Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Accepting quantum fuzziness and discreteness,

u-h-d allows the idea of seeing one thing is not the other,
über aber ich weis nicht

focus, this is spiritual, not religious, this is inner-bubble space,
pick a hat, here's a Dumbo feather

… "and called it macaroni."

A line forms an ancient meme, in the Spirit of America,
dancing children singing and waving tri-colors,
performing grammar school maypole pageants
in conjunction with the ashtorothean rites called passion,
feeling earth warm to the dance of our
sowing of the seed, celebrate, the coming of the sun
to the appointed time as time is measured
on the stone that bhers witness to our we formed spirit.

We are walkers along the spiral, twisting this way then
to that once,
you felt me make a point you felt was your tic to on point,
predictions pile in unverifiable belivable, but easy to believe,
life is good, in terms of essential being, elemental preceptions

glimpse of something super-semantic tic super symmetrick

not having seen hell, from the perspective of the conqueror,
leaves any weapon fit to fight the reality hell forms
unlike any weapon as yet imagined better, truth as a concept
any mind may form to hold,
from holding nothing, as a thought, then in a word caught
as thought
think this is the trick to quantum being, be
a bit.

See how it does feel to be real, ah, as in Wings of Desire,
I knew I did not suffer through that film in vain.

Anthro-poor-morphed angels imagined as unread messages,
felt where good is the only thing ever
felt real,
as real as any angel's kiss, but just a kind word heard, as thought.
Not until the end did I discover why I watched the film, a true exercise in patience which is a virtue, thus zoning clearminded staring through mechanical eyes attempting to write between the lines and change your mind.
rig Jun 3
by candlelight i write a feeling,
a tattooed secret onto parchment
on its fourth life – it’s simple enough:
h███ ██↋█ █f███_
that is all – nothing else is needed.
then i sign at the bottom, fold the
letter twice, carefully place it in
a yellowed envelope, seal it shut –
and i feed it to the flame, wishing.
Strying Jun 3
im numb
but still sad
what is this life
something straight out of hell
its hard to breathe
and i wish i could be happy
but everything is just
so grey
~im still doing finals ah~
Andrew Jun 1
I make my bed and brush my teeth

I hope it is sunnier tomorrow

I smile in the mirror but I still, cannot

I hope it is sunnier tomorrow

I drive somewhere, never knowing
why, and come home feeling

I hope it is sunnier tomorrow

I go to sleep and wake
only to find myself saying

I hope it is sunnier tomorrow
Lee Aaun May 21
i wish to see my heart
without a hole
from where all the
e m p t i n e s s
in the world
and decide
to reside
in it
Raven Feels May 3
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, sometimes strangers can become the holders of our deepest secrets:>

awaited so long so vast to confess a blurt out a must say

that my hopes came to the ultimate settle to the unspoken overwhelm of this May

hurdled in my lap like a shiny relief anticipation

hidden doors under that rag to a whole new brilliant creation

never have I ever came to express to redeem a share

in a chaotic crowd in a room for that daemon monster flare

bare me the tears

been shed been dear on the angel

on that blanket that saint of the painful

don't get this wrong it was a cry of surreal

of a friendship that I dreamt of a cherish

for those pure souls to come to an emotional peel

i wish i were normal
do normal things when i go out
being attracted to normal people
i wish the way I dress sometimes were normal
i wish for my expressions to be common,
to see the world as it truly is
to have normal dreams,
and a normal state of mind
making me a confortable person to keep around
and a perfectly normal person for being loved.
not belonging in the world ain’t fun ngl
The sound of waves crashing on the shore
Your breath
The way diamonds glint even when there is no light
Your eyes
The soft feel of a ripe peach
Your skin
The deepest black of space
Your hair
The lost gaze of a missing child
The gentle smile playing on those lips
So close yet so far
I wish to see you on a falling star
Don't put withered flowers
in your cracked vase.
Indonesia, 20th April 2021
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
Next page