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IrieSide Aug 2018
Flex your philosophy
under the influence
Oh weak hearted,
don’t you know that life is meaningless?
will you find value,
or just pretend?

To love is to know,
To love is to live

In time you will find
what this perplexing
fence
truly is
Umi Jul 2018
Even if I’m alone now, from our yesterdays,
Today is born sparkling,
Like the day when we first met
But what good is a heart if it keeps on aching,
Spirit away in the stream of thoughts, the answer is unclear, always.
Even if I sink even deeper into the embrace of the sea,
I will remember the light of better days,
The whereabouts of the heart have faded,
The kiln has no flame to possess,
Cinder is what is left of this burnt away past.
Mother Purity has been staned by anger,
Sympathizing with fury is a lost cause,
A widdow without a child who cries for help,
But who will answer but the voices from within ?
At least the ghost of the night carried her to sleep,
At least she doesn't have to die in a dream.
The dream which shattered long ago

~ Umi
Joseph A Belli Mar 2010
My partner in crime
Always on my mind
Who I can talk to for hours with no words half the time
My anchor at sea on a ship with no sails
And the will to keep rowing where my strength may fail
While I am with you I am fearless of heights
You make me feel loved and prompt me to write
When you speak - I don't listen
I breath in your words
Exhale, look up and see a new world
One with promise
A future shining bright as the Sun
Simply knowing your Love means the world to just one
As we drink up these moments
We're running from time
Staring into your eyes
I glare back into mine
Fly north on your wings while your heart becomes colder
When we are to meet again, we wont be different - just older.
So if you ever are lonely in a town with blank faces,
Look up at the sky and count the stars in their places.
For you can bet God I'll be counting them too.
Although we may be apart, I am always with you.
© J.Belli 2007.. Critique, Help me become a better writer..
Elizabeth Zenk Nov 2018
on the chessboard of life,
i am no more than a pawn.
a fruitless tree in an astoundingly vast orchid.
a candle that lacks a wick, a flame that never flickers.
a hypothetical being without a purpose or plan.
the hypocritical brute, who is fattened on self-grandeur and sick off narcissistic thoughts.
in the dictionary of life
i am no more than a punctuation mark,
a mere dot on a piece of paper,
trying to clarify the stew of words, flung together by an equally trifling author.
i am nothing
OpenWorldView Jun 2018
Wake
  Wash
    Eat
      Commute
        Work
          Eat
    ­    Work
      Commute
    Eat
  Wash
Sleep
Brian Ong Aug 2018
Hi. Do you care enough to hear me whine?
I fear that you don’t see me
collecting dust in the dim corner of your room.
And while you stand and stare,
completely absorbed by your own despair,
I remain
ready to serve you  
and your meaningless life.
I can clean your room, yet I can’t clean your mind
of the false reality exemplified by your kind.


We are similar though, you and I.
Wasting our time amassing, acquiring, accumulating.
Honestly, we’re mere specks of life,
surrendering to realities constructed by our minds.
Don’t you know that your beloved earthly pleasures
are one and the same as the ******* that I collect?
Hard-earned, elusive, temporal, disposable.
Its laughable how ignorant you are;
consumed by your own subliminal thoughts,
leaving you searching for the remnants of what is and what is not.


Can’t you see the fallacies present in your head?
Gleaming yet blinding, salient yet obscure.
Armed with benevolent promises
that ultimately leave you for dead.
Can’t you see that what you crave
will inevitably **** you down to your grave?
Incessantly coated with wondrous, tempting illusions
that disguise its true nature--garbage.
Garbage. Connect the dots, you fool.
Can’t you see that you and I are one and the same?
done for class
Hisham Alshaikh Jul 2018
You are beautiful
You are tremendously beautiful
You are marvelously beautiful
You are astonishingly beautiful
You are magnificently beautiful
You are breathtakingly beautiful
Inner and outer

You are beautiful
You are the definition of Beauty
Or shall I say, what is Beauty compared to you
What is Beauty compared to you ?
It feels shy and ashamed when I describe you
A weak meaning it has when I describe you
A meaningless meaning it has when I describe you
Never existed it wishes when I describe you

You are beautiful
For your beauty I searched
Every language ever lived
And every word ever existed
And the romantic era that occurred
Could not find a way to describe your beauty
Could not find a way to tell the world about your beauty

You are beautiful
Vocabulary will be invented
Words never existed
To the dictionaries will be added
In the dictionaries will live
In the lovers tongues will breath
To describe your beauty
The one and the only beauty
The living and the dead will forget about Cleopatra
Because your beauty is ultra
A new period will start, The Beauty Era
Your era

--Hisham Alshaikh
You're Beautiful. Version 1.
Tony Tweedy Mar 15
I have a friend who is a surgeon a career of his decision.
Performing tonsillectomy and frequent circumcision.
Another friend who only meets with lepers lives by prostitution.
Both taking paths in life to live by their chosen best solution.
Both very different careers by choice and so many passing ships
Both surviving and living well and both taking lots of tips.
very borrowed ideas.... no doubt I am sick
Saint Audrey Sep 2017
Grinding....

Leaving it silenced, drawn and quartered
Clawing for the scraps left over

Predicament I found myself in
Or, towards the end of it
Slipping from the edges
Forager focused on finding any way back home
Sidetracked by some apparition left crying
Alone, in the corner

Grinding...

Paused, with rain drops weighted, heavy sense in the air
I can feel my lips turning blue and
Twitching

It's more literal than I would dare dream in a waking nightmare
The smell of every molecule tantamount to another realm

Hangs motionless in the air
The stone transposed becomes a rooftop asylum, overlooking such uncouth misanthropic parcels, self absorbed in this grotesque imagery, a veritable wall of self hate puzzle pieces

Grinding...

Low, on an almost ominous note, still grows colder in my ears
Blowing on winds filled with the spite and righteous
Anti holy
Fully rupturing sound of far off laughter of the
New root

My lips still moving
No sound produced
And my mind
Grinding...

I still pray to god for you
Beset on all sides by the same wickedness
Still afflicted by myself

Argue for arguments sake
****** up on the uptake
I thought that you might want it
I guess I forgot all the subtle ways
The fires spring to life at night

Arguably the wrong choice is
Looking at him
I try not to
Catch that glimpse in his eye
Already my mind races
And my bones are shivering
At the thought alone

Brickwork backing
Still swells maggots
And filing paperwork
For entrapment habits

Grinding
fearfulpoet Jul 2018
“only” the lonely know (my special sign)

{=}

an incurable silence

the meaningless, wasted touch of a hand,
attached, directed by them from them
to them
a failed reassurance

a classroom, a stadium, cornfield or grove,
so many nutted fallen solitaries fallen to rot
midst a globe of trillions never noticed,
never missed

the silly conceptual that the lonely,
special unique, blessed with a curse,
a specialist status, “only” they afflicted;
with a ken that isolates and yet feels elevated -
oh! I am special

show me one, just one, human who doesn’t truly believe,
they are the onliest loneliest and you will vision
each and every
lonely person who
secret sighs and whose first thoughts are only:

god spare me one more day of being,
fearful of achieving
my very own knowing,
in the invisible place,
the incurable silence award,
reward of another purple heart,
“only” the lonely service ribbon,
my Cain marker

~my special sign~
WOW

what a wonderful reception to my first poem!

thank you,
less fearful!
unloved Oct 2018
She was looking at the sky in a hope that at least one raindrop will fall on her dry skin. Because even that meaningless raindrop would mean something to her. She would give everything for that one moment

moment of feeling.
Elizabeth Zenk Nov 2018
the hapless cries of my long-lost self
i’ve left so far in the past.
the unsightly girl,
who couldn’t stand up.
the pitiful love-struck gear,
turning round and round without a care in the world,
little did she know that within the upcoming years she’d begin to finally question her place in this infinite machine.
this infinitely,
never ending,
turning
contraption.
she is the contraption’s gear
Matthew Jan 14
We look into the damp, dark recesses of our mind
to look for finite definition
for our actions and expressions.
We are looking for a straight line in a work comprised of curved loops.
How we don't acknowledge the curved loops' flexibility to
everything.

We can only see shapes through our narrow minds.
Not the abstract dimensionality.
The straightening of a curved loop is the destruction of true art.
Moving endlessly with infinite pertinence.
That no one
yet everyone
understands.
I don't really I understand what I'm saying, but there's this insinuation that makes this feel expressionate.
MJL Mar 22
The fresh smell of cordial
The centerpiece of pleasant
The fabric of universally tepid beginnings
Radiating ions
Magnetically separated orbits passing
Vanilla hopes for common ground
The sun is good, most of the time
The rain is bad, most of the time
What’s your answer
The sun is good
Yes
We are one
Atoms unite
Bonding.
Amelia Sapp May 5
catching the hesitation that these silent
worlds glaze

meaningless. smoke. echoing.
though am unworthy lover
stays,

- a.s.
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