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Amon 2d
by Ameng (2025.1.23)

(I)
Boredom soaks through my soul;  
Dullness gnaws at my marrow.  
Nothing holds meaning—  
I only feel the world upturned,  
Like a glass contraption—  
The embodiment of time,  
That flustering hourglass  
In league with illusion and absurdity,  
Seeking to grind me down, to crush me,  
Till I become dust, a grain of sand,  
Scattered into the unreal fiction  
Of an abstract yet concrete existence,  
Now but a mayfly devoured by time.  

(II)
Neither forward nor back,  
Segmented cause and effect weave events,  
Splintering the whole of me,  
Yet piecing me together in fragments.  
In the void,  
Time flows through my fading body,  
Then swirls back in the ebb of consciousness.  

(III)
Ah, this dull, hollow boredom—  
It spreads, it swells.  
Where is that joy,  
Born deep within soul and spirit,  
Rippling unbidden?  
Trapped in a cage,  
Upon the tower where time splinters and events converge,  
How can I seize the fleeting spark of inspiration  
Before it fades into deathly silence?  
And how can I be sure my search from this tower  
Is real, and not just a fleeting dream?  
Ah, this hollow boredom…
Shane 4d
Boredom
Nothing to do
Nothing to say
Nothing to feel
Its peaceful
It’s perfect
If only it didn’t feel so wrong
The yearn for excitement
Something to do
Something to say
Something to feel
It feels so right
If only it didn’t lead to a want to do nothing
A need for Boredom
Nothing to do
Nothing to say
Nothing to feel
And such the cycle goes on
And on
Forever longer
Nebylla Apr 20
An owl in a tree
whose spirit reaches beyond
everything we know

is unjustly shot
down to the summer forest
floor, flanked by flowers.

And so I ask you:
who was the one who shot it?
...
Written March 2025,
A short and (hopefully) thought-provoking triple haiku, written out of sheer boredom
Zywa Apr 5
We like it with you,

not sitting at home alone --


just the two of us.
Theatre play "Lichaam & Blik" ("Body & Look", 1986, Willem Jan Otten), 1st scene

Collection "Shelter"
Sudzedrebel Feb 13
In the "loneliness",
I find connection.
In the "boredom",
I find fulfillment.
In the "silence",
I find serenity.

Why aren't you at peace?
In the shadows deep, a hidden self resides,
Shadowy moments, secrets carefully hide.
Masks conceal, terrible, masterful deceit,
Hiding desires that hopelessly tear the soul apart.

Each stolen glance, stories endlessly untold,
Understanding fully the consequences, remained ruthlessly uncontrolled.
Embroidered shadows, i dance through the night,
Soul aflame that seeks freedom and its light.

Secrets unfold, longing leaves for peace,
Quiet nights, where mystery shadows cease.
New pathways unfurl, dawn ascends, a radiant light, dispelling night's despair.
Hope's strength sustains me; I step towards soaring heights.

Trapped within shadows, as I cast off the disguise,
Facing endless fears, with courage in my eyes.
Freedom awaits, reaching beyond the crafted scene, revealing its embrace.
Constraint Path, yet mysteries still remain, a mystifying presence.

Whispers of doubt, an insidious refrain.
The weight of the past, never-ending ache.
Devastating reminder, for goodness sake,
As Overwhelming loneliness creeps in, stealing the day.

The masks fall, after a long day of charades,
The freedom sought, tragically feels distant and far.
The cruel illusion, leaving hideous scars.
With cunning hand, he builds enigmas that are hard to find.

Concealed within that emptiness, darkness springs.
Their arrangements symphony, the instruments, played at his own will alone.
Threads of silken fate, a tapestry completed.
Chess master strategist, emotionless with cold and calculating mind.

With deep calculations, strategist orchestrates every move.
Checkmate is now declared, the final game is at an end.
For endless nights, the game continues.
That even resigned on his power, he was trapped within a dream.

In this ceaseless, darkly deceptive game, a bitter truth appears.
That even in my invincible mastery, i'm utterly empty.
Weights of countless broken hearts, never easily forgiven, and burdens that are hard to bear.
Archon's orchestra fades, but the echoes remain.. does he hear them? or devoid of shame?
The nefarious price of power, is the wearing of many masks.


Do we deeply, truly know who we are, or are we forever lost in the labyrinth of masks we create to hide our true selves from the judgment of others?
This is for all humans out there who are making a lot's of different faces when going out in the world, and this is a human who are struggling on his emptiness in his heart
Zywa Dec 2024
Listlessly I push

myself on the campsite fence --


back and forth again.
Novel "Verborgen gebreken" ("Crying shame", 1996, Renate Dorrestein), part 1, chapter 3

Collection "Old sore"
Bonnabelle Reed Dec 2024
i wish i were a louse
so i could crawl about
and land on someone's scalp
rodion, exterminate me now
for such a time as this
take a final bow
before ceasing to exist
remove knowledge from within
a minimum wage job
blow on a dandelion
and turn down the volume ****
can the blinds be closed again?
from when i was a child
existence didn't seem so thin
the sauce is only mild
maybe i am mistaken
for i am still young
but will i feel the same
when the photo album's hung?
the opposite of a hobby
is a clean ceramic plate
the milk of human kindness
has gone past its expiration date
hand moves past the hour
writing within its margin
chronos will laugh
as i fertilize the garden
speaking to an empty sky
full of nitrogen and O2
if you really were here
couldn't i know, too?
mephistopheles knows
how long it's really been
spray insecticide in the air
an addition to the compost bin
don't mistake my words
for self deprecation
i simply wish that i
was unaware of termination
a reflection on the awareness of mortality.
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