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Paul Hansford Jul 2016
Gloriously green in spring and summer, these leaves
turned to bright shades of flame, lit up the fall,
and autumn's winds tumbled them to earth.

Decaying, their remnants now enrich the earth,
and winter buds fatten for next year's leaves,
which in their turn, we know, will wither and fall,

an endless cycle of growth, decline and fall.
We too decline, return at last to earth,
and memory is all our existence leaves

until we rise in new leaves, and fall again to earth.
A tritina is a sort of "sestina lite", where there are only three repeating words instead of six, and all three appear in the last single line.  The theme of this one is something of a preoccupation of mine.
ana lytics Sep 2015
the initial impact
the ruptured vessels
crying crimson
pooling up underneath the surface of your
fragile flesh
soft, breakable unlike the iron
that flows through you

then a swell
of black and blue
of violent violets
a nebula to remind you that you
                                                          are not invincible
                                                          are not invulnerable
                                                          will one day turn to dust,
a star of lost oxygen
tender to the touch

then the healing
a green gradation
yellowed edges
the swelling going down
the knowledge that nothing is permanent        

that even your bruises pale
even your blood decays
even the galaxy imprinted on your skin can explode, collapse,
lost infinitely in infinity

the knowledge that even as you are getting better,
you are fading like the bruise
that once stained your skin
Jimmy Hegan Sep 2015
alertness that make perfect
lazy that takes away everything
crazy that destroy's everything
creativity that makes new things
dream weaver that dreams everything
scientist that invent something
life cycle that goes smooth fully
Simon May 2021
"Being Processed Overload", doesn't come with many benefits, when your already tolerant of one thing, and one single thing...ONLY...!
By any chance, what do you think that one single ONLY thing is...?
Well, it's nothing more than what's come beforehand, or afterwards...
After all, what becomes fully "silence" at the end of the day, is nothing more than what is generally written, or seen, or even displayed (fully), "between the lines".... And it won't make a single slither of sense, unless your willing (to give yourself that one single "affordable" chance), to not be in a state of "Processed Overload", anymore!
Implying, that the most obvious results ("had"), and ("will"), always hide from deep within the states in-between the things that "can be seen", and the parts (of those very "things", that for some strange reason haven't fully yet been discovered), had remained entirely significant in part towards those very things that..."can't be seen"). Hiding, (when you least expect them to do so).
So, the whole point of being processed overload, is the very claim, that you are witnessed to something that can't be entirely seen... Or else, you'd become entirely "Overloaded" with too many processes!
When you’re already dealing with enough as it is... Especially when those very states in-between are hard enough as it is to see ("from within"), to begin with.
It's a full contact sport (when life get's significantly rough for your own eyes to become terribly outwitted by all that processed overload)!
It's when a totally realistic testament for truth (in itself), when being faced with so much, (without enough benefits to help you grab hold onto what's entirely tolerant that comes and goes either beforehand, or even afterwards...) Eventually speaking, it is the very basic lesson of things being entirely...ruled out.
So, it doesn't keep sticking too you, like a VERY BAD THORN IN YOUR SIDE! Forevermore telling what you should and should not do. And lastly, forcing you to see reason, as nothing more then for "control" to be seen as a pure...illusion.
While being so discouraged of (once being able to see from within, "at one moment" beforehand, then entirely fully dropping afterwards, when met with yet another, "specific moment", that most important...)
This most potential realization, (if at all you have caught onto it by now, of simply being so, where you'd learn from it, as who knows...you haven't particularly been doing it to begin with, as of yet...) Then, it's safe to say, that (while you try and try some more, eventually coming around to some type of partially known/partially unknown progress being involved...), doesn't exactly mean there's a type of significant progress in your failures, (for simply being able to understand).
You understand because you think you've made progress with the main issue, which is now clear for...ALL TO SEE!
Then suddenly out of the blue, (and as if it hadn't already been obvious enough...) Things start eventually becoming baseless. Coming to a very abrupt "fixated" halt!
But that doesn't actually mean you have seen (and then most prominently, "recognize") "why you do it!" Which forces you to start believing that everything is truthfully..."unclassified." Enabling everything (you once held dear).
Typical beliefs (within your own once secured belief system), now suddenly become...flawed!
Since the only expectation, was other's approval (apart from your own). And if you’re not able to see what is obviously in the states from in-between, then you’re literally going to see a one-sided viewpoint of everything for the remainder of your life. Controlling you in a pure illusion... From never explicitly being able to see (the other half of that entire viewpoint), with a straight open-mind.
Meaning, lifestyles will remain forever warped!
And your own lifecycle will continue to both shift drastically. Which in tune will remain as the very same dramatic "repeat", forevermore!
For the lack of reason that slowly but surely keeps both flowing inward, and outward... But not in the right type of recognition for your very self to both handle with careful consideration towards that very recognition, or for that very basic of acknowledgements just so you can handle yourself as you make your way through the different "fields full of clutter" (that seem to forevermore block your sights from simply being able to see clearly), with careful consideration...for your own identity to bear!
Because at the end of the day, identity (especially one that is trying to ALWAYS find different ways to sense, then fail here and there...)
Is nothing more than a tired effort...full of such actions...that keeps significantly turning into consequences...full of doubt.
(However, it may never be real doubt happening, when the consequences are just blaming you for your past, AND present faults of a tired effort that can't use their own actions very well anymore, when you’re also not seeing clearly again, anymore, either). Except, when your own presently perfect and overused (always in the limelight) doubt that of course, starts "sugar-coating" the very truthful actions (when you know you obviously already did something wrong), with nothing more than a good old dose of...guilt! Your regular and normal perception of things becomes utterly...twisted! Mangled! Bent out of shape! Stringing you up and wrapping you ever so tightly! Abruptly popping out a random pitiful bow (like on a present) full of both negativity and unprecedented bad luck on top of an entirely disfigured and misshapen present! (Not to mention the very wrapping paper that had become this HUGELY distorted pattern, that influences you in such a wrong sort of way, because again... So, you won't see clearly!) Until there was nothing left but...silence!
Silence at the end of the day, is seeking pleasure (in the moment of doubt, which significantly amplifies guilt), without taking the necessary time to fruitfully take noteworthy details into account...), that you truly have been "duped" this entire time...by your already currently corrupted self...who had been entirely "compromised"...long ago!
(And here's the very sad, and worst part... You didn't even see it happen....) Totally not your fault. It's just lives very bad tempos full of those constant rhythmic beats (that turn entirely into HUGE gimmicks that detests the very pattern...), which doesn't become soiled...when it's (even worse then EVER before), where the very beats have been already weeping alongside your own strides full of hesitant footprints that don't relate to the same old size shoe of the many lookalikes of footprints that followed after the other.... Almost as if everything then started with a beat full of such a rhythm (that came and went, as it naturally would). Then become suddenly confused when it's nothing more than for the sensation/feeling to become abruptly filled...as an everyday common joke. Then...for a pattern literally too weep alongside moving forward ever so gently, (by gently striding with the slightest of common footsteps you could literally muster, where there's no such accumulation where everyday common footsteps could be seen...) But here's the catch (which comes with a GREAT kicker involved...), where you can seriously see it from within, (and not entirely from the outside of yourself). Which entirely distorts this very meaning to begin with.
Even if you had... It had already been too late! When you were truthfully blinded from the very...START!
If only whatever comes (beforehand), or fully starts tolerating the (state that comes beforehand), where the (state of coming afterwards), then of course comes...after, (that which "what is beforehand"), is then helpful enough in being simply portrayed as nothing more...than what you could have already fully expected.
Except, when you anticipate something even more wrong...because your very own expectations (about the very main situation at large/involved), had become unsteadily stranded for dear life. Drifted away, since the very compatibilities didn't match up correctly. (And while being potentially forevermore left adrift without so much as a single change of scenery, (since you'll always stay the same...) Because you simply didn't know how too! Or even worse, being so processed overload, that you have let everything grow around you like this constant "Underbrush"!
An Underbrush seems to always be full of such twists and turns! Overly protruding vines that both poke and ****, according to your very own limitations wasting away the only strength that you held bear for so long... You are just lucky enough...you had lasted this long...! A truest claim among such miracles, that can only tolerate itself long enough...before it truly realizes what's been in front of it's very self (this entire time). And at which time...forces you to again, realize (and then sadly force you to then in its entirety, to acknowledge...), at just how much you've been in the "wrong"...this entire time....
Which in doing so, HEAVILY influences the very reasoning right out from under your own logic, which makes your own reason EXPEL that very logic, and just...throws it directly straight out the window like it's some yesterdays unimportant choice of reasoning! (Even going as far as to then look at it like it's pure...trash!)
(When today, it isn't truly looked at as the very center of one's own ordeal!)
I mean, of course it is...but your now stuck in that very illusion, (where now thinking control is this very illogical, negative, immoral, etc.), piece of obstructed, and nonsensical piece of doo-doo! ...And that isn't right about ANYTHING! Except, for what you have yet to ("properly see").
Guilt then (forevermore) forms into doubt...and the same lifecycle repeats, repeats, repeats...REPEATS! Until it had ****** YOU DRY! Of every type of energy reserve, you had (within yourself), in order to now begin compensating the very same structure of energy again, (in your very self, by simply using back-up energy reserves, or whatever "juice" was left from those previously already still presently being ****** dry/infected energy reserves that had already been literally either fully, or at the very least, nearly ****** DRY in itself!), of everything it held within it's personal possessions from both ends of the same spectrum.
Just so you can then simply "use" in order to clear away the many obstructions that have spread FAR AND WIDE...!!!
But word of both warning, and that of course of...caution.... Is that it's not going to be some easy and sane type of task, where you are able to just miraculously cleanse...EVERYTHING!
Just so you can then become (even more) an inner victim of your own already corrupted self.
"Being Processed Overload", is a state of INTENSE "ramifications"...of being filled with an already unrecognizable consciousness!
Limiting yourself (by chance itself), is a necessary battle for the forthcomings of both an "inner war" to begin seemingly out of NOWHERE! And for the efforts (if there was actually ANY from the very start), to not simply follow thoroughly through from what was already too structurally important from the get-go.
Simply hinting at, if you can truly follow-through with that main logic, (if you haven't already "expelled" anything worthy of your own self, from not EVER AGAIN being actually able to equip yourself and combat the very such obstructed force from within...) Then you might just have that very chance at recognizing what had truly happened to you.
Lauren Mar 2019
By. Lauren

Ice cream.
Melting.
Dripping.
Falling.
Splatting.
Crying.
Creating.
Giving.
Licking.
Swallowing.
Smilin­g.
This poem is definitely not the best work of mine. On the contrary it is far more light hearted and required much less thought than diving deep into my feeling although very therapeutic. From the most creative of minds this poem too could be conveyed deep in the emotion of everyday life in which we get into a rut and melt until one comes and saves us and our life is useful once more.
sanch kay Jan 2016
pinecones are
childhood summers spent tripping over the syllables of dense forests
folded somewhere between real world Europe and my very real imagination,
nestled against each other on bookshelves made of pinewood -
a childhood game of hide and go seek pressed in photo albums
where a version of me lived;
a version of me who delighted my mother and father,
a version who to me remains a stranger -
smiling gap toothed, shoes in snow boots,
sticky fingers pressing pine cones against her nose -

the present, a fragrance;
the future, a rolling pine forest.

pinecones are what the years between 17 and 19 felt like
in perennial wanderlust,
soul spliced into shards trying to make sense of
everything I felt and everything I thought;
everything I needed and everything I still want.
pine cones perfume the edges of a dream
dipped in the streams and stories of far-off lands,
pine cones are the crutches of a crippled mind
still building a new home for itself
in the basements of other people’s hearts.

pinecones are
platforms which I danced from,
leaping limber, slaying fear, the win always near;
pine cones are a reminder that while
a man can break his shoulder trying to tear one from the tree,
the true mark of bravery lies in how well you can break free.

pine cones are
the skeletons upon which hang the colourless drapes of my future
before stepping into galactic puddles that splash colour
all over every unmade plan,
memories’ strands shining technicolour through translucent skin -
the touch of your fingers no longer feel like sins.

pine cones are young green and supple,
seeds of love lust and chance encounters
that blaze into fiery shades of yellows and oranges,
every colour turning a tinge darker, a daily time marker;
pine cones are what remain, dark and unyielding
after a lifecycle of fires starting
and dying
within the embers of consciousness.
hello, memory.
Qweyku Nov 2021
Deceit is
Woke made clickbait.
A punchline void of pugilism.
Manufactured.
Puffed.
& vision ill-corrected.

Poisoned.
Children so woke now;
Diaspora are sleepwalking,
Suffering Sleeplessness;
An insipid insomnia;
Waking others to death.

Eyes wide-open (fili-fili)
Hoodwinked in a depth of light;
Dark angel glory.
Bane.
Mediocre.
Hidden.
Malignant mult-I-media.
Woke?

© Qwey.ku


30th November MMXXI

አሁን በኢትዮጵያ አቆጣጠር

26 Kislev 5782
It’s an insipid insomnia that wakes others to death.
You know the funny
Thing about life is that
Schools teach about science
Your parents teach you religion
Green grass teaches play
And leaves teach you about grass
When you move in an aeroplane
They seem small
But, to them you are another plastic bag
That flies by whenever no one is looking
Just like that life finishes
The music stops and the fire dies
All that remains are legacies and grave gestures
I may be a little far off topic
I think I am making a point
But something holds me back
It is the beauty of poetry
Or the medium of stories
Life is a bit of a journey now
Where everyone shares their stories
Along the way and they become your friends
I just don't know how I made enemies
Is it science, no
Religion, definitely
jordan Mar 2020
we are angel larva
in a feeding stage of life
destined to step into
the cocoon afterlife
and emerge after rest
as a being of light
Simon Dec 2020
Christmas isn't just your ordinary holiday... For one thing (personally speaking), it's my MOST favorite! (If you haven't guessed already....)
However, Christmas isn't just about the regular attire that you "wear" (upon your own 'body language' that tames such a 'posture' towards the gimmick of which language you speak...or even what ethnicity you may have been born as).
My point towards Christmas, is not the regular tradition towards both it's meanings or properties... But what it takes too truly celebrate this MOST "prosperous" and VERY "EXOTIC" holiday itself!
And what I'm (seemingly) going too 'endorse'...is the logic of how you want too celebrate such a holiday to begin with. Because when it comes too "Christmas" nothing is more giving then having family who cares for you. And who you care about in "natural" return. (Because what you give back in return, could give you a message that you've been simply waiting for... ALL YOU LIFE!!!) That being said, if you don't have any such person on Christmas to celebrate with... Don't feel that you have "failed" your own heart at the center of your very being. Because your MORE at such a calmful "rest"...than you know. And it's because whoever you might be, or wherever you come from... Remember to stay true too your own self. And the universe will exchange that very behavior (the way you act...into a mere "signal"). A signal that would more than EVER...turn the very tide that either RICHOCHETS off certain energy signatures that RIPPLE that very frequency towards (that very attitude your very heart simply gives off). Simply put it, when you "wish/wishing upon the blessing of single plea"! That's where the very truest spirt of Christmas comes straight into the fold! Something that truly "basics" itself ALL THE LIVE LONG DAY!
And when this very wishing upon the blessing of a single plea comes full circle... So will Christmas trees! So will the festivities of decorations, Christmas trees and HUGE banquettes! Become that VERY necessity. All in the honor of this very "wishful thinking", so to speak.
After all, you don't necessarily want too feel that you have "wronged" some sort of rule of Christmas itself, do you...?
Just because you "feel" you didn't again, (necessarily) "sense" that you weren't good enough in simply celebrating... In your OWN way....
A wishing upon the blessing of a single plea could (very well "drink") too the very regards (royally speaking) of course! In hopes of advancing the very cause of EVERYONE... "ALL AROUND YOU!!"
And when you feel like you weren't necessarily good enough this year, either. Just remember the wishing upon the blessing of a single plea. It's not the saying that matters... Since the very words coming together in it's MOST sequenced (now 'established' order of fashion), could simply come off (at first) as very "simplistic" in it's (more than 'natural') approach. Simply because when you read it... Your reading just a bunch of words MASHED together into a single sentence! (Everything isn't as "what it seems"... When looking at something at first light/glance. Because it's truly "more than what it seems"!) Don't "judge a book by it's MOST 'notorious and natural' cover"! Just because you don't understand it (not for someone else)... But simply for you...alone! And by how the very words (that come first) simply "orchestrate" the very (doubtless and impervious) proverbial finger in the ****! One that would "outlast" US ALL... If ONLY we could truly understand the very words that "communicate" in on that very saying, accordingly. Then the very "cryptic" way of how it shows itself, would outlast its own impression of itself...when it's already been presented... FOR ALL TOO SEE!
So, in a natural state of calmly (put together "recompense"), what does ANY OF THIS haft too do with Christmas? Well haven't you've been listening too ANTHING...???!!!
Wishing upon the blessing of a single plea comes close too one’s own heart who is both religious or non-religious (according to its own mark upon the truer common reference of how the usual story of Christmas sprit itself goes by)! But that's not how one's own individuality see's it, simply speaking....
Because what one see's in that very quote, is nothing more then "belief, hope, trust, guidance, 'wishful thinking', moral support, moral compass, good 'standard' morals"!
Because in the end of it all... There's nothing more important, then "wishing" upon something too diverse for common "trustful" ears too handle! At which time gives such "remedial" tension towards the "blessing" that needs more "useful" guidance...then ANYTHING in one's own existence! And lastly, the very "plea" comes into such a "recognition" type state. For at which time, everything centers forward for that such individuality too be present... FOR ALL TOO SEE!
Because at the end of the (more than 'natural' day), Christmas isn't (just about having 'others' to simply call upon yourself among the VAST 'secured' majority) first and foremost. Whose claims aren't as "diverse" as you'd want others simply too believe in! (Since that's not how it would have truly worked... Now would it??)
It's simply (not just about having others by your side, while having your own self MOST OF ALL) in charge of your own 'orderly' lifestyle.
It's how your own "wishing upon the blessing of a single plea" would/should give such ('wishful thinking') to that very orderly lifestyle (upon its own 'lifecycle'. That may or may not be entirely 'orderly' to begin with.)
Because there's nothing more "appreciative", then having your own 'wish' at the hands of Christmas itself!
Christmas isn't your usual testament towards such a calmly disposition for rightful/ever-lasting resources too keep you up at night! No... It's simply about how you regularly present your own self. Both upon your own behavioral attitudes (that acts like a VERY useless 'limp'). And a mere (ALWAYS helpful 'crutch') that convinces you that EVERYTHING will simply be... ALL RIGHT...FOREVERMORE! And this mere crutch, is your own "linear line". Except, a linear line full of "benefits"! Benefits that tame the exposure of what was ("once upon a time go") the such nurturing focus of your entire core!
Simon Apr 2021
Everyone is just another flower at heart....
After all, being another flower from everyone else, gives you the most pleasurable specifics in the right place...when you only feel tolerated enough to advance your very cause into the next adventure (that is truly within the smell of the pollen that perfumes the petal like a fragrance that isn't tolerated in it's own self properly). Even when truthfully...it's all about the smell that directs that very such advancing cause forward into the next district of measurable causes (when and only when), you have become finally advanced enough to truly (now and forevermore) surpass the very self (that you once were, only just a few seconds ago, depending on a flowers perception of time itself). Then forecasts it's own weighing measures into even (the next distract of measurable causes) that combines together an even more stronger fragrance that balances correctly, (when and only when) things truly become one with one another.
In any case, those very pleasurable specifics become the very documentary of a flower becoming just... "Another flower."
But is such terms or pleasant metaphors enough for this very emotional written appeals the very abstract piece one is even wanting to read, or even take the time to truly focus on (by concentration, alone)?
Flowers at the end of the day, don't mask their own intentions (when their own petals start falling, because of aging regrets).
It's more of the very already (possible) defining examples that don't let the petals (with emotional appealing problems) that just don't know how to show themselves, properly. After all, when petals fall from a flower, it's probably because they have yet to show their own hidden beauty.
In essence, when you shed the petals, it isn't of the very cause for when seasons change and flowers go to sleep, or end their own lifecycle with the changing of seasonal tides, or even potentially becoming plucked clean by an enforcer at large who see's flowers ugly (because they see themselves as nothing but useless opportunities at large)!
Regardless, when another flower does this, it's because the very first impression comes off as the obvious spectacle of someone hiding their own shame away, for the oncoming tide of self-insecurities that don't give them the very such "open-minded" source needed for the very availability of shooting forward and simply coming out for being who you want too be....
And that is not of just being another flower... But more the result of a flower changing her own ins and outs for being the very tolerant of their own attitude and behavioral willpower at large.
Whatever happens, nothing can prepare (for what just another flower truly is), is for them to be in the very safe regarding hands of their own potentially past self-ridiculing of oneself.
When and only when, those very petals that you have spread your own fragrance (in the form of beautiful pheromones).
Those very same petals will begin again.
Reattaching itself, accordingly.
And then reversing time (as if looking back at a film roll of many sequence of events) that may help you into reversing your own perspective (with time, that is).
In the end, what you really thought was a big deal (once...) Became the very maneuvering ability where you are now ready to begin re-growing those fragile, (yet strong willed) petals at heart.
This is entirely dedicated to someone who (while only talking with them for only for a few moments in time...) They have in a very mutual respect I now have for them and for their own work, (as by how they have completely reflecting on mine in such a positive sense). I want to truly dedicate them with this poem. :)
Everyone who views this, check out "Just Another Flower's" channel.
You won't be disappointed. Thanks!
Jane Dec 2020
The grief-beast wakes different today.
This is not the cold, creaky ache of bannister limbs in winter
No, this time it's the warmth of my parents' rocking chair, walnut and familiarity and an exoskeleton of memory and fairytale intertwined with the weight of a loss that sits heavy on my lap, immobilising but I'm in no mood to leave the sadness of my seat.
And though it hurts and it burns and it erodes at my insides
I accept it, resigned for the moment and resolve to leave this safe coccoon another day when the world seems less formidable and my coarse exterior more malleable
to new life and fresh growth
Yamini Aug 2020
There exsists people
who live on the bread of
Inequality
Injustice
Hypocracy
Prejudice
Dear those people
I must say
you are really poor

A girl is borned
tangled in so many boundations
and these restrictions
are right from where
their lifecycle begins
to their deaths

Belive me these chains
which grab them
weigh them more than
anything
Some die
Some struggle
Some protest

These activities
are all variant
but why only girls
need to do all of that
why they have to beg for their
FREEDOM
why they are so desperate
for education

There is only one life
to live in this
beautiful world
let us not waste that
lets unleash those chains
lets break those cages
lets remove that handcuffs
and make this world more beautiful
Seema Oct 2017
One day...
This beautiful body will be, just a heap of ash
My name...
Will be cancelled from formal papers with a single dash
It's a birth and death lifecycle that we all ride
Tho sometimes people cheat death, so they remain clocked at the road side
The things we are running after, claiming its ours
Are laid back once you've been put to rest after hours
Being rich, being poor doesn't change the color of ashes to gold and dust
The bones and aftermath are identical once in grave, while the imitations put on our bodies,
rust
The organs burst first followed by the rest
Laying in dirt, bodies coned, head pointing to the west
Life fulfilling with what we have gained
Death comes uninformed, souls get pained
Burnt, buried, sank or served dishes to vultures
Life flies between living games of cultures
Souls light up the world as stars in the universe
Sometimes I wish, if life could also be reversed...


©sim
Spilling thoughts :)
Left Foot Poet Aug 2020
morning contradictories: mourning our poems, falling stars


awaken to a sunshiny Saturday,
the lazys, their coverlet of flowers,
inhibit our movements, now, as it nears
high noon, we have yet from our bed stir

August has be-come, the grass pockets
of gray and green, swaths of sunburn brown,
reveal how far along the North American
summer has poetry passed, irretrievable

reading your messages and notes from
world over, lazy licking you poems so many,
delighting, ponderous and oft heroic, as well,
weeping as too many become fallen stars

each grass blade, from earth born and returned,
the nutrients preserved in our sandy soil, intended
to nurture next summer’s poesy new birthrights,
green+browned, weep+smile, mutual contradictories

these poem best friends, passing by each other at lifecycle’s
multi-paths, metaphors for our too many morning stirrings,
most to be falling like stars that, though in motion, need not
come to rest ever, their movement attracts a one…lasting look

it nears noon, it nears this poem’s timely finishing touch,
straighten its tie, smooth its skirted pleats, a forehead
implant kiss goodbye, sent on its way to find its own weight,
no parent ere admit, it leaves, with tear-burst showers falling…

August 1
2020

noon
Simon Sep 2020
A girl who is lonesome on a regular basis, isn't based upon their own choice... But by their own desire to hold an identity bear without regulating (properly) the reasons as to why or how too essentially fix them?? Someone would say they aren't both comfortable and doesn't want to live this type of life... Except, they do, and they are very good at it. Do you not seriously think they aren't truly comfortable with it...?! Because by how I've gotten to know them, they seem entirely thrilled by this very aspect upon the features that drown them in sorrowful lust or delusional ecstasy for the illusional better!
Don't make me laugh.... You seriously think she "would" be comfortable with ANY of this...? WELLL.... DO YOU???!!! NO...! She simply... DOESN'T! And I wouldn't, either. Because I know what it's like to live in something that has tormented me right down to my very component cells. (Not truly knowing how to regulate the emotions that run those very component cells...DRY!) Something that ricochets the exposure over an entire even playing field that's become too GREATLY ODD! For something that doesn't make sense, doesn't also have too be the permanent source of lifestyle one has become standard upon (the now very normalized lifecycle of this very way of life itself).
So, what happens when someone who is lonesome and who's seemingly lost...while also supposedly meant too be good at it, simultaneously...? Well...isn't it obvious by now...?
"A lonesome girl who's good at being alone".....
A lonesome "star" of their own "nightmarish" melodramatic soap opera, has NO OTHER CHOICE...then too see it through... Till the very end!
But this time... Their not alone....
Lev Rosario Dec 2020
Tell me a story
I want to fall in love with a character
And forget myself inside a sway of frightful emotions

Tell me a story
About sailors, lovers, monks, and businessmen. About the end of the world. About sleepless nights

Tell me about the poet
Who lived in the woods. The forgetful snow of Canadian Decembers. The lifecycle of a Grizzly Bear

Convince me
That life is but a dream
That if we only try hard enough
We could create a happy ending

Convince me
That life has a beginning and an end.
That every human being is unique
That all of us is worth remembering

Tell me a story
A story to be told in my deathbed
While I fight for an ounce of attention
To hear another human being
Olivia Anthony Aug 2018
The lifecycle of a butterfly
is an odd but fascinating one
So profound and so remarkable
Is this symbol of transformation

Humble earthbound caterpillar,
Time and patience is the key,
For evolution is unfamiliar
But a natural part of esse

Born with little help or guidance
Begins phase one of three
A little hungry caterpillar
That sat upon a leaf

Into the distance it would stare,
As others flew far and beyond.
“Why can’t i fly?” it began to ask
Why do they not respond?

Why didn't it have the same magic,
That seemed to run through the butterflies,
That fluttered as gracefully as their
soft painted wings in the calm evening light

It knew it could do nothing to change,
It was a simple fact;
the caterpillar was helpless and unworthy
But what was it he lacked?

Wait, waiting, wait some more
The next stage will be longer,
Eat, eating, eat some more
Just to make you stronger

See caterpillar in the tree,
Life may be quite uneasy
But come a time where you will be
As you hope, as you dream


But don’t give up on these things i list,
Because time is one precious gift
And as you’ve grown
Enough to start, here goes the second part

A chrysalis you weave away,
A safety net, a place to stay
Long are the days you’ll spend in there,
Away from the world, held captive from the glares

In the cocoon of your thoughts,
Fears, doubts and regrets
Time to let go,
For there is an opportunity to change and to grow

You will find yourself at a midway,
That place between no longer and not yet
things may seem a little grey,
A little lonely, no light of day

It takes the utmost courage
to spread your wings and fly
But when the moment comes
Everything will align

Now you have reached the final stage
You may feel different and so you look,
You embraced the change and completed the cycle,
Your patience and courage was what it took

But keep in mind,
this cycle does not simply mean,
The end of the caterpillar
And the beginning of the butterfly

As for a butterfly to flourish,
A caterpillar must be born
They share the cycle
They are just as important

It was a powerful force of growth and development
But now a new cycle of your life awaits
The key is to not fear it or fight it
There are no more boundaries, no more gates

You limited your beliefs and your ideas,
But now you are free to fly, to achieve
In yourself you should find joy,
As you spread your wings, butterfly boy
Ojaswee Das Aug 2019
ather aether Katherine
quintessence she’s never been
confess profess depress
transgress the process
A lifecycle.
With little to no progress

repress to the oppress
Obsess the agress
Compress the mess
Say yes to impress

You’re not blessed
Be ready to face
The detest for this
Damsel in distress.
You’re not allowed to egress

We’ve all been trained to stash
All that we have had for the brash
Trash. thats what we are if not unerring

pristine is an acknowledgment to disguise
kitschy fustian ostentatious. Be that.
No less. No more.
Katherine tried but failed to fit anymore

We’re all Katherine. You and me.
we don’t abide. We don’t fit. We don’t belong.
Here.
There.
Everywhere.

Life’s not fair.
sparklysnowflake Nov 2021
darling, I can still chart the precise geometry of your nose,
count the number of freckles underneath your thin green eyes,
delineate the lifecycle of the stubble on your cheeks,
and all I want is to come back home to you...

aren't you going to miss
the way I could slip your belt out from under you
with my eyes still swimming in yours
while you lay down, hot and panting in the dark?

who will caress your naked chest as tenderly as I have,
slide her hand up your shirt the way that makes you shiver
and kiss you everywhere like gentle rainfall,
warm and soft and fervent like poetry?

who will bandage the fall wounds
on your torn up knees and elbows
and wash your 22-year-old body like a baby in the bathtub
when you're so drunk and tired you cannot stand?

who will stroke your hair as you sleep with one leg bent in her bed and
scratch the back of your neck and
hold you close to calm your racing heartbeat and
remember the pills you take at night and where you keep your contact lenses and all your family stories and buy you Tylenol and your favorite Gatorade when you're sick and never,
ever,
ever leave
you the way that
I did
?

that morning, I was woken up by the beating of your chest
against mine.
it was faster and that meant you were awake,
my love, my darling,
you were
awake and thinking and moving again,
no longer just your soft, comfortable, sleeping body,
and I cried in your arms because I knew that
it was time to leave home.
JDS
Ken Pepiton Oct 2021
Gunda, the lifecycle of bacon, I watched that
the first seven minutes in real time
then at ten second slides,
a fine modern invention for redeeming the time, we need
to know the life cycle of pigs,
we do,
I agree, and I applaud the audacity of the art, that allows
this expectation of the audience
to make of this the message pigs send in their plight, eh

they say, we got no clue, we are but food,
be sure to fool life hierarchical procedures, id est,
cook this white meet to death
to insure
no extra human life forms
whom we host with all benevolence,
as all life is welcome to whatever is digestible
and useful for nothing but humus,
final form, dried to dust…

the lowest of living substances once fed the highest minds.

Gunda ist dada in new medium,
fertile soil for feminized seed… turned with the compost
into us, mental pig thoughts, grunts,
once, chemistry is the witness
we are made
of the same stuff as pigs.
Jane Sep 2021
a friend's autocorrect described me as 'sweet soil'
technological mishap, misnomer
right on the money
sweet soil soul
clad in terracotta warmth
fresh mulch with new rain as seasons change
home and distant at once
ready for bare feet and dirt under fingernails
care is messy, didn't you know
mother. nature. as earth is nurture and support for fragile roots
tender stems, new growth thriving despite harsh winters.

i sense an embroidery project for new gardening gloves
and fresh bulbs for colder climes
with changing season so too does a storm brew in me
all I can do is hope barkskin heals
sweet sap keep contained
and leaf flesh plump
for colour among the earthen tones
and rebirth sprouts hope
in echoing trunk-chests that forgot
decay is part of the lifecycle

how technology can still blossom
new life, connection
organic and born of bytes
not thorn-***** integration
plant and palm
but a symbiosis of metals from the earth
and well-rooted saplings
ready to weather the moon's teary refrain
as autumn slips in on the back of hazy September blues to grey
the following written
for no particular rhyme nor reason
quite aware the exit (stage door left)
allows, enables, to provide every season
with a bumper crop of dead souls.

many mortals beseechingly
lift up their hands
in supplication and inquire
omnipotent omniscient force
and ask why
since the dawn of civilization
humans dream up schemes to try
and sidestep unavoidable death,
whereby each person
in the macroscopic scheme of things
lives infinitesimal time –
say the lifecycle of a mayfly
as compared/contrasted
with birth of the universe,
yet noone can  defy
unstoppable process of senescence
and reincarnation into other matter.

no rival can outwit death
the latest craze constituting immortality
cryogenics will be tried
for the rich and famous
unlike one garden variety married man
a common joker biden his time
mortality of all will level
ever since origin of species
**** sapiens took self pride
whence began the march of time
human beings sought futile efforts
to sell their soul

to the devil who never lied
for lame excuse being brought
into this tangled
webbed wide world with invisible twine
impossible to outwit death
no matter how far
one tries to run and hide
wrenched to underworld
of Hades forced
across river Styx foul breath
from decomposition per billions
of **** sapiens that died.
  
intrepid souls stymied with infinite jest
by devising laughable escape
regarding these lovely
bones and flesh to divest
from nada one knotted loophole
tied by supreme hands and very best
no nonsense, but
to acquire every singular soul

financially straightened budget
necessitates yours truly
without undo extravagance fussed
on me, a pragmatist
to stockpile skull and cross bones,
which eventually turn to dust
enriching cadre from those
who trod across
boulevard of broken dream
capitalizing on those blessed
with booming fortune before going bust
joining rank and file of countless
anonymous graveyards  silently scream

the massed voices
who felt the fate of uninvited curse
once living in the green day of glory
before their existence rent asunder
taken under by driverless hearse
and subsequent devilish quarry

further contributing to the complex edifice
seen only by the dead
patrolled by Lucifer
for those who believe
against atheism and diet of worms
extremely well fed
those lives lost and once
whose kin did grieve

from sorrowful plight
departing with sweet sorrows rife
with natural fear of corporeal cessation
whether prematurely or
at some ripe old age
pitting impatient burgomaster
stealer of life
whereby surviving kith pay homage
on specific date of calendar page
aware that netherland awaits
without bugles nor fife.

— The End —