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Michael John Aug 2018
ii


lunch


iii

over lunch i chewed
with my few remaning
while glancing in the mirror

and i saw myself
for the first time
as i truly am

and somethings
slid into place
i think they call it

an epithany
i have been trying
of late

through various discipline
and just catching
dissapearing

but memories one
would imagine lost
have come

to explain and
raise further
questions

in my pursuit
of me ..in
knowing oneself
there is taboo

but what to do
but in my reflection
just for a moment..

recognition
Alexsandra Danae Oct 2011
ANSWERLESS RIDDLES are mating with my squirmish thoughts
they swirl and ferment inside my skull; pulsating neurons in my head
I feel it before I hear it, as the laughter bubbles up from within me
but there is nothing to find amusing, and my hope lay dying, now dead ~ ~ ~
the last of the cords holding together my sanity are frayed and slipping quickly
I am helpless to restring them alone, so far beyond my arm's reach
I can sense this rushing of maniacal laughter building up within me again
and then my fear seems to dissapate as my mind travels to lands with too strange a concept to teach ~ ~ ~
in years gone by, perhaps I have known traumatizing troubles too intimately
maybe I have allowed myself to, continuously, keep detouring from a wholeness I possessed once before
this sound escaping my strained lips right here and now is speaking of a new, different story
oh thief!! sanity has become a stolen piece, and not again shall it ever reside in me, no, nevermore ~ ~ ~
I am, and yet, I see nothing, save for some undescribable, disturbing chaotical nonsense before me
failure... I cannot create any sense or light to manuever these biting, foreign seams
I cannot help but to question whether any true relevance will ever actually be found here
this laughter just, unfaulteringly, sings itself to and from anywhere - even in my resting dreams ~ ~ ~
this sudden, burning desire fills me, and I think I'll cut myself loose, allow myself to go now
I'll float on down this hideously contorting river of giggling screams that I've dreaded to face
yet all such fears have begun to fade as my undeniably worthless grasp is slowly released
destined in time for me to reside, here is a numbing, emotionless, vile and heartless place ~ ~ ~
I cannot hault this shrieking laughter that bursts forth, exploding from my lungs
yet, I feel blank, so somehow this, and all else too! - has found its path to indifference here
my few, meager joys may have run away, escaping along with my misery and sorrows then
I have grown numb, become spiritually void, thus, I feel none of this, and I've no worries, despite my sanity's departure (forever disappeared...) ~ ~ ~
Death's threatening gaze carries no weight in an existance which lies always so lifeless as this
already, I've relinquished myself to surviving as no more than a zombie, a vacant shell, chained and bound in a permanent, deep and impenetrable trance
I once clutched an empty chalice to fill the hole from whence my inner peace had, long before, fled
abandoned then, abandoned again, my only company fated to be the humorless laughter that comes flooding from my open mouth and leaves me a twitching death-maiden, bound to a passionless, eternal dance ~ ~ ~
but none of it matters, oh, not in the least, minute way, oh no no, not anymore
I haven't even the faintest hint, nor trace of awareness remaning for me to care
here, there isn't a god, there is not a satan or devil - no heaven, nor hell, nothing to inspire your soul
AND IT IS HERE, to this place, we shall all eventually belong, and together spend eternity, with naught but expressionless stares... ~~~
Deepali Jun 2020
I choose to be an ignorant freek to you
why the **** my thumb types back on you
Is it you who makes me feel less worth in street
or
Is it you that gives me lessons to fight back for esteem.
What should i say to myself?
what should i convey to the space inside the mind shelfs?
And then there is me diving again
into the mute voice
scattering the pixels caught in dimension of the "subway"
that connects the ultimate source of art,
The Heart.

And innocent heart
keeps the shelfs filled with goodness of invisibile atoms you blow from far
  which enter inside my brain and regards
   by altering away all the siniater
migrants apart
leaving virtue symbols of faith, hope and hault.

Alas, I stayback and breathe the air you blow
which is still unseen to know the true node
And so i read back the lines again
entering into the shelf of the mind games
switiching the lanes
I go back again through the subway
to ask the heart the remaning pain
that
the shelf is still empty with sublimations
and
haunts for only one collection
and so it says
You, or you?
answer would never get open
Amilie wants to know the answer of Stan's presence into her life. But he keeps the atmosphere in an illusion nature staying as a far away zone but still whenever the conversation happens the spark is back.
But somehow when Amilie never tells Stan her feelings of missing him as she understands his part of life.
And she always keeps the words inside and waits for him to come back.
And during this ongoing gap she asks her mind and heart to tell her that is he really there in her life? She fears to let herself get hurt and ignores him to stay away but again she falls back for him with his beautiful words and lessons he gave.
And thats the reason the question is never answered.
answer would never get open.
because he love someone else. he broked up with her but still have a drop inside him.
amelie knows everything and thats how she struggle to keep it inside and stay
or not stay?
answer would never get open.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
.    head score...
don't know, don't ask,
  it just popped
into my head
like the idea of a unicron...
it means something,
akin to
   mohawk haircut
prior to
   sioux excess
practice of...
   what should have been
left to the turkish
barbers... i said: can i have
shave, i didn't imply
           ******* scalping me!
welcome,
to the 2020 redneck bonanza...
hell, hollywood is dead...
slaughter outside "the house"...
any slaughter is a good
slaughter.
            fully pearled sheen
worth of a smile...
       and look...
just look,
      how death tows...
whatever is to be made
of hell,
    just about the time,
when heaven
takes toward staging
its original intent
of bailing out;
  if only we were found dead
held to account
by being fed to the hounds,
rather than social zombies:
cha-cha-cha...
      cha-cha-cha...
   chatterer
and the remaning worth of chew.

— The End —