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#idealism
The ideal person: would she be loved, or would he -- destroy everything?
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Mar 12
Mar 12, 2026 at 3:30 AM UTC
The ideal person
A love’s reserved when wells are dry Whose dust reflects its soul Whose echoes sound the silent cry Of eyes’ unwatered shoal Now all that’s dried and thirsting ground Seeks some untempered truth From different streams seeks to be drowned In someone else’s youth But others’ love won’t breach these walls Nor heal its crumbling rock Till purer flow from purer falls Restores its absent stock A pallid love which seeks repair Can hope for nothing real Till truer love leaves hearts laid bare, Fills hearts which truly feel If here we gave enough of love To tame a cynic’s views I think there’d be still more above To fill the empty pews.
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Dec 30, 2025
Dec 30, 2025 at 3:54 PM UTC
Lover's Well
From afar, it looks surreal This wan future I think true But what I claim I know is there Many others see right through Such romantic ideation Makes it easy to stay far For I know on my approaching I will see things as they are While I dream of what I’ve made it I forget to count the cost Since in staring at this fiction I don't see the time I’ve lost But that scene I thought was waiting Is in fact a better place For the distance keeps me lonely While the closeness brings embrace Although fantasy is easy For we men who don’t want near Choosing truth with imperfection Will do more to settle fear When the haze of your own fiction Dissipates to what is true You find meaning in the desert And become more real, too.
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Dec 30, 2025
Dec 30, 2025 at 3:44 PM UTC
Mirage
Being a volcano with a thick skin of fresh fertile soil Wasting myself on it with well-intentioned tinkering and failing plans Ignore the mess It's not that bad Excuses are unnecessary Tomorrow is another day for the holy got to be and new wrongprovements There's enough in bloom to live on between all solidifications and ashes - the black of ardent ideals
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Dec 7, 2025
Dec 7, 2025 at 4:03 AM UTC
PumicePieces
Everything passes, so we have to build bridges -- roads over the sea.
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Jul 26, 2025
Jul 26, 2025 at 3:32 AM UTC
[ Everything passes ]
Driven by pride, for a long time, we've searched for the right path. Embraced by self-love, we seek significance to affirm ourselves. Another meaningless day, disrupted by a stirring action, Or maybe stillness and passiveness carry more meaning. Chasing eternal ideas, we neglect pressing matters. Intoxicated with high ideals, we dismiss those closest to us. We pour our strength into chasing the true path, and live in a future that never arrives. So many choices slip away, like grains within an hourglass. The longer we delay, the less we live, and life, alas, won't rewind. When today flies away, leaving no chance to mend broken pieces, only the bitter taste of anxiety over the unattainable and regret for what was left undone remain by our side. Simple words, simple wisdom. Only an open heart can hold them, like a flower starving to grow, not waiting for the deep river's flow. I remember that evening like it was just a month ago. Almost night, the shadows of trees around us, and our hands locked together. Time stopped on the clock for a moment. Like a fish thrown onto the shore, we couldn't handle the scale of this new life. Suffocating under overwhelming feelings, with no air left inside us. I close my eyes, and scenes from the past flash by like an old movie reel. An apartment block, a courtyard with iron football goals, one ball for two teams. How happy we were in those days, when our pockets were empty and our hearts free of envy and rivalry. I close my eyes, and only one question lingers: When did we lose our feelings in a flood of meaningless worries?
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Jun 28, 2025
Jun 28, 2025 at 6:12 PM UTC
Reflection
Driven by pride, for a long time, we've searched for the right path. Embraced by self-love, we seek significance to affirm ourselves. Another meaningless day, disrupted by a stirring action, Or maybe stillness and passiveness carry more meaning. Chasing eternal ideas, we neglect pressing matters. Intoxicated with high ideals, we dismiss those closest to us. We pour our strength into chasing the true path, and live in a future that never arrives. So many choices slip away, like grains within an hourglass. The longer we delay, the less we live, and life, alas, won't rewind. When today flies away, leaving no chance to mend broken pieces, only the bitter taste of anxiety over the unattainable and regret for what was left undone remain by our side. Simple words, simple wisdom. Only an open heart can hold them, like a flower starving to grow, not waiting for the deep river's flow. I remember that evening like it was just a month ago. Almost night, the shadows of trees around us, and our hands locked together. Time stopped on the clock for a moment. Like a fish thrown onto the shore, we couldn't handle the scale of this new life. Suffocating under overwhelming feelings, with no air left inside us. I close my eyes, and scenes from the past flash by like an old movie reel. An apartment block, a courtyard with iron football goals, one ball for two teams. How happy we were in those days, when our pockets were empty and our hearts free of envy and rivalry. I close my eyes, and only one question lingers: When did we lose our feelings in a flood of meaningless worries?
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42
is her favourite colour red? Like a rose filled with passion and worth loving everyday or she makes me bleed when I try to hold her I notice that her hands are red is it blood of her prior lover or just his kisses can she ever be a rose of another colour yellow, pink, white maybe? But then If I held her then my blood would stain her beauty now it blends in perfectly like a teardrop in rain deeper the colour of her lips for every stroke of petals she touches but like wine for every passing year she’ll just get better and better is her favourite colour blue? she brings my life out of the blue like a sea I’ll never know everything about her which makes me think all the time and sometimes even dream about her she is like a moon on a dark blue night lighting up my life allowing me to see the stars is her favourite colour green? Like a leaf she inhales my sorrows and exhale love she has the ability to change a simple caterpillar into a colourful butterfly filled with so many colours many of their names I don’t even know every spring she is a new shade of green watching her multiplying like hyacinth over my lake is that all? No! She might like white, pink or even exotics like gold whatever she likes I know she will always colour up my life.
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May 13, 2025
May 13, 2025 at 3:25 PM UTC
COLOURS
I haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks now my eyes are drier than driest deserts I feel like a flower slowly losing my colour and petals my ears long your laughs which were never for my humour like a night blooming cereus mysterious, unique and I am just a simple daisy common, innocent it’s just a crush they told can a simple crush change me? No. but true love can he loved you for your beauty, who wouldn’t? meanwhile I loved you for your real beauty beauty that comes from the inside like a honeybee I come to the smell of nectar not to the deceiving colours please come back even if you don’t even acknowledge me your face wakens a part which I never knew and your smiles and laughs fuel it all these fantasies breaking away with every passing day without your presence I don’t want it to end, it is the only world in which I can feel love and moreover where I can love you
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May 7, 2025
May 7, 2025 at 2:38 PM UTC
I don’t want it to end
people say im idealistic and that might be true but its better to think that there is a window with a better view than the dreary one your looking through because where theres room for growth and change there is also room to stay the same.
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Apr 1, 2025
Apr 1, 2025 at 8:51 AM UTC
idealistic
Once more, I find myself believing every word you said— a fragile hope, woven and tangled in my mind. It wasn’t right then, and it isn’t right now, lost in the labyrinth of a heart that won’t bow. I should have seen it coming; the signs were all there. Yet I wished upon a star, caught in a silent prayer. Your final lie, the shatter of trust— a haunting reminder of love reduced to dust. Why do we seek refuge in ****** tales, or cling to Disney dreams, where true love prevails? Because only in those dreams do honest men exist— not in fractured truths or silent, torn screams. I don’t even know what truly makes me sad— a quiet ache, a lingering shadow of doubt. I called it then, and now I see it clear: the echoes of your words— I no longer need to hear.
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Nov 4, 2024
Nov 4, 2024 at 9:51 PM UTC
The Last Lie
Talking tea With a summoned friend More than a shadow of due, we... Know the skirting of justice, to end Tea with a risen moment To verify the calm, of seem in a worldly cast Of duty before youth, a travail to know and lament? The tally of sore senses, ready to accept here for ask Somber news, inevitably the voice of regiment And reason, are you all in life, a rational yet Come by beauty, of sincerity and just terror to relent A having dance of minds loved by the appetite we whet See the misery we appoint, to another Cause and effect, with a bidding lip of real Enough totals of shared more, the need of an open bother To come forward for the soul, if not a spirit of courtesy to feel Into the void of common questions and answers To the fate of hours we destined to hope In the name of couth, and its most frightening tear With the place and tale of nearness, with a choice beyond cope Tear the chide of need from your face... Sent with the love of us, might we sake a new rainbow You drunk like a passion of demand and the order of says The chastity of heed we all know could, an eye of heaven to owe
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Aug 27, 2024
Aug 27, 2024 at 9:57 PM UTC
Acidic Stares, At What's Up That's Going Down
Power is maintained with traps, purity exists -- in a prison cell.
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Aug 27, 2024
Aug 27, 2024 at 3:11 AM UTC
[ Power is maintained ]
To heavenly goals lead only untrodden paths -- only worldly paths.
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May 27, 2024
May 27, 2024 at 3:42 AM UTC
[ To heavenly goals ]
Waiving happiness and suffering for the truth: a better country.
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Apr 4, 2024
Apr 4, 2024 at 3:53 AM UTC
[ Waiving happiness ]
It is nice to dream, if only you walk with me -- starwalking with me.
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Sep 17, 2023
Sep 17, 2023 at 3:23 AM UTC
[ It is nice to dream ]
One day you will learn everything you pursued was -- never possible.
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Aug 25, 2023
Aug 25, 2023 at 2:26 AM UTC
[ One day you will learn ]
Hand over my mouth, I laugh at the evil child you are, who wants everything as it should be a better world justice, equality and brotherhood, now! No longer an ideal that makes fellow human beings suffer in order not to lack anything themselves So immature, not you your complaint, your desire for more more solidarity more harmony more self-criticism I know, the seed of your gluttony which wants all that is your sweet anger
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May 23, 2023
May 23, 2023 at 3:30 AM UTC
Evil Child
I was shot down like a bird bleeding into the earth it is a cycle I say as I watch my life fading away in and out of black in and out of panic attacks whichever way I choose it's all a ruse I was an old soul plagued with idealism So naive to not see the true villain My passion blinded me could not see the vermillion flags
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Jan 1, 2022
Jan 1, 2022 at 12:22 PM UTC
vermillion flags
I set myself ablaze and then I fly about the room Time and space became for me a lovely little tomb Apparitions far more friendly than the people's gloom That is why I live among the stars upon the moon Gaze upon me, frail and mighty, see me and despair Powerful and terrifying is the returned stare Lo am I, high in the sky with my infernal horn Play the notes and make the world my booming voice adorn
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Jun 23, 2021
Jun 23, 2021 at 9:52 AM UTC
Giant
The perfect woman is from marble, and barefoot – she stays where she is.
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Apr 20, 2021
Apr 20, 2021 at 3:06 AM UTC
[ The perfect woman ]
Why do you fear the stars? They ask Spiraling, I drink back the painful task Of opening my soul to unscramble the poisonous puzzle Daybreak to dusk, unraveling words that were a muffle The thought of the stars tugs sentences out of my mouth like taut thread I’m sleeping in the dark, in a stone cold bed A magician out of practice, on impulse you dealt the cards Your shadows haunt me, I’ve been jilted, I’m jarred When an impostor spills His indigo ink all over the hazy canvas sky, Two contrasting stars appear and ring out my tears whilst I cry Unjust, unrequited- two stars, one far brighter, close but worlds apart Daylight robbery, your basket my was my body and you left with my heart Stars- a lover looms over me, I crave integrity, still under your spell Consider it, but make not the home we have a hotel Night is washing away into the day, we’re fading away Secret suborn victim, my premonitions were no dismay Maybe the stars meeting was a mistake, for the dimmest star dreams when it is awake The brightest could solve many puzzles except the ones in her head, a lesson learned too late I fear the stars because I know you’re under them too A turned leaf, a shattered soul from red to
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Nov 24, 2020
Nov 24, 2020 at 12:46 PM UTC
Play Me In A Minor Key
Pull me Push me Force me And trap me Build me Create me Destroy me Lie to me Wrap me Seal me Deliver me And ship me No matter how much You try No matter how much It hurts I will escape
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Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 6:44 AM UTC
Cookie Cutter
Once upon a Christmas eve, A family sat round a fire Dad’s he’s late, he’s blaming Steve Some cables needed to be rewired A house he finds, Is full of smiles, So off he goes on his way. Grabs baubles from the attic, and also, grandmothers ****** investigation files The child, eager with a sparkly blue notebook, rushes to peek inside Crowe, it reads, Age 33, with thirty-three stabs to her side. Oh how dramatic, Oh how fun what a wonderful thing he had brought As seen on tv and on the big screen but never in this way before. She stared at the words and pondered and scribed and found a new area of thought Thinking of A Woman Dead! But not that way of course, in the fun kind of way. Didn’t think of the dead woman. Now and then, the blue notebook sparkles out of the corner of my eye I cradle the crumpled pages in my arms, the notes that I took. The notes, cold, combined with my father’s colder memories The good Damsel murdered by a bad ex-lover An unfortunately common situation. Another woman lost and alone,   Another statistic. Oh well.
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Nov 30, 2020
Nov 30, 2020 at 2:35 PM UTC
a common narrative