#shapes
The spilling pen
some can call the pen a diamond
that is found by a pickaxe?
The stationery that can be more
priceless and rarer to hate than
diamonds
——
/ \
\ /
—
Diamonds then can't the 1st though then
a ring?
Cycles and patterns sometimes
cutting through them can
find something difference
Differences aside
who can be the 1st and the last to differentiate between the
good and the sins
Sin can be for evil not as in Sine
Allah the best helper to shine
——
/ \
\ /
——
Angles XYZ
is this perhaps a lot of talk
can we deliver and be caring?
Sometimes trying to drill through it like √a=b = √a √b in a good way
No matter the loss of hope through Allah's mercy
anything beautiful halal can be achieved
May 14
May 14, 2026 at 2:43 AM UTC
Women can be men
Men can be women
People can be people
We didn’t write the feeling...
Stars can be supernovas
Meaning can be mending
And paintings can bend
And walls can return...
And shapes of architecture become earth
Lovers can be lovers
Leavers can believe us
Lights, camera, action, order, disorder
Dysphoria, euphoria
Academia, abracadabra
The moon, *** sun and laughter
Instantaneousness
Osmosis
Fear, friction, distance, pure bliss
Bubble toting aqua world
Top this...
Freedom, collaboration
Emancipation, cognification
Celebration...
Millenniums of us saving, changing...
What we actually are eventually...
One surging sway of soul-light soldered angels
Morphing from an oceanic abyss…
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 6:59 PM UTC
In shadows deep, where sorrows lie,
The cuts we bear, they teach us why.
With every tear, a tale unfolds,
Of strength reborn and hearts turned bold.
Through laughter’s light, and whispers low,
We mend the wounds the world bestows.
Each bandage wrapped with care and grace,
Transforms our scars, reveals our face.
So cast aside the weight of rue,
For every hurt has crafted you.
Embrace the past, let shadows fade,
In every cut, our spirit's made.
Jun 24, 2025
Jun 24, 2025 at 11:50 AM UTC
My world is one where shapes collide — I act as a square that
seeks solace, but it’s forced to abide, through life's tight rings, it
strains to pass. Yearning for freedom, a lonely chance to amass.
A longing to think beyond the lines it knows, for a simple shift
—_the means to a spirit, that it actually grows._
As the nights call me softly, while days linger long, in the midst
of their familiar chaos, I must muster my song. While the burden
of now presses heavy and tight; slumber escapes me, lost away
in the night.
I wade through the shadows, each moment isn’t always a gem,
in this fragile ballet, still I cherish them – boxed in my heart; in
this life of a square.
Nov 20, 2024
Nov 20, 2024 at 2:02 PM UTC
"Loosing weight is weird" I think as I stare at my naked body in the bathroom mirror.
I don't feel how I thought I would. My anticipated joy had turned to relief, a burden I no longer had to bear.
My soul has always been chaotic-always waging wars against itself, so of course this too would bring conflict.
The clothes that clung snug to my skin are now too baggy. Clothes I finally felt confident after years of searching for what worked, what didn't, what was flattering, what wasn't.
And now I'm looking up how to shrink everything
And my ******* aren't as full..
sloping and drooping down without being rounded by fat;
like tissues stuffed in a bra that's just slightly too big.
Not to sound ungrateful, because I love this new body (it's an answer to prayer really; taking away the edge of my insecurities) but I suppose it feels a little foreign.
Like a best friends house you practically grew up in: completely memorized in its familiarity; marked by memories, a home away from home, but still not the place you called "home".
And I spent so long learning how to love this body; accepting her flaws, her imperfections, but never quite convincing myself, only to have to relearn again.
And in some ways that makes me...sad?
I don't have another word for it.
Maybe it's a grieving, for the part of me that was a part of me for so long; a part I scolded and criticized.
And I hate myself at times.
Because I was my own bully-projecting my insecurities with verbal lashings.
All because I had this idea that if I was prettier, skinnier, I would feel more wanted and less alone...that it was the missing piece to my happiness.
And the assumed projections of strangers thoughts bombarded me into thinking there was truth in those hauntings,
because somewhere down the line, at an unknown moment in my subconscious, beauty became abundant.
I should get used to this changing skin, because life and age will always be forcing it to keep up, to adapt; It will continue to expand and sag and wrinkle and crease.
And I hope I can learn to love those foreign bodies too, though not so unfamiliar....
just unplaced.
Nov 18, 2024
Nov 18, 2024 at 12:15 AM UTC
Shadeless shapes shifting
Back and forth and upside down
Not sure what is real
Nov 9, 2024
Nov 9, 2024 at 1:48 AM UTC
sometimes,
The time it takes
to curate a reality
Where
The eyes of a hostile reflection
Don't contribute to, but consume-
the moment's prison of littleness...
Is it not possible?
To escape eternity's hour's ceaselessness?
Hope,
is too short;
we perpetuate-
it takes shape.
we preform,
then placate.
Jul 16, 2024
Jul 16, 2024 at 8:00 AM UTC
Shapelessness of Love
I am a logical person
I think in polygons and geometry
But you come around and the shapes fall apart
Into meaningless squiggles on a page.
There is nothing more beautiful than the shapelessness of love.
Sep 22, 2021
Sep 22, 2021 at 3:29 PM UTC
Enjoy the madness, its Mortemer's dance!
Swishing and turning its not wishy-washy,
Slashing and cutting the shapes! Oh lord the shapes!
Slicing and spinning then boom! Red confetti.
Look at him go in his marvelous trance!
Spinning and cutting the dance spins in circles as the audience cries 'now do the slip and slide!'
So he slides in real slow now he's in his mojo
He's feeling himself as he's breaking it down.
Its him and himself in his spotlight lit solo,
A pool of composure for his one final flourish;
A swish and a slit, moves never seen before.
The big grand finale and the crowd goes bananas!
There's roses on roses, they pile on the stage!
Mortemer's touched by such lovely affection from a crowd of individuals with no connection.
He'll lie on the stage and soak up the praise.
His roses smell sweet, and his roses are plenty.
Jul 24, 2021
Jul 24, 2021 at 4:38 AM UTC
Lights and all the shades
That its shapes throw,
Etched along the path of its travel
Are the moments it creates
Where we're wasting away
The time of our lives
In the hope that a beam
Will wash it all away,
Give us the enlightenment
For which we all pray
Let the wave of brightness
Pass through the keyhole
Of this dark room of life,
Make you look impeccable
While in reality
You're only
Dusting yourself off,
Picking up the pieces left over
In the wake of destruction
Caused by your own self,
The smile is unreal,
Not fake
You still carry hope
In the middle of all the cries
Some days you fall,
Other days you shall rise.
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 5:02 AM UTC
I wish I could see how I
look behind the mirror...
without any light,
or surface.
How would I appear
without my reflection?
I wish to take the journey into
that vast expanse of formlessness
where nothing matters:
shapes, colours and even movements.
A trapped shadow
harbours a similar desire!
Jan 27, 2021
Jan 27, 2021 at 10:18 AM UTC
I was a circle in a room full of squares so I became a square
The square's all decided to be circles so I became a circle again
They told me I wasn't a "proper" circle
I wasn't doing the circle thing right
Then I moved into the light to find that they were all triangles
They thought that they were circles but they were blind
I was a circle in a room full of squares who did not think that I belonged there
Yet I was the only one who could see my true reflection
Dec 18, 2020
Dec 18, 2020 at 11:01 AM UTC
“All my roses like to go,”
He says looking outside.
“I am sure they’ll come again,
In the spring they’ll come out,
Wherever they do hide,
And I’ll be able to rest.”
Something has eaten my flowers...again
And I am not sure who to blame.
I take such nice care of them
But they never seem to grow.
Maybe there is a mole…
Yes feasting away my crop
Or perhaps I am too early
And the chill has made them stop.
I say laments and I cry
But all I ever do
Is shrivel up and die.
I will try something else,
Roses always die too soon
I will try something else!
And then I do nothing.
Weeds and vines grow about
Clogging my drains as they sprout.
My garden feels empty
All I want is one thing
But then I'm left with plenty.
You once had a nice presence
Here some time ago
But then one day you stopped
And left me all alone.
Roses, they are telling me
That I am not the one they want
Somehow I’m not good enough
And I should just stop.
Barbous thing you tricked me
Was it ever mine to want
That i gave you all the conditions
And you gave me naught.
So I look in puddles
And hear about others success
But all I do is wilt
And in it I regress.
I feel like gypsum
A minor step in between
Stale and used
Time has expired for me.
Why are there so many vines,
Why is there so many weeds,
All vexing me in all directions
I wish I could fall asleep.
My face is cracking plaster
As I start to weep
I feel my mind sinking
And I start to dream.
You are the ****** one
With little of success.
I am the ****** one,
They know what is best.
I changed everything
So i could be adequate
I played the role they liked
But in the end I am looked at
In bitter thoughts and spite.
There is a curious thing
growing in my garden.
The vines have blossomed
And the weeds bear fruit.
Is this the allure of sadness
Or just an unrealized truth
Because I sit and look
At the thing I ignored.
So here I take
What has been given
And we brush away
The mistake I’m living
So stop with all this fake peace
You should have been
Honest with me.
So find some sugar songbird,
You can bury me alive.
But I’m not the one
Having something to hide.
Here is my garden,
There is plenty of space
And i don’t want to live
Under your passive glance.
Here is my chance
I’ll try to let go.
But I am the memory of someone
They will always know.
Dec 3, 2020
Dec 3, 2020 at 1:37 PM UTC
Shadows dancing on the wall
They never fall
Conjuring shapes of all disguises
Elongated limbs
Faceless
Daylight
They run away
Night
They follow you
Every corner of every street
Waiting
Nov 13, 2020
Nov 13, 2020 at 2:01 PM UTC
The veins of my eyelids
a sharp toned red
transforms into a blinding white
my eyes swivel to peak at the sun
I want the light to seep into my bones
longing to instead be a plant
slowly photosynthesizing
It would be easier perhaps,
to whisper sweet nothings
to the wind
rather than tightening my throat
strangled by my human body
the grief never quite leaving my lips
Shadows cross my bedside
shapes of blowing leaves tumble over
as the sun turns her head west
I watch the flurries of colors pass by
Nov 10, 2020
Nov 10, 2020 at 3:28 PM UTC
Small circles,
friends,
habits,
family.
Small cycles,
seasons,
habits,
family.
Small circles because...
seasonal friends.
habitual cycles.
familial circles.
Small cycles because...
habitual friends.
seasonal habits.
familial circles.
Family cycles caused...
circular habits and...
seasonal friends and...
circles of habits and..
seasonal family...
cycles of circles,
circles of cycles,
cycles of circles that spiraled me earth-ward,
circles of cycles that spun me sky-ward.
Circles of habits that turned me inward.
And then breaking cycles that turned me outward.
Sometimes a broken circle is closer to perfect.
Tri a new Angle. Sometimes square is better than circles.
Jun 5, 2020
Jun 5, 2020 at 4:06 PM UTC
This wasn't what he'd expected, since a wee little one,
contorting the edges of fallen wood made thin.
What was rectangle became a triangle,
what was just plain became more.
No fingers were used, a mind is a wonderous thing,
Never wasted on this little one.
Creation, Imagination, as parchment clean crisp,
contorted to conception. But when it went wrong
it rained snow flakes of ruptured imaginings,
Jagged and torn, papercutting those close.
Tears fell from his eyes as sorrow for skin bleed
not deep, but any more would have been a torment.
A thousand papercuts from a moment of
frustration could turn paper crimson.
From that interim, knowing the power paper
had, be it words shapes, meaning.
Learning that contours have potential and
wording on it was a powerful influence on others.
So began his journey as origami butterflies
fluttering around him, calmness followed.
Here child, as he handed a swan, and it swam
upon the innocence of there hand, and he walked onward.
May 20, 2020
May 20, 2020 at 4:47 PM UTC
It's best on the carpet
kneeling over clippings
vogue magazines and
national geographic
******* from some early year
I cut them up and paste them
sense of control
of placement
tall cotton socks
two-dimensional
nothing digital
shapes in shapes
any way I like it
torn edges
blue paper
make waves
for imaginary boats
capture a memory
a moment
in a scene you can hold
make your own
what could be better than that?
Apr 26, 2020
Apr 26, 2020 at 3:46 PM UTC
She drew arrows on paper
Thin lines and angles
Head to hand, table to elbow
A neat triangle
Apr 20, 2020
Apr 20, 2020 at 1:39 AM UTC
In lue of a sun
The rises in a triangle
A piece of fruit
Over the simu Himalayas
Harolding
The day
And
The best time
For pictures.
Aug 28, 2019
Aug 28, 2019 at 9:14 PM UTC
Drawing pictures,
is graphite make-believe.
You can bring life,
or darkness.
Are you god?
Do you have control?
Scribbles, judgments,
of squares, circles
and unhappy faces.
Crumble up,
the paper tightly.
Throw away, let go.
Maybe its time,
To start over.
Aug 2, 2019
Aug 2, 2019 at 9:15 AM UTC
Knee slap, diaphragm control,
living room, bass boosted,
ceiling fan casting an X shape,
blonde locks, same songs,
robots & girl futura,
love, *** existence,
drugs, dancing along
if you find the nerve.
How do I put this
compact view into words?
Fleeting, farewell,
at large, unheard.
What is it that you deserve?
Whatever your meat
tape, twisted, desires.
What is love to me?
To be, at all, near or beside you.
Tragic for me, as millions,
lessons learned eventually
maybe learned too late.
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 1:07 AM UTC