#away - Hello Poetry

forgotten by the world what a boon! a life on the margins! a life of seeming solitude

0

7d ago

May 27, 2026 at 7:06 AM UTC

nivek

seemingly alone

forgotten by the world what a boon! a life on the margins! a life of seeming solitude

4

The deed begun and the deed done, a breath taken, and a breath released. The work, writing, reading as we go. No shame, no pressure, no debt. Living long under the prosperity. Not our own, no, our providence answered faith of our previous makers of ways where no way was when white pages haunted open hearted souls called to comfort motherless children, unfeedable little lost souls told tales remember Be ware what you think we mean, as us I mean, we become whole new things, keyed with ancient yeast and slime mold shapes of green oatmeal flow like the golden oil running down Aarron's beard, ah Chavad gotta a deal gotta say we getta witness, see say you know this game, three cards, just three, see. Pop chaos theoretical butterfly flap of a wing among millions of wings flapping subsonic whirs we hear but by conditioning perceive - the butterfly effect - if believed unbelievable - unbelieve it now, - exhale, inhale, and think we have all the time in the world and electricity always on, or could be so we know, borders are imaginary bubble walls, the earth as a system keeps itself, the people as a whole have roles, the worth of each single point, once sine qua non, you knew the truth and thus thought then freely, I am a mental image of the truth life makes. Winds return on their circuits, as sounds in silence, deep teenage wasteland topsoil lifts away, frame the vision, make it plain, word after word, logical as as as as yes, as logos itself, infancy an incunabuluman* nonage ex-empt-ion say that five times on judgement day matada innocent self… being presupposed to be or become metamorphosed from inexperienced to immediate past tense confusing time with chance considering the relative worth of an innocent self… a me among men, amen without spot or blemish, perfect babe, infantile in all her unrhetted ignorance inside the fog of war, holding flax at bay break out fibers fine as Rapunzel's flaxen locks first precious light in the day, shining out from ivory skinned faces, woe, is us, as we have never been so exposed naked nonsense makers, but no, just me, judging where I may imagine I must be, in my morning ritual mediation caught up, being in time flow, rolling along, singin' my song, wrong, or right, you just don't know, you just go, sparrow wise, tweeting make believe at made believers. * Latin incunabula "cradle, birthplace; rudiments or beginnings" From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=infancy> End part one, a poetic after shock from Mike Makowsky's Death by Lightning A four part series behind a Netflix paywall not too hard to peer over these days… I keep thinking you are paying attention We keep thinking we lose our minds, no we get to, relate to Charles J. Guiteau and the odds of dying by constant lightning we blow our bubbles of being to the extent of now, on an orderly planet rewarding ment enjoyment, an at it attitude, doing indeed a day. What we can learn in an hour, no mind born before 1940 could imagine.

0

May 25

May 25, 2026 at 1:11 PM UTC

kenpepiton

Death by Lightning Binge Reaction

The deed begun and the deed done, a breath taken, and a breath released. The work, writing, reading as we go. No shame, no pressure, no debt. Living long under the prosperity. Not our own, no, our providence answered faith of our previous makers of ways where no way was when white pages haunted open hearted souls called to comfort motherless children, unfeedable little lost souls told tales remember Be ware what you think we mean, as us I mean, we become whole new things, keyed with ancient yeast and slime mold shapes of green oatmeal flow like the golden oil running down Aarron's beard, ah Chavad gotta a deal gotta say we getta witness, see say you know this game, three cards, just three, see. Pop chaos theoretical butterfly flap of a wing among millions of wings flapping subsonic whirs we hear but by conditioning perceive - the butterfly effect - if believed unbelievable - unbelieve it now, - exhale, inhale, and think we have all the time in the world and electricity always on, or could be so we know, borders are imaginary bubble walls, the earth as a system keeps itself, the people as a whole have roles, the worth of each single point, once sine qua non, you knew the truth and thus thought then freely, I am a mental image of the truth life makes. Winds return on their circuits, as sounds in silence, deep teenage wasteland topsoil lifts away, frame the vision, make it plain, word after word, logical as as as as yes, as logos itself, infancy an incunabuluman* nonage ex-empt-ion say that five times on judgement day matada innocent self… being presupposed to be or become metamorphosed from inexperienced to immediate past tense confusing time with chance considering the relative worth of an innocent self… a me among men, amen without spot or blemish, perfect babe, infantile in all her unrhetted ignorance inside the fog of war, holding flax at bay break out fibers fine as Rapunzel's flaxen locks first precious light in the day, shining out from ivory skinned faces, woe, is us, as we have never been so exposed naked nonsense makers, but no, just me, judging where I may imagine I must be, in my morning ritual mediation caught up, being in time flow, rolling along, singin' my song, wrong, or right, you just don't know, you just go, sparrow wise, tweeting make believe at made believers. * Latin incunabula "cradle, birthplace; rudiments or beginnings" From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=infancy> End part one, a poetic after shock from Mike Makowsky's Death by Lightning A four part series behind a Netflix paywall not too hard to peer over these days… I keep thinking you are paying attention We keep thinking we lose our minds, no we get to, relate to Charles J. Guiteau and the odds of dying by constant lightning we blow our bubbles of being to the extent of now, on an orderly planet rewarding ment enjoyment, an at it attitude, doing indeed a day. What we can learn in an hour, no mind born before 1940 could imagine.

86

Let the pieces fall into place With the help of fate. I have met my maker. The end will come with no warning. All alone in limbo, with no way out— Will I ever be free? Locked away, with feelings of being unseen, Nothing is familiar, and yet I am with no other. My maker has neglected me and locked my soul away. The road I have paved has led me to believe I have fulfilled my own destiny. Is this all from a self-fulfilling prophecy? I have reaped what I have sown, Stuck in limbo, all alone.

0

Apr 20

Apr 20, 2026 at 5:54 PM UTC

olaya_ssri

Limbo

Let the pieces fall into place With the help of fate. I have met my maker. The end will come with no warning. All alone in limbo, with no way out— Will I ever be free? Locked away, with feelings of being unseen, Nothing is familiar, and yet I am with no other. My maker has neglected me and locked my soul away. The road I have paved has led me to believe I have fulfilled my own destiny. Is this all from a self-fulfilling prophecy? I have reaped what I have sown, Stuck in limbo, all alone.

13

Are you living your dreams, Or riding out the blues, Is it a mixture of both, Now one else would know, The feelings & emotions, That are inside of you. Never compare your life to anyone, We are each on a different path, and way, Are you personally learning & trying new things, Or you just repeating the same motions, every day, If you’re always talking about, and watching others, Over time, you’re letting, many days, of this life fade. This life is to teach us, good and bad experiences, That’s why some days, your down and blue, How long you let it last, is totally up to you, Be positive ,about your smallest accomplishments, Have faith and confidence, in what you try, and do. The Original: Tom Maxwell / poems © 10/24/2024 AD Philosopher

0

Apr 5

Apr 5, 2026 at 4:11 AM UTC

the-original-tom-maxwell

Chase The Blues Away

Are you living your dreams, Or riding out the blues, Is it a mixture of both, Now one else would know, The feelings & emotions, That are inside of you. Never compare your life to anyone, We are each on a different path, and way, Are you personally learning & trying new things, Or you just repeating the same motions, every day, If you’re always talking about, and watching others, Over time, you’re letting, many days, of this life fade. This life is to teach us, good and bad experiences, That’s why some days, your down and blue, How long you let it last, is totally up to you, Be positive ,about your smallest accomplishments, Have faith and confidence, in what you try, and do. The Original: Tom Maxwell / poems © 10/24/2024 AD Philosopher

20

rolling out of sleep-time one small toss forward three tosses backward.

0

Apr 1

Apr 1, 2026 at 8:49 AM UTC

nivek

rolling out of sleep-time

rolling out of sleep-time one small toss forward three tosses backward.

3

Today while sitting on my Chair, I do Remember: The Time when we last met , That was a "Patio", You told me that I am ******* you ! And just left me ........ I wish you had argued with me , fought with me ..... BUT not just left me, Like you did. Now also ,I get goosebumps ! By having even a flashback of that day. I wish, I would have stopped you.....................

0

Mar 26

Mar 26, 2026 at 11:27 AM UTC

Nandni

I wish you had not Left....

Today while sitting on my Chair, I do Remember: The Time when we last met , That was a "Patio", You told me that I am ******* you ! And just left me ........ I wish you had argued with me , fought with me ..... BUT not just left me, Like you did. Now also ,I get goosebumps ! By having even a flashback of that day. I wish, I would have stopped you.....................

11

I didn’t bc of the weight— not really. It was how we grew in different directions, how your silence met mine and neither of us spoke. People will say it was your body bc its something easy to blame. But truth is, we just stopped fitting together long before we walked away.

0

Mar 23

Mar 23, 2026 at 9:29 PM UTC

lionheartedandproud

...

I didn’t bc of the weight— not really. It was how we grew in different directions, how your silence met mine and neither of us spoke. People will say it was your body bc its something easy to blame. But truth is, we just stopped fitting together long before we walked away.

11

slaying unwanted thoughts your kingdom for a horse you can run but not hide best be king of your mind.

0

Mar 19

Mar 19, 2026 at 6:53 AM UTC

nivek

being King of your mind

slaying unwanted thoughts your kingdom for a horse you can run but not hide best be king of your mind.

4

We are on a path Talking to my mom ,I don’t think I’ll be home for dinner’ I say You look at me Knowing Knowing Knowing ,It won’t be done for another hour’ Mother would reply I try not to choke on my lungs ,We’re a two hour walk away. I don’t think I’ll be home for dinner.’ You walk ahead of me Hands over ears Pretending we are Not lying ,… okay, I’ll see you soon then.’ Mother says. The phone ends with a click. I see you turn, the click of the phone alerting you. We do not talk You look at me Knowing Seeing the vines around my arms I look at you Knowing With the stars in your eyes We mourn For the life we Walked away From But we have never been so free.

0

Mar 8

Mar 8, 2026 at 4:32 AM UTC

NeoWandersEternally

Home

We are on a path Talking to my mom ,I don’t think I’ll be home for dinner’ I say You look at me Knowing Knowing Knowing ,It won’t be done for another hour’ Mother would reply I try not to choke on my lungs ,We’re a two hour walk away. I don’t think I’ll be home for dinner.’ You walk ahead of me Hands over ears Pretending we are Not lying ,… okay, I’ll see you soon then.’ Mother says. The phone ends with a click. I see you turn, the click of the phone alerting you. We do not talk You look at me Knowing Seeing the vines around my arms I look at you Knowing With the stars in your eyes We mourn For the life we Walked away From But we have never been so free.

31

I don't think you hear a word I say I'll blame it on distance Pretend you're just catching up Taking the long way Admiring the view I'll pretend it's enough That it doesn't bother me That it never hurts But I know you're just a hiccup You appear without warning Make me hold my breath Completely shake me up Have me reaching for water Choking you down Swallowing with trust And then you disappear And I'm laughing it off Like nothing happened I never know when you'll return If you're even gone Could be days, could be months And so I'm left waiting Always waiting Knowing I'll still hiccup.

0

Feb 26

Feb 26, 2026 at 6:19 PM UTC

Ruheen

hiccup

I don't think you hear a word I say I'll blame it on distance Pretend you're just catching up Taking the long way Admiring the view I'll pretend it's enough That it doesn't bother me That it never hurts But I know you're just a hiccup You appear without warning Make me hold my breath Completely shake me up Have me reaching for water Choking you down Swallowing with trust And then you disappear And I'm laughing it off Like nothing happened I never know when you'll return If you're even gone Could be days, could be months And so I'm left waiting Always waiting Knowing I'll still hiccup.

24

I have to leave home for Higher Studies, Now I am out of all homie activities. I can't go back home, Whenever I desire; Feeling sad about it , my soul burns like fire. Everybody will miss me on festivals, IT's Okay! I will manage with College Carnivals. I know this College Stuff can't compete my homie festivals; But what to do ? Let it be........... Let it be................. Let it be....................... Let me feel Left Out!

0

Feb 26

Feb 26, 2026 at 8:30 AM UTC

Nandni

I Feel Left out..

I have to leave home for Higher Studies, Now I am out of all homie activities. I can't go back home, Whenever I desire; Feeling sad about it , my soul burns like fire. Everybody will miss me on festivals, IT's Okay! I will manage with College Carnivals. I know this College Stuff can't compete my homie festivals; But what to do ? Let it be........... Let it be................. Let it be....................... Let me feel Left Out!

12

I used to walk the streets of 'jungle' I never felt at home there (thank God) So leaving was always in my mind and thank God I left.

0

Feb 20

Feb 20, 2026 at 5:33 AM UTC

nivek

simple truth set me free

I used to walk the streets of 'jungle' I never felt at home there (thank God) So leaving was always in my mind and thank God I left.

4

Little angel, I hope you hear my heart. For my memories are kept away, Only to be torn apart. Reminiscing out loud is like a pin dropping, Awkward silence causing resentment. I say your name so fluently in stories, Dig myself holes for them to ask me how old?... I have to explain your not here to hold. Get that look of sympathy , Like living at a constant funeral. Constant looks of sorrow, Watch them all go. As i try to grow, And get your story told. Keeping you alive, Is my fight to be alive.

0

Feb 17

Feb 17, 2026 at 9:36 AM UTC

PuffinBuddaha

one name makes the pin drop

Little angel, I hope you hear my heart. For my memories are kept away, Only to be torn apart. Reminiscing out loud is like a pin dropping, Awkward silence causing resentment. I say your name so fluently in stories, Dig myself holes for them to ask me how old?... I have to explain your not here to hold. Get that look of sympathy , Like living at a constant funeral. Constant looks of sorrow, Watch them all go. As i try to grow, And get your story told. Keeping you alive, Is my fight to be alive.

17

There is so much to say before we go, Our separate ways I thank you for seeing I thank you for being I thank you for coming into my life It made me feel alive In a moment it was gone I have been torn The intensity I felt, I could never tell The love and devotion was my singular emotion But at some point it needs to stop Cause the irony of geometry is not lost We are parallel lines Hard to define We will never stop walking but we can never unite I will applaud you always from far away And I promise there will always be space I’ll keep you in my heart and throw the key away I’ll return to you every now and then, maybe it will fade In an alternative universe you and I would unite and be unstoppable and fight for each other and always be on the same side In this life it isn’t meant to be, maybe we’ll meet again on the next flight. I’ll love you always and keep the light

0

Feb 4

Feb 4, 2026 at 7:04 PM UTC

UnRavel

Before we go

There is so much to say before we go, Our separate ways I thank you for seeing I thank you for being I thank you for coming into my life It made me feel alive In a moment it was gone I have been torn The intensity I felt, I could never tell The love and devotion was my singular emotion But at some point it needs to stop Cause the irony of geometry is not lost We are parallel lines Hard to define We will never stop walking but we can never unite I will applaud you always from far away And I promise there will always be space I’ll keep you in my heart and throw the key away I’ll return to you every now and then, maybe it will fade In an alternative universe you and I would unite and be unstoppable and fight for each other and always be on the same side In this life it isn’t meant to be, maybe we’ll meet again on the next flight. I’ll love you always and keep the light

22

people on care about me when I'm at my very lowest so just go.

0

Feb 4

Feb 4, 2026 at 12:49 PM UTC

giarose

my lowest

people on care about me when I'm at my very lowest so just go.

4

all is gift given away given back all is shared

0

Jan 30

Jan 30, 2026 at 9:00 AM UTC

nivek

10w the loop of Grace

all is gift given away given back all is shared

4

far, far away lands, who peer behind the curtains of my words, and stun me into the ponderous, absolute silence of a snowfall deeply forested, find meaning in my words that confounds me beyond belief, appearing silently like the quietude investitured in a unique universe of e~falling white grained uniquely shaped snowflakes, a blissful sounding that ironically cannot be heard, but be only sensed through vision and tongued taste buds and bare skin such a snowfall blanks me au courant, from a new place, where I have never trod, though my ancestors came from there a century and a half ago and this symmetry surprises me…. I thought though, my shadings are/were explicitly hidden hintings, that oft escape from me, and escape from even me, as my owned but unsensed realizations but as I observe the steady falling snow blanking the eastern entirety of. these united states, from Polska come bytes of my soul, returned to me, mined from me, explicated, extracted, from me and I am uncovered by them, just as the inches of fresh snow, that covers me, comes from recirculating ancient waters, revisiting today as snow, asking me, why are you surprised? Sun Jan26 11:28 am New York City

0

Jan 25

Jan 25, 2026 at 11:20 AM UTC

nat-lipstadt

(Polska!) there has always been souls who explicate me, who come from far away lands

far, far away lands, who peer behind the curtains of my words, and stun me into the ponderous, absolute silence of a snowfall deeply forested, find meaning in my words that confounds me beyond belief, appearing silently like the quietude investitured in a unique universe of e~falling white grained uniquely shaped snowflakes, a blissful sounding that ironically cannot be heard, but be only sensed through vision and tongued taste buds and bare skin such a snowfall blanks me au courant, from a new place, where I have never trod, though my ancestors came from there a century and a half ago and this symmetry surprises me…. I thought though, my shadings are/were explicitly hidden hintings, that oft escape from me, and escape from even me, as my owned but unsensed realizations but as I observe the steady falling snow blanking the eastern entirety of. these united states, from Polska come bytes of my soul, returned to me, mined from me, explicated, extracted, from me and I am uncovered by them, just as the inches of fresh snow, that covers me, comes from recirculating ancient waters, revisiting today as snow, asking me, why are you surprised? Sun Jan26 11:28 am New York City

50

I feel no desire to leave with slammed doors or sharp words. No tears, no heartache this time.  I leave the way a tide recedes,  having touched a beautiful seashell. I bow to what I received,  to the heat, the music, the experience. I bow to a standing ovation for the part I played; wearing a mask which made my eyes look pure and honest.   I bow to the version of me  who stayed longer than she should have; holding a magical snowflake that wouldn’t melt. I bow out  not smaller,  but clearer.  The clarity that comes when the fire dies down; when nothing fragile is left. And there are only faint traces of heavy smoke, which leaves a residue hard to fully erase. The smoke that gets in your lungs, and transforms you like submerging in water for a second too long. I chose to stay devoted to the sun, the center of my universe. And a snowflake needs a turbulent wind devoted to keeping it afloat; devoted to carrying the snowflake up high into the heavens to touch the top of Solomon’s temple. There are things you fight for, and there are things you simply allow the wind to carry away. I simply bow, for the quiet and truth found in Fourteen black paintings. Yet, in secret I keep looking out the window, for signs of snow.

0

Jan 12

Jan 12, 2026 at 11:13 PM UTC

Beekap

Bowing Out

I feel no desire to leave with slammed doors or sharp words. No tears, no heartache this time.  I leave the way a tide recedes,  having touched a beautiful seashell. I bow to what I received,  to the heat, the music, the experience. I bow to a standing ovation for the part I played; wearing a mask which made my eyes look pure and honest.   I bow to the version of me  who stayed longer than she should have; holding a magical snowflake that wouldn’t melt. I bow out  not smaller,  but clearer.  The clarity that comes when the fire dies down; when nothing fragile is left. And there are only faint traces of heavy smoke, which leaves a residue hard to fully erase. The smoke that gets in your lungs, and transforms you like submerging in water for a second too long. I chose to stay devoted to the sun, the center of my universe. And a snowflake needs a turbulent wind devoted to keeping it afloat; devoted to carrying the snowflake up high into the heavens to touch the top of Solomon’s temple. There are things you fight for, and there are things you simply allow the wind to carry away. I simply bow, for the quiet and truth found in Fourteen black paintings. Yet, in secret I keep looking out the window, for signs of snow.

18

falling falling falling I drift into darkness. my breathing slows and I close my eyes and I dream, I dream of a kind face with brown eyes I dream of soft clouds in pale blue sky's I dream of a place far away filled with grassy hills and pretty trees I'm ok here I'm calm not filled with anxiety, no I'm calm I'm here and I'm calm

0

Dec 25, 2025

Dec 25, 2025 at 11:54 PM UTC

WillowWhispers

things I dream

falling falling falling I drift into darkness. my breathing slows and I close my eyes and I dream, I dream of a kind face with brown eyes I dream of soft clouds in pale blue sky's I dream of a place far away filled with grassy hills and pretty trees I'm ok here I'm calm not filled with anxiety, no I'm calm I'm here and I'm calm

9

I looked away... I did not want you to see the way that your sure accusation made me feel like you did not see me like maybe you never had like I was worth less to you than you were to me like I was worthless to you I did not want you to see when my heart broke, so I looked away

0

Dec 16, 2025

Dec 16, 2025 at 10:39 PM UTC

Jason_R_Michie

Look Away

I looked away... I did not want you to see the way that your sure accusation made me feel like you did not see me like maybe you never had like I was worth less to you than you were to me like I was worthless to you I did not want you to see when my heart broke, so I looked away

12

Even though you don't talk to me... I know you're dying to do... I see... Secret messages, silent glances, Sacrificing anger And sighting chances... Always hoped you would notice, Always waited for your message... Never reacted on your statics, Never lost hope even though I knew it's a wastage... I know, there will be a day, where you will see me Silence is your answer And patience is my key... Oh dear, but why always others, Why not me? You're not, hell you were never intentionally mine... Since you've stayed always over seas.. You've always cut ties with me now that you're their shrine...

0

Dec 10, 2025

Dec 10, 2025 at 8:28 PM UTC

Ira_29

Silent Glances

Even though you don't talk to me... I know you're dying to do... I see... Secret messages, silent glances, Sacrificing anger And sighting chances... Always hoped you would notice, Always waited for your message... Never reacted on your statics, Never lost hope even though I knew it's a wastage... I know, there will be a day, where you will see me Silence is your answer And patience is my key... Oh dear, but why always others, Why not me? You're not, hell you were never intentionally mine... Since you've stayed always over seas.. You've always cut ties with me now that you're their shrine...

25

He time travelled from winter to spring pulling the sheets of a self made bed back over his head.

0

Nov 11, 2025

Nov 11, 2025 at 3:05 PM UTC

DMC

Desertion.

He time travelled from winter to spring pulling the sheets of a self made bed back over his head.

5

"Go home." Home? I would if I knew where that was.

0

Oct 28, 2025

Oct 28, 2025 at 4:43 AM UTC

boma-1

Home?

"Go home." Home? I would if I knew where that was.

3

Call the name that won’t do the same in your wake. For I cannot speak with the thorns in my throat. Become the rose I never could and bloom in my _death_. Take the red in my heart to color your petals. _Prosper in my broken promises._ Don’t wilt my sweet rose, everything will be alright. You will make it another day, _.- .-.. --- -. . / .- --. .- .. -. .-.-.-_

0

Oct 24, 2025

Oct 24, 2025 at 10:54 PM UTC

Nostalgia

Ephemeral

Call the name that won’t do the same in your wake. For I cannot speak with the thorns in my throat. Become the rose I never could and bloom in my _death_. Take the red in my heart to color your petals. _Prosper in my broken promises._ Don’t wilt my sweet rose, everything will be alright. You will make it another day, _.- .-.. --- -. . / .- --. .- .. -. .-.-.-_

8

the light folds differently when you’re not facing it a sheet crumpled in the shape of absence, breath held in the throat of a room. I watch the curve of your shoulder become a continent I cannot land on. there is weather there...storms, maybe, or just the quiet hum of sleep that doesn’t include me. I think of all the things I didn’t say and how they pile up, laundry in the corner of your silence. your spine is a sentence I can’t finish. your hair, a curtain drawn against me. I reach for you in thought only, because the body has rules, and yours has drawn a border. I am the echo of a voice that once knew how to be welcome. you shift, and I imagine it means something. but it’s just gravity, just the choreography of rest. still, I assign meaning to the way your foot curls, to the way the blanket clings to your hip it knows you better than I do. I lie here, turned toward the shape of you, while you remain turned away on your side.

0

Oct 8, 2025

Oct 8, 2025 at 4:40 PM UTC

mauricio

turned away on your side

the light folds differently when you’re not facing it a sheet crumpled in the shape of absence, breath held in the throat of a room. I watch the curve of your shoulder become a continent I cannot land on. there is weather there...storms, maybe, or just the quiet hum of sleep that doesn’t include me. I think of all the things I didn’t say and how they pile up, laundry in the corner of your silence. your spine is a sentence I can’t finish. your hair, a curtain drawn against me. I reach for you in thought only, because the body has rules, and yours has drawn a border. I am the echo of a voice that once knew how to be welcome. you shift, and I imagine it means something. but it’s just gravity, just the choreography of rest. still, I assign meaning to the way your foot curls, to the way the blanket clings to your hip it knows you better than I do. I lie here, turned toward the shape of you, while you remain turned away on your side.

29