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Karijinbba Sep 2020
Your Joy is my joy
Your happiness my own
Our beginning bittersweet
Premonition of it's end.
Those I love the most
think of me today.
My dearest darling
beloved forever
m
o
r
e
Omnipresent remain
our treasure tree of life
our paradise lost and found.
~~~~~~~~~~
By: Karijinbba
~Copy Rights apply~
Sep-2020 revised 03-21.
https://youtu.be/67oftdPmix0
Chloe Dec 2015
He didn't grow angel wings and go to heaven. He put on an astronaut helmet and found peace in the stars. A tiny soul floating through the galaxies, just waiting for mommy to join him. His dreams were to big for this planet. Curiosity, love, adventure, and fearlessness. He was soaked in those traits as he grew in my womb. The unknown was calling and I don't blame him for answering. He was concieved by two souls who desperatly wanted more than life can offer. We created something too beautiful for human form. All I can do is hope that the night sky is full of kindness. It brings peace to know he left this earth knowing nothing of pain. An artist like his mother, I know my son is painting constelations in the sky and sprinkling stardust over my head. One day I'll have the guts to put on a helmet of my own, and he can show me the universe through his eyes, resting in my arms for eternity.
David Cunha Jun 2017
It was never this easy
            Never this easy to cry
But the sorrow haunts me
And the thought of not having you
                is enough
                          to break walls and shatter constelations.

Yet, I don't want any of that
                             Except you
And your mad smile
And waking up electryfied with the sight
                             of your ******* and the smell of eggs cooked
First thing in the morning
june 23, 2017   10:32 a.m.
Lena Jun 2017
We went down in history.
Best worst couple alive.
We deserved an award.
Tiger striped pajamas
And a SLIGHTY
Illegal pengin drawn on the side of a building.
Made by a painter
More worthy than van gough.
Goodbye.
And I say that with no hatred.
Goodbye.
We had a good run.
As you said,
You and I,
Were never meant to be.
What was it?
5 times?
7?
To be honest I’d lost count.
So goodbye.
Im not washing all those campfire songs and broken bucket memories
down the drain.
I’m simply storing them in a box that has your name.
A box vacumed air tight,
So that I can never need another band-aid
With a green crayon on it.
That box will be sealed,
But only opened in short filtered bursts
Just to remind myself,
You were here.
To remind myself of a first kiss,
A first wish,
And somehow we ended up watching the avengers?
Don't ask me,
Because I was too busy looking at you,
To take even a second watching the movie.
Which you were fine with,
Because you hated
Superheroes.
Which Ill never understand,
Because your sister and brother
Look at you,
Seeing nothing but a driven
Well thought out
Superhero.
For a while there,
You were my superhero too.
You managed to get me out of a tree,
Which I have now learned,
Are not to climbed
When you have a fear of heights.
Im not sure how,
But even in the middle of the night
With a blood moon clouding most of the light,
And a bunch of your friends talking about the latest gossip
You got me down from a tree
That I had decided to climb,
Just to see see the moon better.
I had climbed
To where the branches swayed in the wind
And to where tall girls with 110 pounds on their body
Were definitely,
Not designed to be.
Once down,
After what seemed like hours of agony,
It was probably about 3 minutes.
I was scared shitless.
But when everyone left,
We stayed in the grass,
Trying to make our own constelations.
Out of barely visible stars
Shodowed by a red tint,
That drove out every speck of light other than its own.
Thats kind of what you were like.
You drove the life out out of me,
And created a new one.
You locked up who I was in a cage
With the key having been thrown into the nile,
I called it love.
Because you were trying to make me better than I was before.
Someone who fit your lifestyle.
You turned me into a broken record
With so many scratches,
The glossy look of the tracks were barely visible.
But you werent all bad.
You kissed me at a campfire,
Walking back to evening circle
Where we would sing some weird song
About the sun being gone,
And the day being done?
Then we all went to our cabins,
But I was frozen in place.
Because theres no way that was real.
It wouldve meant that my wish,
The way you told me to wish,
Actually worked.
One of my friends had to take my arm and drag me in my daze back to the cabin.

You took me to a golf course
just past the woods,
Because you thought it was closed.
It was not closed.
We learned this when a golfball missed my head by less than an inch,
It was an honest mistake,
But we laughed.
Partily because of the golf ball,
Mainly,
Because that was our luck.
Our luck was having a ball miss my head by an inch,
And a golf course that lacked green grass,
was still open.
Our luck was getting lost,
Because I got distracted by the wildflowers in the woods,
And walked off to make a bouqet for you.
We werent lost,
We were just,
Taking the scenic route I guess.
But we wound back up at the baseball field with built in playground off to the side
just as light decided to dip from view,
And leave the very sliver of a moon
To try and keep us able to see.
That was our luck.
But you had bad luck
And so did I.
We seemed to circle in hurricanes.
A world being thrown about until that quiet little eye.
Before we were thrown back into misfortune,
We were addictive.
When my bad luck met yours,
It was the kind of darkness no one longs for.
This was not the darkness of sleep
Where you could go and be alone.
This darkness was not that.
Our darkness was a silent room that screamed loudly
Hoping to deafen us through our separate walls,
Our darkness was a room that had no doors,
No floors,
And lacked a ceiling.
But there was still no way out. Barbed wire
Higher than our Mount Everest of past,
And even your ego couldn't climb on top of mine to get half way up.
So we sat in opposite corners of our big and screaming rooms,
And waited for the whisper to turn it all off.
My whisper.
My whisper was apologizing and making promises you wouldn't never give me the chance to keep.
Your whisper back
Was an army of paper airplanes with one message.
I forgive you.
For every apology I said
And for every piece of my heart I cut out as a peace offering,
You gave me a paper airplane.
Each with the same intent.
The intent to make the point stab into my skin,
And bleed more poison into my blood,
Without me noticing the scratch.
You distracted me by sitting on a now broken bucket,
And by laughing when I made a joke we both knew wasn't funny.
You distracted me by laying in the grass
Or putting your head in my lap.
And I distracted myself by playing with your changing colored hair,
While pretending this was real.
I wanted it to be real.
For me it was.
It wasn't for you.

But sometimes our difficult rooms separated
And though our rooms no longer screamed at each other
The rooms screamed at occupant of it.
Mine screamed at me,
And your didn't scream but was silent and let you sit with your pain.
My room couldn't do that.
My room tore me apart,
Because all of the shredded pieces would eventually go to you.
And suddenly,
Our rooms connected and a paper plane flew my way.
I let it hit my right cheekbone.
I opended my paper expecting your usual note.

But it was different.
This time your note said no.
I hadn't whispered yet.
But “no” still landed in my lap.
My whisper back was one of confusion.
Another one of the paper airplanes hit my heart,
But the paper was worn out and red.
It wrote,
Not safe for you.

And again I whispered,
This time a pained confusion,
I asked what your paper airplane meant.
This time your paper airplane said:
I'm sorry.
And then,
All of the paper airplanes caught a small fire from their edges and then they were gone.
Even the ashes,
Gone.
I hope you're doing well Tiger. I didn't forget
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2019
it was nothing more than
drinking a
   ⰔⰕⰀⰓⰑⰐⰓⰀⰏⰀⰐ
      beer and walking
the night without
             a suitable suit
or care for flesh...
  bone to cold:
            cold to bone...

god (casual inference
of making a sound
equivalent to stating
something: aghast)
these people are "gone"
yet they're still here...

no, i'm not thinking
about deus...

             two things on my
mind:
    making dumplings
tomorrow:
       fungus, pickled cabbage,
chicken meat and
chicken stomachs...

(well, three):
how constelations
look: almost pristine
during a cold night...

                    •
                 •
              • .
                             .
                            •
                            •

  ­                                             •
                •

while lost paparazzi
flashes of frost
cuddle the tips of
the grass' elongated
strips:

head tilt one way,
head tilt, another:
    at night in this cold:
i might as well
be walking the red carpet.
  
(well, four):  
                        imagine all
the amount of paper,
should books be wrriten
like this:

¶...........................................
.............­.................................
...............................­...............
..............................................
..­............................................
....................­..........................
......................................­........
¶...........................................
...........­...................................
.............................­.................
..............................................
­..............................................
..................­............................
....................................­..........

rather than, like this:

          ....................................
...........­...................................
.............................­.................
..............................................
­..............................................
..................­............................
....................................­..........
.......
          ....................................­
..............................................
.................­.............................
...................................­...........
..............................................
......­........................................
........................­......................
.......

countless pages!
  
(well, five):
  imagine the students of
architecture having
to rely on roman numerals
to think of
    wriggling out
something to appeal
to the pleb...
        
      countless men have
tried: but...

          a coliseum via
  IV + VII = XII

   and sure as ****
    a quantum physics
definition of reality
via 4 + 7 = 12:

"god" of the "gaps":
    4, 6, 8, 9, 0,
    A, B, Q, O, P, R,
    D...

ⰔⰕⰀⰓⰑⰐⰓⰀⰏⰀⰐ:
this writing?
about as much vitality
surrounding it as...
not since high school
have i heard someone
say: you should read
james joyce's ulysses..

(well, six):
god has nothing to do with
"it"...
   it being a precursor
of: what?

   i.e.
          religion as in what?
i can hardly kneel,
i can hardly play
the lunatic variant
of: before me i see a void
that eats, rather than
clarifies itself for the sake
of vanity...

      a cold beer, a cold night...
the existentialist fwench
philosophers:
   existence precursors
essence...
             as mind precursors
body...
  or rather:

  there's no god other than
in the gesticulated: aghast
expression of: a little
bit more than mere awe...

    i'm just...
bothered...
about no less a point
of god...
              other than:
faith has never recovered...
in that:
   man is less and less
someone who believes...
man, to satiate
the curiosity of time's
inexhausive narrative...

        what was once
faith: has become nothing
more than paranoia...

       for no god
there's only the suspicious
inclination of
a reality that's...
   in situ...

          man becoming
so self-conscious
that indeed:
   doing away with god,
he ought to do away
with: and lodge in
the zoological mingling
with the psychological
study of man as:
   "self" -
   this... etymological
curiosity:
           Babylon...
            selb...

because the modern Italian
is somehow,
unrelated to the ancient
Roman...

              the in situ
conundrum of man being,
able, to scuttle away with
the myriad of facts:
shared among the myriad
of people...
  
and to think...
people used to reason
with     ⰏⰀ as
the same as         MA...

i can't read the modern
variety of hieroglyphs
of the EMOJI...

         :) - sure,
i can read that... :(
       but anything beyond
that?
           well... it's not like
i was even given the opportunity
of finishing school
at 16 and entering
a ******* coal-mine either!

although no trinity
of Giza before me:
   all i seem to be clarified by
is the current
        endeavor of:
whatever is the collectivist
ambition of man...

           a pyramid of sighs...
Saša Milivojev Jun 2022
.
(I swear) by the Sun and the light
And the Moon in its wake
And the Day that brought it in sight
And concealed when it was by the Night
I shall give you to nobody
Devoted I shall be to thee
I shall love you eternally
To leave you, never will I
Swear by the constelations and the Sky
And God it was asembled by
And Earth for even He made it to be
And the Spirit that created He
I shall give you everything
For you I shall live
Verses I’ll write for thee
Of love crazy
And I swear by the stars
That are hiding, wandering
And from sight escaping
And the Night when your whipe your tears away
And the morn when you respire
Kisses of mine shall
Wake you tenderly
Forever, even when we cease to be.


  
Saša Milivojev

Translated by Ljubica Yentl Tinska

www.sasamilivojev.com
sasa milivojev sasha milivoyev ljubica tinska oath

— The End —