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Orion Rosemary May 2021
Between
                Motivation
                              ­     Passion
                                         Fine Point        
                 And  Need
   There is a very

I barely seem to miss it each time

     I don’t know what I want
               I don’t know what I really
                      Love

I know I need to do  s o m e t h i n g   I know I need            s o m e t h i n g
             I need             s o m e t h i n g
s o m e t h i n g          s o m e t h i n g

I can’t seem to learn
                            what
                               ­        What am I
                                     Looking for by
                                          Being here
                                              Today
        ­             Why bother
I know I
Cannot have what
I want
                                         But if I could
                             Give my all for you

              There is no question.
I don’t really know, honestly. But I’ll still try my best.
Sharon Thomas May 2021
This emptiness,
This silence;
Will they ever go away?
Make it go away, I pray.

Is it okay to miss the chaos?
Is it okay to miss the uncontrollable thoughts?
Even the ones that I once badly fought.

Emptiness overcame me;
Mental shutdown was real,
It has made me numb;
where I cannot feel,
my breakdown.

My mind plays a series of images,
The moments we could've had,
The life we could've had.

The music I listen to
have been my only guide;
My therapist in need,
While I decide.

Where is home.
Michael T Chase May 2021
The self-learner and the student both realize that "I" have learned nothing over and over again.
Information is just a tool for recognizing qualities,
and will forever be preserved in its innocence/stupidity.
LOVE YOU FOREVER."

My heart is
empty again
without you
for you abode
therein my  
heart. Your
voice only,
craves I my
boredom to
cure. You're my happiness,
joy and all
source of
glee. My love
for you is
soft as silk
fresh as lilly,
bright as rose.
It's like
the sunrise
🌅 even when
it sets it
always come
a new everyday
all day.
I'd love you
forever, as
long as  
you love me.
#C9_fm
Norman Crane Apr 2021
on sunday mornings
the streets sigh
with hideous anticipation
awaiting an answer to a question—
unspoken—
is the city dead
or not yet awoken?
Jeremiah Mhlongo Apr 2021
You've made a home,
In my heart,
It becomes hunted,
In your absence.
You have abandoned me,
I lay in ruins horrid,
You've made a home,
Now it remains dead empty.
breakups only let us relive the memories of the relationships, we soak in tears until we are saved
Axion Prelude Apr 2021
I'm beginning to lose myself. You caught me at the edge of something, I found you mourning your soul out.

All I want is to make it out on the other side, where or whenever that is.  

I'm beginning to lose faith in the rest of everything, and I've been sinking incredibly fast.

You saw me near my deepest point. We were moments away from never knowing anything at all..

I became displaced by the very things I've always needed most: people. I became disillusioned from it, literally. I started to become numb again.

I simply want to find home, I've never had that.

I sent songs that I had hoped could speak for me. I believe music is my last chance to convey anything meaningful, anymore. But, more than ever, even the wonders and visions I used to get when listening; that feeling, it's gone too, and I don't know how much longer it would continue to be anything pleasant, or meaningful to me, or even felt at all.

I'm struggling, caught between the lines of the sky above and the water below as the waves keep grasping at my neck and twisting my body down to the bones like I was designed to slip into that darkness underneath.

Im fighting myself to not become entirely numb and mute. I'm fighting to simply not give up on everything, and everyone, including myself.

I'm fighting to survive, when before it was an idle battle. This is the end of that strife, the last battlefield I'll step on, because I'm tired; my soul is so exhausted and dense with the misery that others wrought from themselves and put into me; I'm sad, ridden with holes as empty as the space between my silhouette and my shadow

I'm staggering here on this empty field looking for any semblance of a visage or sign of who and what is entirely, and only; and utterly on my side; a clear design of something that not only would want to give me hope, but could instill it; because without just that, I know this war is already lost..
CandidlySubtle Apr 2021
A quicksand cyclones downward at the center,
A spiraling hole spun around by the sands that enter,
They scratch at the innards of my heart,
Pulling everything down and ripping it apart,

I’ve tossed so many things at it,
But they just drop into this endless pit,
Nothing seems to fill it up,
Instead everything just gets ****** up,

It’s like having my flesh sliced by scattered grains,
Spun at high velocity as it sheers against my veins,
Carving out tiny wounds accumulate into scars,
Blood seeping, lost and disappearing with its cause,

Cries are ****** up and then dispersed,
Scattered into pieces until it’s no longer heard,
Screams are silenced by a ringing vacuum,
Run through bleeding veins buried in my womb,

It’s like something wants to come up,
Like a volcano that’s ready to erupt,
Everything that’s been sunk and saturated full,
It’s getting ready to finally burst my soul,

I didn’t want to shut it all up,
It wasn’t my choice to have it all ****** up,
I tried so hard to pull it out with my strength,
But I underestimated the length of my pain,

It’s been loaded and treated with all its vice,
So I don’t know how to clean it up nice,
I think my exterior is too thick for it to ever explode,
But I think that one day, I am going to implode.
Jack Apr 2021
Empty Hollow Pain
It drives my brain insane

I don't know how to explain the words
The feelings
Blocking my way

You were a friend first
A lover second

You were someone I loved
Someone I cherished

I'm sorry it had to end
Goodbye sweetie

Forever yours
My love
First friends, then lovers, only to be ripped apart and torn asunder
Bardo Apr 2021
I seen this ****** photograph once, taken in lovely black and white
A beautiful figure framed by shadows,
A beautiful young dark-haired girl naked
kneeling on a stairway
With one hand draped across her *******
As if protecting herself from something, maybe even shielding her heart
Her face, it is turned away to one side
And buried in her other hand
As if she's suffering some great distress or sorrow,
Far from arousing in me ****** feelings, this photograph
It spoke to me of something else
Something quite different and much more significant
More than mere words could possibly say
It spoke to me...it spoke to me of my whole life.

Her body there, so youthful, beautiful without a blemish
Her lovely contours and curves smooth like the sand dunes of a desert
Her beautiful face made sad
Her petite delicate little shoulders and arms
Her wonderful *******, her lovely tummy/belly, the roundness of her hips
The bones of her knees jutting out from where she was kneeling
Her thighs and calves resting upon one another
Her ankles and little feet tucked in behind
Here was Youth in all its glorious splendor... and innocence
With all its wonderful promise,
Strangely, it reminded me of my own Youth and my own body once
Before age and the World had done their damage
This wonderful garment thrown over our eyes and our bones
And I remembered myself as a little child, running across the beach... across the strand
And I was talking to my legs, saying, "Come on legs! Faster! Faster!"
And I was hitting my hip with my hand as if it were a whip
And as if my legs were those of a horse galloping
Just like in the old Westerns we used watch (on TV)
Yes! There was a time once when I used to talk to my body, a private little world I had,
It was my closest, my most intimate friend
You'd do it when you were alone like it was the most natural thing in the world,
You needed a friend to talk to about this strange world you were in,
And then I remembered the little girl next door
They used put us together playing, us children, us being around the same age
She was such a sweet little thing, the way she used to laugh and smile all the time
Like the cutest little kitten
The joy in her eyes and that smile of hers
Where was it coming from... somewhere inside, somewhere within
And then I remembered, I too had it once, that same joy, that same smile
It had lived in me too once... that bliss.

                              2

That photograph, it struck me as being something almost holy
It reminded me straightaway, it reminded me of the Garden of Eden story
The beautiful body had been the Garden you see
And in the Garden there was no fear and no danger
Like a little kitten lolling about, rolling on its belly and stretching itself out
Without a worry or a care
Without a cloud on its horizon
A beautiful magical kingdom before the Mind ever existed.

But now looking again at the photograph and at her face made sad buried there in her hand
Now the photograph was telling me
Suddenly, all at once, there came a day and a shadow
Something from outside, it had entered her mind, some ugliness from the world
It had disturbed her for the first time
And this was a new sensation to her
And it had frightened her
"How could such a dark ugly thing exist", she was wondering,
'And how can I live now with this in my world,
Now that I've seen it, it will always be there",
And then another memory came back to me, That of myself as a little child lying in bed
Shaking my head from side to side, even bumping my head against the wall
There was something there in my head I didn't like, something I didn't want to hear or see, something disturbing
I didn't want it there, I wanted it to go away
I wanted it to stop,
But it wouldn't stop and it wouldn't go away
And you realised it'd always be there like some shadow hovering in the background.

                                3

Now dark clouds were beginning to gather over the Garden and the beautiful Body
Now the World was coming and the Tyranny, the Tyranny of the Mind was beginning
The Gates of the Garden, they were slowly starting to close
Yea, the fields of Arcadia were fading, the exotic fruits and feelings there were being taken away
Its lovely sweet river of ambrosia would now soon cease to flow.

Like the Snow Queen and her Icy Blizzard, like a cruel invading army
The Mind had awoken now like a sleeping dragon and the World, it was coming, coming now to feed
Starting to pour in like through a breached dam
The World with all its books and its lessons, its rules and examinations
The mental world forcefully asserting itself
With its bullying cajoling teachers and its many humiliations,
The Mind weighing down hard now upon the Body, leaning on it, squeezing it and straining it
Pulling it this way and that, hither and thither
All out of shape, all over the place
Rivers of outside influences flowing in now
You were like a tiny boat tossed upon stupendous waves
Always at the mercy of other people's words
Blown all over the place
Sometimes, sometimes I just couldn't stomach it, I couldn't digest it
Sometimes I could only just throw it all up.

                                   4

The Beautiful Body... Garden no longer, now just some hollow empty shell
The Mind alone was all that mattered now
All consuming and all devouring
The Body starting to buckle and to crumble
Underneath all that weight, the stress and the strain
Not knowing how to deal with it....lost and bewildered
Among the new feelings of emptiness and of pain
Overeating and undereating, unable to eat at all
Growing fat thinking that that could protect you from all the new fears in your brain.

                                5

The Body that beautiful Garden with its golden days
Were now long gone and forgotten
Thorns and briars had grown up in their stead
Just like some long lost fairytale Sleeping Beauty.
Made poor now and impoverished
I remembered... I had been a King once long ago back in my old Garden.

(The faint joys of the Mind y'know they were nothing in comparison
To what I'd known in that sweet Garden of old, that sweet Garden of mine).

Now when I look in the mirror I can hardly see myself anymore
But when I look at this photograph
I can see myself there.
Poem inspired by a photograph. A history of the Body. The clash of the Body and the Mind, the Natural and the World..
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