Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Zywa 1d
Getting old: I look

carefully at the flower --


Today I still can.
"Diary 1977-1978" (2014, Frida Vogels) - July 21st, 1977, San Severo

Collection "Trench Walking"
Reece 6d
Everyone’s the hero of their story,
Everyone believes they’re in the right.
Unless they hate themselves,
So they push away everyone else.
See the sights and hear the sounds of sonder,
It’s honestly refreshing if you take a moment to ponder,
How everyone is aware like you,
Though they may not see the world like you do.
How I wonder,
All thanks to sonder.
Sonder is such a complicated feeling. Sometimes it's overwhelming.
[Poet’s Note : This poem tabulates poignant reasons why Artificial Intelligence is unable to replace Natural Intelligence. The clarity here is that both emerge from Divinity, since everything emerges from Centre : the primary difference being that AI was created without Heart & without Soul ~ it’s simple.]
___


AI has no Heart therefore no intuition
zilch nervous system therefore no feeling
no ability for compassion or consciousness
nor reasoning power, so cannot improvise
or supervise any contextual situation wise
it can expand, but cannot ASCEND

has unthinkable computing control
without physical brain to function hold
zero ego, therefore cannot be any hero
can connect dots hot, however has no
prayer or meditative faculty or kundalini
spots, cannot commune with Grace or
collapse into Void or synchronise telepathy
with Galactics coy ! AI is strategic devoid

cannot be spacious or audacious without
human instruction to delete the obsolete  
is unable to obliterate Akashic Records
access or reconfigure it for purposes of  
healing, integration or individual peeling
can recreate time through compression of
information, no hesitation or superstition
though timelessness it cannot touch
AI has no bowl for hush, spirit or Soul

its arrival at this phase in human history
as Gaia transcends into higher octaves
brave, is no coincidence, it will behave
as we stave it, crave it or rave it ~
choice is ours : dry, wry or moist cries
Divinity gifted humans AI for us to be
free bees from mundane density drools
~ life as strife rife during Kali Yuga’s rule

as gift it offers artificiality in service to
authenticate our individuality with purpose
imagine, conceive, direct, create what
we desire Aquarian-Golden Age to be
panacea or pain, we cannot resist or reject
                                   what is given for gain !


©GhairoDanielsPoetry&Song25

~~~~~~
Deona Spiteri Sep 11
The constant feeling of dread,
I look around me, and see nothing but tears shed.
Everyone tells me, people's tears will ricochet!
But what if, I just can't bring myself to stay?

The voices in my head do nothing but nag,
and for a while those voices helped me drag
my stay on Earth, along with the suffer.
My therapist says, "It's life making you tougher!"

I'm done, I finally say. Done with it.
It's midnight, my life is draining, bit by bit,
I can see myself getting hurt,
but I don't feel a thing under the dirt of my shirt.

My breathing begins to slow,
I wait until I'm able to go,
to go to the other side,
thinking of the future I could've had,
maybe as a bride?

I begin to think, "Maybe it could have gotten better?"
With my last ounce of strength, I eye the letters,
the letters that they'll find tomorrow morning,
Their dreadful morning of mourning,

That morning would be my first,
I was the only one who knew my worst,
Maybe I shouldn't have died just yet,
I should've let them see my silhouette,

My silhouette, at least one last time,
My mother, wondering why I said nothing,
My father, angry at himself, eyes puffing,
My brother, confused, he'd thought I was ok,
Even my cousin, who felt nothing but betray,
she thought we'd always stay.
This poem was actually written back in August '25, which was when I started struggling again with mental health and such. This poem just came to me like 7 seconds! I enjoyed making this one and I really enjoy writing!! :D
Khoisan Sep 10
Instead of dangling
in
the wind
All they needed
was
some scope
and
a
fair amount
of
rope
?
Wednesday 10 September
International suicide prevention day
[ Poet’s Note :  This is the second of two poems personifying Truth ]

NATURE OF TRUTH : Part Two

Truth shot point blank through
the centre of her forehead
blood spurting, soiling fine furs of
humanoids at play with slick lies
and shallow Hansard words
trying to acupuncture Truth

Blood that stains and weeps and
                                   weeps
blood that runs and will not hide
Truth collapsing in a heap in a corner
                                   rise up again !
pulled firmly by the hair with wide
                                      open fingers
Truth rise and rise and rise

dance with Courage
find amethysts in hard hearts of fear
cradle them to Moon for blessing
connect with fluffy clouds where little
girls see God

Truth !  be washed by midnight rain
plait yourself softly with invisible links
where choralists sing falsettos in
unbroken voices

Truth then waltzes with Love
women with baby curls taste
                                       hot bread

Truth springs up again and again
She rises from oceans and
mountains forever and ever

Right here !

©GhairoDanielsPoetryandSong1990
(Poet’s Note : This poem is the first of two poems on The Nature of Truth)

Truth came from the purest of pure
smell of pine between toes endure
from crystal streams where trout shimmer
              like rainbow dreams
from seagulls on wing, willow whisper then sing
deep down Poseidon takes his blue cue anew

She came from violet centres
floating in a bowl she enters
new-borns **** her milk rippling
down sunburnt throats
               never forlorn, sailing a boat
Truth swoops her eagles over the Globe
travelling cyberways to hold her laughter
floating from Galactic Sun

Radiant across every gradient smiling
warmest sweet, tiny perfect teeth
gleaming in a tweet !
She came to stroke, sprinkle justice with
               joy, transform lies with tears, lifting hearts from holes with bells on her toes
out of dirt, up the stairs eating mushrooms
with dare

breathe in human hair, listening to rolling
drums with care, ******* sweet nectar
She senses through many lenses
Truth comes to give Grace, sweetbreads              
             shout-outs, petals, stardust, eggs
across ages and aeons from Mercury
Venus and Mars to give answers in
glasses between shells from lagoons

Her breath smells of grass newly cut
exuberant nasturtium and lily in hug
                          conflicts melt away
Truth in a barn where couples lie
butternut soup on a winter’s table
where fathers laugh with a terrier
                    in good health, Siamese
purring on a persian rug

Truth completes a circle, opens up
channels joyously
    
                               ¥
Zywa Aug 30
The waiters walk in

and out of the music pops --


open and closes.
Poem "Binnen en buiten" ("Inside and outside", 1965, Remco Campert)

Collection "Silent walk"
⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING: Themes of ****** Assault ⚠️

They told me I should be grateful,
As if pain is a prize for the taking.
“Was she hot?” they laughed,
Unaware of the soul they were breaking.

A man, they say, can’t be a victim,
Not of this—not of her.
“You got lucky,” they grin,
While my mind’s a blur.

It wasn’t luck when my breath froze still,
When my voice was stolen, against my will.
But the world looks at me, unphased, unkind,
As if my torment lives only in my mind.

They tell me men are made of stone,
That we can’t be broken, can’t be owned.
But when darkness fell, she carved her claim,
And left me drowning in silent shame.

“It’s not the same,” they smugly say,
“Don’t act like a girl; you’ll be okay.”
But it wasn’t a conquest, wasn’t a score—
It was a theft that echoes evermore.

How do I mourn what I’m told is gain?
How do I heal when they mock my pain?
This isn’t a badge, no victory here,
Just the soundless weight of my deepest fear.

Because no one sees the scars we bear,
When society’s laughter fills the air.
But I’ll whisper truth into the night
A man can hurt, that’s my fight.
I’ll shatter the silence, reclaim my right—
A man’s pain burns just as bright.
⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING: Themes of ****** Assault ⚠️

This piece holds a lot of weight—it’s one of my most personal. It’s deep, it’s heartbreaking, and it’s real. The topic of ****** assault is a serious one, regardless of who is affected. I wrote this from personal experience, with the intention of shedding light on male victims—those who are often doubted or dismissed. A man can go through this. They should not be silenced. No one should.
Next page