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We talk, We chat, We laugh, and Then look back.
On situations that occur,
Is it real or just an imitation?
Is this something I should feel?
An unknown identification
a celestial body
lesser of age but
brighter in composition
was found to be
unexpectedly disarming
in its distorted form
unable to maintain
its expected shape
it was drawn in by
the voracious needs
of the other's gravity
a starry beckoning
that caused these
entities to draw forth
towards one another
this sharing of energies
a merger however
seemingly not unlike
those observed before

and yet something
about this pairing
steals the attention
of the experts and
the admirers alike
this rotation of one
about the other
guarding devotedly
from perils unseen
in the midst of
this stellar pirouette
there continues a chaos
pulling from all directions
both together and apart
defiant and undeniable
fluctuating with unknowns
eventually to become
Each long lost dream
of conquest in the
ashes of history
is buried.
With it lie the
cracking bones of
sacrificial pawns
forever to oblivion
consigned.
Celebrated as nothing
more than the unknown
soldier, who for the
ambitious and self-centered
imperialist, gave his own
dear life.
A soldier unknown who
gives his own blood,
to elevate his general
to history's indelible
annals, decomposes to
oblivion with neither
a name nor an identity.
He spills his own blood
for a glorious title on
his chiefs to be conferred.
His valiance, bravery and courage
are all to his commanding
general credited,
who in unmerited triumph,
robs him of his military
ingenuity.
Dishonoured in death,
his unidentified remains
are crammed with the bones
of others like him, in
catacombs of mass graves.
Whilst his imperialist
general, to whom he
gives a name in history,
gets interred in splendour,
in a stately and Palatial
mausoleum.
A realistic tribute to the unknown soldier.
Hadrian Veska Feb 22
The lunar craters sit silently
Painting an image of a bygone war
One that no grass or flowers
Will ever grow over

A war of annihilation
A destruction so complete
It was etched it stone
A grime reminder of a vicious cycle

That the very thing itself
That decimated our moon
And sent it hurdling into the earth
Would one day return to us

To finish what it had begun
Those distant eons ago
Eyithen Feb 6
I'm not a poet but I write poetry
I'm not a songwriter but I write songs
I'm not an artist but I paint and do things of the artistic persuasion

I don't like to title things
They sound so official
And offically, I don't know what I am
Shofi Ahmed Jan 17
Came yesterday
ask me not
from where.

Tomorrow be gone
no, don't know where!
Ander Stone Jan 16
I don't want to be here, all alone in the darkness of what it means to be human.

I don't want to be here, all alone in the darkness of what it means to be.

I don't want to be here, all alone in the darkness of what is.

I don't want to be here, all alone in the darkness.

I don't want to be here, all alone.

I don't want to be here.

I don't want to be.

I don't want.

I don't.

I.
Mays Benatti Jul 2017
Words can be described
Though when they're felt, it's magic.
If I felt sunshine, would it be magic?
Or did I just describe another word without knowing
brandychanning Dec 2023
Unknown Variables


The phrase pokes me the eye,
demanding obeisance and a
poem,

My compliance is required,
not demanded, but required,
for the “unknown variables”
conundrum, roots around in
my brain cells necessitating a
cleansing,

Walking down the street is
fraught, unknown variables
everywhere, popping out like
cutouts on a law enforcement
shooting course, requiring
instant delineation between
killing not good guys and only bad guys,
no hostages, civilians and no them,
poets,

Can you test for unknown
variables?

Of course not.

Unknown is a condition,
that you cannot drop in
to ascertain what condition
your multiple conditions are
in,

Then there is you.

You,
reader, are an unknown
variable, ripe with nearly
nuclear reaction potential,
you are fissionable material,
capable of destruction of
my explosive
creation,

Assessing the poem,
do you conclude,
keep/discard, remake?

now,
poem a known variable, asking
that it becomes a parcel of
your multivariate inputs,
a familiar variable, that can
charm, destroy, mislead, or
even, fulfill a need, make a
reckoning, modify your brain;
all those dangerous things
that are permissible when
first you read a newly constant
known variable,
a perpetually reborning
poet?


my name is brandychanning
“Wakely tells Calvin that “no one is best alone” and that he should open himself up to “unknown variables” — the results might surprise him.“

Lessons in Chemistry
Shadow Sep 2023
Reality is an illusion
That shelters from the unknown
But the walls easily dissolve
You just must accept the idea
You might never return
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