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Kalliope Aug 2024
The feelings I feel are so confusing to me
No matter what I do I can't make them leave
They hit me and yell and scratch till I bleed
Always around, bringing me to my knees
I feel them in my skin, they buzz in my brain
Mentally I'm in the street laid out in the rain
They rip out my nails and tap dents in my collar bones,
Force me back to my room where I just lay all alone,
Darken my eyes, drain the color from my face
The creature now in the mirror I look at with disgrace
And I can't make it stop
And I don't know that I want too
A feeling is a feeling
I should be grateful to feel at all
I've learned the facts, and met the Truth and put my faith in Him. I have the tracts, and feel the urge to go out and evangelize. But without a car, or a bicycle I'm a bit limited right now. Though there's always a way to get the Word out, even at home, one can figure out how. My ministry might not be of huge size but His Word never returns void. So I try to be patient, and not be annoyed. But I'm a relatively isolated fellow, and have a photographer's eye, so I feel alone in life though I know I'm not. And miss the times I used to go, on a whim, to a particular place that I had sighted earlier and planned to later take a special trip and photograph the awesome beauty. I don't understand how anyone could not realize that the universe (one-word) was spoken into existence by our Creator. But not everyone has eyes to see. I appreciate His creation, and often wish I had someone around who shares my interests. But the things that I try to accomplish often fail, so I'm just waiting on Him. If it be what He wills for me...that, I would love. But I've learned that His timing is conceived up above. So I just hang in there and listen to Him. Resting in the knowledge that in Christ we win.
I don't write a lotta poetry, or prose-poetry, but when I do, it's sincere. In my opinion, I wrote a paragraph that doesn't rhyme, not in any iambic pentameter, or regular cadence that I can spot consistantly. It wasn't actually meant to rhyme. And I wrote it more or less to help me process thoughts. I hope you get something, no matter how small outta this. I want folks to enjoy something. Especially if I wrote it. Though I wouldn't be so naive as to expect most folks to enjoy or glean something from everything I write. So, peace be with you. ✌️
neth jones Aug 2024
sunset bleeds out the day
depleted
thoughts take charge and toy with me
10/08/24- date of the original notes

alt version
sunset bleeds out the day
i am dog-tired
my thoughts turn on me and toy
Ruheen Aug 2024
my urge to pop a
child's
balloon
and watch them cry
as i laugh
is
overwhelming

it's on par with my urge
to shove
a knife in my throat
just to
see
what happens

how morbid. i know

but aren't we all?
else Aug 2024
Ugly, ugly, ugly, feelings that were once yours but now mine

you have a life bigger than mine, and it used to be the opposite

like how you used to want to own me, now i want you for myself.

I wonder what you will feel if I tell you my true, ugly thoughts now.

This is madness, years of staying by each other’s sides,

It is time we part. I must accept you have a different life now.

Ugly, ugly, ugly thoughts and feelings that made me write this prose,

Disappear, disappear, disappear. This is

Ugly, ugly, ugly.
TR3F1LD Aug 2024
in realness, I don't dig villains, although
there are some ways
villainous jerks are preferred
by me; ones with thE̲Y̲ hands blood-stained
without excuse, like usurpers, deserve
to be, like it was with European nations once, plagued
by a big misfortune, for sure
[the "Black Death" plague pandemic regarded as a big misfortune for Europe]
[to avoid misunderstandings: I don't mean then Europe deserved the Plague]
[the "European nations" part is used only to have a simile]
but, like someone with an RH̲-like mind frame
[Jason Todd as Red Hood from the "DC" universe]
I wouldn't mind 'em mU̲rked, like some works
of mine made as if by someO̲ne cray; guess I ain't
really the type who becomes fazed by dark ways
like someone walking through nocturnal suburbs (dark ways)
wouldn't mind a torturer of a guiltless pers. to get forced
to intense tortures that hurt
so much he'd admit he's a horrible ****
unless that **** meets the fourth of those horsemen before
the admission of his ******* occurs
[the fourth horseman of the Apocalypse is death]
don't confuse it fO̲r someone's door
taken off by a spetsnaz force in the course
of a storm if my mind seems unhinged according to yours
like a perp with no other means of ge[ɪ]tting rI̲d of
a corpse than to undertake a burial o[ʌ]f
it, ones watching rainbows should be digging deeper
["undertaker"; by "watching rainbows", I mean something like]
["being distracted by something nice"]
on how much this world A̲I̲n't like fairytale stuff
it's corruption that is a base of evil (corruption)
sim. to the astounding peninsula compound linked
to that psychopathic ex-KGB̲ heel (base of evil)
["KGB heel" is supposed to be read/pronounced with the stress on "B"]
so the wicked aren't really bothered by morals
and stuff; then why should injustice-perpetrating people
with power be treated like sO̲meone who's normal? (***** 'em)
those means of dealing with issues that make us civil
[journalism, massive peaceful protests]
[the independent court system, fair & transparent elections, etc.]
shouldn't be disregarded, of cO̲U̲rse, al—
[shouldn't be disregarded in normal circumstances, but under autocracy]
[or when organized crime groups are as powerful as the state]
[civil means aren't effective to change the status quo]
—though, in my view, like I've cracked a sA̲febox brimful
with paper cu[ʌ]rrency rO̲lls, jewe[—]ls
["dough in my view"]
it's V-/Red-Hood-like a[ɛ]ntiheroes
who're required to fight O̲nes from the circle
of so-called depraved supremos
[powerful members of the underworld & agents of authoritarian regimes]
for if you think a state as corrupt & infernal
as the North Korean one can be changed in legal
ways, it's pro[ɑ]b'ly white **̲rse y'all
are on, like a knight with his armor shining
sadly, such men o[ɑ]ftentI̲mes end
up a la Navalny (sadly)
rephrasing what I've tried to convey bY̲ the writing
if there's a large-scale fire po[ɑ]pping
I'd advise to deal with it by air water-bo[ɑ]mbing
"vigilante mind frame" by TR3F1LD (TRFLD) is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (to view a copy of this license, visit creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0)
Odd Odyssey Poet Jul 2024
Bound by time, blinded by love

Decorated in flesh; for this present moment-
And by the end of a lifetime, we’ll be unwrapped
Out of that box, as the souls to rise up to Heaven above

Still, I cannot sit and watch over days
That would never show interest to watch over me
Days have taught me that a broken heart puts itself
On great guard, and that which remains patiently quiet
During hate, is a brave heart always choosing love

And we could all live together, but often die alone
Mourning our memory together, but neither of the
***** secrets you’ve kept, shall be a burden for
Any of the living, forced in somebody's debt, to own
Odd Odyssey Poet Jul 2024
Everything is momentary to a monumental failure;
Monetizing the currency to a means of life
All in the means of life being momentaneous of one’s strife
And it honestly takes a lot of strife, to inspire my own self
To continue on to write — some days, it feels like it’s all coming
To be my very last moment, of forcing myself to inspire
Someone; anyone willing to connect through the wire
Building fences around the ideas we all seem to like:

We all like to be heard; as countless failures to listen
We all like to be anchors of advice; less the ones to gain wisdom
We all like the appeal of more life; dead cold to life’s experiences
We all like the good cards we’re dealt; but would prefer the odds
Of ourselves being the one’s quietly dealing it
We all like the idea of a superhero; something that supersedes faith
We all like the hope of us being connected by love; but what’s
A wicked heart, if it doesn’t sometimes love to hate

Everything we try to do, everything forced into my eyes
Shows me everything we want to do, is often just a waste.
Odd Odyssey Poet Jul 2024
These are not my tears; but just the remnants of all
the forgotten kinds of many lost dreams
These are not my reasons to cry; why should I-
cry any more, as there is always less of the time
For every joyous hello has promised me a sorrowful goodbye,
every down season, is the cause of a once crashing high

These are not any of my tears to cry; over things I can
no longer control, things wished to have been owned, longed to
have been called mine; as like these supposed tears of mine

Of course, I’m fine when I choose not to cry; tears are only
a promise for a moment and only in a moment shall any life
be gone- and maybe by then, as you cry over me, will there be
a place for all my tears to belong.
Odd Odyssey Poet Jul 2024
Maybe if we kiss with every touch, breathe,
and sense — we could fall in love
Maybe if we hold hands with those tips
of fingers aglow — we could fall in love
Maybe if we made eye contact, feeling safe
by every saved memoir in an eye’s glance of
view — we could… finish each other’s sentences

Maybe if we bought a dog, to give an excuse
for all our questionable pet names — we could
say it’s a way to disrupt people’s curiosities
Maybe if we bought a house, to imagine the
very future we’d move into — we could rent
out our hopes to afford it all

Maybe if we slipped a coy glance in each’s
direction — we wouldn’t have to be quietly
imagining it all
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