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I have grown old,
My hairs are all white,
And my eye-sight is failing rapidly;
I no longer trust my body.
I am now left
With the strength of my mind
And the will-to-live
Which make me think and reflect
In my past experiences.
The intimacy with myself is rent
And I have never cared to inquire
About the kind of world hidden within me;
I have never thought
About my final moorings
And I have never been informed
About the sweet nectar of true happiness
Available everywhere.
I have tried to wander on my own
And refused miracles,
But where ever I go
I swiftly follow me
As if I exist yet do not exist,
To remind me that I am always alone.
ceara Jan 2011
It is far from ******* ordinary
the music,the traffic
this full moon.
Landon Velasquez May 2014
Punctured are the lungs I've used for breathing
This seething ever-romantic feeling
The peeling of skin that reveals the concealed
And opens up the undying existence of the unseen
As my own existence is also undying and unseen
My mind and ego trying to convince me otherwise
This is my illusion
Intruding my mind and infecting it with disparity
And with no clarity of what is to come
I drown in fear that I will succumb
I keep feeling like I'm sombody else,
every time I reflect on myself.
I know I stay true to my inner being,
but I'm always
compelled to be a better me.
While never losing
what I've learned before,
I keep it similar to what ones adore.
Is this what I want and even more?
Or is it a facade I tend to abhor?
Am I completly there?
Am I even me?
That's what people think
it's not what I see.
I've loved
and lived
this life gone by,
but now i have the need to actually try.
To become the way,
I knew that I would,
while staying true,
to doing good.
I create my day
and tend to say,
that I live life,
in most interesting ways.
Staying spontaneous,
keeping unique.
By realizing that,
I'm merely one of the meek.
Is there any life I'd rather seek?
Or is my existence completely freak?
Am I all that one's made out to be?
Or am I blind to what others see?
No reason to care,
for they matter not.
For most lose themselves,
their true self forgot...
William Eberlein Feb 2013
He was lost.

So dreadfully lost,
between Life and Death...

That he forgot to live.
And he forgot to die.
Tom Spencer Jul 2018
standing behind
a wall of reflections

gazing into a canyon
of steel and glass

movement
from the opposite wall

a curtain sways
and a silhouette turns

from the glinting
and the figure

standing
in the polished glare

Tom Spencer © 2018
Johan Nel Jul 2018
How beautiful a phenomenon to behold, the act of learning without thinking.
The nature of living things.
I do think upon what the effect of making my bed every morning may be.

I do think about the ending of a sentence, the pause and effect.

But can I know every such thing about my biology?
Can I know more about my every atom in the space of being?
A terrifically ungraspable question to ask.

What do words do, to the firing of each synapse, in every language that has been?
Even the machine literature.
I speak to the god of life within reason, cause and effect.

I speak of collisions.
I speak of patterns that are too perfect in a beehive.

How fascinating it is to ask this in so many cryptic ways.
© Johan Nel 2018.07.06
Martin Dove Oct 2018
I had no idea how terrible it all was
Until I matured a bit and opened my eyes
It cleared the mist that I often now miss
From the eyes of an unwilling devil
Seeing the tragedy unfold from a first-person level
I remember it all from that god awful view
The bad things I’ve done, over which I had no control
The outcomes I hoped with the manifestation of some
Who am I kidding - I’ve been among a fortunate few
Except for the fact that life dealt me an ace with a ****** *****
Not quite like anyone - an outcasted sole
With depressive thoughts - eating them straight from the bowl
Until euphoria strikes - then I’m a lightning bolt
These emotional storms - they strike me as cold
Who am I to cry and complain about life
Everyone is united by the suffering light
The random subscription to a life with a set rhythm
If only I could command my heart not to wither
Cunning Linguist Apr 2017
S
  p
   i
  r
a
l
   i
   n
g

   d
    o
   w
      n
-
[an
infinite
abyss]
-
A temporal anomaly
peaking your drift
Perusing the cosmos,
within Dude's rocketship

Quarantined as a species
from contact with the Gods-
Odds are they're too busy banging
new milky ways into the stars
While you're pensive, quantum-plating
the nature of existence
Prayers fall unto deaf ears
too apathetic to listen

Godspeed towards the rift,
Time bends at the edge of a black hole
-But only the tip

My seeds melt into the motherverse
So I get down on it,
Cunning Linguist eats his words
Oedipus'd be jealous,
In slow motion
Impregnates spacetime itself;
With a big bang fellatious 
 
Thus, the holy seed of life
Was ****** into the void~~~
Perpetuating strife
Into the *****, of beyond

Its not a paradox if you simply process
0 and 1 at once
1 can go into 0
as many times as it wants

8====D~~(Y)

Preach level = Jim Jones
just the punchline's too long
Your golden idol,
Holy ****,
Bless this nut that I bust
I'll stretch my luck
To the sum of existence
Until it comes full circle

Voracious, bodaciously
Spatial in stasis
Without patience
Inseminating your eyeholes
Through lines of text

Transcendental
Entangled in a
  Δ,
With a devil & angel
Dimensions oughta coalesce
At just the right angle

Y'all haven't the wherewithal
To feel my *****
Slap-happy against one's skull
Put the rock in the hard place
Neanderthal
Meander tall, in the wave of thought,
The photons in your DNA are all but shot

I will abduct your subconscious
To probe through your thoughts
* testing Testing *
are you turned on?
Feel your ******* tingling ~~
I'm simultaneously dichotomic
Jerxin off my dingaling
playing your heartstrings like a harp

Allow me to go deeper
& penetrate your very reason for being.
Is the life that you're seeing
-Just the information eyes are receiving
-Only what your mind is perceiving
-Abstract thought is just too deceiving no
Can you even conceive it?

Why bother

Wanna switch positions
so you can see
where I'm coming from?
Go ahead and tell me,
are the heavens not
what you've dreamt of

A smoldering ember
in a once burning sky
Life of a former divine,
Masquerading as an angel of light
A furnace see:
 **nihl
Tethered,
To the nethers
On the outskirts of the universe
We grow and we grow
Till there’s no place to go
Living our life
To the eternal flow

But why did we come
If we don’t get to stay?
What is the point
If it’s taken away?

And what does it mean
If it’s all just for nothing?
What is, simply isn’t
If it’s not all for something

You gave me this life
Just to feel less alive
If the purpose i live for
Is only to die
The letter I never sent,
I write my valentine on your beating heart,
And send a perennial prayer,
That you could know without knowing.

Petals on your doorstep,
But no signature,
Pink Rosehip on your bedsheets,
Spying through your window blinds,
At someone unreal .

A label that travels as my desperations move it,
How I value the sick,
The unnatural,
The corpse and the consent.

The tenacious nature of a train,
With a hundred destinations,
None finite,
Moving and passing every station,
Leaving like it never stopped,

The will to pull me off it,
The weight of every expectation,
The ommitance after the deprication,
And the incommodious silence after the exposè.

I lust for that iced libation,
The roseate water of ivy and redemption,
A clay to fit inside my insatiable skin hunger,
A welcomed error of continuity in my own beliefs.

The rain of rapture will flood the streets to the chorus of weeping,
The composition of the crestfallen,
And my perennial prayer,
For an ardent antiphon.

-Unabaitingly, The Romantically Inept
Michael Kariuki May 2018
Am I really that unusual
if unusual people
like me
exist all around the world.
When will I
stop being unusual
and accept my
usual existence.
When will my symmetries
become symmetrical
to those of everyone
around me.
All that I hope for
is the unlikely realization
that I
have begun a revolution;
A revolution that involves
my unusual self
realizing that I am
not unusual
which thankfully,
remarkably and
ultimately makes me
unusual
(because such absurd realizations
rarely occur).
Yet with this revelation
remains the vile truth that
somewhere
down
the
line
I shall become usual again.
Well,
At least I have begun the future,
and I am not stuck in the past
like something
usual.
Osiria Melody Feb 17
could lie about the past and cover it up.
i know you expect the salad of truth, served
fresh with intriguing dressing–the
good bits that make you want more.

i know that you feel as if i hate you, secretly.

i pretend to love every aspect of you,
although you're a broken pile of glass
shards to me.

cutting my emotions and making me
bleed tears of contrition.
shame that i wasn't good enough,
shame that you regret tying the knot,
shame that we even met.

you're the only other person besides me
that has a glimpse of heart.

at least, you care about me a little.

even if you manipulated me a trillion
times to conform to your standards,
even if you admonished me for not
being the most beautiful,
even if you belittled my existence,
i can't escape the reason why i'm
still staying with you:

fear of losing you.



Melody
2/17/19
Doesn't love make us feel secure and insecure at the same time?
Marla Aug 3
i saw myself the other day
when my eyes met in the mirror.
past all of the sadness, anger,
beauty, pain, poetry, desperation,
laughter, hysteria, knowledge,
and kindness lays an ancient siren;
temptress of the forgotten.

call me a saint made of flames,
a fallen angel in witness protection,
redeemed by redeemers through
a wall of water and emotion
to be exiled for the rest of time.

our paths may cross sometime
and a purpose may be served,
but i am not of this space.

no. i am from pain and have
caused it in many ways, but
always for a good cause.
i am the parabellum of peace.

don't forget my name.
don't forget these eyes.
you'll never see them
in another life,
i promise.
Amy Leigh Jul 2013
What is our state of existence?
                                   ( This I'd like to know! )                                  
For smiles fade, for seasons change
for people come and go.

Think about our universe.
                                  ( a wee pebble in a pond! )                                
There's an entire space out there
but in seconds it could be gone!

If the sun were to actually
explode within our sky,
it'd take us nearly seven minutes
before we'd know
                                   ( then die )                             .


© A. Leigh
******* magical
despite psychopaths
running the shitshow
egoic stoic will unfold
as origami hearts turn
etheric tissue paper
interdimensional winged
aglow in palm
Some say
I am a Vagabond
in my own flesh carrying a heart
desperate enough to fly with
wounded wings.
My tears look like a
wondering rain-forest filled with
white lilies and baby breath.
My words ache to write you into existence.
Who am I? I am poetry,
but you can call me a Vagabond.
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