"existent" poems
If happy ever after
Weren't some desperate dumb attempt
To make us all believe that happiness
Is existent
Then I'd sit on some beach somewhere
Waiting for the moment
When happiness didn't feel so
******* important
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
I wipe marker off the board, and
I have a painful tendency of quickly growing bored.
I can't erase the ink-spots lingering
in high-up corners;
to spare the self-defeat, I teach myself how to ignore them.
Ignore the marks, and stains, and pains
pretend I'm wiped clean, all the same
with little left to lose or gain:
I leave them; growth is self-restraint.
Perfection is a non-existent notion,
so they say;
yet, unobtainability is all I can create.
For in my mind, these false ideals make tame desires stray,
and self-destructive pleasure is my antidote to pain.
I think I'm like a little plant
of stunted growth, just seeds to start,
my plantpot made from breaking hearts:
before I grow, I say I can't.
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 1:12 PM UTC
and there i am in the midst of it all, conscious of what appears to be existent, yet knowing it is illusory. and if time is occurring synchronously then how can i look back with contrition? for if i have the capacity to move backwards and forwards in quantum leaps, i can erase the past like pastel chalk on an antique blackboard, then start anew. is not the sky my canvas and the arc of the rainbow my palette? and the stars in lustrous luminosity light my way so that ev’n at dusk I can paint. yet pain ne’er ceases to hollow me out. then through a barren vessel i catch more rain, and pour it out upon the parched terrain. just when i thought enlightenment was nigh, a sharp edge is discovered. must it necessitate additional sandpapering from the wind? when will the gemstone sparkle without further pressure? does it lie in its power to simply shimmer sans duress? perhaps it was dazzling at its inception, relinquishing its luster upon domestication. with this proviso, as it nears twilight i shall tarry and blend with the night. i’ll dance with a moonbeam knowing the jewel will glisten afresh upon the rise of the golden sun.
@2016janetaylor
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 11:37 AM UTC
(A)ltered
(B)oisterous
(I)rrational
(P)anic
(O)ver-reactive
(L)ows
(A)shamed
(R)ollercoaster
(M)ental
(I)mpulsive
(N)on-existent
(D)esperate
The mind is lost on a raft to nowhere...
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 9:45 AM UTC
I believe in equality. In life and death. In the ever existent turning of the earth and the burning heat of the sun.
I believe in equality. In people’s hearts and minds. In the rights that we choose to indulge in. And the ones we choose to ignore.
I believe in equality. In the little things. The common phrases. The not-so-common courtesies that we extend.
I believe in equality. For those who are well respected. For those who barely exist. For those who cannot afford to pay for their own meals.
I believe in equality. As human beings. As men. As women. As whatever the hell you want to be. As whoever you are, have been, and will become.
I believe in equality.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 7:56 PM UTC
Being a girl in my day and age,
you get used to all the horn honks,
the wolf whistles,
and the "hey baby's",
and the guys saying "you're too pretty not to smile",
as though not having a smile on my face at all times is a sin.
But why should I smile when harassment becomes normal,
when a girl can't report it because even the police thinks she should be flattered,
but why should I be flattered that a guy wants to see up my dress so much that he 'accidentally' pushes it up,
why should I be flattered when a guy can't even use words so he whistles at me like I'm a dog.
But I am not a *****
I cannot be won over by a whistle and sweet words,
no scratch behind my ears in the form of some misogynistic pick up line,
will give you a chance.
And if I laugh at your poor attempt,
it is not consent,
just because my lips curl into a smile,
does not mean you can come curl up with me.
My self worth does not exist on how fuckable I am in your perverted eyes,
it is not existent on if you want to 'hit that',
if you were to hit anything it should be your mindset that that is okay,
right out of your head.
Because I am not an object for your pleasure,
and I object to you treating me like I am.
I AM!
I AM!
I AM!
A WOMAN!
Built from all the things a man could never be.
And don't you ever ******* forget it.
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 3:16 AM UTC
I used to smile all the time, all day and to everyone.
Along the path of my painful and difficult experiences I lost my smile
I have left segments of my smile in people’s lives
People who do not care to bring it back
Can I blame though? I let them take it
I let them take my smile
Their wear my smile on their faces as if it’s their own while I walk around without one
I have to make a new smile
It’s hard to because I was so used to the one I had
It was filled with genuine innocence, joy and life
Love, hope and faith
Yet now I wear a mask to cover up the non-existent smile I have
I listen to music to find my smile but I find pieces of myself rather in every song that I listen to
So I have lost my smile and myself
I don’t know who I am anymore
They took myself away from me
If I had opened my mouth and said something when I had the chance to
I’d have my smile and be myself
But here I am writing this poem, tears swelling in my eyes
My hands are cold and stiff
It’s hard to write about how I lost my smile
Will I ever get it back?
Time is going, the clock is ticking and days are passing
I am getting older and wiser yet I still have not my smile
Dear Little Child:
Do not let them take away your smile and innocence. You won’t know any better but because I have been in your shoes once upon a time I am asking you to not let them take away your life. For those are your most vulnerable and precious years and not everyone lived those years so they always want to deprive the innocent and clueless of their own years. If someone had warned me like I have warned you I would’ve lived to see your sinless face. Do not let them tell you otherwise, be who you are, be happy, live joyfully and most importantly do not them take away your smile for once it is taken you can never get it back again.
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 9:37 AM UTC
Two halves make a whole
Two hearts join to become one soul
Two eyes that see one truth
We see different skies but take comfort in the same moon
We promised to never leave the other alone, that the love would not be gone too soon
Rejoicing in the moments from heaven,
Comforting each other when hell breaks loose.
Together through each others mountains and rivers.
Forbidden lust, forbidden love
Two souls that are forced apart
Two that yearn the others heart
Accepting each others flaws
One boy that’s far away from home,
One girl that’s questioning her own
But half a heart is better than none cause it can always be completed by the chosen one, But half a heart is like half a sun
Would it still be as bright as the full one?
Would the love be the same knowing that the other is not as strong
Why must these two hearts fight what’s in their souls
This burning desire
This passion they hold
Why must they put the flame out and become cold
Why waste away the hearts of others when they know the real future is with each other
Why not combine their hearts to become whole, to become one soul.
But having half of anything is like having half of nothing at all
It’s settling for half the love
Yet it could be more
Having half of love must be impossible, must be wrong
-The world is only existent because of wholes
One half cannot love for both
One half cannot fathom growth.
So why not have two halves of a heart
Two broken souls
Let the shattered remains of the other halves be the glue that makes these two people’s love whole
Because why face the world as half a person
When facing it as a whole is already near to the impossible
Two halves of a heart make a whole
Two hearts join to become one soul
But these two halves will never join
These two people will face the world alone- together, but lonely, like two sides of a coin
Not knowing the existence of humanity is dependent on whether they choose to love each other or choose to let it go.
The existence of humanity is dependent on all our lost souls.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 4:27 AM UTC
When someone praises me
I'm like a deer
under headlights
Of course I'm delighted
beaming,
even
But I really don't know-
how to respond
...
Do I brush it off?
Act like it's
not a big deal
whether or not
it really is
And move on
to another
subject?
...
Do I just stay quiet
Look down shyly,
and smile?
Or just let the conversation
pass me by?
...
Do I adamantly
reject it?
Refuse, and insist
to the point
that the person
before me
ends up
fighting with me
about
it?
...
Do I roll with it,
faking non-existent
confidence?
Owning up to it,
sometimes
in a joking manner?
...
Do I immediately
switch the topic
to praising
the one
who praised me?
Or have them talk
about themselves
to turn
the
attention from me?
...
Or, do I just smile
large and wide
and thank
the person?
...
I don't know
and it irritates me
that I can even have trouble
with something
as lovely
as a compliment
...
It's not
negative
hurtful
or even
a criticism
...
So why does it
bother me?
...
Maybe
...
I care too much
about what others
think of
me
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 9:15 PM UTC
finding fake joy in little lies
finding fake self worth in some shoes
new branded item
no one looks up on you for them
just wait 'til the mud tear them down
tell me who what do you see when you look into the mirror
is it someone you like?
is it someone you wanted to be?
the kid in you says hi to me
asking you to grow up so that he can too
to face the real world
like a real man should
armed with ammunition
that is real self-confidence
stemming firmly on the ground of wisdom
not fake accessories and marketing gimmicks
clink another glass
because that's how you face your problems
pout another story
for your non-existent friends to tell
inflated self image inflated ego
who you gonna fool with your little bell
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 9:52 PM UTC
Gentle evening wind, non existent till a moment before
lying low among the children playing with the flakes of golden sun
fallen on the silver white sand, quickly rises, unnoticed by any one
flirt with the comely coconut palms lined on the beach,that act coy,
blows towards the long, rolling blue wave, meeting it headlong,
a blast, white spray springs up spectacularly like a fountain,
then, easily lifts three kitesurfers, fling them high up stylishly
across the fortress of water, they look invincible, untouched
by the waves, that look foolish eyeing skywards, the milling crowd
howls in mirth, seeing the dramatic twist, it's all fun till sun down.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 1:20 PM UTC
It was but was not god nor goddess.
It was but was not deva nor devi.
It was but was not angel nor demon.
It was but was not metaphysical being of any kind.
It was but had not any name nor could it be named.
It was but had not any face nor likeness.
It was but had not any body or corporeal state.
It was but had not any form nor lack of form.
It was but not incarnate nor disincarnate.
It was but was not existent nor non-existent.
It was but could be described in words in any way.
It was but had not depth nor height nor breadth nor volume.
It was but could not be measured in any way.
It was but had not materiality of any kind.
It was but had not immateriality of any kind.
It was but had not space nor lack of space.
It was but had not direction nor lack of direction.
It was but had not nothingness.
It was but had not somethingness.
It was but had not anythingness.
It was but had not beingness.
It was but not Isness or non-Isness.
It was but had not light nor dark.
It was but had not wetness nor dryness.
It was but was not nowhere.
It was but was not nowhere.
It was but was not somewhere.
It was but was not anywhere.
It was and then It manifested the nature of Its essence
and became the universe and all that was in the universe.
All that was incarnate and disincarnate.
All that was physical and metaphysical.
All that was existent and non-existent.
And still It was.
It manifested Itself in ignorance of Its own nature as the Isness of the Universe,
in order to participate in the existence It had created from Its own essence,on an equal and fair level with humanity.
It gave of its own essence by putting a small piece of its own essence--the individual Isness-which is equal and autonomous and individual and independent--into all human bodies,both female and male,at conception.
And It made humans ignorant of their nature--the individual Isness--
as It made itself ignorant of Its own nature.
And then It set humans and Itself the Riddle of the Existence
that had come from Its manifestation of its nature as the universe and all that was in it.
It posed these three questions to humanity and to Itself.
1--Who am I?.
2--Why am I here?.
3--When I knowhow I am then what is my purpose?.
Who am I?.
Like all humans,and for the sake of fairness,
It manifested Itself into ignorance of its own nature also.
The Isness of the Universe set humans the task of realising their own nature--which is the individual Isness--as an equal individual autonomous and independent part of the essence of the Isness of the Universe,so that they could then show the Isness of the Universe Its own essence and then share existence together.
The principle governing Its action in creating the universe and all it contains, especially humanity,was that before you can reach the heights of existence you must go through the depths of existence.
Why am I here?.
Obviously I am here to answer the first question.
After answering the first question --which can only be done existentially and not intellectually--
there would then be the third question to be answered.
The answer to the first question lies in regaining your existential nature--the individual Isness--as a small but equal,independent, individual,nameless,formless,genderless and non-physical Isness formed from the Isness of the Universe which is free from Mind and Conditioned Identity.
The answer does NOT lie in amassing the false knowledge of all "religions" and "political systems that the Mind and Conditioned Identity have created in order to mislead the individual Isness from realising ,existentially,its true nature.
The Isness of the Universe did not want a world of maniputed puppets,as the Mind/Conditioned Identity,does but in order to achieve fairness in solving the Riddle of Existence,it gave humanity these attributes and the ability to live out their opposites.
Freedom of Will.
Freedom of Choice.
Freedom of speech.
Freedom of Truthfulness.
Freedom of Association.
Freedom of Debate.
Freedom from Violence.
Agreement to Disagree.
www.beyondenlightenment.co.uk
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 1:21 AM UTC
Beyond a beginingless beginning.
It was but was not any "god" or "goddess".
It was but was not "deva" or "devi".
It was but was not "angel" or "demon".
It was but was not a metaphysical being of any kind.
It was but had not any name nor could it be named.
It was but had not any face nor likeness.
It was but had not any body not corporeal form.
It was but had not gender nor ***
It was but was not incarnate or disincarnate.
It was but was not existent nor non existent.
It was but could not be described by any words in any way.
It was but had not depth nor height nor breadth nor volume.
It was but could not be measured in any way.
It was but could not be imagined.
It was but had not materiality of any kind.
It was but had not immateriality in any way.
It was but had not space nor lack of space.
It was but had not direction nor lack of direction.
It was but had not nothingness.
It was but had not somethingness.
It was but had not anythingness.
It was but had not beingness.
It was but had not light nor dark.
It was but had not wetness or dryness.
It was but was not nowhere.
It was but had not somewhere.
It was but had not anywhere.
It was and then it manifested the nature of its essence
and became the endless Universe and all that was in the Universe.
All that was incarnate.
All that was disincarnate.
All that was physical and metaphysical.
All that was existing and non existing.
And still it was.
It manifested itself in ignorance of its own nature as the Isness of the Universe,in order to participate in the existence it had created from its own nature on an equal and fair level with humanity.
It gave of itself by incarnating a small piece of its own nature into all human bodies,both male and female ,equally but different,at conception and then it made them all ignorant of their beginings as it made itself ignorant of its own beginings.
And then it set these Isness incarnated in human bodies the riddle of the existence that had arisen from its manifestation as the Universe and all that was in it.
It posed these three questions to Humanity and itself.
1--What am I?.
2--Why am I here?.
3--When I know what I am then what is my purpose.
The Isness of the Universe set each individual Isness incarnated in a human body the task of realising its own nature,which was a part of the nature of the Isness of the Universe, so that each individual Isness could then show the Isness of the Universe its own nature incarnated in a human body,female or male equally of any skin colour,dancing the dance of life,singing the song of life..
The principle governing our joint action on creating the Universe and all it contains,especially Humanity,was that before you can reach the heights of Existence you must go through the depths of Existence.
And oh boy are we going through the depths playing these Mind games?.
www.beyondenlightenment.co.uk
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 1:05 AM UTC
Two fine films: The Lost City and Blood Diamond.
I joined Blood Diamond during a village massacre
and said to my wife A gun in every home.
Those devils would think twice
before razing the village and seizing the boys.
A well-regulated militia.
The local militia the most interesting moment
in a strong film with motive (economic, emotional), action (chases,
fights) and a **** sexless love story.
Use of violence by the local militia for a limited purpose: protect the
community, the young
from the janjaweed. The crop from the ****
Limited scope and defensive posture
but armed and coordinated, cooperative, the men (and the women)
side by side.
Warriors at the gate, you will not run, you will not bargain.
Just violence = limited scope, defensive posture.
Great music. Cuba, Africa.
The Lost City, when the communists tell the club owner under threat
of violence
No saxophones in the band. The saxophone!
Invented by a Belgian--Look what the Belgians are doing in the
Congo!
When the state's violence is turned against the citizenry
for non-violent acts.
This quiet neighborhood, July,
undergirded by violence, force. That's a given--
any farmer, custodian, EMT will tell you that.
Without just violence
Gandhi's scope, and King's, might be vanishingly limited,
negligible (but not non-existent)?
Regarding King
the matter is simple -- he was non-violent but dependent upon
federal force to counter the South's violence.
No doubt without the larger force, the non-violent would be
overwhelmed by southern violence.
Here, non-violence was a tactic, not an ethic.
Gandhi, however, had no violent partner to protect him from the
British. Or did he?
1. There was the potential violence of the population, which Gandhi
restrained but could release which the British feared, and
2. It was the restrained (limited scope) violence of the British that
allowed Gandhi to exist rather than be extinguished--this restraint
was a (British) cultural imperative (limited scope) as well as
emanating from Britain's view of India as a protectorate and
valued citizen of the United Kingdom (defensive posture).
What about violence or threat of violence to compel compliance with
community
as in mortgage foreclosure, driving without license, drug possession.
Perhaps it is necessary violence to maintain orderly commerce, the
common space, and preempt bad behaviors associated with
otherwise neutral, private acts.
The defensive posture is the common good; the limited scope is
forgoing deadly force.
But the citizen, too, must maintain a disciplined, armed non-violence,
in case the state (the janjaweed) engages in an unjust, autoimmune
violence.
Hence, a gun in every home.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 9:56 AM UTC
Tightened skin stretched around burning sockets
dry eyes that want nothing more then to weep
staring at non existent patterns of the ceiling
trying to decipher something
anything
to bring release, blessed unconsciousness
to float away for a time and timeless
to not exist
nothing
until time to wake again to face this hateful world
torn full of words and screaming to be heard
only to rush to another endless night
to lay alone with the voices
and wish desperately
to sleep
tortuously the weary mind tired beyond comprehension
is denied this most basic of escapes from life
seemingly trapped here in this stale
empty bed that reflects
waking life.
Send me out to the emptiness between galaxies
and let me sleep forever in the cold dark
peace.
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 7:22 AM UTC
A silhouette of some kind
That appeared and vanished
At the end of what seemed a horizon
A silhouette of a creature
That left behind the day
And just so simply vanished…
With a sigh I defy
The fact of what I saw
And had written it away as a memory
A memory that I had made to be as a figment of my imagination that I had formed in this gloomy day..
And with a chuckle I cleared my throat
And moved on…
But I couldn't sleep
For that night
The moon so lavishly
Without a care
As though without a thought
Stood
Shimmering in the sky beautifully
Instantly revealing that what I had seen this morn..
And with a feeling
That seemed as though this night would never end
I walk up and ask
That if not impossible
Can you tell me who you are?
I wonder A beast, a spirit, a demon, an angel, a monster….
You do not speak
And I start to dream
And for some reason… with every minute that I spend
Staring at you
I begin to fall in love..
Oh god.. help me..
For it seems that
I have once again begun to feel…
And as I try to avoid
And as I try to move
It seems that
I cannot get myself to keep away..
From connecting myself to you…
In a way that will never break away..
Oh how a bitter day has made its way
For a simple silhouette now soaked and stripped
Completely transparent with nothing in its way
A silhouette of black and white
Completely stripped down
As though wishing to die
And as the day goes by
You seem slightly in sight
I try to move on and walk away
But wherever I go
I seem to find you somewhere..
And unfavorably
I gaze at this
Lilac horizon
When all of a sudden
..What happened?
The clouds seem to have disappeared
And you are no nowhere in sight
Yet under a cloudless sky falls a downpour
Indefinitely in sight
Confirming I hadn't just gone blind..
It seems that I have just realized
That I had fallen in love with something otherworldly
I fell in love much more that I should have..
And now that you aren't in sight
I am lost Without a path to walk
I don’t know what to do
But why Even though we didn't speak
Even though we would just meet
Why does your absence
Create such a transparency within me…
And so I whisper good-bye, even if just for myself
Thinking that you were not but a figment of my imagination all this while
A tear drops As I take a step forward
A miserable and helpless man I was
What a miserable and helpless man I am…..
I fell in love with something unknown
I fell in love more gently that I thought
Such a tasteless romance..
To fall in love with something I do not know
To fall in love with something I do not understand
And as the hours go by
I begin to cry
I begin to cry
I request for a prayer
I request for a wish
"Give her a soul
Give her a body
Tell me she was real
TELL ME SHE WAS REAL ….please”
A silhouette so dark
A silhouette silent
Invisible and dark
As though never existent
Flying away
Flying away
And without knowing what you are
It seems I had completely fallen in love
A love so gentle…
A love so tasteless…
I fell in love with nothing but a presence
Of something I didn't know
Of something I didn't understand.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
but have you noticed, have you noticed how all mental health problems
stem form a seemingly aether virus that attacks the pronoun category;
i mean with proper justifiable schizoids you will not hear of the nouns
being ransacked for an equation that equates itself to misnomers;
it's all categorised negation of ease within the framework of pronouns.
it's strange that philosophers stress the pronouns so much these days
and those countless prior, but why do mental health diseases
attack the pronouns and not the nouns? they attack the verbs
thoroughly, but prior to the verbs exposing an illness
the pronouns are attacked, so that many considering the singularity
of expressing thought are ill because of being forced into a plural expression
of thought: "voices." i find it hard to understand, but it's the reality,
the aether virus attacks the pronoun
on the backdrop of a king's casual expression / use
of pronouns, when a king casually says
of himself as omni or multi with one and we respectively;
so why are pronouns so weak and nouns so strong
that a tree cannot be a misnomer attaché of timber
and rock not a pillar, or mountain as the verb: mountaineering?
the pronoun category is weak from day one,
because it suggests photographic duck animation on the lip pursed
into a quack quack, but if we constructed thought
without knowledge prior, eating the fruit of knowledge
rather than the fruit of thought, using the starting point
of the genesis metaphor, it's sometimes a no brainer
to have weak thinking and strength in knowing,
for if there was strength in thinking and weakness in knowing,
i'd be the one chiseling these words in the ice age on a cavern wall.
so, given, that diseases such as the famed premature dementia
attack the pronouns but not the nouns the schizoid one
will convene life with: pizza is pizza and sunshine ray down the drain
clock the millionth dead parting of grasshoppers in decimals -
while man unto man lusts one man's parting in decimals,
but should dire said, part man with integers, and insects with decimals!
but still, in the terminology of a cartesian understanding of illness,
in that segregational aspect of things "sorted,"
why are mental illnesses tattooed in a weak pronoun usage
compared to a strength in other grammatical categories?
why are not mental illnesses ******* the life out of the nouns?
the nouns are intact, the pronouns attacked,
and the verbs chess piece the pawn from the casually speaking clown king
into a beast imprisoned, for while the pronouns are attacked
and the nouns left intact, the attack on pronouns expresses itself
fully in verbs of the never existent tact: with such magic
as to claim knock knock on plank is the same as knock knock on veneer.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 7:58 PM UTC
"Worthless waste of space!"
"You thief of my fresh air!"
Useless to the entire world.
Drop dead! No one will care!
Can you feel the hatred baby?
The heated ache inside?
The pulse that beats incessantly?
The disgust I do not hide?
A soul that's non-existent.
No conscience left inside.
If not for jail time, baby,
I'd **** you for my pride!
Imagine an enduring torture,
And the pain that will ensue,
Cause Karma's got a lovely way,
Of catching right up with you.
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 6:44 PM UTC
This yellow saree she wore
Just once in her life had wrapped
A coy twenty-year-old bride
Tentatively setting her dainty foot
Into the hesitant bridal home .
Somewhere in the backwoods
Several industrious silkworms
Had spun miles of salivary yarn
In the foliage of the mulberry tree
To make this golden yellow saree .
The rustle of her silk drowned
The wails of the boiling cocoons
The worms died that beauty would live
In their plaintive cries lay bridal hopes .
My mother, the bride of yesteryears,
Is now as non-existent as the worms
That had ceased to exist spinning
The smooth silk for her bridal finery .
Her bridal fragrance lives on among
The delicate folds of these gossamer silks
That the worms had died weaving.
Death is so fragrant , so memorable.
Nov 4, 2010
Nov 4, 2010 at 6:03 AM UTC
What can I tell you
About how I feel?
I can express that I'm aware
of each one of my emotions..
And that I know I need to heal.
I can tell you exactly where they came from
And what exactly caused them.
I can describe the unbearable pain they've given
And that I'm working to resolve them
I can explain in the most specific
and descriptive ways
How hard it is to face these emotions,
Each and every day.
I can weave my words on how I feel,
In ways no one else can say
Just to make you comprehend the stress
That my mind and body pays
I’m a thousand miles from my own words
But the first to understand
It's like I'm fixing you a puzzle,
But the pieces are too far
from my reaching hand.
It's like I'm writing you a story,
But run out of ink to write the end.
It's like I'm without a paintbrush
While I paint an image in your head
So although I'm self-aware
Of every emotion that I've expressed..
I'd rather be completely clueless,
And unaware instead.
Even though I can explain my emotions
Down to the finite and specifics,
Even though
I can admit that I know
That I've become undone
and feel unfinished..
this entire time
I know you’ve tried
But there's a point that you've been missing.
I want so badly to feel completed
But the tools required
...are non-existent.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 1:09 PM UTC
Every face is a story
Etched into the air we breathe /
And these journeys
Lead us to paper lives of survival’s manifest,
Where solid colours refuse to exist
- And black and white enmesh
To cloud the streams of speech
We use to guide us to
The non-existent chapter
Of complete understanding /
Leaving fingerprints
That overlap over others
Until an artwork is forced
/out/ of our ghostly presence,
Always to be remembered
By all we’ve touched -
Long after memory has lost itself...
In the streets of brains
Trying their best to rest after they have successfully
/etched/ themselves into the fabric
Of spinning time and a gravitational pull
-Irresistible-
Breathing out one last patch
To add to humanity’s short stretch,
To feel the very essence
Of reality within them
Before returning to the beginning /
Every face is a story
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 3:16 AM UTC
You were all the chemicals I crave
A cocktail of all the elements
I couldn't refuse
Tall, dark, and nerdy
That's how I described you
To my best friend and she laughed
Those eyes
And a penchant for swearing
And American Spirits
A bad boy
A light-weight
And a snuggler
Co-existent in a Starcraft lover
Creating covalent bonds
At the bar over whisky
Losing ourselves in time loops
And infinity
I corrected your grammar
And you grinned
And I fell
Knowing that the Force was strong with this one
Too strong to resist
And I swallowed my heart
Like Ms. Pac-Man
The first time that we kissed
Go figure that a Jedi
Would fall so hard
For a Sith
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 2:36 PM UTC
Everytime I close my eyes,
Sunday afternoon comes to mind.
Sometimes when I close my eyes,
there is only white noises.
The Sunday in my head is always sunny;
rarely it rains.
When it rains on Sunday,
I am reminded of school uniform;
sweaty and sticky,
but it is still Sunday.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I can smell Sunday.
The smell of Sunday in my head—
consists of jasmine, pandan, and milk.
The Sunday in my head rarely rains.
When it rains, it smells like **** and soil.
The sunny side of my Sunday is not always bright—
and my wet Sunday is not always gloomy.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I see myself tracing Sunday.
I run my fingers through the odds of—
possibilities and the ambience of the present.
You see, I cannot imagine anyone but myself—
in my Sunday.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I see no one.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I see silhoutte of myself.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I see myself leaving trails.
Everytime I close my eyes,
It was all in my head all along.
Blessed with the odds,
my Sunday goes by very slowly;
so slow sometimes I caught myself in turbulence.
From violent shower to the still lake,
I avoid meeting myself on the foreground.
If I ever crossed path in the middle,
I would be non-existent;
none of this would matter,
and there will never be my Sunday.
Sarah Radzi
In Between Four Walls,
19.08.2018,
01:56
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 6:12 AM UTC
No, you cannot join in.
Unless of course you also want the backlash that comes with kissing girls in public?
Take it-
please
share the homophobia.
I have had enough to last me 18 years of shame
no, this is not a game and you do not have the right to take photographs of me while I kiss her.
Unless of course you are a photographer
here to celebrate our queer love in all of it’s natural beauty.
For my love does not exist for your enjoyment
we are not the characters in your fantasy novel
my love is magical and you cannot publish it.
My love rains all over your non existent parade because your homophobia does not exist at pride
wide-eyed boys
encircle us as if to say that our mouths brush only so that they
can paint the picture,
but you do not belong within my self portrait
you will not dip your ***** brush into my rainbow coloured paint set.
Clean your homophobia into the water
for our love is art
but you are not the artist
and my love is not yours to keep for later
for wanking your anxieties into pleasure whilst you turn my pleasure, into anxiety.
This, is plagiarism.
Copyright my love.
For I should not have to be aware of who is watching
or pointing or shouting or stealing, my love.
So put your hand down your pants and think of your homophobia.
No, you can’t come now
no, you cannot join in.
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 11:07 AM UTC
In this trigonometric love equation
You're my arcsin,
You're my special angle,
Secretly placed
In that unit circle of feelings.
You may arrange my major arcs and diameters
Inside of it
Perfectly triangular,
Love will always have
The same ratio pi.
Our equation of love
Is seemingly incompatible.
It has philosophical numbers becoming
Common geometric shapes
Of love itself
Like hidden spheres
In triangles,
But in real terms of graphing
Our parallel lines of life
Went on forever not crossing at any point
Of this imperfect world.
Our love is, in fact,
A complex system of equations
With the same set of three unknowns
Searching their own values
It has a narrative statement.
You're my C.
You're mister C,
From c'telzing
From caleptikide
And from cataguerrillaism,
In this beautiful madness of love.
You know, our love is getting old
In concentric circles,
Those circles of time.
Extrapolate it to infinity, sweetheart,
You may be my semi-infinity
Until the end of the time,
That semi-infinity,
In which I lose myself
From time to time
Each time coming
From the same unique star
As that already existent
In an old Romanian novel,
Which is called
Lorelei.
Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 1:47 PM UTC