#silences - Hello Poetry

Shedding tears and laughing in her memories is a movie watched on loop by me. Story of granny about the deceased shining as a star is the force driving me into asking all stars the reason for her deviation from the path of her promise of never leaving me alone. Silences are her replies if she really exists in any of the stars. Silhouttes of dark circles under my eyes is the waiting for her reply. Her betrayal is a fire and I'm its victim.

0

Jul 28, 2020

Jul 28, 2020 at 1:12 PM UTC

spriha-kant

A Betrayer

Shedding tears and laughing in her memories is a movie watched on loop by me. Story of granny about the deceased shining as a star is the force driving me into asking all stars the reason for her deviation from the path of her promise of never leaving me alone. Silences are her replies if she really exists in any of the stars. Silhouttes of dark circles under my eyes is the waiting for her reply. Her betrayal is a fire and I'm its victim.

5

Semua begitu suram, Semua begitu kelam, Semua begitu buram. Kupu-kupu tak lagi berkumpul di kebun, Lebah tak lagi menghasilkan madu, Burung tak lagi berkicau merdu. Ditanyakan pada alam, "Apahal semua ini?" Ditanyakan pada malam, "Apa yang terjadi?" Ditanyakan pada siang, "Mengapa seperti ini?" Tapi percuma saja, Semua hanya bisa membisu. Bagai abu sisa bara yang masih menyala.

0

Jul 20, 2019

Jul 20, 2019 at 12:47 PM UTC

lemonlime

End

Semua begitu suram, Semua begitu kelam, Semua begitu buram. Kupu-kupu tak lagi berkumpul di kebun, Lebah tak lagi menghasilkan madu, Burung tak lagi berkicau merdu. Ditanyakan pada alam, "Apahal semua ini?" Ditanyakan pada malam, "Apa yang terjadi?" Ditanyakan pada siang, "Mengapa seperti ini?" Tapi percuma saja, Semua hanya bisa membisu. Bagai abu sisa bara yang masih menyala.

15

Between silences Things seem okay Can't find problems anywhere Always have a smile on my face Until I remember they're still there It is easy to forget I'm mad If I dream about your eyes for too long Usually I get so distracted Not even sure who's right or who's wrong So there is not really much point Fighting if it is all a waste Arguements will slip my mind No matter how bad the distaste So next time we disagree Let us not raise our voices to a shout I can almost guarantee We are just going to end up working it out

0

Jul 4, 2019

Jul 4, 2019 at 3:58 AM UTC

AmandaKayBurke

Between Silences

Between silences Things seem okay Can't find problems anywhere Always have a smile on my face Until I remember they're still there It is easy to forget I'm mad If I dream about your eyes for too long Usually I get so distracted Not even sure who's right or who's wrong So there is not really much point Fighting if it is all a waste Arguements will slip my mind No matter how bad the distaste So next time we disagree Let us not raise our voices to a shout I can almost guarantee We are just going to end up working it out

17

"Manos crispadas me confinan al exilio. Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda." Cuervos negros me prohiben mi alegría. Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda. Armas siniestras, seres aciagos. Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda. Mi muerte se acerca, mi mano se acerca. Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda. Mi pálida reflexión me prohibe la vida. Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda. "Me quieren anochecer, me van a morir. Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda." -"Figuras y silencios" de Alejandra Pizarnik // "Contorted hands confine me to exile. Help me not to ask for help." Black ravens forbid me my happiness. Help me not to ask for help. Sinister weapons, fateful beings. Help me not to ask for help. My death gets closer, my hand gets closer. Help me not to ask for help. Mi pale reflection forbids me my life. Help me not to ask for help. "They want to night me, they are going to die me. Help me not to ask for help." -Extracting the stone of madness, by Alejandra Pizarnik

0

Jun 17, 2018

Jun 17, 2018 at 2:46 PM UTC

Nisselen

Figuras y silencios y silencios // Figures and silences and silences.

"Manos crispadas me confinan al exilio. Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda." Cuervos negros me prohiben mi alegría. Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda. Armas siniestras, seres aciagos. Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda. Mi muerte se acerca, mi mano se acerca. Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda. Mi pálida reflexión me prohibe la vida. Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda. "Me quieren anochecer, me van a morir. Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda." -"Figuras y silencios" de Alejandra Pizarnik // "Contorted hands confine me to exile. Help me not to ask for help." Black ravens forbid me my happiness. Help me not to ask for help. Sinister weapons, fateful beings. Help me not to ask for help. My death gets closer, my hand gets closer. Help me not to ask for help. Mi pale reflection forbids me my life. Help me not to ask for help. "They want to night me, they are going to die me. Help me not to ask for help." -Extracting the stone of madness, by Alejandra Pizarnik

27

it was a beautiful starry night when we were both drunk, lying on the sand you told me bout your ugly and weird fascinations i was intently listening to your most peculiar thoughts there were moments when we could just shut up for a minute but feel no awkwardness at all i can hear you breathing and that, i think, is still the best melody I've heard so far sometimes i'd take a quick look at your face you looked so happy, i almost thought i was dreaming, as if everything's not real but no, it was profoundly true. we felt infinite. that was the only time i ever felt alive. but that was then, life happened. and i don't know where you are now. i wonder who's lying with you on the sand now, listening intently to your most peculiar thoughts listening closely to your inhales and exhales sharing the most comfortable silences with you staring at the beautiful moonlight, feeling infinite. wishing the night would never end. he must be so lucky.

0

May 31, 2017

May 31, 2017 at 4:41 AM UTC

grumpy_potato

Starry starry night

it was a beautiful starry night when we were both drunk, lying on the sand you told me bout your ugly and weird fascinations i was intently listening to your most peculiar thoughts there were moments when we could just shut up for a minute but feel no awkwardness at all i can hear you breathing and that, i think, is still the best melody I've heard so far sometimes i'd take a quick look at your face you looked so happy, i almost thought i was dreaming, as if everything's not real but no, it was profoundly true. we felt infinite. that was the only time i ever felt alive. but that was then, life happened. and i don't know where you are now. i wonder who's lying with you on the sand now, listening intently to your most peculiar thoughts listening closely to your inhales and exhales sharing the most comfortable silences with you staring at the beautiful moonlight, feeling infinite. wishing the night would never end. he must be so lucky.

16

How I felt How I wondered How I dealt How I plundered Towards the roaring river In the thunderous storm The animals dodge nature's aimed quiver As I stood on the upper cliff form Marveling the rain, clouds, lightening, wind, and thunder The screams of my head Were overtaken by these blunders Greater noises up ahead Here is where I can finally hear silence For all that yelling inside my mind turns mute And all external hullabaloo are but a ring in noiseless For if I can match each one's volume and ****** a pure, beautiful quietness goes on as a loop

0

Jul 31, 2016

Jul 31, 2016 at 9:30 PM UTC

parker-blackwood

Cancel Out

How I felt How I wondered How I dealt How I plundered Towards the roaring river In the thunderous storm The animals dodge nature's aimed quiver As I stood on the upper cliff form Marveling the rain, clouds, lightening, wind, and thunder The screams of my head Were overtaken by these blunders Greater noises up ahead Here is where I can finally hear silence For all that yelling inside my mind turns mute And all external hullabaloo are but a ring in noiseless For if I can match each one's volume and ****** a pure, beautiful quietness goes on as a loop

16

You left ... And you left behind your silences. Baby your silences I was reading Some were grey skies waiting to pour , While some were raging storms And your echoes thundered

0

May 14, 2015

May 14, 2015 at 11:35 AM UTC

Nano

Silences

You left ... And you left behind your silences. Baby your silences I was reading Some were grey skies waiting to pour , While some were raging storms And your echoes thundered

6

Can I show you how beautiful you are? Can I take out the old photo albums and push my index finger into the faces, the places, and seas? I want to peel back the plastic and remove the square photographs from their sticky setting. I'm alluding to ideas that exist more formidably on the internet- there are no paper photographs, no sticky settings, there aren't even faces in the numbers; it's only ever been you or me. Some of my things are crooked. The strings don't work, the wires are twisted and make the sounds all come out funny. There's a strange buzzing everywhere, it's like Mickey's gray cloud, a cloud Koopa throwing spiked shells from Park Avenue beach to Montrose street. Everything is quiet, consuming, unassuming and still recalcitrant. I'm showing nothing to nobody. Coaxing storm systems and netting foul play and ***** tricks, with my pants around my ankles or my fly unzipped. I'm stinking of this stuff. These sudorific crevices on the insides of my thighs. I'm more or less always pacing. Rocking. Rolling. Small room I'm living room, cadavers I stuff my skinny fingers inside of- cold, wet hollow places I'm seeking skin covered gods in. I'm craving tastes and flavors. I'm looking at these pictures of me, of my face and the clothes I wore, the people that knew me. Where have I disappeared to? Every place that I went, every condition of my humanness has gone. Five minutes past my certainty, squirting hot molten magma from my **** my lips, and my fingertips. Hysterical thoughts and homily. I want just a hello. I want just a hello.

0

Apr 26, 2014

Apr 26, 2014 at 7:16 PM UTC

martin-narrod

hello.

Can I show you how beautiful you are? Can I take out the old photo albums and push my index finger into the faces, the places, and seas? I want to peel back the plastic and remove the square photographs from their sticky setting. I'm alluding to ideas that exist more formidably on the internet- there are no paper photographs, no sticky settings, there aren't even faces in the numbers; it's only ever been you or me. Some of my things are crooked. The strings don't work, the wires are twisted and make the sounds all come out funny. There's a strange buzzing everywhere, it's like Mickey's gray cloud, a cloud Koopa throwing spiked shells from Park Avenue beach to Montrose street. Everything is quiet, consuming, unassuming and still recalcitrant. I'm showing nothing to nobody. Coaxing storm systems and netting foul play and ***** tricks, with my pants around my ankles or my fly unzipped. I'm stinking of this stuff. These sudorific crevices on the insides of my thighs. I'm more or less always pacing. Rocking. Rolling. Small room I'm living room, cadavers I stuff my skinny fingers inside of- cold, wet hollow places I'm seeking skin covered gods in. I'm craving tastes and flavors. I'm looking at these pictures of me, of my face and the clothes I wore, the people that knew me. Where have I disappeared to? Every place that I went, every condition of my humanness has gone. Five minutes past my certainty, squirting hot molten magma from my **** my lips, and my fingertips. Hysterical thoughts and homily. I want just a hello. I want just a hello.

3