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Shofi Ahmed Jul 2017
It’s a garden I saw
one propels within oneself
there was no shadow.
I saw starry rows lining up
in broad daylight, I was stunned
Yes, stars in the broad daylight!

Here I see the sun up on the high  
and the full moon in the night.
But here they weren’t
needed in the fair fare!
Zachary G Aug 1
I enter a dream
A dream of the fantastic
Reality’s sacrificial lamb
That propels me forward
Battle moves swift
I move swifter
The black nights roar
A silent passion igniting the
Flames of misfortune
The flowers mingle in the morning sun
I awaken towards the blooming rose of love
I wrote this during a concert
Piper Diggory Sep 2018
God knows. I want a love that is like sleep.
-Why should love be like sleep?
-I don’t know - so that it is like death.
~(D.H. Lawrence - Women in Love)


High sun, like lightening, licks upon the illimitable lake,
Lustre like winks of shattered glass at noon;
Propels gentler warmth into the swimmer’s wake
And she sails in absence among the salt of loves several months overdue.

But it seems, the softness of a wave presses its face against her,
As would a crying animal. Soon her wounds swoon
Gulping in yielding glory the mineral blur
And closing their infant mouths in cowardice as at confession.

For she has a front-row ticket to the drowning light,
Watches in tepid woe the greenish circles ebb in funeral song
As the horizon paints itself black in grief. It no longer charms her plight
To think of the sky as sea; you told her to watch the boats where they are

In order to define the end of the earth, and now she is no longer afraid,
Because she knows that you once were, and she’s on paper somewhere.
And now she packs up her let down town, wishing she stayed
Somewhere closer to the sea and the precipice of loving you.
Nnaemeka Mokeme Oct 2018
Because of you,
I can say what's
on my mind,
laugh at myself
and put a smile
on a sad face.
I do the
impossible things
with the
right mind set.
Because of you,
I became better.
Your inspiration
motivates and propels
me beyond the limits.
Because of you
I became a superman
doing all kinds of
amazing and supernatural
tremendously incredible
great things with
giant strides.  
Because of you
i can climb
all the hills
and mountains like
the Spiderman.
Because you are
by my side I
became more than
a conquerer.
Positivity became
my ally and
generates me to
a spiritual high.
Because of you,
I know everything
is working the
way they should.
And for that
my heart is so grateful.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
TheMystiqueTrail Sep 2018
Roller coaster...
it propels you to the zenith of ecstasy
to hurl you surlily to the pits of agony.

It mocks your senses,
turns your sensibilities upside down,
pounds your heart to panic bewilderment.

It dishevels your tranquillity,
shoves you to a hysteric frenzy,
pushes you into the dark world of insanity.

Still, we cherish the thrill of its madness,
outwit each other
to jump on the bandwagon
that takes us to the holes of delusion!
Young man with your shining hair
and brightness in your smile.
Your eyes see a golden future
as long as the days are short.
When you open your heart to another
Do you pray to the jewel-hung sky?

Young woman swaying down a street
With your golden hair
Legs caper under a flowing skirt.
Your lips taste only sweetness
as new as the world is old.
When you give your body as you recline,
Do you spread your arms to the gods?

I see you narrow your gaze
at the old woman hobbling
reaching out for the dregs of life.
I hear the pity in your voice,
the sorrow for her and you think
you have a choice
to run from that image,
to say forever young.
You may even laugh at the old man
puffing out his chest
and imitating youth.
I know you're thinking
this will never happen to you.

So enjoy the brightness of your eyes,
the smooth skin and straight spine
that propels you through the spring
Let yourself believe that the leaves
will always be neon green
and the wind warm and soft.
Twirl down the lanes and
fly over mountains and seas!
For all of us did that once
and were as unwitting as you.
None of us, for all our fear,
ever really saw the gulf
of eighty or ninety years,
or certainly not the lack of breath
and the pain of each step,
each turn on a bed
that now feels hard as stone.

We gaze from windows
As you gambol past,
And know you fear to be alone,
Not seeing that at last,
We say good-bye to wind and sky,
that everyone sinks into the earth,
Leaving the power, in our last sigh,
We invoke another birth.
Inspired by the song "The Killing Moon", by Echo and the Bunnymen. I like the phrase and the song has many references to the cosmos, birth and regeneration.
Edited on July 9, 2019
work tripping #3 in 6 weeks
it's good they're investing in me
but it makes me feel
like I owe them things
and I probably do
it suffocates my anxiety
makes me consider a brisk walk
over the sill in 331 onto the Tarmac
in this quaintish Kentucky town
I've seen all 3 hours of but 100% know
it reeks of Igottagetthefuckout
homesick not for my home
but for beings and places that feel
like I don't need an escape route
or have to shove my thoughts down
and pull a thing out that isn't myself
I find myself going in the bathroom
at my parents house just to get away
because I can't engage with them
for long without alcohol to fuzzy
the thoughts I don't want to think
the feelings I'd rather disown
my dad buys too much wine
and I am so good at drinking it
I'm never alone enough
and when I am I just stare
into thoughts that go circular
everywhere and nowhere
it's all I want - to be alone and still
with nothing to do for days on end
no one to feed or bathe or need things
but wallow free in my lethargy and
get to all those dots on the ceiling
and not have to pretend anything
I have so many things I wanna do
but am lacking the proper thing
that propels things and does
the motion and I've gotten good
at doing the minimum but
I wanna be Onnit like Joe Rogan
but feel I can't afford that ****
though maybe I should rethink that...
and you know, I should be thrilled -
I got a free upgrade - a 2-BR suite
almost as big as my apartment
but it makes me feel guilty
for all the days I can't focus
because the ache inside wants things -
attention mostly, and just to cry
and sit and do nothing you know
I'm always half-assing even though
I'm terrible at half-assing things
because I either want to do it full-tilt
or not at all, so basically
I even half-*** my half-assing
so it's really more like a 1/4-assing
that wishes it were zero-assing
and I'm pretty sure I'm even
half-assing my lethargy
trying to sort out the other half of ****
I'm not focusing on when I should be
I always have these fantasies
of how I'll be in a hotel alone -
sipping wine in a bubbly tub
pampering myself, feeling sparkly
but I always end up feeling
so
alone
in unfamiliar cookie cutter hole
wasting hours on godknowswhat
with nothing to show for it
except some ****** poetry
or whatever this genre of ***** is
but the little white rectangle light
makes me feel not so alone
and expectorating the thoughts
into somewhere else -
my little RGB bottle in digital sea -
and knowing that maybe
others who long to be alone
just so they can wallow
in wretched unprocessed feelings
and be utterly ******* useless
aren't alone in wanting that

tonight I'll lie to myself
pretend you're across the living room
with the abrasive polyester couch
probably switching back and forth
between the two beds doing
whatever it is that you do
when you lock yourself down inside
and I'll ignore the screaming children
who must each weigh 300 lbs
running SWAT drills down the hall
and just imagine you're close enough
to be almost here
with me

and we're somewhere near
being whatever we are
or are not
and it's all OK because
we don't have to pretend
or half-*** anything
or devise an escape

we could play Marco Polo
even if no one ever wins
we can just keep role-switching
but I could hear your voice
and your pace pacing inside you
and be there close by just in case
you wanted to peek out
and chuck your shoe at my door
just for fun or maybe because
my nothing's too ******* loud

imagining you'd be OK with that -
doing proto-Wolverine impressions
or whatever ridiculous, wild, quirky
or boring, stupid, pissy things
you do when you're strapped up
in your own mechanical devices
in the space across the way -

it stretches my ribs a little
makes them want to be ready
to crack open
for good
JDL Nov 2018
Our lives are like ocean waves, born of a celestial entity among a diversified sea of possibilities. Direction and intensity set at birth with a future blurred by the endless horizon

Some waves wander alone, losing momentum as they are gradually ushered down by Earth’s gravitational pull before tragically coming to a rest among the blue abyss, destination never realized

Others are born of the unseen violence and upheaval between tectonic plates battling for dominion over the volatile landscape deep beneath the surface. Knowing no other way, they perpetuate the violence that created them, destroying and consuming everything in their path

Yet some join together, superimposed into a harmonious union that multiplies their strength and propels them forward until it’s waters gently meet the shore in an actualizing marriage of journey and destiny

Storms often boil up out of nowhere, dismantling adjacent waves. While a select few resist the onslaught, instead gaining strength and vitality. Like a conductor bringing a symphony to crescendo, the roil pushes these waves further than others in pursuit of their destination

This dynamic tapestry of new beginnings and violent ends blend together as one, eroding and shaping the land around them as they work out their daily squabbles. Heads barely above water, they continue onward towards the horizon blatantly disregarding a future for which they create
Eve Stumpges Jan 25
I thrive off the hole in my spirit.
I fill it with other peoples’ dogs, mending strangers, worn hiking shoes, yoga pants, unhealthy flings, wine, chocolate, substantial friendships, and attempting to love myself with the same fondness I hold for the sun’s warm generosity.
But nothing satisfies. My spirit habitually empties.
The underlying dark earth briefly revels in the light while the rain propels the earth’s unassuming descent to re-consume me.
Jack Jul 18
Beauty, in my eye, yet I do not hold you.
Every curve, every contour, every thing.
A desire in me, exceeding need for breath.
******* my soul with her very existence.
That I could clothe myself in her wake.
Immerse this broken into her healing.
Fate propels us to futile fusions, desolate.
Unrooted in fertile lands, I am nothing.
Lifted by your beautiful, I am everything.
Rory Mels Tims Dec 2018
They say that falling is terrifying,
So I climbed a cliff, and I'm plummeting.
The air is fast and sweet
When there is nothing under my feet,
I am free.

Humans weren't made to be birds,
We were made to exchange words.
But whoever told me not to fall
Must not be human at all! Their words?
Wrong.

It never occurred my existence
Was such a bizarre pointless dance.
But now the momentum propels me
To finally see
I should fall!

Hey, come up here and dance!
There's plenty of room to prance!
And while the ground seems to rise,
For once the hair will be out of your eyes,
Come on up!
TIME WILL TELL US WHEN ITS TIME!
I am beginning to realize the depths of corruption ,and absolute hatred necessary  to fracture the very  foundation that is needed for any  civilization to exist within the framework of world history,!  Time alone dictates when tribalism becomes the natural antidote for the ills of entrenched  governments- not borne of true rule  of law or any visionary enmeshed enlightenment,- but one simply conjured up by the latest charlatans of any era. The ability of persuasion is probably more powerful when introduced to the upward mobile societies because the very same momentum that is required to navigate the rise is also the fuel that will widen the gap between the haves and the have-nots.
   No goverment ( as we understand such elements today)  could step into power here and make a balancing  attempt short of totalitarian austarity , simply because those who have become the rich and powerful riders are not concerned by who , what why or how they are allowed to ride so comfortably up the rise . No ,sadly they only care about their seat and making it secure for themselves and theirs, not the multitudes of laboring hungry ,abused and neglected who have found their life is simply 1 of 2 choices . 1 is to just push and survive for themselves and therefore their families or quit pushing and try to get out of the suddenly backsliding monster , hoping to salvage something - anything - from the eventual catastrophic collision as the future propels itself into the reality of an ever looming past ; that is time itself and cannot be stopped. Certainly not  by our insignificance, no matter how vainglorious we believe we are !  In the end ,; as in any beginning,  time has shown that we are nomads to entrenched stone fortresses back to nomad to bigger,  stronger fottresses that never hold forever- time sees to that as it passes by ,carryjng the latest brand of tribal nomads with it and crushing all in its wake. The world ,- I fear - has never seen the likes of the  American  nomads, who are now being.manufactured as we stand here today ,arguing about what MAGA means and what bathroom should be used . In literal terms again indicates a return to something we were , which is something time simply will not allow , as those riding high and unconcerned are determined to see for themselves  as it flashes before their eyes . I am no longer pushing or encouraging others ,who may believe a rest will exist when we reach the crest. No crest exists because time is constant ,its march always steady and its path is a flat endless plane while we create the rise and angle of ascent  in mathmatical precision ...calculated by the number of and energy needed by the ones   pushing  multiplied  by the unknown factor of X (what it takes to stay alive )
.   Hungry hopeless ,frightened sick and neglected people ( no matter the good will and pride ) cannot keep going if more energy output  only steepens the angle. Time runs this show and you know what that saying is ...only time will tell.
Absolutly correct ...only this go round we may still have an internet connection linking us back to who you were and what you did to your family name . That will be your legacy ,but it may well be the heavy chain of shame that your children and  grandchilren will bear the weight of for generations to come- and only you know why they are sentenced to do your time as  the Amercan version of untouchables
Strange as it seems,
November schemes,
For Isi bears the moonlight gleam.

For as I saw
This fluffy awe
Ricardo, memes, on me bestow!

She melts my heart,
This kitten-****
Propels me from the very start!

Yet, fill my soul!
And make me whole
Till I have reached the final goal.

You moonshine light,
That fills the night,
With lunar gleam and kitten blight.

And dear sweet cat,
I'll tell you that,
I'm fond of you, from sole to hat.

Of ears and tail,
I shall not fail
To feel your floof beyond the pale.

And they shall love
This morning dove
That's you, who's sent from up above.

Ah! Isi dear,
You make me steer
Towards your sight, your kitten-gear.

This kitten-gear!
So sweet and sheer
*******-knots dispel my fear.

*******-knots
And dazzling Goths
Victorian air, I breath a lot!

Sing high, my soul,
From pole to pole,
That you, my cat-girl, make me whole!
Mohd Arshad Sep 2018
O enthralling glowworm!
Salute thee
for thy liveliness
That propels thee to wing
Up and down
and twinkle like a star
Though it's too dark around!

O lovely bird,
I've fallen for thee!
Befriend and
encourage me to smile
Through thick and thin
that encircles me
Like the web to its owner!
syncopation Jul 10
There are days I wish
My feet could firmly plant into the grounds of time
And furnish roots into its fertile soil of blessings eternally mine

And close my eyes and will away its current and its tide
That propels my physical body forward while my soul stays rooted inside

Closing the mind, turning it to stone
While basking in an abyss of yesteryears and days forgone

Until the day you open your eyes and see the blinding truth
There’s no winning time for it will always rob your youth

You may have fooled yourself briefly resisting time’s wordly charms  
But immortalizing moments past will only do you harm

For when you awake from your stupor filled slumber
You will awake to days outnumbered

But by then it’s too late
Are you ready to step out on to your plank of fate?

— The End —