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Within the
Matter of time
Don't know
Why
One collides
Somewhere
From the parallel world
Eventually
No easy way out

It's okay !
But a life of
A pulsatile heart
Never beats
The same
Genre: Dark Abstract
Theme: OSLA=One Sided Love Affair || The Parallel Lines
Arianna Dec 2018
'Twas but a moment:
The Law of a Moment
In all its force

     of IMMEDIACY

                                             Tragic,

                                         Irrevocable.

Allofthis
     In a moment, and not

                                     A moment more.
A short tribute to the element of immediacy characteristic of tragedy, the sudden finality which at once sows the deep-seated anguish of tragic experience, and facilitates the catharsis necessary for triumph over suffering, "having learned not the meaning of suffering but what it means to experience it truly and unexpectedly for the first, though not the last, time".

(In quotes: excerpt from a fantastic book/collection of essays called "The Tragic Abyss", editor Glenn Arbery)
Amanda Jun 2018
No longer call you baby
Because we're not in a relationship
I promise you will never feel my arms again
My loyal hand to grip

You will nothing to get any more sleepless nights
Darkness attempts to pull me back
A task that cannot be achieved
Memories fade into the black

My mind finally in a right place
Still support your supposed goal
Through harsh decisions I see the pain
I won't give up hope for your broken soul

Please don't forget the impact I've made
We've shared so much life, and time together too,
I love you, at least the guy I thought you were
You'll always have a part of me, but I'll never have any of you.
MarieAnna Nov 2018
In every person you meet,
They have a missing piece
Fragments of yourself you can't fathom alone
Opinions, knowledge, lessons, reasons.

All people come in different capacities, aptitudes and magnitudes.

Thus their ability to add to your story.
Really varies.
Some can add a chapter, page or line.
Antagonist or protagonist?

In this existence we share.

What impact will/can you have?
My words are silent.
Try as you might, you cannot hear them.
That is their strength,
like Ninjas in the night,
you don’t hear them coming,
but you know when they have arrived.

My words are silent.
They do not shout down the street, or come with a siren, or bell,
they trickle down the page,
performing tricks, entertaining you.
Now you see them, now you don’t.

My words are silent.
You will not find them on your volume button.
My words are silent,
but you will hear them all the same.
A May 2014
Anger is like the headlights of an incoming truck. It's blinding, and you'll never realize you were on the wrong side of the road until the moment of impact.

a.g
Zeeb Jul 2018
Bumbling around with a Honda 160
It’s got spark, it’s got fuel; why won’t it start?

Busting our knucks on plugs points and condensers
Rusty Chevys and Fords, all handed down

Out from infinity comes Bruce on a 2-******!
A loud screaming blur with a long trail of blue smoke
His hair was pinned back, tears were streaming from eye
What a thrill he was having, didn't care if he'd die

“What the **** was that?” We wanted to know
The new Kawasaki, WFO

The fastest machine then in production
For American boys it was instant seduction
A low flying chain-saw, built for one thing
It had a new sound, “Ring ding ding ding”
Ilion gray Jul 2018
The sun has come up-
We are scarcely draped
In sheets and skin,
shadows and sweat thrown
Through cracked
crooked wooden blinds,
Uriel was
pouring sunshine into the
openings of our
broken shutters at dusk..
I could hear your blood rise-
black,
As a comets inner crust,
Raging down
From heaven
Restlessly escaping
Infinity.
Yet,
aimless.
Like a drunken scotch devil-
Searching for treasure
With the bottle as his shovel.
I could hear your pores erupting
Through tiny chasms of
Your skin,
I want you to know-
that
I love you
Perfectly/
Knowing now,
I have witnessed you,
How
raindrops
Are born
flying,
Not falling,
How they crawl down
The stomach of clouds,
Then dive into the stone,
The impact resonates
through everything/
Shaking silence from
The shingles of caves
Lodged deep
In the outstretched fingers of
Earth,
Beneath floating valleys
that are holy,
And secret streams rushing through
Mid heaven, dripping down
The staircase of wind crashing
Through rooftops,
Seeping through ceilings
Where sons and daughters
Dream,
a dream,
all things revealing!
I came to liberate lions from dungeons
I came to share and not stare at you
I came to actualize powers within me
I intend to distribute resources equally
I came to reiterate that all beings are beautiful
I came to make an impact like mountains do
I came to create music with my attitude
I intend that symphonies surround me with their melodies
I intend that children feel safe to open up to me
I came to empower dancers in perpetual motion
I intend to be a witness to the miracles of life’s radiance
I came to scream love songs into forests
I came to hear my own voice echoed by hollow caverns
I intend to create portals that we can travel through
I came to bring back the aurora borealis at all latitudes
ryn Jan 2015
.
             *the *future is...a tornado of uncertain-
          ty• a swirling vortex, in its centre is
me•such power and speed, can ne-
ver see•can never foretell, it's hid-  
den debris•like clockwork, it will        
   make contact•by the second, bra-        
cing for next impact•the past is...      
  yet another•wild winds that echo      
     my mistakes as reminder•this twis-         
      ter within...tearing with no remo-    
           rse•destroying confident strong-
             holds, breaking feebly boarded
           doors•can't ease the rage...eat-
    en from the inside•won't stop
until...my beating heart had
        died•the present is...only this  
   frail little body•fighting huge 
battles that come incessantly  
  •fending off the future, con-        
    taining the past•not know-            
ing how long.......this disas-       
ter would last•but I'm still      
   here.....still holding integ-         
   rity......•still fighting this       
war waged in history's        
folly•will i be settl-
ed? will the winds
ever abate?•
will i ever
      come to    
terms...?
will i
ever
    acc-
          ept
                     fa      
                 t
               e
             ?
             •
C Davis Dec 2016
I am not a waterballoon, bursting at impact.

I am a hot ***, a cauldron

filling,

filling,

full,

overflow.

I spill onto the street,

Weeping for my world.
Luz Hanaii Jan 2014
Many think, I used to think this as well, that to be happy you must fill exalted and exited. When good things happen to us we naturally feel good and elated, it's a natural human response. Good things make us feel good and what we consider not good, make us feel bad.  A natural child and human response.

The sense of  happiness I'm describing here is not the mere result of a reaction to some happy event but is rather the state of being of our spirit, the acceptance that there will always be things that we have not control of, which we feel are bad and make us angry or sad.  True happiness in my estimation is being at peace, not letting our emotions, either good or bad determine our inner balance.

How many times those things I considered  bad, latter where the very things which help me learn and grow.  Experiences such as, illnesses, poverty, abuse, ignorance, depression, anxiety, fear... on and on, are nothing more than teachers, though we may see them as tormentors, when they first strike at us.

We are taught to live in this world using our five senses.  Therefore we estimate that happiness must be having good things and good feelings. We are thought to judge in order to survive in this world.  And that is fine up to a point, if we don't look before crossing the street, we take our chances at getting hit by a car.

We are taught that happiness is outside of us, we look for entertainment, material things,  and people to make us happy.  We look for support and words from others to value who we are, it is the normal thing a child does. It is the normal process of the primitive survival geared mind.

Some of us have not have the blessing of having parents that were happy within themselves, we've been verbally and physically abused, publicly ridiculed,  beaten, not validated/ignored, minimized and made to feel sick and disconnected etc... we've come from broken homes and broken people trying to raise us as best they knew how.  We are trying to heal and grow. We are all seeking to be happy.  We are all seeking support from an exterior world and from people, it's natural.  But as we mature and awake, we realize that no person, entertainment or thing can ever truly give you the happiness you need. We need to stop comparing ourselves with others or taking to heart their estimation of us. We need to revise and update the old programing in our minds given to us by our parents, school, the world. We have to learn to forgive others, love and accept our selves to find true happiness.  

I once heard a good example of what happiness is, which I had not considered.
Example below
*******
Look at your hand and observe how each finger is happy.  They don't ask for anything, they simply are.  Now if you were to hit one finger with a hammer the finger would stop being happy.  It would start to throb with pain and depending on the impact the pain would go away or stay longer.
True happiness is simply that, just being.

Revised @9/21/16
-Luz Hanaii
I revised this, for growth is not set in stone, my way of seeing things changes as I move on with time. There are different angles and ways to look at things. I understand that we don't all use the same eye prescriptions, my limited perceptions may not agree with yours.  Also that by me judging your way of observation as wrong, would only limit me and my growth.
v V v Jul 2012
If I were only me I would drive to San Francisco
and jump off the big orange bridge.

I might do it if I knew it
wouldn’t hurt them,
but I can't because it would
so I keep fighting all
this **** that haunts me.

I have eleven reasons not to do it,
eleven people I will not name,
eleven reasons

not to hit the water at 86 mph,
eleven reasons to avoid massive internal bleeding,
to avoid broken ribs and punctured lungs,
to avoid …telescoping fractures……
asphyxiation by blood and……
….telescoping fractures……..
Eleven reasons to avoid 4 seconds
of second guessing.....and telescoping fractures…..
 
Eleven reasons…… …....................OK twelve.
 
Eleven people in my life I couldn’t do it to.
Twelve including me because I know I won’t like
the sound of what it might sound like,
the difference in my mind between the sound
of fractures and the sound of telescoping fractures,
a terrifying sound, enough to keep me away from
San Francisco, not to mention the big orange bridge.

I lie awake at night with numbers racing around inside
my head, 60 seconds in a minute, 60 minutes in an hour,
4 seconds from rail to water, 220 feet to fall,
24 hours in a day, 86 miles per hour at impact.

I keep counting and sleeping fitful frightening sleep,
endure nightmares of falling, flying off the big orange bridge,
reaching upward, the bridge getting smaller and smaller,

and every morning I wake before impact still a martyr

for all of us.
Johnnie Woods Jul 2018
Writing a poem.

There are lots of things that contribute to the outcome, the poem.
-Certain words hold a hard to describe sensation to them, they're made to evoke some feelings and also give a sense of unique kind of rhythm. Had the writer used a synonym, it wouldn't have the same impact on the reader. He's like mysterious chemist adding proper ingredients to his mixture to make it work perfectly.
-The way a writer constructs the poem leads to rhythm as well, how he decides to start a new verse that divides a sentence, the way he locates words - or even blank spaces - on the surface of sheet - the field of his performance - it all contributes to the creation of imagery. Therefore, we can see that creating a poem isn't just writing words. It's how you put them together, too. A poem that's being created, sometimes slightly wanders away from the realm of plain writing - and goes beyond.
You can look for reasons
why these stones are growing
in your chest
all your life

or you take the courage to build a sandy beach at your shore
to let these waves take something with them.

What else is meaningful
than being part of the ocean
in relentless motion

one of your sand grains
is somewhere
you don't even remember
and it enlightens the amber of a deep sea fish
as all you are and that is,
is ephemeral for infinity.
I begged you
I pleaded for you to never hurt me
You were so positive
you convinced me
You said you would never hurt me
I told you
I told you
that if you knew
that you were going to hurt me
to leave right then and there
because
I wouldn't be able to deal with it a second time
I tried telling you
that death
would be an absolute
but you didn't listen to me
you didn't care about my fate
you killed me
all at once
a four-way car collision
and I died
for you.
Ominous Oct 2013
I loved you in a way that
all my medicines would like me to
love them too
but your words have more
impact on me than all the
possible
overdoses
i could ever have.
Cathyy Oct 2015
I hope I live to see Ed Sheeran, and Taylor swift live, and spend new years in New York
I hope I make the perfect coffee for my future love and maybe even raise a puppy.
I hope my writing actually gets somewhere,
Than just spilled on a random page,
Of a giant internet database
I hope my little quotes and lyrics
Are sketched into teenage journals
I hope I meet my biggest supporter someday, and hang out with them in Disneyland.
I hope everything stops being crazy,
And everything starts becoming clearer
I hope everyday I am alive, I make positive impact.

I hope, I hope
That the Universe notices,
All the times I nearly broke..
Were all the times,
I began to grow.
So i wrote three really deep poems during the age of 17,

The child
The dreamer
The giver

... I feel this isn't really a poem, but a monologue. However, i hope* ;)
... It touches someone.

Please check me out on Youtube,
Just type in "JournalofMusic" and i'm there with like 14/15 videos now... If you help me out with views and stuff i'll always have a reason to keep on writing. :) x

Love ,
Cathy
The streets are clear, we're hydrophobic
Hoods propped by hats and socks pulled high;
The rain brings peace to the agoraphobic
Puddles form moats and clouds fill the sky.

Splash, droplets hit the window,
chauffeured by the gail outside.
Squint your eyes and flash back
boats tilt starboard, with the tide.

The captain shouts to the decks, paranoid
'Clear the decks and brace for impact'
Without turbulence we are disenfranchised
Boredom becomes us when we're boring.

Shake it off and stare at the dot to dot
the residual carving of water as it slides
Another droplet falls beside it, parallel
it aligns, growling thunder overhead.

Without stirring we are robotic workforces
Without awaking we are left inside
The constructs created for us, by corporate-
conglomerate elitist-psychopaths.

Two drops of water on the window
simmer red with burning anger.
Crash lightening sears the sky
Rage becomes you, girders melt.

The starry night undercurrent, flings
us backwards, never up, as democracies
which seek to serve sink into a sea of
stocks and shares, the wall street journal

sits atop the captains lobby, economies
were meant to tumble as the working classes
fumble for bread, men in suits gaggle
and toast to the millions they left for dead.

Resistance is futile, when eighty-five
of the richest suit owners sit on currency
that was meant for the three point five
billion who aren’t driven by gluttony.
The echoing sound of seagulls
Flying above the sea
And leaves upon their branches
Such a wonderful harmony.

Nature's inspiration was it
The reason for his call
From a humble shepherd on the land
To packing out town halls.

Music there within his soul
And words inside his head
Singing was his only goal
His future, good as read.

He sang his songs every day
He was asked to join a choir
Little did he realise
His fame would grow much higher.

He made a massive impact
Wherever he would go
Although he never wrote a song
His voice would steal the show.

He found himself a little band
They became like family
He treated like brothers
The way that it should be.

Suddenly his fame was over
The result of a tragedy
Sadly he left us
Leaving behind his legacy.
Dr Baljit Singh Oct 2018
Social norms work strongly especially when the sun is getting ready to sunset
The sun rises only for the youth in the morning
The morning subsides the evening
And the evening; morning

Dr Baljit Singh
Wednesday 24th October 2018
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