Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Simon Oct 2019
Like probability. Fate exhibits the constraints to a more tolerable atmosphere at heart. The heart of an atmosphere, is the atmosphere functioning with a heart. Completely one sided. Never admitting who’s mentions are who. Whose opinions mattered the absolute most. Options become tiresome. Tolerable frequencies through pure hearts devoted without contract to inner self awareness. Prompting the judgment of what atmosphere has over the heart of the problem. There are problems within hearts? WHAT!! Contrary to the balance of symmetries without depth. Hearts full of many brimming effects. Only determined to sending out there resume for better times. And which one is disclosing from the standard developments rotting the better picture into ruin? Pictures printed with resumes aren’t fruitful. When dynamics in the surface, isn’t comparable to challenge. Challenge lays claims to birthing the right focus. Take charge! Listen carefully to directions! What does that all haft to do with fate being exiled? It doesn’t. Well, not conclusively anyway. Fate is a thought manufactured behind the scenes. It won’t show it’s face directly. Too imposed in everyone else’s business. A directive with no claim in its heart. An atmosphere unsocialized with parts never discovering inner desires. Concluding fate never trusting itself. Fate exiled… Means to test one’s own claims of basic will. The hint is why does fate act? Rather then think the way it’s acting? Could simply be a perspective too old for the majority to classify broadly about. Justifications rise and fall. Birthing the right assorting facts, isn’t a focus. It’s diverging away. Imprints full of empty reassurance. Concluding something different in a basic platform the majority concentrates on. Fate just stands taller than the rest. Filtering all unsuspecting protocols from the inside out. Propagating pressure with insolence. Insolence flowing in-between the rough exteriors of right and wrong. Abiding time for another surface. Triggering the inside out dynamics at large. A picture finally noticing a part of itself without deciphering what complexes itself apart from the others. All this is a much-discovered piece of evidence. But it lacks companionship. No light or dark. A patronage not as diverse as the one heeding influences out with a weapon changing velocities around left and right. Pieces of quietness is an illusion. The surface being what it is. Underneath is where fate discloses further information completely. It’s weapon of probability is just that. A surface area too big for noticing details in itself. Rather picking others to commune a wishing sentence. Hinting at probability being a fake! There isn’t probability in the logical area of flat platforms without big thinking specifics. It’s all hogwash! Fate determines exilement to rush the borderline potential awareness of others. Except that’s probability maneuvering as a mask in the light. Tricking typical surface dwellers in an area too complex for delusional purposes. Even it’s claims are full of doubt. So why does everyone bounce from one flaw to the next? Practicing what it means to put one step after the other. Exercising doubt completely as a waypoint to a better tomorrow. More like a fruitful one-minute moment of standards too gray for focuses to admit. (Tricking won’t get you anywhere, if your full of bland statements.) An assertive quote straight from someone who exiles themselves onto others for practices into the next benign claims. Resumes with a statement that’s only delusional to what tricking isn’t. Showing you exile is the right future for an atmosphere with a heart. Which functions its heart towards the atmosphere. Switches in claims divert the true knowledge around in circles. So, who is fate, exactly? What possibly could they decide amongst themselves for the better future to the surface area of majorities? Try flipping yourself inside out. You might just want to write (Exile) on the permission slip of your own determined mark. Welcome to your identity in exile!
Fate claiming its own rights to act for itself, rather then wanting to break down others interpretations completely. Exiling every piece of information in one’s heart forever! A trick amongst claims.
Heidi Franke Mar 2018
I thought
my thoughts
were bigger than anyone's.
Maybe I was bigger than anyone.

This served to isolate me
from the fact that I am small, not bigger and I am okay
with that.

When did it begin? Why would I need this mechanism of living?
Did it start at birth? Or when my cat died in our house fire?
Maybe...
When I lost my father to his mental illness? When he was taken away?
Maybe the ****?
When the trauma set in?

If I am a mass of cells, a living organism,
vulnerable to this world of others.
I need protection. There was none when little. Children need protection.

I developed my bigger-self by watching others. I learned to protect.

I learned to heal. I learned to forgive, but always, my thoughts
were bigger than yours. You didn't recognize so I appeared
aloof, angry, bitter, warming, smarter, friendly, volatile, politically correct, patient, intense, stubborn, caring, wistful, shattered and put together again. I was all over the map. I couldn't find my waypoint, until now.

This is life's way. Our vehicle is our thoughts.

I am not bigger in thought, in action or in self. I am tired of running away, of blaming, of being ashamed.

I no longer need protection other than from myself.

I am now relaxing in the part I could not have been taught. The idea that even experiences, over and over and over again, would teach me my lesson. You ask why people keep repeating
mistakes. This is our allotment. The price each of us pays.

It is my thoughts that save me now, wondering about my son, his illness, about my predicament
after years of hard work, unabashedly independent, procuring mindfulness, deliberating the Buddhist way, meditating on thoughts,
through a maze of my twelve steps
that I now for this moment am alone in.  My thoughts deconstructed. More connected, but not bigger.

My shoulders drop, my face unfurrows, my heart slows, a tear begins if I let it. I am released. I will not suffer further.

How can I tell you, I am not bigger any longer and I am at peace.
Christiana Krump Feb 2016
My head is a maze.
A city you somehow navigate.
Coloured doors and rooms full of pages.
A fountain in the middle that
catches the moments of sunlight
amongst the clouds.
Trees that shade the lanes
no other footstep has traveled.
Where did you get a map?
Did you find it or
did you create it?
Kurt Carman Mar 2016
As I peer across the Mountain range of my life,
I see a vast array of peaks and valleys,
Roads that wander near and far.

Some roads seemed unsurpassable,
Some roads were thought to be inconceivable,
Some roads I felt were unapproachable,
And I see them all as landmarks in my life.

The one road in the very middle of my lifescape,
The one that's known for being less traveled,
I so often avoided and I don't understand why.

Some roads seemed impossible,
Some roads were thought to be infallible,
Some roads lead to intimacy,
And I see them all, good or bad as milestones in my life.

Standing at the base of the mountain top,
I feel a presence encouraging me to climb the summit.
My breathe becomes heavy, my limbs are numb but my mind is focused.

Advancing the summit, I pull myself above the misty clouds,
Peering below I find oceans of generations that have gone before me....but were never forgotten,
And one stands at the forefront, with arms outstretched, an unforgettable smile, and love thats unending.

There's only one road that leads us to an island universe where we live on forever past fatality.
All roads have the same waypoint which leads us to forever.
Close your eyes and imagine a place that does not judge and only loves.

K.Carman 2016
Miss my mother everyday. Leaving us at 45 years old was the day my world stopped. Now I look forward to our reunion. I love you Mom!
VanillinVillain Mar 2021
Welcome to Platform 6'0, northbound track.
Please, make yourself comfortable,
take advantage of every amenity;
I hope that I can to make your time here perfect.
Your exit will wait for you.
I would offer you to stay, if you wanted,
but no one ever does.
This is, I am, after all, only a waypoint.
However, if I may ask,
when you are ready to leave,
won't you please let me know?
It's horrid to hunt for someone
who is no longer here.
Tormenting, really.
But! Here now,
let me help you with this baggage,
this load you bear.
I am here for you.
No, I don't expect any compensation;
I only hope that, when you leave,
you leave with a lighter heart
and eased mind.
That said,
what would you like of me in our time together?
Forgive me sir, but you couldn't have said? You couldn't have told me you had already passed me by?
Not for this world we two meant to belong;
Together in each other's arms soon it won't be long;
Close your eyes believe coz' we are not alone;
We are among the many in seek for a place called home;It's where your heart is, as my heart is where yours are;All I can do is to wait for a bit of eternity and gaze from afar;I wish I could drift in space with a map to the stars;Even if it would mean a million years to get to where you are;I'll rally a waypoint and sling myself to move starting from mars;Darling it would be pretty if you could witness how I would go;Maybe a simple hugs and kisses with the 3 little words would do;Where the easiest way could be the most complicated to take part when you are stuttering and couldn't even say the words right;It's just the lack of confidence and self doubts that shouldn't be there that made my lungs tight;I'm choking maybe dying and it ***** if that would be tonight;I'll let the angels sing as they carry on with the last rites;But wait I won't die yet not until I'm actually dead;Not until you hear me out and listen to what I've said;It's lame writing on this paper with my heart inking it;Where you are just on a corner?Why is it so hard for me to approach you and speak?!;**** it!!Here we go!I'm going romantic with each steps so slow so over dramatic;As I drew myself close to you holding my breath is causing me to panic;**** it!Don't hyperventilate steady feet don't fail now;****!I'm gonna throw up!I gotta hit the restroom first somehow
Mr E Oct 2016
We stand at the precipice of eventual destruction
tip toeing along safety and danger.
Each man not a waypoint but a door
and within forever, inside infinity.
Diving within and below the collective unconscious  
each man a world unto itself.
Every woman a universe, each child a galaxy.
We found how to open these doors,
shedding light across the bleakness, the ash.
But do we dare see what is on the other side?
Does man deserve such divinity?
nico papayiannis Mar 2016
The noise of footsteps quickens, with haste I run, but time is chasing me down this one way street

As smart as a fox I am in and out of every nook and cranny, the flood of the inevitable hot on my heels

Each moon passing hails another suns birth, the more you witness the more you question your worth

From boy to man with no set plan, the compass has no needle, the waypoint , the marker, just keep on forwards motion until the days are longer and darker

The last ditch attempt to try and apprehend has me hiding behind a long grey beard, a cane to aid and a shuffling of every weary stride

That long lasting sleep it beckons, it claws at my heartbeats as they fade to a lone bugler, the procession, the flowers, a youthful smile to hail a new awakening
He who lives on the road discovers himself.
He who discovers himself becomes god.
In August we went on the road, and at that time
white rabbits powdered the sky.

Through the eyes of god we saw that we
were grateful to be as dry as twigs and dust choked.
Blessed is he who has alternate
waypoint settings programmed into the gps (lowercase).
Amen.

We never talked of Love -
discovering without words the sure things in life
are only understood when one is
quiet enough to listen to nothing.

Each evening we'd see faces
in the campfire.
A woman named Shirley whose
ember jaw dropped off.
On our last night I asked him to nail me to the ground.
The mean stars were egging me on to join them.


Sara Fielder © Nov 2020
Suresh Gupta Jun 2020
Untitled - XXIX
06/29/2020


earth is a waypoint ........
    ........for intelligent life

— The End —