#construct
another task i accomplished
another way i can rummage
too concerned with becoming
need to be concerned with substance
i believe it, i dream it
i believe it, i mean it
i construct boundaries like an architect
i construct melodies in mythology
i pretend i am better than i am
i pretend to receive apologies
i can accomplish even if i am not the best
perfectionism teething
i pretend i am better than i am
skewed reasoning
May 14, 2025
May 14, 2025 at 3:45 PM UTC
Such are the thoughts, of the wise
everyone lives, and then dies
few are those, who can truely say
they did far more, than survive
Retrospect, just an illusion
remembering fondly, the past
personal, is the delusion
that fate, decided, the cast
The sum of, all those choices
a tower, built out of stone
pinnacle, high, as high can go
built by the mason, alone
Apr 12, 2025
Apr 12, 2025 at 8:58 AM UTC
Paint layers walls
And walls layer houses
Uncarefully placed
In our carefulness
Comforted in perfection unreachable
And what wisdom lays
In a world that wreaks destruction
On the weak foundations that we sow
And the even weaker plants that we reap
Fabricated
Cheap
An amalgamating mess
Painted onto
Thin fragile walls
Holding up
Thin fragile houses
Jun 24, 2023
Jun 24, 2023 at 10:43 AM UTC
There's secrets exchanged
Under the round peachy city light,
Across Gadjah Mada street
Between 4 privilege kids
Denpasar has it ways
To unite west-east-north-south at once
Here, to the feast
To the riddle of longing
To floating dilemmas
To confusing adulthood
We've been together before
Not just a narrative hunters
When the wind oppress
We are lost,
but we're not gonna lose
Jan 2, 2022
Jan 2, 2022 at 10:27 AM UTC
Normal
is a construct
used by the middle class
to structure
things they don't understand
in order
for them
to justify
hiding in their
perfect world bubbles.
Normal
is a construct
that makes them
feel safe.
I'm not normal.
You're not normal.
Let's crash their bubble!
Aug 26, 2020
Aug 26, 2020 at 5:32 AM UTC
enter ego
tainting, tinting, spiking
now with its foreign substance
always to manipulate and alter What Is
already natural is only good
One did not think one could improve on God?
Did one think this lie?
Did one account for one’s own blind ignorance?
as if one created something new
within the realm of What Is
Step aside and see your own insignificance,
if you can stand to look -
stand the inferno of your own gaze.
And, if you cannot,
how could you believe you are a king?
A king of what?
The lost.
busy the days working in time
making some nightmarish world
You think you are making paradise?
You are building your own funeral pyre!
Must you go to the bitter end,
dragged and gagged and beaten?
it isn’t a giving up
What have you taken?
In order to give something up,
you must have taken it in the first place.
You have not.
only think it so,
making all suffering seem real.
What is this you have made?
don’t know
can’t see
won’t stop and tell
just keep spinnin
and rollin
and truckin along
leanin in and gettin ‘er done …
To what END?
Jul 14, 2020
Jul 14, 2020 at 12:58 PM UTC
I want to be treated gently
And yet valuably at the same time.
I want to be in your embrace
And yet sharing my hugs when you're not fine.
I'd give.... To build that value,
A value I cannot find...
For love is a construct
In a society that views construct as wine;
Bought, spent, intoxicating...
Not a feeling developed over time,
Not a feeling of mutual respect,
Not a feeling learning and value...
And I do want love,
But not in a society like mine...
Dec 8, 2019
Dec 8, 2019 at 4:11 PM UTC
Claustrophobic in this vessel
that I'm
contained within.
I'm floating on a sea of waves
that never settle,
but slam upon my
subconscious membrane.
Stimulating my pools to never close,
but stare into the vastness
of unfulfilled gazes.
The charcoal stain within the white cleaner
than the pool it resides within.
I feel like I'm a victim of non-consensual birth,
never wanting to be in this void less
manifestation.
Could I delete this construct, make it static.
Yes, but my breath is continual,
and my morality keeps me tied to this frame.
I'll have to live, even though i didn't
agree to this sting tying me to this existence.
Oct 28, 2019
Oct 28, 2019 at 10:47 AM UTC
So maybe, we are glow sticks,
that need to break to glow.
So maybe, we are caterpillars
who digest themselves during metamorphosis,
to transform into a butterfly.
So maybe, we are stars
that need to collapse
in order to shine brightly.
So maybe, we need to breakdown,
to pick up the pieces and cast ourselves
as someone different.
So maybe, we need to shed
to become a better version.
So maybe, all this
crumbling
breaking
collapsing
was never a destruction
but a birth to something beautiful.
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 2:38 PM UTC
Your all an effigy of hollow constructs.
You may want many things...
But All are a man made construction
bound to collapse under inferior
construction..
Leading to fatalities
within proper reflections.
For irregular constructs
are always going to falter,
and crumble.
As there base is weakened over time..
Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 7:01 PM UTC
Tempo of rhyme that has a distinct
taste of perpetual numbness.
Where the rhythm of our moments
counted down in numeric breathes.
Antiquated concepts as in the fluidic
verses of where we are,
Where we were,
and our culmination.
Momentary between noise and silence.
We are all constructs of visible passing,
within all are finite chimes
in the existence in eternity.
The chimes of passing never really ring,
But shatter within, ending our time.
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 7:20 AM UTC
Well yet again its late at night ,
And yet again the only sound is the scratching of my pen against the paper of my lined notebook and the strange clicks emitted by my keyboard as I type this ,
Yet again I'm trying to write things that will evoke wonder and admiration,
But yet again I'm stuck in the trap of writing to feel not writing to help.
Yet again I'm trying to figure out what the universe has planned for me ,
but yet again I'm beaten down by societies code.
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 5:10 PM UTC
I thought I was writing
new forms of poetry.
I realize now it was not
at all to be.
people whom read my works
must be kind for not
boycotting my hypocrisy.
apologies
Oct 10, 2017
Oct 10, 2017 at 10:13 AM UTC
Memories,
What moments we hope to encase in amber,
Though revisited,
To feel as though we are returning home,
Though nurtured,
The times we were less alone,
Carefully we construe,
All we once ever knew,
Though the minds resin do not hold these moments,
For reconstruction distort preservation,
And memory in the mind,
is only as real as the ideal future
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 9:27 PM UTC
Simplicity
is difficult to construct
It comes naturally
or doesn't .
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 10:49 PM UTC
I stand on the edge
of the obsidian water
that has pooled together
Touching the tips
of my bare toes
of my bare bones
I am curious
to see what lies
on the other side
of the water
and my reflection
beckons me
but it is different than I
I am strong
I am the swell of the ocean
I am natural
I am a petal refusing to bow to the rain
I am exposed
I am content in my nakedness
But my reflection is inviting
as she waves to me
to come over to the other side
I am falling head first
into the pool
and I feel every hair
being ripped and laid
perfectly in place
and I feel my face
become malleable wax
And as I emerge
from the pool
on the other side
I am gasping
My skin is red and smooth
My hair is shiny and long
My face is smiling and demure
But my ocean is a puddle to be stepped in
But my petals are to be plucked at any given moment
But my nakedness is to be shamed and clothed
And as I look around
a myriad of pools
surround me
with people
who are just as horrified
as I am
because we are not who we are.
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 6:54 PM UTC
for what the crowd wants
Screams and delighted cheers
bounce against the stadium walls, tall, strong, and fierce
roared by ten thousand strong knowing no fears
all against the man in chains, drowning in tears
Been weighed, been measured, been found wanting
the fiery men standing with their fists pumping
while the beaten one stays still, silently praying
waiting for the justice he knows is never coming
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 6:56 AM UTC
How peculiar it is,
all that we keep alive with our thoughts.
I wonder,
whether it is as photosynthesis is to the plant
and a flower is yet to bloom,
or whether our faces will become blue
in the name of fallacy.
Think wisely.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 6:33 PM UTC
words elude my breaking sight,
dream, and dreams of forms
bear might.
built and forged upon the light, now -
it fails, consumed by night.
aloof the babe at mother breast,
forged a world, upon its flesh.
lines and form, subdued in sense,
amorphous matter - cracked and rent.
are true the words, which mask seeming?
or void held gaze, and lack of dreaming?
a man, a man, in restless slumber,
context born of lust and hunger.
can we see, a world past sight?
strip away the egos might?
a star, a star, throws out its light,
grasping for
the endless night.
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 8:11 PM UTC
I don't know what wood
this table is made from
as I bought it from a yard sale,
but to be brash
it seemed the people's home
had been foreclosed.
Knocking on the table's surface
imagine the beating sounds
of drums, a native tribe
secluded from the river of reality
and yokes the essence
of their seclusion to be culture.
Now imagine the opposite
and you'll understand the quality
of the table I just bought--
who has no history
and most likely
rested on IKEA's factory floor,
it's welcoming to the world.
There is no grain to this creature
as the metallic hands that crafted this beast
lacked a soul and its creations lack one too--
fittingly, it's perfection is a symptom
to the disease that lies in it's faux-wood.
Placing the poor table frame
inside some high rise studio in Manhattan
I can't help, but imagine--
the hands that will enviably gloss over this shell
and preach to their acquaintances
of a life the table never had.
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 11:20 AM UTC