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Zywa Jan 12
Reluctance wants to

be alone, unobserved not --

doing what you want.
Poem "Over de weerwil" ("About reluctance", 1970, Gerrit Krol)

Collection "Willegos"
Vaniexe Kafka Jan 2022
i want to love myself
but i don't know how
drifting in and out
     between the reality and my delusions
trying to search for that vigor
that will to be alive—
to be excited of the sunrise
and feel calm
     soaking under the afternoon sun
and love the changing hues
     of the skies at dusk
and wish the moon a good night
     never fearing the dreams to come
then adore the peeking light at dawn
     reflecting the days waiting to be lived

but then it's gone
all that's left was a monotonous black
accompanied by a crippling silence
followed by the surge of doubts
     storming down my confidence
     its lightning striking
as i look into the mirror
     staring at my silhouette
     with its pieces shattering one by one
just as how, piece by piece
     i slipped into the pit
and finally losing
     the will i tried so hard to keep
leaving me with nothing
but a void
i wrote this when i felt really really down, somehow it helped me release all that negativity within. i think i am better now. will be dumping my poems because it's been a while since i've posted
Lost fortune on wheel
Turn here, this hustle must win!
Loss forced to unwill
Convert the waste
And feel it's weight
Zywa Oct 2023
There's a little black angel
stuck in the liquor residue
at the bottom of my glass

I like to drink, a glass
is nice company, just
like family, Family

That little black angel is me
It's my good self, my love
stuck at the bottom

of your promises
that you couldn't keep
That rookie mistake

Promises you break
will break you
I know all about it

with the self-invented consolation
that a fallen angel
is still an angel
Song "Bug Like an Angel" (2023, Mitski, album "The Land is Inhospitable and So Are We")

Collection "Reaching out"
It takes a storm
To know the strength of the winds
No more gentle as the breeze

It takes a storm
To make the calm and silent waves swell
A lesson it must teach

It takes a storm to know
Past is done, do not dwell
Gentler waves now touch the shore

For the storm too knows
Finite it is, in its entirety
Lose it must, to the tree of will

It takes a storm to know your strength
It takes a will of the tender tendrils
To sway with the winds
And stay still in the storm
Written between June and August :)
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2023
“I will always remember you”

raise you hand if honesty
yet lives inside your muscle
memory of brain, of heart,
there is no one here who hasn’t
uttered them fool lying words

with difficulty we struggle to up
raise faces and places, moments
and images no longer mirrored
within the frontmost places of
our recollection, that searing then,
itself scorched, lichen+moss covered,
our greatest pains, pleasures sworn
allegiances to these razored inflection
points, now scoured by rusty hazes,
and we wonder what has become
of us, what we valued so to savor
as forever memories, their names
gray lady shrouded, and there is
no internet site to aid in self-recovery,
for our selfish selves have been altered,
time, new loves, guilt and other stuff
intersect with mind’s eyes and no mas-
more synapses paths instant linkages

I know you will vociferously argue but
it is almost physical, our shame at losing
them and ourselves, in the morass that
time digs daily deeper for what grieves
us is that losing as the end rushes to close
our story, makes us pick up pen and finger
scratch as best we can inside the lines on
our faces that are/had proofs, witnesses,
that once, we were there at the places,
whose names are no longer mapped any

where, so deep, no archivist’s submersible dare
fathom those fathom’s darkest we would need
to explore without the possibility that we
might implode if we sunk so far to rip apart sea
forests we knowingly, secret-planted to coverup
her memory, the words spoken, the oaths
and promises, we swore, for instance, simply
by saying, “I will always remember you”

p.s. and my self-shaming so great, that my
asking for forgiveness is buried so fast, it
may, not ever been real, just another fiction

Jul  6th, 8:36 AM,
inspired by one of those poems by r.
Zywa Jun 2023
Freedom is doing
something for one's own
reasons, taken from nothing
and no one

A child is free
in its game, everyone
can be it and learn it
in friendship

Grown-up free
every new day
own agendas only
to live and let live

To do what you do and
to say what you say
for your own reasons
and not wanting it any other way
Collection "Lilith's Powers" #84
When powers try to steal our wealth
With high inflation’s chill
We now claim a better way
With Bitcoin as free will

When people try to censor thought
And freedoms go downhill
We get on the sovereign path
As Bitcoin is free will

When tyrants seize or confiscate
“Trust us” (a bitter pill)
We hold an asset we can own
And Bitcoin is free will

When moving funds across the world
With no “permission” drill
We can use an open money
Since Bitcoin is free will

When planning for our children’s lives
So they can be fulfilled
We’ll save the surest money
For Bitcoin is free will
You can see this poem on a background here -
Zywa Apr 2023
She quickly locks - click -

her little mouth and swallows --

up the little key.
Novel "Ik ben er niet" ("I'm not there", 2020, Lize Spit), page 151

Collection "Shelter"
Tanay Mar 2023
It crawls and disappears
Like the ghost of spring,
Whose presence can be felt in the sneeze,
It appears
But it can't be seen.
It grows and expands.
It is polluted.
If you give in, it will pollute your mind
And leave behind
Fragments of the cranium
That once encompassed your grey matter.
It could shatter
The dreams that inhibit your imagination
Or corrupt them into nightmares
That could live in your head rent free.
Like an apparition,
It will haunt you,
Trick you,
Torment you,
Taunt you.
Only if you give in.


Reject the fate
The one it shows you
The one that teaches you hate
And fills your heart
With fear, resentment and fury.
Reject this vile apparition
That corrupts your imagination,
This ghost of Spring
Who can't be seen
Dancing with chaos
Inside your mind
Only to leave fragments of dreams
Shattered behind.

So, cut its roots
Let it bleed through its branches
The chaos inside your mind will halt
Save your dreams
And when the Ghost of Spring screams
In pain
And in agony

Reject it.
Reject the fate
It shows you
The one that teaches you hate
And fills your heart
With fear, resentment and fury.
Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2023.
All Rights Reserved
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