#messages
MESSAGES
In daytime's breaks, a quiet voice I hear
A gentle call, a reminder of your presence
I'm here, always, in the spaces between
The paths we walk, they lead me back to your essence
The silent echoes of moments yet to come
Play before my eyes, a wistful, sweet refrain
Apples, grapes, and wine - simple, timeless joys
That weave a melody, a love that remains
In the stillness, I feel your gentle touch
A reminder of the love we share, so true
The world may pass, but in this space, I'm clutch
To the thought of you, my heart, my love, my cue.
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
May 25
May 25, 2026 at 12:31 AM UTC
A seed is placed before a plant sprouts,
The sprinkle of magic, then “boom,” it shouts.
Babies grow,
Clouds fly,
Butterflies soar, and old women die.
Books have an end,
Stories go untold,
Writers get lost and never find their way home.
People cry,
Pets die,
The words go forgotten.
“But I think we need to hear it,” says the little dove.
And the giant looked down from the great above, for a dove
Just a weakling, not all that big,
Had just asked for the words which he hated to sing.
The giant says to the feathered child:
“You think you are strong, but this story's just started.”
“I know, I know,” chirped the little bird, holding herself to every word.
“I want to know why the world is stuck in this state,
Where everyone cries no matter the date.”
The giant chuckles, then he starts to laugh,
“If you are sure, little bird, I will give you a chance.”
“A chance?” asks the little bird.
“Yes,” says the giant.
“I will tell you all you need to know
in exchange for your word never told.”
“Yes!” cries the child, ready to hear, “ I swear on my life I’ll tell nobody near!”
“Ok,” says the giant. “Get ready to hear.”
Then the dove nodded and opened her ear.
And the giant told her about the way of the world,
And when he was finished, that dove was now bold.
Amazed and excited, the little bird cheered,
Ready for more from her large, intellectual peer.
The giant smiled down at his small feathered friend.
“And that, my dear, is the story of the small speckled hen.”
May 14
May 14, 2026 at 10:03 AM UTC
As time moves on friendships slowly fade,
Although we learn and share, from everyone,
Hearing some good advice, or other thoughts,
For a shady day.
Certain people appear for other reasons, at the right time for us,
Guiding helping with their energy, their soul touches you,
Then after a while their gone, A special message to get you through,
You will always remember them, throughout every season.
Anyone can wear fancy clothes, and act so cool,
Many are out to look for someone to be their fool,
Most are good honest people, truth in their words,
We each have a part we live in this short life our role,
A true friend, a person you know you can trust,
You feel connected, relaxed, as you touch each other’s soul.
The original Tom Maxwell /poems ©6/2/23 AD
Philosopher
Apr 16
Apr 16, 2026 at 1:07 AM UTC
I’ve traveled, most of this life,
By myself, many miles, so far during this stay,
Sharing moments, with other people, different countries,
Learning & creating ideas mixed with fun,
Small pieces of this life, along the way.
From many I can remember their stories,
Their face & name, I have forgotten, it’s been a long time.
Then sometimes when I’m thinking,
A name or face, will appear within my mind,
I often wonder, if they are thinking of me,
Sharing a moment of telepathy,
Or just a special sign.
The Original Tom Maxwell / poems © 02/22/2020
Philosopher
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 11:52 PM UTC
i fall in and out of love
like it’s the last dance
i’ll ever share with life
the debt of this beauty
exhausts me into submission
but i live to see another day
it’s a struggle being awake
i can hardly respond to messages
although writing poetry is inevitable.
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 10:07 PM UTC
Phone in hand,
Screen so bright,
I check again,
Another night;
“Online” fades,
Then comes back,
My patience breaks,
My heartbeat cracks;
Why do I wait,
Like this is air?
Like their reply,
Is my repair?
A single buzz,
And I feel new,
Is this love…
Or just a glue?
Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 9:38 AM UTC
messages has given up the ghost
for now anyways
a blip in time and space
keep searching the distant shores
maybe you will find a message in a bottle.
Feb 20
Feb 20, 2026 at 4:31 AM UTC
you love me
I know
but then why
are all my messages
unread?
Feb 15
Feb 15, 2026 at 2:27 PM UTC
We all share energy from our thoughts,
They travel until caught, or they eventually fade,
Sometimes, we can feel their happiness, emotions,
To pain, when receiving another’s energy, coming our way.
Every experience, we live through, hear about or see,
Brings us knowledge, for the moment, or for future days.
Our thoughts can change fast, mixing with so much energy,
Always, new signs, sometimes we stop, standing lost in a stare.
Usually like a flash of light, your personal radar must catch the,
Messages of the energy, sort them, never knowing when or where.
All of those crazy ideas and answers, you discover, in your mind,
You never know, how many floated from someone thinking of you,
At the same moment in time,
The original Tom Maxwell / poems © 1/31/26 AD
Philosopher
Feb 6
Feb 6, 2026 at 6:43 AM UTC
Messenger at the Window
"A small visitor carries whispers of what endures."
Every morning, like clockwork,
you arrive at the pane,
feathers glinting in the pale light,
tiny wings carrying messages
I cannot read,
but somehow understand,
as if the world paused long enough
to whisper its secrets through you.
I watch from the corner of the room,
where shadows linger long after sleep,
and you, indifferent to absence,
tap on glass as if to say:
“I remember. I am here.
Have you tidied the corners of your day?”
Coffee cools. Streets fill with traffic.
Moments pass.
And yet you return tomorrow,
and the next day—
a small, insistent constancy
against everything that fades.
I press my hand against the window.
Somewhere between you and me,
time folds:
a breath, a heartbeat,
a fleeting visitor,
soft as care,
refusing to vanish,
leaving only the quiet insistence
of being remembered.
Jan 21
Jan 21, 2026 at 8:16 AM UTC
This life is a changing mystery,
From what you plan, the way you think,
To what actions, you actually do.
Planet earth, your stage, you act on,
The classroom for your soul,
The spiritual side of you.
So much attention, in this material world,
Towards the outer physical body,
From, size & shape, to staring into mirrors,
Many, never think of the inner soul,
Only, when a situation creates fear.
Your spirit inside, gives messages,
Often the first thought in your mind,
Or that unknown voice, in your ear.
The main thing in your bucket list,
Should be discover your soul, a little each day,
Believe, listen, a guide to why,
You are, in this life today,
This life compared to eternity,
A stepping stone, along the way.
The original Tom Maxwell / poems © 12/09/2025 AD
Philosopher / Polymath
Dec 9, 2025
Dec 9, 2025 at 10:37 AM UTC
The Ideas, plans and goals, must be,
Accomplish-able in your mind, if you,
If you deem, they are not, you are just,
Wasting, your most precious resource,
Time.
You must know your abilities, with confidence,
As you mix Ideas, and resources in your mind,
Knowing most new accomplishments, will have,
Interference, an unknown bind, always watch for,
Signs.
Ask for help when needed, criticism should be,
Welcomed, as support, if presented in a proper way,
Often listening to someone else recommendations,
Mixing ideas, a better picture, of the outcome, in your,
Mind.
The Original: Tom Maxwell ©11/23/22 AD
Edited 12/31/2024 AD
Oct 2, 2025
Oct 2, 2025 at 11:50 PM UTC
I’ve met a lot of people, as I travel, through life this time ,
Searching, for my purpose, mixing the energy in my mind,
There are countless messages, and inspirations, at any moment,
In time, then I search, sort, and mix, to see what I find,
None of us, should plan for a perfect grade, in life this time,
I thank God for this chance to discover, and being so kind.
When my journey in this life ends, the smoke, from,
My cremation, will rise up, like a dark cloud,
Floating towards the sky, and it will fade,
Only then my soul will travel on, more to discover, another stage.
My material possessions, will be left, somewhere they will lay,
My poems/songs, read, learn, share, for now and the future,
Change the world-wide negatives, to positives, harder each day,
In a few short moments, memories of me in this life will fade.
The Original: Tom Maxwell © 1/27/2022AD 4:20 am
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 11:14 PM UTC
Before you start reading:
None of these messages were ever sent. Niki made them up. Niki is me.
She’s scared of losing a friendship — so she writes instead of speaking.
That way, she never risks an answer.
But maybe, if she writes enough, she won’t forget what it felt like.
Niki
24 May 2025
00:04
age 14
YOU ARE SO PERFECT
not because of respect or intellect
or the one hundred you got on the exam
and it’s not that i don’t give a ****
about those things
but i DO care about how you pull my strings
your voice so soft so gentle
your mind so judgemental
you’ve got everything figured out
will never be too loud
nor too quiet you say what you must
but don’t want everything to be discussed
you know what you want and expect
you know the impact
i wanted to be like you so bad
now that i think about it it’s sad
but you’re a musical in a world of songs you’re not right in a world full of wrongs
you look so stunning so pretty
pretty like stars outside of my city
that’s a weird place for me to draw a line
this city is as much yours as it’s mine
but you would rather see darkness
outside of it while i like the starkness
sure i talk and smile and laugh
but you’re the confident bibliotaph
you’re the only person i show my poetry
i hope you see how special that is to me
now i established all of that
yet still didn’t hint what i’m getting at
something i will never be able to do
is measure or stand up to you
and i grew to accept it
i LOVE you but it still HURTS a little bit.
Poppy Piume
5 July 2025
19:37
age 15
YOU ARE SO LEFT
steal songs personalities commit theft?
you have opinions engraved in your soul
i came out to you then felt a hole
rainbows on your bags socks and hats
you know “facts” never numbers or stats
i don’t want to fight
you don’t want to admit i’m right
you’re supportive but supported too
in some ways i’m jealous of you
you’ve been doing some healing
sharing what you’re feeling
i hope you’re happy and starstruck
while i am trying not to cry and feel stuck
maybe you can’t see
i hate you making fun of me
for marks i worked hard to get
things i wish i would have said
dreams i want to achieve some day
then i’ll be free from the things you say
the songs we both listen to
expectations set by you
the words you write
i’ll live in darkness without you’re light
but you might repeat “i’m not right, i’m left”
i’ll realise you did commit theft
and i’ll learn to love your art
as i figure out you STOLE MY HEART.
Niki
2 November 2027
23:41
age 16
I AM SORRY
that’s what I’ll say once I know the story
still won’t really know what to do
but might tell you how I felt about you
it will be too late
we’ll convince ourselves it wasn’t fate
you’ll have a lovely girlfriend by that time
I’ll be seeing a guy and my love won’t rhyme.
Poppy Piume
13 December 2030
01:30
age 20
I FEEL BETRAYED
i wish we would have stayed
this wouldn’t be such a ***** up
if we were still in that city but we grew up
you used to hate everything you now are
how did we get this far
from what we used to be
little you would want to unsee
she literally wouldn’t allow
the boyfriend you have got now
the small me would be sad as well
she has so many new stories to tell
but never got over
the way that other girl drove her
mad crazy all *******
YOU taught me this attitude.
Jul 8, 2025
Jul 8, 2025 at 3:47 AM UTC
_Ping_
4 unread messages from contact: Cookie Monster
_Ping ping_
173 unread messages from group chat: cat gang
_Ping ping ping ping_
392 unread messages from group chat: secret society
I'm drowning
In the words
Toomuchtoomuchtoomuch
Shutting down...
__Mute chats?__
Yes
__Mark all as read?__
Yes
___Click___
Jun 8, 2025
Jun 8, 2025 at 1:27 AM UTC
#•###•
•the•message•is•so•phantom•
•strangled•
•during•the•third•act•
•illuminated•
•letters•are•the•ciphertext•
•and•they•glow•
•in•your•eyes•
•Bletchley•Park•
•Turing•
•worked•it•out•with•
•Delilah•
•they•killed•for•less•
•died•for•even•more•
•###•
May 30, 2025
May 30, 2025 at 3:10 PM UTC
__2016__
You're hurt.
You might not have registered it, but he hurt you.
Many more people will hurt you in the same way.
They will make you feel worthless and replaceable, but you will find friends who stay.
__2017__
For the first time
You’re mourning for someone you never got to know.
Your mother is hurting—
You feel everything but you won’t understand until till you’re older.
__2018__
You love him,
But not in the way you think you do.
It won’t stop you from writing letters and holding his hand.
You'll spend many nights humiliated by your actions
And the next six years running away.
__2019__
You’ll understand sacrifice before you understand suicide,
And realise that everyone becomes orphans
And feel guilt for not paying rent to your parents.
You are not a burden.
__2020__
You feel trapped and scared
Feeling your fear rise along with the numbers.
But the storm will pass and it will be nothing but a common flu.
__2022__
For the first 6 months you’ll say your goodbyes
Then you’ll start public school in the middle of the year
You’ll learn profanities you had previously been sheltered from
Papers will pile on your shoulders and you will scream and sob as your soul is shredded over and over again.
You will learn of self harm. You will learn of insomnia.
__2023__
You will finally be able to name classmates
And race against the boys in PE. You will become class monitor.
You will have demons who shriek lies but also friends who will cover your ears to protect you.
You will wake up everyday with the knowledge that the death of your class is coming.
You telling stories, and stopped writing them too
You will finally talk to him about your mistakes 6 years ago, and leave the scout group in his hands
__2024__
You will watch as the group chat falls apart.
With you tearing yourself to try and keep the rotting bonds together.
You will tear your throat open screaming, because no one understand why at it's like to feel everything through the screen.
You will try to replace them with your new class, only to be let down again and again.
You will start to write all the hurt in rhymes, spilling your blood over the paper.
You will finally understand suicide, and why people want to die
You will also realise that a friend tried to jump two years ago, and you knew nothing about it.
You will find a find a friend willing to be the harmony to your melody, even if both of you tend to miscommunicate
__2025__
You've will meet will want to leave school, but also want to stay
You've will meet wonderful people on this website
Listen to their stories; cry for them, fear for them, pray for them
Want to know them better but still be too scared to do so
You will be insecure and distance yourself from friends.
You'll be scared to hurt them.
You’ll hold back because you feel like you’re too much. Don’t go silent.
But the year isn't over yet, so you've got time
May 25, 2025
May 25, 2025 at 10:17 AM UTC
Would you ever text me first?
How I'm doing and I'm feeling?
It was only me when you needed,
But the other time it's just repeated
So, that counts as a yes?
That you didn't wanted to text me back?
I could just ignore the fact,
That you were out with your other friends,
When I asked you to help my back,
I knew, kinda viewed but still I waited to see that's not true
And the message that I'm writing now,
With my tears not stopping flowing down,
" Hey, how are you? How your studies?"
The basic sentence to start my presence,
And then I see the "seen" sign of eternal silence...
May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 3:03 PM UTC
Feathers fill an earthenware vase
Tall quills
Suiting ink wells
Scribing words beneath candle
Signing treaty’s
Secured with wax
The Magna Carta
The Declaration of Independence
Momentous things
But these are simple feathers
Collected for aesthetics
For smudging
For connection
For reasons other than to write
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025 at 3:39 AM UTC
I was looking out my window, in the middle of the night,
A bright over powering moon, seemed to hypnotize my sight.
Then this thought, appeared in my mind, to see,
How long will our planet earth last, as we know it, to be.
The year, three thousand eight hundred, and twenty-three.
Through energy in the air, we all receive messages, over time,
We never know when, or where, most we forget fast, this one,
Inspired me, to look up, investigate, with my mind.
Our moon is approximately, two hundred, thirty- eight thousand, miles away, I was curious the same numbers, arranged,
In a different way.
Investigating more, as the bright light shined down from heaven,
Nostradamus, said, the world will end, in three thousand,
Seven hundred, and ninety- seven, a prediction he saw in his mind.
Twenty- six years, was the difference, that appeared in our sign’s, that does seem to be many days, not when you’re, considering, over four hundred years, have passed in time.
If either of us are close, my journey will have something else,
For me in store, I will always remember the moon,
At twelve forty- four, on the first day of February,
In the year of two thousand and four.
Tom Maxwell©2004 (rearranged 2021)
Apr 18, 2025
Apr 18, 2025 at 7:42 AM UTC
To my dearest monsters,
I hope this letter finds you on the brink of your doom, rotting away in your sinister cave. Because it's what evil like you deserves. To rot and woe, to know the pain of fading, before you fade away. Because your longevity is short lived, for most of you will die come first daylight.
I hope you know, there is no home for you here. But if you try and build one, It will be burnt down. Every scrapped cinder and discarded log crushed to black dust. The substance of your soul, you're made of cinders, burning away at the human you once were. And if no one else will stand against you, know I will. Don't mess with fresh fire, lest you get burn away too.
Sincerely, I.
Mar 10, 2025
Mar 10, 2025 at 9:48 PM UTC
I was listening to roller skating tunes.
Yes, I am shallow, sir.
And though thou may say villainess or mistress,
I am content to be who I am.
One noon, we were over dull
and our hearts we serviced
like two thieves there
in the kissing place
where breaths are both as one
and the first of many kisses doubles.
He made vows in mine ear.
He has such hands and lips
and his fortunate nature fed mine eyes
oh, nothing was scarce.
Our horns locked together
with the intensest chutzpah
and we well-made our match.
We sparked feelings we all ascribe to heaven.
I would not tell you
I can serve a man
that by slow designs
men can melt.
He swore oaths
and dropped
half won.
Later he paid
the sweetest
after-debts
—he did owe it.
.
.
songs for this:
Find Me the Pulse of the Universe by Laetitia Sadier
Stormy (Bossa Mix) by S-Tone Inc
Feb 19, 2025
Feb 19, 2025 at 8:26 AM UTC
No evil shall enter in sacred space
Powers move, one thread in chase
Hands of creation, electric flow
Held captivated with eternal glow
Luminescent band, another dimension
Binding words weave within
Secrets of past woven in pen
In the shadows, in the light,
Forever hidden in plain sight
RepeatedNap
Nov 1, 2024
Nov 1, 2024 at 10:24 PM UTC