to men who would rather deny my existence.
In that moment, in my epiphany, I began to wade barefoot through my soul. I began to find pieces of myself I didn’t know where lost – and is that not courage in itself? Finding the corpse of your soul, buried beneath a cruel, mercilessly pale agenda?
Is speaking the truth not brave?
So I set down the straightener, and began to live.
This was my English narrative essay that I know I'm going to be marked down for. Let Peace, positivity and light live on.
PrttyBrd Jun 2015
Birthed at the center of my soul
You are my very heart
You are the seed of compassion
And the water with which it blooms

Birthed at the center of my soul
You open the window of joy
And close the doors tinged blue
A teacher of spirits, of freedom

Birthed at the center of my soul
Your kindness bleeds into me
Saturating my casing
Rendering me tender, despite myself

Birthed at the center of my soul
We intended
Entire beings
Flowing between a unified spirit
Connected now as then

Birthed at the center of my soul

— The End —