"deactivating" poems
Yes it's my birth date
the day I fell back to Earth
I do celebrate this weakness
as I deactivate my protective shield
It's just one day in a solar year
when all can see me here
they will see a fragile man
without his protective shield
The last of his kind
a lord of time
a master of rhyme
warchild feeling so fine
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 2:38 AM UTC
It's 3:09 PM, I've just deactivated my facebook account. Not planned, or thought-out...just so. I know, it's a foolish and stupid thing to even take the time of noting down in words but so it goes. I'm not horrible, I've been worse. I'm just not...doing too good. I don't feel well, and quite frankly I'm too exhausted for the whole staying positive ******** Things like deactivating my lame facebook account and not owning a cell-phone by free-will...it's my way of modernly disconnecting from the artificial world I've held part of and the people in it. It's not that I'm trying to isolate myself or become anti-social completely...it's more like...I'm just trying to find some air, some real ******* fresh air to breath. I've been listening to Man Of A Thousand Faces by Regina Spektor on repeat this past week, and I just need...I just need to let my own self be. I'm at a distant public library away from home as I type this. It's one of my favorite places to visit and spend some quality free time at. Surrounding myself with books and records and strangers is one of the most tranquilizing methods I know. It's difficult sometimes...to accept that I'm twenty years old and in far reach of accomplishing my dreams. It's difficult to accept that my father's heart could fail again...it's difficult to accept that my mum has vertigo...it's difficult to accept that my uncle is dead, it's going to be a year since and I still cannot bring myself out of selfish denial. Loving is difficult, caring is difficult, trying is difficult, beliefs are difficult, feelings are difficult, I am difficult...and the thought of wanting to cry makes me want to cry because it's so exasperating and draining and overwhelming and humbling. I haven't written or posted much on here lately, but doing so right now gives me this tiny and odd and inexplicable crumb of...hope? It's difficult to accept death as much as life itself sometimes but nevertheless I accept it. I cope through it in the stupid little ways that I can. I become torn and furiously passionate all at once. I can only love as much as my heart can manage and work hard and try hard and cry when I feel like ******* crying because feelings are beautiful and meant to be exposed.
todo en él es lugar adecuado .
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 10:50 PM UTC
whose life and love deserves to be held in my palm?
the trail i leave behind stains of you and mine
the heart is not a fragile glass,
it is a miscalculated bomb
alongside us,
the stars kiss the reservoir
inaudible thoughts
you press on the clutch
and gears start shifting
i am
the great white moon
you see
his wet wavy reflection
when something grips and takes you over
a fleeting thought of remembering
a post-season bird misplaced and depressing
one word they said that triggers your next
whatever it may be,
look at me
look at this place
look how hard i am trying
for sense to someday make
inevitably you are lost,
like a flower in the snow
but my darling, can't you see?
don't you know?
love is ticking
love is finding
and deactivating
Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 12:32 PM UTC
Living a life for another, made by others,
Anticipating and considering all these expectations,
Especially, for the fans who tolerate the process of expanding education and inspiration,
We’re doing everything we have to do to fulfill the next agent.
We are the creators of a new generation, influencing teens with the power of our platforms,
Reinforcing the idea of an effortless motivation.
To plan ahead, we’re moving forward,
Toward the subsequent destination.
We are the driving forces of multimedia nations,
Narcissism and low self-esteem are the feelings we’re morally inclined to,
Feeling our own bodies test addiction to a single notification,
We’re living in endless rotation.
Our minds have grown accustomed to the routines of checking the number,
Of likes and comments on the recent,
Even, lurking and giving into the guilty pleasure of stalking,
If the previous line resonates, then you’ve just justified our statistics and analytics.
The only way out is through resuscitation,
Deactivating can be deemed the easier option,
However, those who signed up for it can argue that widespread messages are the modern communication for our adolescents,
Setting a model for the next, following, and upcoming conversation.
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 9:27 AM UTC
**the darkest parts of a human soul
reveals as rare as a full moon
it stands and watches in the cold
and silently waits for a dying ghost
it takes in all life, deactivating function
and throws out the remnants into the void
it comes out when you're used
leaving in a flash like the caudacutus
avenging the spirits that are cursed
for merely laying down their lives
breaking more bones than contrived
causing darkness to the likes
it leaves trails of red tears
on the floor and under water
from the lives of the spiritless
thinking there couldn't be another
but truly knowing in realness
that to be saved is not top-drawer
the veracity hurts comparable
to the sound of helpless screaming
when there is so much possible
and choosing not to do a thing**
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 3:32 AM UTC
you see them, the sober angry girls
maturing into what the establishment
wants them to be angry about...
they're nearing 40, they're ****** off,
no, seriously, they're ****** off...
you're drunk with extrovert
apathy: nonchalance, and you see them...
it's actually scary seeing them...
they're so angry... so ******* angry...
they're like having just undergone
I.V.F. treatment... they're so angry...
they could do a better job circumcising you
than a Rabbi... ******* off
your ******** clean...
i'm just happy to have a day with another
drink... but there she is,
******** with the biological clock
about how having children was like
deactivating a bomb - equivalent of an *********** -
seriously though, walk the outer
suburban streets tipsy, and walk past a girl in her
early 30s...you're a dead man... seriously, you're
dead.... that look of hate will become a tattoo
of auto-suggested deliverance...
she won't relieve your part...
Darwinism ensured that mammalian ergonomics
turned into insect ergonomics...
the mantis and the black widow revealed
why the fathers for justice movement took off...
Darwinism reduced mammals to insects,
invoking the rise of feminism -
well, **** yeah! applause! but in terms
of keeping up the example, please treat me
as truant; i just can't be bothered,
because your objective narrative is just so ******* boring...
honestly... and trying to rekindle the subjective
narrator will not work;
as you already said: who the **** wants to hear
about partying on a Saturday night? bravo! problem solved!
if it's non-inclusive, and a omni-inclusive recount, then
it's hardly a reason to mind for a worthwhile exercise in literature.
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 8:20 PM UTC
dhamma inundating mind volition strengthen
maras unshackled from the root existence free’n
sakharas activated in the surface soften
sleeping volcanoes waken into the space weaken
dhamma inhabiting constant atmospheric flow moving
cyclical habit mind pattern from past centuries eradicating
defilements within uprising in the mind deactivating
miseries dissolving metta within cultivating
dhamma uprising heart saturated lightness consummates
boundless chemical reactions uprising sensations dissipates
free flow vibration charges limitless metta propagates
static body still mind equanimity effectuates
Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 11:25 AM UTC