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Shofi Ahmed Apr 2017
Just a dew drop, let alone the sea,
and a handful of earth, not the Planet Ge.
Not a shade of blue, save the rose for bee
Purely a clear drop didn’t spill in the core,
because the whole sphere feels the pinch.

Singing chorus rains down, bouncing back
to earth the only open-through planet.
No black hole is as deep as the sun jumps,
dives in the dew on every flower they wet.
Every bird in the trees sings and tweets,
yet one is stone quiet, shouldn’t even hiss.
Shh! shh, the sleeping beauty is sleeping!

Cut above the rest, the unique earth
brimming with the infinite finishing line
by design pans out to the transcended pi.
Pure spring, the waterfront by the Moon,
untouched, unspoiled is her swimming pool.

How she goes by, wetting her ****** toe
Only to bubble high up the transcended circle
If only the sun could rise high in that pole,
for the rest of species could sneak a peek.
She’s there with the capstone of the pyramid!

Shots beyond the fixed circle, netting the eyeballs.
The stars, the Moon on the move for pure freedom.
The thrilled earth did come out, smelling of roses
Off the golden cut pi-decimal-abyss digital spring.
With a handful of earth and a drop of water dew
This is a pure mirroring thanks to the original, you!

At the end of the string apt you lovely took her by hand
and she took it in emptying her heart and soul.
Earth is now too thin on stock, she is no more
Just a shadow, a 360-degree hollow flute!
Oh light at the end of the tunnel shine and show
Play in like in the Night of Ascension once more!
This is a poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
Ryan O'Leary Jun 19
Celebrity Reflection® was
docked at Cobh Harbour
today, it dwarfed the town,
even had a larger population.

Were it not for the Cathedral,
and its perception, we would
have been over shadowed.

At noon, The Angelus bells
tolled out three sets of twelve,
for the pious amongst us.

They were followed by the town
fire siren, three loud warnings.

An American enquired of
the latter's significance?

" It's for those going to Hell sir ".
Dusting off the rabbity
that squirrely tempo anxiety,
closing in with night.

The irresistible pattern
the irrational illogical fight
a battle with one’s discipline,
mirroring our might.

I make it home a fluttering
belly twirled and muttering,
I tell myself tis alright!

The damage done, and everyone,
I’m just like them and millions more
succumbing at the Devil’s door.

And the taste, the burn,
the healing calm,
the shaking and the thinking gone.

Knock one back, slam out another
night is early, rock it brother,
Tying on a swilly swirling
buzzed-out brain and mind a twirling. . .

“Ahhhh…”

I feel better now, exhilarated,
exasperation falls to stout resound;
I pour again and knock it down!

“Ahhhh…”

Spinning now, not to say I’m spun
but choosey choosing several a pun
I see myself an accomplished one!
Yes, that’s it, that is me,
look upon with thoughts of glory
yank open the freezer for glass that’s hoary. . .

How cool am I? certainly not boring
all night I’m here, pouring, pouring. . .

Buzz subsides, thoughts slow too,
lurid leering, slobbering swearing,
stupid actions and nothing new?

I lose the bottle,
I lose my shirt,
***** on myself,
pass out in dirt.

Another night of drunken hero,
time that’s wasted for kingly Nero.
But who am I to judge myself?

I’m hardly worse than anyone else?
I want to stop taking all these pills in all colors, shapes and sizes
I want to stop taking all these bad vices
If only someone assured me that just being you suffices
Sometimes i want to die, burning to ashes
feeling low
Shofi Ahmed Sep 2018
The silent moon
over the old pond
is lost for words.
If only it could
describe the charm
mirroring a mirror
of ancient calm!
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2017
Eyeing on the night - its out.
Mirroring the colour of the Moon
every star flocks in the sky!

Just spare an eye - maybe the
missing sun keeping an eye out!
For it only fancies the billowy
sea in the black night.
Grace Jul 2018
I walk into the mirror box again and it’s as if my life
really is just an extension of my own metaphors.
I’m caught in the mirror maze, searching for something
in the mirrors at angles, but all I can see is myself,
my sad, stupid self, stretching on and on forever
with the same boring face, the same boring feelings,
again and again until I stop being able to make out the details.
Am I looking back at myself or am I looking forwards to the future?
Will it always be the same or has it merely been
the same since forever? I stare into the mirror tunnel
at all these selves repeating themselves,
forcing the years, the weeks, the days into the same strict patterns,
merely following the self that came before them, merely mirroring
the feelings, only doing it worse and worse with each new rendition.
It’s just me, I think, in the mirror box, caught up in myself
because I am selfish and horrible.
I’m selfish and horrible
and I want to turn my back on myself but
how can I possibly do that in the mirror box?
I meet myself over and over, and it’s just me,
in all this vast, repetitive vagueness, just me in
this long stretch of lonely unsettledness that surely doesn’t end.
I want to smash my own face in, so I close my eyes
and try to think, maybe, maybe, maybe, because I don’t
want to be this grey-cloud self forever. I can’t be, and so maybe,
just maybe, somewhere beyond all these selves
there’ll be a day when I’m down on the shore
and the sea will be calm and the sky will be
faded purple. Love will not sink down into nothingness
because in the cool evening air,  my heart will be full
instead of gaping and my mind will be at ease
instead dwelling on it’s own boringness
or entangling itself in own self-created sadness.
And maybe, I’ll have abandoned my book
and its pages will be dry because I won’t have been crying into it.
They’ll be no mirrors, just the ocean,
glinting like an amethyst cluster in the half light
and I’ll rest my head on the shoulder of the girlfriend
I'll meet someday and I’ll smile in this beautiful liminal moment
and nothing will be tainted by the dread of returning home.
We’ll kiss – on the shore – and rewrite it forever and
maybe the stars will fall out of the sky when I shake it and
all my trains will run on time and all the wounds
in the world will heal simultaneously.
It’s a moment surely stolen from someone else’s poetry,
but I’ve got to cling to something to avoid becoming
lost entirely in all this dark, intangible vagueness.
There’s got to be at least one imaginary moment
that isn’t just me, reflected over and over.
There’s got to be one moment that doesn’t stare
back at me from inside the mirror box.
here's another poem the same as all my others, just more mirrors and me, me, me but this time, there's some stupid, happy fantasy about a shore that will surely never happen :) might delete it, probably won't. anyway, thanks for reading - it means a lot :)
These beats thumping
In my chest confirm
My blood is pumping
I begin to squirm

Their message powerful
I hope they never stop
Fading slowly to a halt
My body would drop

Thundering in my soul
Beating of a drum roll
Commands movements
That just make sense

Rhythm in my chest
I move effortless
Heart upon my sleeve
Movement mirroring my feelings

Dancing to this music
These Heartbeat's beats beat
I hope they never **** them
Leaving me bleeding incomplete
I've realized
I can ignore you
for a little while
get ****** up
in other stories

but then the
electromag compass
pulls at me
it's just this thing
beneath the sternum
wants recognition
beyond eyes

and you are
the truest north
it's ever known
so far

it was never the words
but what they represent:
our scripture, an effigy
to ineffable deities
morphed and mirroring
inside those holy moments

my mind says, **** this ****
but my heart cries, I want some more
Purcy Flaherty Jan 2018
My sociopathic mistress ~
Initially she began contacting me over the course of a year or so and increasingly over the last few months she started visiting me, helping me, caring for me and occasionally employing me in different ways.

She’d just had a break up a few weeks before, explaining that things hadn’t been right in the relationship for some time!

She presents herself as respectful, thoughtful, gentle, kind and considerate and after what seemed to be a very short length of time; unexpectedly declared that she had feelings for me; regarding love, admiration, desire and some other adventures.

She then began to bombarded me with love talk; occupying around 70% of my time gaining my trust, I was swept off my feet; as she took a great deal of interest in me, learning everything about me, what I liked, where I would go, always asking what I was thinking feeling, how she could help and I was flattered and she was charming, though a little awkward at times.

As our friendship grew she started sharing her "back story" ~including some tragic life experiences; she vilified her past lovers, and ex-partners and branded them as crazy or bitter liars and troubled souls; gaining my sympathy, whilst securing my allegiance, and keeping me on side; keeping me close. ~ drawing on my compassion loyalty & trust!

During intimate moments she would sometimes seem a little awkward, false or acting a little insincere and I made allowances for this given my knowledge of her backstory. Re~ (The tragic life events & experiences)

She began to chose and buy me clothes outfits, take me shopping gradually altering my outward image and appearance.

She introduced me to her friends but was careful to keep me and them at arms-length, I realise now that she was building an alternative profile of me in their minds.

She soon started to embroil me in her own rituals and compulsive behaviour’s, explaining that tasks needed to be performing in very specific ways to prevent her getting distressed!

She made many promises :
"The hook"
It was my expectation i.e. waiting for some of those promises to materialise that kept me hanging on; This increased her control and exited her too. (None of her promises came to fruition!)

She gradually had a hand in almost every aspect of my life i.e. my home, my work, my friends, family, my finances, the way i dressed, the food i ate and many other things besides, much of which I didn’t realise until our relationship was finally over.

“Dupers delight!” ~ She often took immense pleasure in duping, individuals or a companies out of something through theft, shoplifting, or getting something for nothing, a profiteer, a chancer!
To question or challenge her authority would result in seeing her façade slip and I’d watch her decline into meltdown.
It's at that point, she would lose control of her emotion, lose composure and rational and I would see her irrationality come to the fore revealing the real person underneath ~ childish, contrived and fragile ~ It’s as if control is the glue that holds her together, without it she just falls apart , she can’t be consoled and it’s impossible to calm this situation; and it’s this point she would attempt to regain control by “Gas lighting” me, she would distort the truth in an attempt to damage my self-esteem, to make me question my own mind, my words and any actions , apportioning blame, pointing fingers making me feel guilty, or using hurt, sorrow, shame or *** to pacify or regain control over me and my actions!

These episodes would appear often though irregular and I would always be deemed at fault! ~ She “never” took responsibility or made any apologies for her conduct; she would also go out a lot and lie or bend the truth as to where she had been; I never challenged this behaviour!

When the relationship was finally deemed over! ~
I began to see my new position in the cycle ~ she immediately begin to vilify me in order to give credence to her “New backstory”, I felt very confused, disorientated and emotionally fraught ~“Shell shocked” questioning, how much of our relationship was true and how much was a lie? For everything I thought I knew was now knitted together with a very complex web of loyalties, lies and half-truths.

Her pattern of repetitive and controlling behaviours have seemingly remained unchanging thoughout all her relationships!

Within two weeks of being apart she told me that she had fallen in love (My replacement) someone she’d had her eye on for some time, some-one she admires, someone kept in the background, a friend a mutual acquaintance, and thanked me for bringing them together.
The grooming of her new lover would have come about in exactly the same way as previously described. It's her "MO"!
(Her pattern of behaviours, her techniques are fixed.)

Her parting statement to me was ~ just a playful stab at my heart; in the hope of provoking a negative response which would then serve to validate her new "back story".

She’s incredibly self-conscious, her biggest fear is that other people will find out about her true demeanour, her image and appearance is everything to her.
(She's afraid that people will shun her for being so very different)

Full circle~
I too must join the ranks of the discredited; labelled a liar, troubled, bitter and crazy.

She then secretly contacted my friends, family, fellow musicians.

I suspect that she may even attempt to vilify me with authorities or threaten some form of legal action as she has to others in the past!

I'm still drawn to her despite my knowledge of her sociopathic nature, and all the things that go with it ~ her constant need for attention, her lies, her infidelity and her deceit and I feel no malice towards her.
I'm intrigued  bewitched by the person hiding underneath the façade!
I know that person is far more interesting, beguiling and attractive than the façade!

Now the dust has settled ~
I’ve somehow remained sound of mind, I don’t feel guilty and I’m aware that I’ve been manipulated into thinking and acting in ways that don’t truly represent my character and that I’m just one of many people seduced by a sociopath! ~ Just another natural human variant , a person devoid of true empathy (for others) and that has developed a narrow set of skills and mirroring behaviours, which allow her to blend into mainstream society in order to feel safe, secure and in control!

She would have preferred to add me to the hareem a bank of beguiled individuals that are occasionally called upon,; kept on the back burner in order for her to use in the future or simply to monitor and re-assess her handwork and power over me.

The last time i saw her she began with nervous politeness and finished with veiled cruelty, I left this experience feeling drained, uncomfortable and quite fazed.

I hoped this incite would help myself and others to understand whats transpired once they're hooked; though i'm sure the next person will ignore any pre-warnings as just ramblings.

Individuals are driven by the natural pursuit of love, *** and romance rather than following advice of seemingly bitter ex...

One reason you and I might attract the attention of a sociopath is because we shine like stars !
Stars are both attractive and enhance the image and status of the people around them.

A  sociopath will orbit a shiny star draining its energy until its a done before slingshoting to a larger more attractive orbit!
*** is simply a tool for manipulation or pleasure;
There is no love or empathy only stepping stones!

Good luck brothers & sisters.
She loves to watch you ***!
Carter Ginter Nov 2014
If my depression were human, like myself, it would possess no gender.
Astonishingly impatient, it would easily upset;
Every little detail, from meal times to dress,
Could trigger a hate-storm of words and fists
Plummeting down upon my body, its own little punching bag.

If my depression were human,
it would adhere to my side without consent
Mirroring that bi-polar, abusive “relative”
A step-mother with clenching claws much too close to my neck one minute
Then handing over claims of caring and loving me the next.
I am forced to face hell whenever it visits,
But if gone for too long,
I begin to miss its presence.

And if my depression were human, it would live restlessly.
Through exercise it could relax a while, but
with its unruly schedule, the time may never surface.
It tries to sleep often and I try my best to assist
--tea and music to calm the mind--
but most often insomnia
leaves it beside me for hours, burning on and on
this flame eating at my insides:
A voice I cannot ignore.
The lack of sleep driving its nerves and emotions
On even less stable ground.
Sleeping pills no longer work to calm its overactive mind
And this throat-burning ***** works for only a few hours
Sitting in the shadows with only the bottle to numb the pain
For us both.

If my depression were human,
it would force its way between myself and others,
destroying every potential relationship,
friendship and otherwise,
before even a chance at an emotional connection arises;
driving even the most persistent ones to give up in exhaustion.
I would live alone with it
And it with me
It would tell me that it loves me, but turn
And stab at my wrists
At my arms
At my legs
Shedding blood and claiming that
That would prove my devotion.

If my depression were human,
life would not be life,
I would not be me.
Eventually I could no longer hide behind a fabricated smile:
to pretend would pain my damaged mind past its tolerance
and my body would begin to lose hope as well.
I could try to run away,
with substances or therapy,
but the effects only fade and leave me alone
with it
Once more.

And unfortunately,
Depression is human.
A parasitic one
Living in and draining the mind of its host.
Slowly killing every emotion,
Until even pain loses its effects.
Dominating relationship after relationship.
Birthing 350 million loners.
Ending 350 million lives,
Whether literally, or emotionally.

Those who survive and learn to file it away
may never know themselves again.
Forced to worship pills that eat their true selves,
all for this demonic being
that leaves them numb,
cold,
and empty.


*As I stand now, face to face
with my own demons,
no longer lurking in the shadows,
I realize
I have lost the war,
as my throat counts the blue bullets
leading to my sanity.
jane taylor May 2016
hitherto i naively challenged
my decision to enter an ominous existence
a vicious maze veiled in obscurity
inconceivable to navigate without the accumulation
of bruises, heartache, and psychic mutilation

the torment’s ache so unfathomable
i begged to evaporate beseeching death’s arrival
and with the dexterity of a masterful wizard
i magically spun threads of my shredded soul
into a mangled ball of mental lacerations

then stealthily in the opaque of the night
i rushed the frigid black ocean’s high tide
and deluging myself in the ebony water
i buried the battered ball
now deeply eclipsed in the onyx abyss

it sapped all my strength to hold it under
drowning in the wave’s of sea motion
stinging salt alive on my pours
gasping for air i surrendered my grip
releasing my marred orb of élan vital

capitulating to the sand on the beach
i ceded the fight and watched the sphere roll
unraveling it glistened against the white sand
an opalescent tapestry lit by twilight
mirroring the stars against the coal sky

in the lustrous lunar midnight
reflected back by silver moonlight
littered with specks of fluorescent insight
astonished i drew in my breath as i read
words interlaced in the untangled web

the wounds are there
creating a looking glass
peer in
and you will heal
your own consciousness

©2016janetaylor
Angela Moreno Oct 2016
She was gone before the sun arose.
I don't know when she left my bed,
But I know that she was here.
For though her imprint on my mattress
Has cooled and faded,
Her lipstick stains show bright on my pillow,
Two ******, mirroring arches
On a field of snow
I clearly recall
Her icy, cold fingertips on my spine
Waking me up twice in the night
Before I found the morning
Without her there.
Tom Spencer Jun 2017
Life is the answer to the stars’
first question: Am I known?



Beyond the reflections and grime
of my office window
a pair of crows
is grooming one another
on top of a powerline pole.

Gently, he works his sturdy beak
along the nape of her neck
- and then she responds,
rubbing the edge
of her beak against his.

Two sets of obsidian eyes
- just lashes apart -
join for a moment’s mirroring -
an ember of knowing
alight in a jet-black world.

Leaning against the glass
the pulse of my breath
clouds and clears -
forming beaded wings that
ascend and then, disappear

into the longing
to be known.


Tom Spencer © 2017
Umi Mar 2018
Antimatter mirroring our existance on the pathway of a reverse world
Imagine it, time stands still, halts without a will to  continue its flow if it were to possess one to begin with, and everything is but fragile,
Illusionary moon, shine on in this distorted realm in which not even gravity is reliable or even trustworthy at this point, up is down here,
An imperishable night caught under a spell of eternity, uninterrupted
Everlasting, permanently shining, the fake moons appearance is clear,
Unremitting, sweetly told as a if it was a lie, the rumours of this world spread more likely like a disease through the ancient, young earth,
A line parallel drawn to ours, a dimension coexisting without sense,
It appears to be fragile, like a newborn child, the smallest disturbance would mostlikely ruin it's balance, bring tremor upon it wretchedly,
But where that life sparkles as then fades, two dimensions surely would overlap, of course, maybe it will be the world you inhabit, no?
In the realm of the dead, a loitering, lingering darkness thins the borders of reality and illusion, causing them to exist as one, now with the same heart and soul, a fantasy heaven which became reality,
After all, that place is only temporary,one surely could even call it a;
Short living eternity,

~ Umi
Cylia Aug 2018
With every sleep I find amusingly pleasing, lost in my dreams stuck in it like a coma, wondering if I ever want to wake back up and deal with reality instead of in a fantasy.

My eyes closed shut not wanting to open, everyone seems worried but I seem perfectly fine, seems I’m stuck in a daydream filled with all kinds of my long lost memories.

Everywhere I look seems dark,
No dreams no nightmares just blank.
No unicorns or rainbows,
No devils nor angels,
That all I see now is pitch black.

Am I dead or alive?
No demon tail no halo,
Bedroom eyes, I’m falling,
Away from the pitch black night in the sky
And on the other side, a light.
My other side, I see her.
White flowing hair, brown eyes.
No face, but pure glow reflecting my soul.

We’re both floating,
Looking so closely,
Mirroring the other like she’s the second half of my body.
Two souls touching, reflecting one another
By the time she opened her mouth to speak, I woke up not able to blink.
Ciel Noir Jul 2018
10               .000 raindrops
01                thundercloud
10             .000   raindrops
    01            bolt    of lightning
10         .000       raindrops
01                         rainbow
10       .000         raindrops
   I n d I v I d u a l,   distinct
Mirroring the Sun
10.000                raindrops
1 cloud becoming the sea
The sea moves as
1..........................................
we don’t need
to be fixed.

we need to be
aware. open. owning it.

embracing
our pain, our history
our patterns, our spasms.

confession:
I've been fantasizing…

that one day you'd roll up,
like Richard Pryor at the end of Moving,
sitting atop a semi-truck of your whatnots,
war paint smeared upon your dashing,
wearing a tie bandana and bullet sash,
carrying a semi-automatic weapon,
after stalking your **** cross-country,
to the front of our gutted dream house,
after this misadventure, arriving, finally,
at home imperfect, thankful just to be,
there with delirious, Cheshire cat grin,
like a lion dragging in a carcass,
bloodied, brave and proud,
eager to greet my eyes and say:

Honey! Look what I found!
I found my ****!
I brought my **** home...
This is my ****.


and I would greet you,
with water-colored greys
inking down my dimpled peach,
in a black and white gingham apron,
heels, nylons and corseted vintage dress,
mirroring that ****-eater right back,
tray of warm hash brownies in hand,
that got nothing on my toasty sweet
lips dripping to say:

Your **** is lovely, darling.
It'll go perfect with mine!
It's up in the attic - properly labeled,
arranged and categorized.


and with that kind of
ownership, acceptance and bravery,
there is no way our stuff will ever be
more powerful than us, together,
merged and emerging,
by way of wings, soaring,
above our ****-spattered clouds.
if you’ve got me,
I’ve got you, too
My body has a natural pull to answer your beckoning
We are two children mirroring each other in public school gym class
You have always been A
I have always been B
She will always be C
Sophia descends the cotton-white corridor
That icy Reason shall be more than celebrated;
Descends to remind that all is nothingness,
That a thing of beauty is not a joy forever,
Nor an evil as evil as it appears,
Flowing dried leaves into balletic swirls,
Forming peaceful choirs of phantom snow,
And lays her Robe of Grace upon the human soil,
And smiles her return to the stars.

The people, saddened by her silken flight,
Strangely droop in awe, unable to perceive
The merciful white of Her Light and Robe.
"Why has She abandoned us? Where is our globe?
Why are we frenzied, and waltz with unease
As the wind whispers its snowy requiem to the trees?
We are captive in a crowded room, all alone,
In a hysterical white of cubic monotone.
Oh Sophia, airy Wisdom, where and why have You flown?
We forever try and forever fail, ever bent to beg,
Like frustrated clowns playing Ping-Pong with an egg."

The bubbling of orange words shakes their sky:
"What of eternal Chaos that dances out its infant star?
Knowing the dance, how then can you and eternity be very far?
Why make false beliefs the extensions of your simple eyes
When simple physics tells you to rationalize?
To be divinely free and never alone,
You must see the dancing love in a slate of stone.
The star, the human, the insect - all are children of wonderment
Disguised in differing degrees of order or arrangement.
A whiter soul cannot be nor come about;
It unveils itself slowly, slowly sheds its doubt.
Since it has no corners, why imagine a room?
Why allow illusion to nurture your gloom?
Yet trapped by the senses and desires, your minds blindly spin and spin,
Hearing nothing save the tremulous sad persistence of a violin..."

The scattered Night darts their room;
Blades of blue skate on the walls, assuming the karmic Womb.
"What are we but puppets, animated dross?
What else but white-eyed gory dogs having seizures on the cross?
Let us be children playing with their Eden smiles,
Bouncing their dreams against the walls,
Melting away imagined corners with their inner Eye
To follow the long-evasive Butterfly.
Let us glide through the Light that laughs on the shimmering green,
Till dissolved into the Boundless of blue serene.

For we long have dreamt and dreamt
of drowning stars in the fathomless water
As its mirroring azure surface slept,
And felt as though each breath of space overhead
Had leapt.
We have dreamt of luminous globes in the nightly sky -
Each a receding echo of the Word,
Each space between the center breathing undisturbed -
And we cried, 'At last, no questions left to crucify!',
But woke to the dead surprise of the material dream,
Resuming our doubt and asking of many a useless theme.

Could we shun the beauty of a material thing?
Or shun the temptation to cling,
Knowing things come and things pass away
Under the bliss of God's eternal play?
Seeing these shadows undress
To reveal tranquillity and a little less?
Could we do our duties and not digress,
Waiting dumb and numb for God to bless?
No! Let's not wait for answers from the sky,
Nor attempt to squeeze Coca-Cola from a cow,
But rest content within the Self, gazing beyond the Fly
That diverts our Eye from the Now.
Let's fix our minds on the moment and be free,
Acting unattached in pristine clarity.
Clear... calm,
We shall become but music of the Halo's breath,
Unheard to those who only hear the bird."
This poem is included in my book "I Have Been Moved", which is available on Amazon for as little as 14 dollars (paperback). It was written in 1995, when I was 21.
Umi Jul 2018
To prayers,
To calls, where the path has long been sealed away by fate.
An angels legend, the rumours spread across a deserted hell,
Is it a demon who fell into this world by some kind of well ?
The mirroring magic, a banishing sword, responding to their possessors in hope to set raging potential free, in hope to be of use,
But is it the end of the road when a demon awaits your calling ?
Only your heart is responsible for letting the whispering deceive you,
The positve and negative, those two who manipulate the ways of our thinking, are always around you, lingering, waiting, striving, for a chance to overthrow the other to have an impact on your vision,
How will you respond to either outcome without being tricked ?
It is from now until the moment you die, it is from now until the end of time, your senses are responsive upon your every second of life,
Every single one of us lives depending on and bound by our knowledge and awareness, this is our own little reality
But always remember, both knowledge and awareness are equivocal,
So what makes you so sure that this reality of yours is not an illusion?

~ Umi
Denise Uy Sep 2018
I'm not great like the ancient Greeks.
My door is tattered, unoiled, and it creaks.
The glass coffee table now in pieces,
mirroring thousands of broken perspectives.
The clothes on the floor, reflecting the messy
internal view of my life.

But I can fix it, can't I?
I could oil the hinges of my door,
brand new like it was before.
I could buy a stronger table,
no longer dysfunctional
and unable.
As for my clothes, I'll just fold them back.
It's really not a daunting task.
Some parts are easy, some are pretty tricky
and repair takes time but go on
and fix your life.
Note to self: Start changing your life.
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