#fatamorgana - Hello Poetry

I dreamt this dream before I could speak it out loud, Between the signifier and imperfect signified, With all kinds of broken hours and promises never kept, I tried transforming what was often said in the past. This place would seem so real, Made for me, trembling in the middle, With small and growing earthquakes. I wrote myself again—my little truths. Looking for missing lines without wings, Carrying stones inside my mind, In tight, frayed bags from my beating heart, without hope for a final insight. Perhaps I just passed through the steam Of a swirling, repetitive, chaotic dance, Seeking tickets, carving an elusive imprint With my mosaic in this human code. Five minutes quietly slipped by. My earned time vanished. I had my moments going along the roadsides, Avoiding the end of this poetic journey. I stay wrapped in a heavy coat of suspicion. I saw Moirés crafting another delusion. I found a small reward in an addictive cliché, To feel short relief from what I call my reality. I remember what I did before, Choosing every day not to cast a stone Into the center of what I can’t grasp With my breathing, human existence. And this breath was enough.

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Aug 3, 2025

Aug 3, 2025 at 2:04 PM UTC

Agnes-de-Lodz

Fata Morgana

I dreamt this dream before I could speak it out loud, Between the signifier and imperfect signified, With all kinds of broken hours and promises never kept, I tried transforming what was often said in the past. This place would seem so real, Made for me, trembling in the middle, With small and growing earthquakes. I wrote myself again—my little truths. Looking for missing lines without wings, Carrying stones inside my mind, In tight, frayed bags from my beating heart, without hope for a final insight. Perhaps I just passed through the steam Of a swirling, repetitive, chaotic dance, Seeking tickets, carving an elusive imprint With my mosaic in this human code. Five minutes quietly slipped by. My earned time vanished. I had my moments going along the roadsides, Avoiding the end of this poetic journey. I stay wrapped in a heavy coat of suspicion. I saw Moirés crafting another delusion. I found a small reward in an addictive cliché, To feel short relief from what I call my reality. I remember what I did before, Choosing every day not to cast a stone Into the center of what I can’t grasp With my breathing, human existence. And this breath was enough.

29

Akankah… Kita akan terus begini? Terpisah oleh jarak bermil – mil Walau hanya dalam dunia fatamorgana Kuingin kau kembali ke sisi Seperti saat kita bersama dahulu Akankah… Pertemuan pertama kita Hanya tinggal kenangan? Walau hanya dalam dunia fatamorgana Kuingin kau kembali dan melinkupiku dengan sayapmu Seperti saat kita pertama berjumpa dahulu Akankah… Janji kita Hanya tinggal sebuah janji? Walau hanya dalam dunia fatamorgana Kuingin kau kembali dan kita saling mengkaitkan jari Seperti saat kita berjanji dahulu Akankah… Cinta kita Hanya tinggal sebuah kata? Walau hanya dalam dunia fatamorgana Kuingin kau kembali dan berkata Walau jarak dan ruang memisahkan kita Aku percaya jika hati t’lah bicara Takkan ada yang mampu memisahkan kita

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Jun 16, 2020

Jun 16, 2020 at 8:14 AM UTC

MichellinaPR

Dunia Fatamorgana

Akankah… Kita akan terus begini? Terpisah oleh jarak bermil – mil Walau hanya dalam dunia fatamorgana Kuingin kau kembali ke sisi Seperti saat kita bersama dahulu Akankah… Pertemuan pertama kita Hanya tinggal kenangan? Walau hanya dalam dunia fatamorgana Kuingin kau kembali dan melinkupiku dengan sayapmu Seperti saat kita pertama berjumpa dahulu Akankah… Janji kita Hanya tinggal sebuah janji? Walau hanya dalam dunia fatamorgana Kuingin kau kembali dan kita saling mengkaitkan jari Seperti saat kita berjanji dahulu Akankah… Cinta kita Hanya tinggal sebuah kata? Walau hanya dalam dunia fatamorgana Kuingin kau kembali dan berkata Walau jarak dan ruang memisahkan kita Aku percaya jika hati t’lah bicara Takkan ada yang mampu memisahkan kita

26

You put smile on my face every morning I can still taste your breath in last evening Your kisses touch my skin Amazing night like a movie scene Those flowers on your finger are hiding that diamond ring To surprising me and asking me to be your queen Perfect moment that creating by imagine It was just Fata Morgana in the morning My alarm force me to wake up from this dream

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Nov 17, 2019

Nov 17, 2019 at 4:11 PM UTC

merindaa

Fata Morgana

You put smile on my face every morning I can still taste your breath in last evening Your kisses touch my skin Amazing night like a movie scene Those flowers on your finger are hiding that diamond ring To surprising me and asking me to be your queen Perfect moment that creating by imagine It was just Fata Morgana in the morning My alarm force me to wake up from this dream

9

┈┏━╮╭━┈╭━-━-━--━╮ ┈┃┏┗┛┓┃╭ⓞⓘⓝⓚ┃ ┈╰┓▋▋┏╯╯╰━-━--━━╯ ╭━┻╮╲┗━━━━╮╭╮┈ Fata Morgana ! Crunch the numbers and look at the data. I’m like: Measurable outcomes for pleasurable incomes— incorporate outsourced inhuman resources in-house. I’m like: indicators for vindicators. It’s all about the data, mama— so man up, sit down, and move forward like hard apps on software, like ram on a gigabyte. I’m all: sit up, move down, man forward; benchmarks as milestones, stone benches as mile-markers measuring the change-talk: obstetric metrics played out for pregnant pauses. It’s about throwing out the carry-on It’s about unpacking the lost luggage It’s about documenting best practices of undressed actresses until the data-driver fails the breathalyzer. The data tells a story: memes of mastery cast in plastery. DUCK the FATA (morgana) !

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Feb 17, 2017

Feb 17, 2017 at 12:26 PM UTC

connecthook

Data Talks... (Celery Stalks)

┈┏━╮╭━┈╭━-━-━--━╮ ┈┃┏┗┛┓┃╭ⓞⓘⓝⓚ┃ ┈╰┓▋▋┏╯╯╰━-━--━━╯ ╭━┻╮╲┗━━━━╮╭╮┈ Fata Morgana ! Crunch the numbers and look at the data. I’m like: Measurable outcomes for pleasurable incomes— incorporate outsourced inhuman resources in-house. I’m like: indicators for vindicators. It’s all about the data, mama— so man up, sit down, and move forward like hard apps on software, like ram on a gigabyte. I’m all: sit up, move down, man forward; benchmarks as milestones, stone benches as mile-markers measuring the change-talk: obstetric metrics played out for pregnant pauses. It’s about throwing out the carry-on It’s about unpacking the lost luggage It’s about documenting best practices of undressed actresses until the data-driver fails the breathalyzer. The data tells a story: memes of mastery cast in plastery. DUCK the FATA (morgana) !

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