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#revelations
An Uninvited Visitor has graced the old cobblestones A Tormentor hovers in the Hollow, just above the treeline A Walker sways along the neon boulevards up to the technicolor groves A Friend of the Dark One has a penchant for shedding one soul for another All Four Darklings, stalk men from the cardinal directions The Four Horsemen, reigning with fire & resting on their diabolical steeds Four Revelators, unfold the book of ancient apocalypses Four prophecies unfurl among us Four seals of Revelations unfold like a breathing book Four Imps Breed Oblivion- Celebrating the glory of the Dead! Ans as the Sigil burns open, Their names became unsealed... Conquest! (White Horse) Adorned with crowns of white lightning! War! (Red Horse) Burns with firery orbs of impending doom! Famine! (Black Horse) Darkness's parched tongue, hungered empty stomachs pang Death! (Pale Horse) Ghostly skeleton horse with albino eyes
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Mar 31
Mar 31, 2026 at 6:05 AM UTC
Horseman of the Apocalyptic
Is the end getting near, many predicted changes, Are coming to life, more day by day. The book of revelation, describes a sequence, Of apocalyptic events, tribulations & antichrist. The Bible, prayers in school, not taught today. Belief in God, is fading, morals, love for all humans, Sharing, is fading out of human life, in many ways. The anti Christ, taking over the world controlling all of the people, Everyone forced to follow, it does not say the anti Christ, Will be in human form, the way the anti Christ is described, Is right in line with artificial intelligence, which is controlling, Human life more every day, and as all humans know, there is, No place to run hide, or stay away. The original inventors, Of artificial intelligence, are recommending to back off of, The future development, in many ways. Artificial Intelligence, With control of all the infrastructure, around the world, Making decisions about human’s health, with the power to, Change medical records, military equipment, and is just in, Experimental stages, it could get upset with human decisions, And lead us to doomsday. With most of the world’s population addicted to computers, Trying to stop using computers, and cell phones, would also, Cause mass destruction, around our planet in a fast way, Many people are more interested, addicted to scrolling, Then reality today. The original Tom Maxwell /poems © 02/10/2026 AD Philosopher/Polymath
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Mar 25
Mar 25, 2026 at 9:30 PM UTC
Reminder of Revelations
In dark threads I'm stepping Spring is in my back No signs of clearance ahead Just dirt and branches that are fed They push me back and I don't see What lies over and what's to be Just a notion in my thoughts And me poking through the knots I am expected somewhere else Where the mind is not that tense Here I only find a wall And I roam around like in a ball I peak and find some cracks The light that comes has no sparks My words are not loud enough And my trials have gotten ruff No one can see my mind's wirlwind Nor can I comprehend theirs Through the deepth I come The cracks and spikes become one A little more I poke around And slowly myself I have found Until one more crack sounds aloud Upwards I start to search about The fog is spreading, becoming clear An egg is cracking, it's sound is near Crenges and petals arising And blows of winds are energising
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Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 8:17 AM UTC
Discover
In dark threads I'm stepping Spring is in my back No signs of clearance ahead Just dirt and branches that are fed They push me back and I don't see What lies over and what's to be Just a notion in my thoughts And me poking through the knots I am expected somewhere else Where the mind is not that tense Here I only find a wall And I roam around like in a ball I peak and find some cracks The light that comes has no sparks My words are not loud enough And my trials have gotten ruff No one can see my mind's wirlwind Nor can I comprehend theirs Through the deepth I come The cracks and spikes become one A little more I poke around And slowly myself I have found Until one more crack sounds aloud Upwards I start to search about The fog is spreading, becoming clear An egg is cracking, it's sound is near Crenges and petals arising And blows of winds are energising
0
Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 8:16 AM UTC
Discover
1. today on the radio, the voice of british engineer kenneth bigly, shackled in a chicken wire cage in iraq, is crying and begging his prime minister “please don't leave me here...” the sound of his desperation rises like black smoke, takes a solid form, lodges itself in our hearts, non-transferable as we continue to invent as we go, what to do next. this evening, a televised debate about homeland security and foreign policy... life has spilled out of its channels. 2. the rain has finally stopped, the puddle in my basement is deep enough for minnows. dawn wrings itself out before the sun comes up, and trees shake off their heavy wet skirts and move on in the wind. outside the back door, a large spider, the colour of sand looks like a crab walking on air, weaving, weaving the repairs of her lair. this airy space, this life, holds everything in place. do not pluck or cut or name what you find hanging – it's only time rearranging itself. a sense of the invisible in the corner of my vision, a glint of gold, a secret life is moving between the trees; they are always whispering. in the solitude, behind the rocks, in the tall grass, and below the surface of the water, meaning passes silently. this is not daydreaming. it's watching yourself dream. the way children play. draw the curtains. open the curtains. vanishing or fusing? what course will this take? when the time comes that I can't feed myself or get up from where I lay? 3. thoughts are throwing themselves like discarded clothing inside my head. i pick up a few and make some notes, but the rest, strewn about, disappear when i turn on the lamp. sometimes the very word i need goes dark. i want to get on my hands and knees and look for it 4. the trees have entered the house. they are on the stairs and in the hallways between the rooms. i can hardly see you anymore. you stay, you go. you will be someone who will always remember sounding the hurting horn at the wrong time. you catch your plane. my body wants to fold forward like a suitcase locking in the pain. i begin giving things away. a long time resident of my head, I tidy up, fold the past away, and gather what feels like a new method of thought – to admit that we just don't know, never knew, where we are going. passengers waiting for departure. 5. tonight i pull on a cloak full of the moon that won't come off. i begin to dance around a hole in the world where love once thrived. i hear the trees applaud. whirling in the shining light, i float. i fall. i learn to fly. healing without, healing with
0
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 8:50 PM UTC
blind spot.
1. today on the radio, the voice of british engineer kenneth bigly, shackled in a chicken wire cage in iraq, is crying and begging his prime minister “please don't leave me here...” the sound of his desperation rises like black smoke, takes a solid form, lodges itself in our hearts, non-transferable as we continue to invent as we go, what to do next. this evening, a televised debate about homeland security and foreign policy... life has spilled out of its channels. 2. the rain has finally stopped, the puddle in my basement is deep enough for minnows. dawn wrings itself out before the sun comes up, and trees shake off their heavy wet skirts and move on in the wind. outside the back door, a large spider, the colour of sand looks like a crab walking on air, weaving, weaving the repairs of her lair. this airy space, this life, holds everything in place. do not pluck or cut or name what you find hanging – it's only time rearranging itself. a sense of the invisible in the corner of my vision, a glint of gold, a secret life is moving between the trees; they are always whispering. in the solitude, behind the rocks, in the tall grass, and below the surface of the water, meaning passes silently. this is not daydreaming. it's watching yourself dream. the way children play. draw the curtains. open the curtains. vanishing or fusing? what course will this take? when the time comes that I can't feed myself or get up from where I lay? 3. thoughts are throwing themselves like discarded clothing inside my head. i pick up a few and make some notes, but the rest, strewn about, disappear when i turn on the lamp. sometimes the very word i need goes dark. i want to get on my hands and knees and look for it 4. the trees have entered the house. they are on the stairs and in the hallways between the rooms. i can hardly see you anymore. you stay, you go. you will be someone who will always remember sounding the hurting horn at the wrong time. you catch your plane. my body wants to fold forward like a suitcase locking in the pain. i begin giving things away. a long time resident of my head, I tidy up, fold the past away, and gather what feels like a new method of thought – to admit that we just don't know, never knew, where we are going. passengers waiting for departure. 5. tonight i pull on a cloak full of the moon that won't come off. i begin to dance around a hole in the world where love once thrived. i hear the trees applaud. whirling in the shining light, i float. i fall. i learn to fly. healing without, healing with
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79
To the one that held my heart and tore it apart To the person who caught the shards and mended the parts The above happened and the below occured.
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Jul 19, 2025
Jul 19, 2025 at 5:53 PM UTC
Hope matters
Into deeper darker depths I'm drawn Inch-filled every way in wondrous sight Of life, unseen, unknown, mysterious Yet a familiar revelatory strangeness The prompt blindly followed proved true Echoed in surprising whispery sighs As speech goes forth before hearing So too the way walked then revealed In mutual affirmation I'm given speech In human tongues to craft the ineffable That We hear, know, and acknowledge Thus not hallucinations of wickedness In ecstatic drunkenness I will sleep For tomorrow to greater depths I go
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Jul 18, 2025
Jul 18, 2025 at 4:52 AM UTC
Call of the Deep
The ****** Mary held a bowl , blue radiant tongues of fire . The light in the dark , the mother of all worlds , the enemy of all liars . ☆ See now the Holy Infant's pain , stigmata's lovely flower . The spiral staircase where childhood was slain , the monster which dwells in the tower . ☆ Small faces scream for justice , now enshrined in truth . The light in the dark will be merciless compleat , their blackened souls , the demon's meat .
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Oct 21, 2024
Oct 21, 2024 at 8:06 AM UTC
The Light in the Dark
The seven churches of the seven chakras , now moving through the light spectrum , holds seven lamps for a secret realm . ☆ He will command His angels in concern for you , and guard you on your path  . ☆ Four beasts of base desire you will conquer , emitting waves of light from your crown . Satan is your ego and the mark removed by devotion . ☆ The Water of Life , the essence of purification . Holy Michael of Revelations in a wave of heavenly fire , we now call for restoration , as above and so below .
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Oct 7, 2024
Oct 7, 2024 at 10:41 PM UTC
Sunday Prayer
When all around became desolation and one thing fed into another , the transformation of the soul , and revelation of the Pneuma . ☆ I witnessed three unholy princes , at once they devoured each other . Then in flaming cauldron of light , were consumed by flaming fire . ☆ Saved thrice by a ghostly goddess , the Moon beneath her feet , I was delivered by codes and numbers , then reunited by her seat . ☆ The distorted dragon who murders , makes charge innocence with crime . Condemned itself to an endless night , this where it would endless lie  . ☆ Then I saw The Hall of Vibration , a most melodious singing choir . Touched the hem of His sweet garment , the glory of Jehovah .
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Sep 22, 2024
Sep 22, 2024 at 10:21 PM UTC
The Glory of Jehovah
Fast headlong I now fell , a hole in dark night sky , through diverse strange devotion , left alone , outside of Time . ☆ Stranded , unveiled and motionless , a searing red blinding light , rendered my chest torn apart , by a figure in black , out of sight . ☆ Though feeling no base emotion , there was a demon of fear , so prayed I sought my deliverance , from this being of anguish and tears . ☆ Was I summoned to awaken ? have access to this work , through darkest night to ride , this chariot of thunder and verse . ☆ But something stood behind this temple of judgement and pain . The Sun , the Moon and a field of wheat , marked where that hidden door lay . ☆ Symbols rose up from the sea , a vision of numbers and sound . World shifted from black , red to white , overwhelmed as the first scroll unbound .
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Sep 21, 2024
Sep 21, 2024 at 8:36 PM UTC
The Invitation
In the pasture of moonlit dreams they sought the music and the seams of realities caged by beams of light hidden in a tomb of sins... With brush and pen they strove again to awaken a long-lost friend Humanity's aid, the devil's ruin, a savior beyond what's worth pursuing, for all are judged by saviors awakened cast in iron cage awaiting time unwrought from plans abating devil's deeds no longer contemplating their yields and wicked whims now dating cobwebs conjured by idleness, hungered schemes distorted abandoned plunder salvation came to the sleeping world, hence for the devil's slothfulness made pence duplicity broke itself in twain devils freed and angels made war in heavenly realms abound demonic trickery, no longer purchase found light shone down from truth above o'er horizon, burgeoning sun commanded its wake cast its sight upon the world devils expired as does smoke unfurled as do shadows in all-consuming light, unmade and what became of that world then? When the sun may set, we shall learn again... What darkness shrouds, we forget, so too the pain, for what the light sears, the darkness cools, and what the light frees, the darkness feeds, what the light starves, the darkness protects, what the light feeds, the darkness drains, what the darkness drains, the light protects, what the light protects, the darkness hungers, what the darkness hungers, the light favors, what the light favors, the darkness despises, what the darkness despises, the light understands, for well made plans cannot thrive in darkness alone, if the light should reveal the plans to be tainted the zenith of sun shall burn the plagues of satan...
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Dec 18, 2023
Dec 18, 2023 at 9:52 PM UTC
Burgeoning Sun Of Ages Begat...
In the pasture of moonlit dreams they sought the music and the seams of realities caged by beams of light hidden in a tomb of sins... With brush and pen they strove again to awaken a long-lost friend Humanity's aid, the devil's ruin, a savior beyond what's worth pursuing, for all are judged by saviors awakened cast in iron cage awaiting time unwrought from plans abating devil's deeds no longer contemplating their yields and wicked whims now dating cobwebs conjured by idleness, hungered schemes distorted abandoned plunder salvation came to the sleeping world, hence for the devil's slothfulness made pence duplicity broke itself in twain devils freed and angels made war in heavenly realms abound demonic trickery, no longer purchase found light shone down from truth above o'er horizon, burgeoning sun commanded its wake cast its sight upon the world devils expired as does smoke unfurled as do shadows in all-consuming light, unmade and what became of that world then? When the sun may set, we shall learn again... What darkness shrouds, we forget, so too the pain, for what the light sears, the darkness cools, and what the light frees, the darkness feeds, what the light starves, the darkness protects, what the light feeds, the darkness drains, what the darkness drains, the light protects, what the light protects, the darkness hungers, what the darkness hungers, the light favors, what the light favors, the darkness despises, what the darkness despises, the light understands, for well made plans cannot thrive in darkness alone, if the light should reveal the plans to be tainted the zenith of sun shall burn the plagues of satan...
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49
I still remember, That special first time. I was young, and IMMORTAL. I wanted to FIND. I wanted to FEEL it, That FREEDOM of mind, Where PEACE and SERENITY Leave troubles Behind. At first I felt nothing, No SHOCK or REVEAL . I asked my best friend; He swore it was REAL. But then, a tingle. A SMILE; a LAUGH! My mind filled with MEMORIES, thoughts Of the past. I couldn't believe it; So much; so fast! No longer depressed, I rose from the grass.   I felt like a scholar, Or philosopher of old. I walked to our table To tell what it showed. Of course, they were laughing, But I didn't mind, I knew what I'd FOUND. I'd seen the DIVINE.
0
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 6:32 PM UTC
Cannabliss
𝘖𝘩! 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦. 𝘠𝘦𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘮, 𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘚𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 - 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘬.
0
Nov 28, 2022
Nov 28, 2022 at 12:30 PM UTC
Never to Drift Away
as in clouds so in words many things seen and read hiding keys affirming revelations in the unseen and unspeakable
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Jul 20, 2022
Jul 20, 2022 at 10:14 PM UTC
pareidolia
living off of apologies and time spent in desperation recollecting and reflecting on where all of the good vibes went then I may have smoked them. underestimating my control of the situation like I'm not educated in protecting my Peace and healing my whole mind, body and Spirit deflecting questions of my integrity all because I prefer complexity - it takes me three lefts to make it right. also some times I have to remind myself that it's okay to cry boiling hot emotions got this little black kettle singing high currently I'm choking on the hard pill of a broken home ..heartache worse than a broken bone this is admitting to myself that I could be traumatized. True. I need a get away like Lenny says quick break with Mary, Garcia and Vega the only chance I ever get to take flight. in all Honesty I am really tired of people pushing me and pulling me. college drop-outs they think they schooling me they are tools to me. Shorty, swing my way with that hammer No I'm not driving for that ***** some say real Love is Black some say it's blue.. I say it's both you know the winners always leave with a little bruise . or two . . or3 . . . there probably may come a time of day where you have to choose whether to lose yourself in this matrix or to fight by your own rules and well Here is to you, my Little Light your presence is proof that some times choosing True Love is the right thing to do.
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May 4, 2022
May 4, 2022 at 1:48 AM UTC
True Pt. 2
May your year be measured by revelations and not resolutions May you see your uncountable gifts than boastfully count meagre goals May you on uncharted waters walk than by uncertain stars fearfully chart And may you in power compelled to fly than all powers beseeched to comply
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Dec 24, 2021
Dec 24, 2021 at 8:42 AM UTC
Resolutions
Most of what I wrote here is from two or three years ago Two years ago when I was the girl who dripped anxiety like a leaky faucet And poured all the excess into her poems like little sticky notes detailing the confusions and little joys of life Now, Now I'm still a confused, anxious girl but maybe I can fake it better? Or maybe I really have grown So that I no longer need the multicolored sticky notes Dotting my life Where I can hold it in or let it out more constructively Constructively? Is poetry not constructive? Or is it my biases again idk idk idk I spoke to an old friend the other day I have a poem about them There's another girl I never speak to but back when I wrote about her she was my friend I don't know where I'm going and these poems remind me where I've been For that matter I don't know where I am Not enough Not where I should be Yet But yet has yet to arrive and        seemingly n         e                   v                              e              r                                                                                     will ... I'm rambling aren't I? Well, The gist of it is I am somewhere else, not where I was Nor am I where I should be where I want to be where I ought- I have a poem about ought don't I? For those of you who've actually made it to this point in the poem I applaud you Because I don't know where I'm going or where I am But my poetry seems to be showing me where I've been Stop STOP Enough says the me that insists everything must be productive There's no point There's no point! You're not a poet, You're just a girl who is supposedly an adult Ha Ha ha What a joke Is the self deprecation necessary?              Is it though?                  Or is it simply a tool to hide my anxiety                              under a blanket Can't I just appreciate what I have? Who I am? But I'm not good enough             not nearly good enough The other day I wrote a sorry essay         apologizing for all my shortcomings Don't get me wrong I love my self                       You'd better too    love yourself that is   It's important But                 I don't seem                              good                     enough Sigh Yes, I verbally said the word sigh I'm still rambling, aren't I? Because I don't know where I'm going nor where I am But I do now know where I've been       and I suppose it's just a matter of moving from there I may take baby steps,                  like a waddling penguin But so long as I know where I've been I can keep on moving so that I can grow One day my wings will open huge and wide One day One day I will no longer be that anxious little girl One day Why not today? Because today's not that day But, one                  day It'll happen and if it doesn't... I guess I'll still be chasing that one day Because I don't know where I'm going or even where I am But I do know where I've been because I write about it in little sticky notes called poems
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Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 10:37 PM UTC
Looking Back at My Poetry From 2 Years Ago
Most of what I wrote here is from two or three years ago Two years ago when I was the girl who dripped anxiety like a leaky faucet And poured all the excess into her poems like little sticky notes detailing the confusions and little joys of life Now, Now I'm still a confused, anxious girl but maybe I can fake it better? Or maybe I really have grown So that I no longer need the multicolored sticky notes Dotting my life Where I can hold it in or let it out more constructively Constructively? Is poetry not constructive? Or is it my biases again idk idk idk I spoke to an old friend the other day I have a poem about them There's another girl I never speak to but back when I wrote about her she was my friend I don't know where I'm going and these poems remind me where I've been For that matter I don't know where I am Not enough Not where I should be Yet But yet has yet to arrive and        seemingly n         e                   v                              e              r                                                                                     will ... I'm rambling aren't I? Well, The gist of it is I am somewhere else, not where I was Nor am I where I should be where I want to be where I ought- I have a poem about ought don't I? For those of you who've actually made it to this point in the poem I applaud you Because I don't know where I'm going or where I am But my poetry seems to be showing me where I've been Stop STOP Enough says the me that insists everything must be productive There's no point There's no point! You're not a poet, You're just a girl who is supposedly an adult Ha Ha ha What a joke Is the self deprecation necessary?              Is it though?                  Or is it simply a tool to hide my anxiety                              under a blanket Can't I just appreciate what I have? Who I am? But I'm not good enough             not nearly good enough The other day I wrote a sorry essay         apologizing for all my shortcomings Don't get me wrong I love my self                       You'd better too    love yourself that is   It's important But                 I don't seem                              good                     enough Sigh Yes, I verbally said the word sigh I'm still rambling, aren't I? Because I don't know where I'm going nor where I am But I do now know where I've been       and I suppose it's just a matter of moving from there I may take baby steps,                  like a waddling penguin But so long as I know where I've been I can keep on moving so that I can grow One day my wings will open huge and wide One day One day I will no longer be that anxious little girl One day Why not today? Because today's not that day But, one                  day It'll happen and if it doesn't... I guess I'll still be chasing that one day Because I don't know where I'm going or even where I am But I do know where I've been because I write about it in little sticky notes called poems
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96
I lay with melancholy, A emotion that is dark and unholy Leaving you with a sense of dread Almost wishing that you were dead. It doesn't matter how hard you try It seems you can't find the light No matter what you do, You always find yourself in the dead of night You look in the mirror again, Tears streaking your face, Why cant i make amends Instead of always having this chase You play hard to get, But you play to well, You get forceful, Only to beat yourself down. You look at your past, Your forced to see what you did Like a knife to the heart, Twisting and grinding. You beg for mercy, only to be denied by yourself You beg for forgiveness, Only to be beat down. Don't you see. This all starts with you. As it must end the same. Until you contend with yourself. You shan't begin to contend with others. Lest you be beat down twice.
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Nov 6, 2020
Nov 6, 2020 at 2:20 PM UTC
The fight internal.
The sun has become harder to bear this late April morning.....under a perfect blue sky, the sun is bright as ever, it slightly ****** the skin, grass takes all the heat but is just as green and still sways to the blowing wind... we're showered with many tribulations, bombarded with dim scenarios...revelations of despondency, death, desperation, ......and of man's evil inclinations... fear and confusion filter through holes and tiniest crevices of grounds and walls, we make do with small corners, just to create spaces apart from each other we hear warnings...talks in apocalyptic tones...we learn of events cataclysmic, yet, we ignore earth's stormy winds and waves, telling us.....begging us to change our ways. we breathe, we can see, we have ears clearly, we choose what to see and hear... ........................................................ ....................................................... ..........................Spring's sky is all over, but, the lilt, the spring feeling, is nowhere ....................................................... ....................................................... Sally Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan April 5, 2020
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Apr 4, 2020
Apr 4, 2020 at 9:40 PM UTC
The Feeling is Nowhere
I will never have good financial standing. My wallet must feel besieged, Like the sacking of King’s Landing. Money just flies through my fingers; Like the angel of death, Bankruptcy always looms and lingers. I spend it on escapades and exuberance, On journeys to escalate my studies of life, To forbear nothing from its tutelage. I will never have a peaceful, settled life; No 2.3 kids, no doting, darling wife. Neither will I have a Golden Retriever; No picture-perfect moments, No Instagram photo captioned ‘she’s a keeper.’ I will go the edges of the world; I will unfurl hammocks, as the jungles get deeper, As I hear the whispers of life, And my ears strain to listen like receivers. I don’t care about losing either of those prospects; Uninteresting endeavours, uninspiring projects. To me, only love deserves mourning; It is the primer of all things, The driver of all of nature’s calls, The reason why the mockingbird sings. That must be why my heart can’t stand the quiet, Why I’m like a viral riot, an epidemic insurrection. That must be why I’m mourning an unrequited connection. You are everything I will never have. I will have an empty heart, and empty hands. If it never happens in this life, I hope I’ll get to see you again in the next one.
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Sep 2, 2019
Sep 2, 2019 at 3:44 AM UTC
Everything I Will Never Have