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#waking
Awakened steps at dawn Returning to self, Sunrises amused, Crystal morning dew dancing For sight, A return from dreams, Unremember the sleep across Living waters, Reconstruction of connection: The walk to begin in forgetful Grace adrift in recollection, Steps rising from pulsing memory Conceivable perception engraving, Eager to recollect rhythms anticipated From hopeful beginnings, Root of the world sculpting The resonance of self. A calm body in space freely Creating future momentum, Drifting through motions, Leaving the dark setting fire To the the day, A repetition of burn; Clarity of flames framing Embers of time. Entanglement, Binary stars facing eachother, Light intertwined born in connection, Silence speaks loudest When meeting lumens greet First light, Clarity written on a world From first fruits of many a dusk, Connecting the night. Connecting the day. The first fruits of morning Connection woven And here it is all born.
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May 3
May 3, 2026 at 6:10 PM UTC
Creation of Connectivity
You take my hand without a word and lead me somewhere safe somewhere that only exists because I'm aware. There, you become honest. You say the things you will never say to me my dearest. And I fall in love with someone who disappears at wake. You give me everything in a dream and nothing in the ninght gleam. Monday morning finds me empty, how can it be this cruel for me happening, repeating the same routine, the same longing. I don't know if dreams can ever be real, but waking up hurts more than I can ever feel. Kowing the only place you choose me to keep is somewhere I only reach in my sleep.
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Jan 25
Jan 25, 2026 at 4:51 PM UTC
Dreaming of you
fumbled with tittering fears                  i woke early opened  in the red light room my child’s room    red by his voice lit like emergency in a nuclear submarine and submerged by an allegiance of dreams open the curtain and   it's tarnished cold               first cold autumn play of light bites back that  otherly  world                                                             pray  mother take over begin my day                                 and i'll drop   my unnecessary churn
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Jan 4
Jan 4, 2026 at 8:40 PM UTC
f l o u n d e r
upon waking                                 worlds  fume into breath        perverted by alarm
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Nov 16, 2025
Nov 16, 2025 at 1:55 PM UTC
00001 01111
. . pinhole eyes                                                                 observe over your kindled lie                          the spread of your inedible pattern doctoring against the indelible darkness               quilted climate of mediation   forms over your bed wiring out your unfiltered horrors with gentle fluence (the rental of ebb  and the menial of flow) tapping metal   musician on the raw triggers                                              that fore-reign your vital psychology the inks  the rigs  the tinkers   the shallows the shadows  and score  that wink to us all     from the blue night                                     observed                                                     pinhole eyes . . blue screen   onto the window of the night stalked by the lonely boy                       you widowed it all away vagranted and volunteered away   all your daylight gave up the tokens of family                         schooling features and few friends remaining ; an intelligence to pool fear you take on the scientists popping your dreams                                                  to see if they spasm and scream gutting their symmetry  blazing a **** recovering only more symmetry rummaging away with their simplicity extending the corridor without sympathy searching out the temple of it all a deeper darker origin to answer to it all . . shakedown    plug right through the eyes you were riding it for ecstatic life made a corpse of it now naked to the nerve   your teeth grown in invited to savage your way out                              venture through the gaper glass information salvaged    wreckage retrieved your markers picked up   the importance received up to you/ the message :  "exist,  if you please" . .
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Jun 25, 2025
Jun 25, 2025 at 3:45 PM UTC
b l u e . s c r e e n . d r e a m . p o p
. . pinhole eyes                                                                 observe over your kindled lie                          the spread of your inedible pattern doctoring against the indelible darkness               quilted climate of mediation   forms over your bed wiring out your unfiltered horrors with gentle fluence (the rental of ebb  and the menial of flow) tapping metal   musician on the raw triggers                                              that fore-reign your vital psychology the inks  the rigs  the tinkers   the shallows the shadows  and score  that wink to us all     from the blue night                                     observed                                                     pinhole eyes . . blue screen   onto the window of the night stalked by the lonely boy                       you widowed it all away vagranted and volunteered away   all your daylight gave up the tokens of family                         schooling features and few friends remaining ; an intelligence to pool fear you take on the scientists popping your dreams                                                  to see if they spasm and scream gutting their symmetry  blazing a **** recovering only more symmetry rummaging away with their simplicity extending the corridor without sympathy searching out the temple of it all a deeper darker origin to answer to it all . . shakedown    plug right through the eyes you were riding it for ecstatic life made a corpse of it now naked to the nerve   your teeth grown in invited to savage your way out                              venture through the gaper glass information salvaged    wreckage retrieved your markers picked up   the importance received up to you/ the message :  "exist,  if you please" . .
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43
She wakes up at 3:17 every morning. The hallway lights flicker on, the cockroaches crawl back to their spots. Floors creak, glass shatters, and the scares are unleashed when she starts to trot. In the distance, she listens for something there, or maybe not. Creating a flickering mess, she’ll leave everything to rot Continuing to explore, she stumbles on a heater, noting it's red-hot. Why? She doesn’t know. How? She doesn’t know. Where? She doesn’t know. Beneath the floors, a creeping plot. There is a dragging sound, perhaps a rusted knot. Dangerous beings hiding below, their faces all distraught. She breathes heavily and groans as the shadows take her spot. Something takes her, screams, fighting a battle she already fought. Why? She doesn’t know. How? She doesn’t know. Where? She doesn’t know. Maybe it was the medicines, the traumas, or the sudden drop From the roof down to the floors, no way she could have been caught. If only it were the help that she sought. She searched for a meaning, but always forgot. A lifetime in silence and twisted thought, it looks like time has stopped. No joy, no light, and certainly no second shot. It was she who gave herself to that final spot. Why? She didn’t know. How? She didn’t know. Where? She didn’t know. She woke up at 3:17 every morning.
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Apr 28, 2025
Apr 28, 2025 at 8:17 PM UTC
Time of 3:17
I was in my bed feeling some dread of not finding any friends. I woke up, I slept again and I felt the chain of my internal disdain.
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Apr 27, 2025
Apr 27, 2025 at 7:37 PM UTC
Loneliness
Peaceful sleep washes over my consciousness, I shroud myself in the warmth of a duvet and close my eyes. Time passes in waves washing the day away. Colours spiral and blend, as logic bends, and I float weightlessly through memories that have never happened, as I can only imagine. The moon guards my secrets, in a language that I almost understand, while I am everywhere and nowhere, dreaming through seas of starlight in my dreamland. Then, my eyes snap open, and reality crashes over me like a wave of cold water, leaving an emptiness of something once profound, and scenes that I can no longer recall. I can only hope that it was a beautiful dream. ©️Lizzie Bevis
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Feb 25, 2025
Feb 25, 2025 at 12:16 AM UTC
Dreaming
the sun in my eyes sometimes it's a welcome pain we are awaken
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Jan 24, 2025
Jan 24, 2025 at 4:21 AM UTC
Haiku
5am, snuffed between the fingers of the day slumming stars and a night not fully broken, the waking world, its petals still to open is filled with silent promises unspoken
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Dec 20, 2024
Dec 20, 2024 at 1:23 PM UTC
5am
- for patty m(mombo) who will be laughing out loud, spilling her sippin’ coffee~ after she reads this~ woke up o f f c i a l l y “fully rested” per the devices that monitor the body,    hoping that’s all they do, unless they are writing this? don’t think but can’t be sure, cause the poems planted here, were seedlings elsewhere, and the Gatherers, my senses, be working    overtime as we (me & them) trapse through life picking up the discards, of songs. tv pundits, (see title!) overheard snippets of street conversations, your poems & comments, (as I walk among you) almost everywhere, anytime anyhow, to add days to my life span because the poem notions hit me so fast, hanging fruitfully needy for picking, need more time to love them so fulsomely so maybe one or two are Rem insertions by my Apple watch, but not many cause I write in a funny style! my son asked AI to write poems in the manner of his dad, and it replied, “can’t help, his poems are too weird, not reproduceable, borderline crazy(!!!!);” give us someone easier like Whitman or Plath or Leonard C., no problem doing dat” so this poem was an off chance remak, heard in passing by my digesting ears, and like Noah’s Ark, loaded up with alphabets 2 x 2, set sail to your receptors to bark at ya awake baby with hopes that you rise and read this, laugh way out loud, and suddenly you tutu, feeling well-reset, rested and very a very, moderate modicum more appreciated enuf nml
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Sep 25, 2024
Sep 25, 2024 at 11:31 AM UTC
waking up, feeling good, is vastly under~appreciated
. i launch from within                                                                                     the critical business of sleep and dreamwork                                                              and into the pre-furnished day mucus skin                                             like the first gobbed up evolver   to get turfed up on the beaches i let go the veils   of those true solving agents the motions     those treasurable scenes of bloom and swoon tidal theatre                      they disperse and i tough out a self applied                                                                  measured  and subservient routine           a hasty and unrewarding approach to   'productive'  business                                                                 it brings me distaste but   cements me in shared society passer bys throw up their greetings                                 and i heave 'hellos' in return
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Aug 14, 2024
Aug 14, 2024 at 10:05 PM UTC
d i s t a s t e
scupper the dawn    with curtains   redrawn a self made mourning
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Mar 2, 2024
Mar 2, 2024 at 11:28 PM UTC
01111 11111
a twisted stomach chemical nervousness this city heave     dawning
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Feb 27, 2024
Feb 27, 2024 at 1:40 PM UTC
11110
Early morning fingers clutching at the sill as I lay quiet, warm and still half awake yet wrapped in night not ready for the coming light which filters softly through the blind to **** my peaceful state of mind
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Feb 23, 2024
Feb 23, 2024 at 8:38 AM UTC
Assassin
I cherish the days I get out of bed Without thinking twice About it. Walk to the bathroom Brush my teeth, Feel the water upon my face. I cherish the days I can go Up and down The stairs. Go to the kitchen And make something To eat. I cherish the days everything has the scent Of coconut and vanilla. The sun rises from the east And sets in the west I cherish the days I realize I want to live.
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Aug 8, 2023
Aug 8, 2023 at 10:44 AM UTC
As I live and breathe
tended    in dreams    i am flossed at sea only to be    muttered and lost            once upon awakening un-present and tense
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Jun 15, 2023
Jun 15, 2023 at 10:26 AM UTC
01 11
its these winter mornings where any thought of greeting the dawning day with warm thoughts hopeful exuberance and a positive outlook will quickly be silenced along with the birdsong of that overly optimistic alarm that melody so carefully selected to ease consciousness into a brightened state of motivation of joy despised within seconds immediately cut short and resented for its mindless persistence the first excuse a need for another ten minutes of warmth and comfort to prepare for the day for life in general perhaps the second a negotiated concession that there was no real reason to get up early anyway finally uncertain whether in victory    or defeat the alarm will be cancelled completely along with the rest of the day
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Dec 15, 2022
Dec 15, 2022 at 6:52 AM UTC
try not to be alarmed
Get that window open! Go on, do it! Feel the fat rotation of the planet throwing a little spring our way to poke our amygdala and rattle our dormancy and sure, we know at the back of minds a bare faced bait and switch is in play which means our twitching fingers will seek to put the big coats in the loft only with dismay to find the grey frost return to bite our ***** mid-March but we can dream and show some ankle can’t we? We hold out for this spring harder than a man who’s lost nine digits to frostbite so we can point to where it hurts, be heard, aware that we’re linked, a swarm of warmer hands that need to hold, to cling, to brace against this lingering, malingering pain We’re ready to emerge, but only together and while inclement, duplicitous weather still rages we’re better, sadly, caved
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Feb 20, 2021
Feb 20, 2021 at 7:40 AM UTC
Something in the air
And then I open my eyes yet another misty morning, half a year has passed by but my heart is still yearning, with the passing of each night there's always a fairytale dream, never will it make me vulnerable even the bravest yearn, silently we all make a wish to the moonbeam for nothing's ever enough. It's hard to put into words a dream that doesn't change, just that it's always a different place yet a part of it tends to stay, from your tiny black eyelash to the enormous warmth of your being, in the thick of it all is me standing there looking at you what else can I say, And then I open my eyes yet another misty morning, half a year has passed by but my heart is still yearning. - diljeev
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Jan 6, 2021
Jan 6, 2021 at 7:19 AM UTC
half a year.
And then you woke up, you felt the soft drip of sweat on your furrowed brow. Trailing down your face in thin streams. Your clothes were soaked, and your bed lay damp. Your breathing was heavy as your forlorn gaze drifted off into the night sky. And then you woke up, you felt the fright from a previous dream cling to your mind, dulling your senses. Cloaking your ears from all previous sounds that might’ve existed. Your hands lay there trembling, uncontrollable in every way, messy hair in all directions. And as you lay there breathing, you woke up. The erratic thumping of your heart, beating loud into the night. A soft wail from your mouth, encircling the terrible symphony of despair. Grating thoughts, that never seem to go away. It won’t stop, it won't go away . . . And then you woke up
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Dec 22, 2020
Dec 22, 2020 at 3:44 PM UTC
Waking up