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#layer
Thought is finding its shape, Becoming stronger¹, And word by word, Layer upon layer, Self-erasing, Taking form². The mind is a collage Creating itself from cut-up scraps¹; It is a sculpture built by a flowing Fountain of sand, Both constantly being eroded And being formed And grown by the erosion², The sculpting fingers of erosion¹, The sculpted shadows of forgetfulness². Grains of memory Beneath the fingernails¹, They fall, they forget; One remains².
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Mar 22, 2022
Mar 22, 2022 at 6:12 PM UTC
One Remains (2022)
let me sing until the day that i die that i won't because it's hard to remember it's going to happen one day hopefully the lovers i didn't want can cry for me because no one will be maybe the girl next to me will be there i just don't want to be alone can't face the darkness by myself she's the kingslayer of my dreams ready to save me
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Apr 29, 2021
Apr 29, 2021 at 11:09 PM UTC
bb
Like the blues in the denim Wash after wash We draw on new layers even when our being is stripped apart. And it takes more than a deep swallow of nothing and more and it takes more than a hard fist that grips at nothing and more We just want to be desired but shades of grey we all become
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Aug 27, 2019
Aug 27, 2019 at 8:59 PM UTC
Fades
I am a beat, I am a clock, I am a rhythm of some sort; I’m a carrier on a mission; The byproduct of an invention; A battery that is being charged And depleted low and large. I am a ball, I am a cell, I am the will of higher selves; I’m a layer of the kernel, Flying on seat "57L"; I’m a letter that was sent to mail, Set outbound when rings the bell. I am a curve, I am twirl, I am sustained motion still unfurled; I’m necessity in the system; Of absorption I am the emblem; I’m a branch of fractal downward; Of struggles past I ain't no award. I am a beast, I am a fork, I am a breach through inert soil; I’m a head of the hydra snake; Consolation in all of mistakes; I’m the blood of the wounded, The brain of memories faded. I am a blink, I am a cause, I am the storm after the pause; I’m the pity for the angered; Whose duties have been tempered. I'm the eye that's about to drool And the tooth that's bound to fool. I am silver when I am gold, Yes I am pale when I grow bold, Like an etching on a clean surface I'll be sanded just to be varnished; I'm the most certain of prediction, Foreseeable beyond provision. I am ludicrous, I am lukewarm, I am commitment amidst cold wars; I’m the frontier around the form And the earth that drowns the worm; Of victory I am some defeat, Accomplishment left incomplete. I am a meter, I am a yard, I am pain that causes no harm; I'm the scepter of the peasant, The suffering in the pleasant; I'm everything that's ever been said, All that's forgotten once it's been read. I am a sin, yes I am sought, I am a child yet to be mourned; I’m resistance to the inevitable, Recurrence of the unstable; I’m the distance of departures, The first minutes of final hours. I am a beat, I am a clock, I am a rhythm of some sort; I’m a carrier on a mission, The byproduct of an invention; A battery that is being charged And depleted low and large.
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Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 1:26 PM UTC
I Am a Beat (2019)
I am a beat, I am a clock, I am a rhythm of some sort; I’m a carrier on a mission; The byproduct of an invention; A battery that is being charged And depleted low and large. I am a ball, I am a cell, I am the will of higher selves; I’m a layer of the kernel, Flying on seat "57L"; I’m a letter that was sent to mail, Set outbound when rings the bell. I am a curve, I am twirl, I am sustained motion still unfurled; I’m necessity in the system; Of absorption I am the emblem; I’m a branch of fractal downward; Of struggles past I ain't no award. I am a beast, I am a fork, I am a breach through inert soil; I’m a head of the hydra snake; Consolation in all of mistakes; I’m the blood of the wounded, The brain of memories faded. I am a blink, I am a cause, I am the storm after the pause; I’m the pity for the angered; Whose duties have been tempered. I'm the eye that's about to drool And the tooth that's bound to fool. I am silver when I am gold, Yes I am pale when I grow bold, Like an etching on a clean surface I'll be sanded just to be varnished; I'm the most certain of prediction, Foreseeable beyond provision. I am ludicrous, I am lukewarm, I am commitment amidst cold wars; I’m the frontier around the form And the earth that drowns the worm; Of victory I am some defeat, Accomplishment left incomplete. I am a meter, I am a yard, I am pain that causes no harm; I'm the scepter of the peasant, The suffering in the pleasant; I'm everything that's ever been said, All that's forgotten once it's been read. I am a sin, yes I am sought, I am a child yet to be mourned; I’m resistance to the inevitable, Recurrence of the unstable; I’m the distance of departures, The first minutes of final hours. I am a beat, I am a clock, I am a rhythm of some sort; I’m a carrier on a mission, The byproduct of an invention; A battery that is being charged And depleted low and large.
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60
I press the tip against the paper. It drips and bleeds. One layer of my heart, strips off for every poem i read.
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Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 6:27 PM UTC
My Heart
We degrade our planet treating it like a stripper. Paying for every layer removed. Putting worthless paper in our last breaths. And when she is peeled, we will see the failure of our desires.. As we will be but a faint layer on her. Why did we think she wanted to be used like this. As we paid the last price
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Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 5:35 PM UTC
We Pay The Stripper
Underlying tension in the air. Is a breakup near or is it just fear? You're starting to peel my layers, coming closer to the truth.. Can you handle it? Can I? I can feel the darkness inside me again. Fighting so hard to stay in the light where I wanna be. Even if I can't win this battle, please don't leave me..
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Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 3:25 AM UTC
Layers
Over time you'd carved out space. Your current eroding my toughest stone. Gutting me for all to see. For so long I'd forgotten what it was like to be without you, But you put up dams and barriers, diverting your water; and now, Colorado, you've dried up. Sometimes it'd rain and I thought that you might return. After so much time together we became synonymous. How would I exist without you? Now I know. You may have cut deep into me. Leaving your mark for all to see. They still come for me, even when you're gone, To look upon my beautiful layers and vibrant colors. The pit you whittled out is vast but you could never fill what was. I'm left with nothing but the dry, harsh heat. Don't come back to this canyon. There's no room.
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Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 7:08 PM UTC
The Grand Canyon
my breath is blue cold and forgettable in this dark room and with my eyes closed composed of a mind and all its follies, that I cannot switch off; i am lost, yes, bless'd with a life i never would have known otherwise, of minutes, mountains and stones, wise men; a home and sun rise, here on this rock me and so many like me will die, pretending we never would, consuming blood and wood even burning the forest down 'tis his kingdom, filled with people bad and good, some mad and filled with scars and broken days then there's that who has no need for a place, some wear stars and some wear no face, some are meant to die, some meant to stay some go away never to come back, some find grey days soothing as they pass by, some live in good-byes, and some dye themselves, some don't cry, some won't die, and we'd watch them live forever, whilst we break our lies, i live the lies too, yes, but that's more bless'd, in this storm of illusion, outside this dark room where i bleed away bits of me, everytime i step out, loud noises and the clock, to break me down, silence louder than words, empty air for me to drown trapped in a circle 'round my neck, eyes to dream me a crown, and a mind for the countless worthless things i've found gagged and bound, in the deepest layers miles deeper than my skin sinking, and inking my breath blue.
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Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 2:23 PM UTC
blue room
You wanted to have your cake and eat it too well honey take a bite I am spiked Strawberry frosting can be deceiving
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Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 3:54 AM UTC
Sweet Sins
Astringent to eyes, A fierce kiss to the soft lips, Chopping the onion.
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Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 4:54 AM UTC
Chopping-Weeping Haiku
We are not many, Only departures fill the meaning of the stops, But we occupy enough sits to be a few And for the distention of a silence of simple sounds. The dimension of the others It´s not much more than departures and destinies. For now, we are only illuminated By the last orange lights of another village. All of us abstain from the others, Not too much, Not to the point of forgetting from the their presence, Until the next straight road shrinks us With one more gush of blackness. (Warm lights Emanate a comfort Shared by all.) The journey stretches along the premature winter night, The bus goes embroiled By the sequence of light and darkness And we go with it. Each variation in the spectrum of luminosity forms a layer, More the layers, more the bus is light and darkness, Thicker the journey and the denser the enchantment. The countenances gain new expressions As they cross the contrasts, Though the looks never fail to gaze the vast night. The looks… The looks on the scattered night, The night profoundly diluted in the existence of things, That form the whole. (Fingers on the glass Searching for memories - They only want life.) One by one, they leave. The sleeping consciousness wakes up, From the breaking out of the world, For the bus stop. What do they take with them? Where and for what they go? Do they really want to go? They all fade away in the distance. There will be no one who wishes, Like me, an endless night So that the bus can go without destination? Time does not even have to stop, Just a single belonging to that bus. I should not say it, However i only want the outside life outside of me, A mutual indifference Than can fall asleep all the fatigue and exhaustion. Let me turn into a silent echo to resound indefinitely, In the vastness of the night. (Eternal night Raises chimeras seeing Some solace.).
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Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 12:40 PM UTC
Echoes
We are not many, Only departures fill the meaning of the stops, But we occupy enough sits to be a few And for the distention of a silence of simple sounds. The dimension of the others It´s not much more than departures and destinies. For now, we are only illuminated By the last orange lights of another village. All of us abstain from the others, Not too much, Not to the point of forgetting from the their presence, Until the next straight road shrinks us With one more gush of blackness. (Warm lights Emanate a comfort Shared by all.) The journey stretches along the premature winter night, The bus goes embroiled By the sequence of light and darkness And we go with it. Each variation in the spectrum of luminosity forms a layer, More the layers, more the bus is light and darkness, Thicker the journey and the denser the enchantment. The countenances gain new expressions As they cross the contrasts, Though the looks never fail to gaze the vast night. The looks… The looks on the scattered night, The night profoundly diluted in the existence of things, That form the whole. (Fingers on the glass Searching for memories - They only want life.) One by one, they leave. The sleeping consciousness wakes up, From the breaking out of the world, For the bus stop. What do they take with them? Where and for what they go? Do they really want to go? They all fade away in the distance. There will be no one who wishes, Like me, an endless night So that the bus can go without destination? Time does not even have to stop, Just a single belonging to that bus. I should not say it, However i only want the outside life outside of me, A mutual indifference Than can fall asleep all the fatigue and exhaustion. Let me turn into a silent echo to resound indefinitely, In the vastness of the night. (Eternal night Raises chimeras seeing Some solace.).
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55
/// one real feel I want to share with you,my friend the shells of strata has three layers: the upper shell of strata, alluvium- very polished- straightforward- black and white- seems nothing wrong- optimistic- the middle shell, the secret song- surface has hidden- dialectic- partial red line- pessimistic- pressure on both upper and lower, uncovered ultimate- the bottom shell, compact and tiny- the hidden beauty– the ultimate love-- after losing time, spiritual--- /// - @Musfiq us shaleheen
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Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
Shells of Strata
Hide underneath the stars with me and peel back my skin layer by layer, starting at the cold fingertips missing the tenderness his touch caused, twisting up damaged limbs and wounds of my woe, past scars from childhood stories - the ones not meant for campfires - and around hairs that used to stand when your breath danced like two ghosts - you and I - down my neck and into my bloodstream. Peel me back until I am nothing, but that little boy cowering on the bathroom floor, with flickering lights, bruised elbows, a lump in his throat and pain in his chest, crying for something that no longer existed.
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Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 5:50 PM UTC
Peel