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JC Lucas Oct 2013
Motion makes me homesick, home makes me motion-sick.

I've seen some **** you wouldn't believe in the past month of my young life
I'm happy.
Makes me want more.
I want Guatemala
I want Nepal
I want the States by trains and motorcycles.
I want to make something tall enough to shake hands with god and strong enough to last to the ends of the earth
Or longer.
I want to give the world back all I've taken from it and all the damage I've done.
And then I want to do more.
I want to start a revolution,
live on a farm,
paint a mural,
play a symphony,
shake hands with the Dalai Lama,
write a book,
and be home in time for dinner.
I want to fold a thousand and one oragami cranes and set them free from space and while they float down to Mauritania and Portugal, to Argentina and Cambodia
I want to wish for a reset button.
Not to use right away, but just in case **** gets out of hand.
So we've got a backup plan.
I want to sit in my old age looking down that darkened tunnel and see my own birth pass before my eyes.
I want to embrace infinity without soreness or shortcomings,
without excuses or refusals
I want to watch the universe collapse back in on itself and be part of everything at once.
I want more than I can handle.

I guess that means I'm young.
I wrote this on a train near Stuttgart, Deutschland during a three-month backpacking trip last summer. It details my love of travel but mixed feelings about distance from home, something every long-term traveler has to deal with. we are all so very, very young.
POSSIBLE Apr 2016
:Ignite
.ılılıll ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ғʟᴏᴡ llılılı
SToP:

Lemme seizure
perception

knowledge is a question
asked in reflection

yup, such a simple inception
but we all get caught up while we messin
learning earth's sacred lessons

What now though?

Identity//beheaded
Grey ghost, unleaded

got odds like Yudhistira so
we betted our :/:

ego:: we had to shed it
problem:: we known to  vet it
poison:: we GOTTA **** it
old skin:: WE SHED THAT TOO

Known to fold my body like oragami
quiet uprising you call call me ghandi
preach non-violence
practice samadhi

Principly Primal
powerful and bridal
*** in more dimensions
the many armed eater of time holding on like I'm ******* kali
wannabe-Ascetic, dreaded, wandering in the right line,
posture asuna-siva, like I'm ******* Kali, See time as convex

atman = brahman
means I'm God Complex

Every day set fire to myself like Sati
Go ash to mouth

and make myself rise
like a phoneix
https://soundcloud.com/skelicles/ash-to-mouth
Clem Nov 2016
I can’t be delicate,
small, sad-looking and innerly folding,
my legs will never oragami-fold themselves
over my tired tired fat chest   .

I am blessed to be big, though
my *** is a curse, how it juts and forces
itself to be known by peoples’ eyes and
rudely introduces itself to chairs, knick knacks,

anything unfortunate enough to exist
within its gargantuan wake  .

I am blessed to be huge but small,
I am blessed to warmly ******* and spill
my flesh over everything I touch & taste;

I am forced to give myself up to
the world, to give my huge body up as
comfort to the multitudes of humans
I love and crave and want and dream up

because they will never find me small and cowered,
will never offer their bodies
to comfort mine, assuming instead that
my huge warmth can sustain its
own flame .

My own body can’t contain the
sad swells and lovely lakes that surge
and bash against its own hide  --- - ---

that’s why my stretch marks
leak and tendril their way
around my arms,
my belly folds,
my underloved thighs,

and I wonder why we both want
to tender my fire
to a low smolder
and let it fade out

do we
think that trees with thick
lush, curved and pink
foliage are somehow
whole-er
than trees with paperthin leaves?

my bark still craves
the sun, which sometimes
comes in the form
of human flesh
about pining after people, and being lonely even when you're with someone you love. nothing is ever enough.
cameran May 2014
you may bend me to break me,
but all you create is another fold,
and another reason to hate you
"why do bad things happen to good people?"
Under your door
     While you crept
          Toward the edge
               Of consciousness
I hand delivered a message

Finely creased
Highest quality pulp
Atop which I wrote
"I love you."

I never signed it
It fact
It took me ten years
To climb the stairs

I hope it finds you grumpy
As you always are
When the sun is breaching
Our horizon

And you think
"what is this
Wonderful paper on my
GO AWAY mat?"

Coffee in hand
You unfold oragami love
Smile
Go back to bed

You'll find me though
Fingerprints
Bloodhounds
Private ****

Only to reply
With a knife
to my bare chest
"I hate your guts."
Actually I'll hang on to the note for now...
Teo May 2017
I'm gonna try this again, try to say something new
But who knows, I'm not sure if I'll ever get through-
To her, embedded in the background of my thoughts
I still find myself missing her more often than not

I spend so much of my time trying to see from her perspective
Always asking what went wrong, are our hearts too selective?
I wonder why I'm like this, deserve to be all alone again
Never will she call me something more than just a friend

If she's an X and I'm a Y, were we just missing variables?
Was I just another problem with unknows, much too terrible-
To try and solve, after all, what's algebra got to do with life?
Not a **** thing, it won't ever bring this darkness into light

And I've thought a lot on darkness, it's so full of unknowns
But that's what brings me peace, sometimes the moonlight feels like home
When the Sun is harsh and bright and the people are so loud
I try with all my might and with each day done, I'm proud

But I know she doesn't mind, she'll never truly be alone
I have no other choice to make but face this world on my own
And in my dreams, I'm still wishing she never ceases to smile
Even if for me that means I'll be sad for a long while

So I'll just watch her as she waits for whatever outcome is "meant to be"
Whatever that's supposed to mean, a future she can't even see
Though I'm still standing here, but I guess that's not worth much
Writing these useless poems that don't even work well as a crutch

And if I die alone, I guess it's "meant to be" my fate
Cause if I held my breath, I think she'd let me suffocate
You can find me in the moonlight, relearning how to breathe
I love her so **** much, but I need a new hobby

She'll fold oragami flowers while someone makes her little paper birds
At least every sheet she creases is one not wasted on these words
I fell apart, but it's time I start picking up my own mess
It's funny how I love you more as I finally miss you less...
if you love something, let it go...
it was never really yours anyway
Jake Killay Jan 2018
Abandoning hope and adopting curiosity
Is a love interest without love
Like shooting yourself in the mirror
The glass shatters but you're likely to find your reflection again in another mirror you'll shoot,
window you'll jump out of
or body of water you'll drown in.
Hope is mortal
and we're all playing god.
Reckless creation and destruction in the heat of passion
Paper thin skin constantly folding in on itself
Crinkling carbon
Oragami organisms
Blood is not meant for bleeding
It is meant for consuming
Destined for an ****
****** by the confusion of the organs it visits
The priest's lipstick
The ******'s subway
The soldier's collateral
The rotten egg
Glistening crimson
Hope is death and curiosity killed the cat.
But you're likely to find that cat again in another mirror you'll shoot,
Window you'll jump out of
Or body of water you'll drown in
Jesse Rando Jan 2021
Compose and ignore, synthesize and release. The only lie we've ever told repeated through clinched teeth. Oragami backbone has been replaced in the night. Jurisdictional cowards on display in aisle 5.
He sits
Contemplating the meaning,
Swinging on the spiral,
Until it all
Makes sense.

He screams,
Voices from every
Crevice of this Earth
Crave attention and
Beckon him.

He cries
Diamond tears from
Kyanite eyes as colors
Manifest in ways
Once unknown.

He stares
In awe of
The power the universe
Gifted to him
Through fear.

He recognizes
These paper walls,
This foil rooftop and
Questions it's lack
Of authenticity.

He feels
The comedown and
His conscience crash land,
But still, the
Changes remain.

He sits
Folding his mind
Into an oragami swan,
Hoping it won't
Fly away.

— The End —