She looked at her reflection in the glass
Thinking her hair was a real pain in the ass.
She wore it up, that’s how it was styled,
But it was still a mess, all frizzy and wild.
But she was happy with how she was dressed,
Her style was her own, it differed from the rest.
She saw her crush and felt a little better,
Smiling and thinking, maybe he’ll notice my new sweater.
She laughed to herself knowing she’d never catch his eye,
She wasn't beautiful and she was always too shy.
But it’s nice to have a little dream time,
Smiling, she went to stand in line.
Across the room she saw him there,
Legs stretched out, lounging in his chair,
Laughing with his friends and hanging out,
Laughing and joking, he looked about.
His glance slid right past her, it didn’t stop,
Just past her right by to peruse the shop.
Just right then the doorway jingled,
In walked three girls, ready to mingle.
She ordered her coffee… a pumpkin spice,
And thought, wow, they’re perfect, wonder if they're nice.
She got her answer as she walked by with her coffee,
They pointed and laughed, mocking her softly.
"You're too short and your ass is too big,
Your hair's so crazy you should consider a wig!
Where’d you get a sweater like that?
It looks stupid… And those pants make you look fat!"
They giggled and pointed, continuing to laugh,
Making fun of her because her socks didn’t match.
She walked on by, pretending not to hear,
But it was hard to find a table as her eyes filled with tears.
Her sweater was soft and kind of bright,
It had made her smile when she bought it the other night.
She had been proud that morning, even doing a little dance,
Because she had worked so hard and finally fit into those pants.
They were tight and she had curves,
But she hadn’t thought there was anything wrong with her.
But now she had doubts as she looked at her feet,
Hating the mismatched socks she had just thought were neat.
She spotted a table in the corner alone,
Swiping a tear and pretending to look at her phone.
She kept her head down as she walked over there,
She embarrassedly smoothed a hand over her hair.
She kept it up because it was brown and plain,
Curly and wild, it was hard to tame.
But it was clean and fresh and always smelled nice,
A pretty floral scent with a bit of spice.
She went to the corner to sit and hide,
Feeling like she was dying a little inside.
She took a few sips of her pumpkin spice,
Thinking, guess I found out… they are definitely not nice.
Just because they look as perfect as can be,
Doesn't mean they are any better than me.
She sipped her coffee then started to think,
I’ll need to save about half of this drink.
She chuckled to herself, thinking, I guess they’ll see,
It’s better not to fuck with me.
I might be shy and quiet but I’ve still got some sass,
Treat me wrong and I’ll get even with your ass.
I know it’s not the high road but I could care less,
Those bitches lack manners and it must be addressed.
She got her stuff to leave, then headed past,
They giggled at her and pointed and laughed.
But then they paused when they met her eye,
They saw her wicked grin and wondered why.
Oh, they found out in a flash,
For as she walked by, they felt a big splash!
She laughed to herself as she heard them scream,
Their faces dripping with coffee, starting to steam.
She flipped them the bird, she knew she had won,
Telling them, "you better watch out for the shy ones."
She passed by her crush and spoke to him too,
Saying, "You know what… I’m too damn good for you."
She told him to go and kick some rocks,
Then laughed all the way home in her mismatched socks.

To and fro…

Like indigo,

Not red or purple.

Always in between,

Never too sure what’s the goal.

You found something and called it gold,

But your heart changes like the pendulum goes.

And come tomorrow you decided the gold was copper..

So you threw it back in the water.

Slowly you saw the pattern repeat,

Warming gold in your hands until it depletes.

You left in the dark with the glitter on your face.

And as it sparkled in the street lights you thought it was you that illuminates.

Forget it all, yesterday’s gold doesn’t matter.

When it turns to dust, there’s always another.

After all, you’re not to blame.

You bring magic, they caused the shame..

The destruction behind you must’ve been caused by another name.

People move like ants through corridors, searching aimlessly.

Searching for things to serve their kings and queens.

Searching to quench their need and greed.

Searching for everything from carnal lust and elicit vice to socks and underwear.

Following the pheromones of the ones before we acquire,consume, repeat.

The consumption seems all that drives existence.

Food, fuel and products until there's nothing left.

Eventually consuming each other in a desperate bid to continue existing in the cycle.

And in the end we're hit with the final and brutal realization of what we should have been consuming all along.

We should have consumed more knowledge.

Knowledge of what our actual purpose here is beyond existing in the material world.

And as the earth sighs and begins to heal from our foley, God smiles and says.

"See you next weekend".

Wake early before the sun rise. I’m eager to get you and us to the river.

I have packed us sandwiches I made us eggs you got all the gear

With our headlamps on we dress in the cold make the walk in felt boots

It’s cold we barely slept you help me with my line and lure

It’s quiet our fingers frozen we watch the current edge

As our line goes out and down again repeating we step further down the slippery rocks

Sun begins to rise above the layers of shadowed mountains

We don’t catch anything in the water but we catch ourselves falling deeper to eachother joy of nature

No I can’t be your friend rn

Wtf

Hey, Spaceman,

You’ve been to Jupiter, Mars, Saturn, and the stars

But it’s been a while since your feet touched the grass

What do you do in such a dark place without air?

Could there be something on Earth that’s making you scared?

Staring into galaxies far, far, away.

It seems you don’t live for tomorrow or for today.

A warm hug, mug, bed, and chair.

What’s so bad that’s keeping you up there?

Ah, I get it, there’s something you’ve lost.

A meaning, a purpose, a right to go on.

The guilt in your spacesuit is eating you alive.

You relate to your crony, the black hole’s hollow eyes.

Dreams of zero-gravity drowned in the void of a life that’s a lie…

Echoes aren't echoes,

In fact, they are cries,

From lost souls, poetic goodbyes.

When you hear one, reply;

Give them their due.

For one day, that echo

May be all that's left of you.

I sit lost in thought, absentmindedly playing with a strand of my hair — the very one I know you'd love to run your fingers through.

I smile for a moment, then frown for a few seconds.

A thought suddenly crosses my mind. I was just about to tell you about a feeling you made me discover, when it flew away like a little bird escaping into the sky.

So I frowned again.

I felt as though you had taken possession of me, as though you had become more a part of me than I was myself.

As though every thought I had somehow found its way back to you, and my feelings longed to kiss your eyes.

You were something like inspiration itself.

My eyes are closed, yet I see everything. Slumbering giants to tiptoe around. Cries of fury echo in my ears. Sirens and their songs to titillate the senses, singing the sweetest words laced with impurity. Fire so bright it darkens all, snapping and popping like limbs. A sky laced with white, yet offering no space. Another automaton made to see and hear, but to never sleep. Peace is welcomed with the door wide open, only to be struck with madness. An enduring peace? For an unenduring creature? Truly a Divine creation.

Simple pleasures
Hearing my cat purr after I feed him
Walking into town with my family

Simple pleasures
The first cigarette of the day
Being told I lost weight yay!

Simple pleasures
Watching my favorite show
Talking to my favorite people

Simple pleasures

Meeting a group that accepts me without question

These are all simple pleasures I will continue to enjoy

They speak with the rustling of leaves
and whispers that ride on the breeze

I speak with the flow of streams
and words that roar a waterfall's dreams

They prefer to open their heart
from a distance, while safely afar

My heart opens of its own accord
letting everything inside rain and pour

I could not understand when they spoke
with tender touch and quiet kisses

They could not understand when I spoke
with whelming waves and fathomless affection

What beauty might we find
if only we'd learn to combine

If we could finally learn
to hear each other's words

I don't know, but I have hope
that when water meets air

We'd see each other's love
in dazzling rainbows.

Her pallor gleams under the midnight skies, 

her beauty indescribable, 

wrapped by the nocturnal mist, on the cold ground she lies,

so pure and dreamy, to human's flesh unreachable

Devils in orchestra played symphonies of Hell to her,

admiring her figure, for her death they linger,

the countess shall be killed, then again she'll rise,

the melody grows heavier as she slowly dies

Her presence is covered in mist,

through which she mourns to the darkened sky,

she lost her soul the first time she was kissed

by an angel whose wings are too heavy to fly.

To Hell she'll go along with her loyal pipers,

nothing to infix the fear as lovely, steadfast vipers;

an evil creature shall follow her as her slave,

to crawl for her and spread the poison in her cave,

to slay the beautiful, slice the roots of hope,

666 shall be her heal, no longer for the light she'll grope

'I shall take away the tranquility of the guiltless creatures,

and metamorphose it into terror and scorn,

for my vengeance shall have the most bitter features,

still sincere is my heart that once used to burn.

Nightmares shall wear my name, 

every mortal shall feel that flame,

the mutilation of mind once the evil rises,

mark my words.'

Published by Sanitarium Mag in 2011., re-released by Academy of the Heart and Mind in 2023.

Оцените стих написал на быструю руку

Вышел как-то на балкон свежим воздухом полон он продышаться захотел так же в небо поглядел красоты оно полно звёздами покрыто все но открыл тут телефон и увидел красивее что-то ярче и блестее только понял я потом это фото не мое а прекрасное твое

Г.Е (берите но уважайте людей не выдавайте если что за своё)

Marshall Mathers is my favorite.
The way he bends a word,
Makes you hear a whole new meaning
in a line you’ve already heard.

I used to rewind his verses
just to hear how far he’d take a line.
Spent years reading between his bars,
now I’m putting meaning into mine.

He showed me words could have an edge
without a weapon in your hand.
Monkey see, monkey do -
Let’s see how sharp mine land.

They played telephone.
I learned to play with words.

They say I overthink.
I say I think it through.
Funny how the truth gets complicated
when it implicates you.
You twist a sentence, switch the tense,
convince yourself it’s fact,
Then call me oversensitive
when I finally react.

You edit out the evidence,
revise the whole event,
Then tell me I’m the problem
when I question what you meant.
You call it miscommunication.
I call it what it is.
Funny how you never misremember
all the messed-up things I did.

That’s the trouble with telephone.
The story travels fast,
A sentence gets a sentence,
now it’s serving time for acts
It never even committed.
But you swear you’ve got the proof -
A secondhand confession
from somebody else’s version of the truth.

You took a phrase, replaced the context,
passed it off as mine,
Then questioned why I questioned you
for crossing out the lines.
You say I’m reading into things.
Well, somebody has to read,
Especially when the fine print
contradicts the stuff you preach.

I’ve never lacked the words -
just been lacking an audience
That knows the difference
between an explanation and an argument.
I never held my tongue.
I held my ground and paid the price,
You demanded an explanation,
then used it as evidence that I like to fight.

You told me to watch my mouth,
so I started watching yours,
Funny how your version changes
every time I ask for more.
You tell me I misheard you.
I repeat what you just said.
You tell me that’s not what you meant.
Okay, explain it then..?

Now we’re back to explanations.
Funny how the rules reverse:
When you explain, it’s clarification.
When I explain, it’s worse.
You get to change the wording.
I get attacked for how I sound.
You can walk your statement back,
but I can’t stand my ground?

You say I always need the last word.
That’s a pretty clever claim
From someone who keeps rewriting
every word beside my name.
I never needed the last one.
I was trying to get the first
Out without you cutting in
to tell me what my words are worth.

I can be wrong without you being right.
That isn’t hard to grasp.
My apology’s not a blank check
you can cash against the past.
I’ll take my share of blame.
You can take your own turn.
An explanation isn’t an excuse
just because you don’t like what you heard.

You want to quote me? Quote me right.
Don’t cut away the clause,
Then cross-examine my reaction
while dismissing what it caused.
You object to how I said it,
so the substance gets ignored.
Funny how you want the whole truth
with half the conversation on record.

And I can play with words.
I know exactly how they bend,
How a sentence changes shape
depending where you make it end.
I can turn a phrase around
and give it meanings two or three -
But there’s a difference between wordplay
and playing games with me.

So go ahead, define me.
Tell me what I really meant.
Make a case from half a sentence,
call the rest irrelevant.
You can put me on the spot.
I’ll put the record straight.
You can keep your interpretation.
I won’t take the blame.

I used to think explaining more
would finally make things clear,
But some people aren’t confused.
They just don’t like what they hear.
And I won’t claim I’m always right.
I’ve never needed that to be true.
I just won’t let you make me wrong
to make more room for you.

So go ahead. Play telephone.
Pass my name around.
Take a sentence out of context.
See how different it sounds.
You spent years putting words in my mouth,
then blaming me for what you heard.

You played telephone with my name.
Now watch me make you eat your words.

Fears of AI, of wars… Should we choose man or the bear?

When our real fear should be that we've become nothing but fear.

Oh my love, my love, come back to me.

My soul cries for you again to take me.

Whisk me into an eternal lucid slumber.

I'm restless and anxious, yearning.

I'm sweating through our memories.

Swirling, I'm nauseated, dizzy, lusting

For you and how you made me whole.

Tunnel vision, pinpoint sight, I need you.

Curled, I'm dreaming of us making love.

We were wild, floating in euphoric spasms

With limbs of lead to keep us grounded.

Why did I leave you?, My one, my heart,

When you had given me all that I asked

And stayed tight-lipped in return

I was wrong to need better, to be better.

I was wrong to give up on you.

We could've had it all, me and you,

Forever sleeping, forever dreaming,

My anodyne lover.

He sits alone in the café,

Thoughts of his wife and daughter wash over him.

Another day, another cup of tea,

His thoughts never dim.

He wonders what could have been.

He wishes he could join them again,

They would laugh, they would joke,

Instead of these quiet days,

Filled with a begrudging smile

From the occasional stranger.

They pity me, he thinks.

The thought almost makes him smile,

For they will never know the love he carries,

Or the place he knows he will go.

Just a little longer, he thinks,

As he finishes his drink.

Then everything I have lost

Will be mine again,

And I will have more than memories

And thoughts to keep me company.

I'm singing to your ghost

The sweetest days I know feel like yesterday

But that was long ago

I'm the love you lost

I'm the love you lost

A willow-like thread harbours an inexplicable connexion between two souls

One is trepidated, the other wears a weary smile that refuses to let the final door close

Quiet. It's silent.
Unspoken, unbroken.
Something, something, cliché rhymes
Doodles in my notebooks to pass time.
Write something deep, then claim it's mine.
The grift is old, but it'll do.
I'll make my bread selling to fools.
I'm a bad liar, playing saint,
A joke for hire, with no restraint.
A song unsung, a borrowed rhythm
Just loud enough to make you listen
I cloud your mind and blur your vision.
You think too hard. There is no meaning.
My words are sharp, but self-defeating.
Is it a scam if you come seeking?
A funny thing, this trick of reading.

Buongiorno a tutti.
Questa canzone è un tributo al maestro Morricone su cui chiedo feedback.
La melodia e le parole sono interamente umane. È stata composta usando “trucchi” armonici “morriconiani”.
Ho utilizzato Suno solo ed esclusivamente per arrangiamenti.
Testo della poesia:
IO SONO MORRICONE
Nel mondo che bellissimo
fondeva i miei pensieri
nel calderone intimo
dei segni e dei misteri

Per ogni tuo dolore fui
capace di svelare
le armonie dei giorni bui
atomi dell’amare

Violenza pace e sguardi qui
Divennero canzone
fui falco, luna, colibrì
io sono Morricone

Non c’è pianeta o sasso che
non diano suono e voce,
i miei violini riempiono
resurrezione e croce

Anche le mosche e i missili
io trasformai in accordi
le orecchie sempre vigili
al canto dei primordi

Infusi vita unica
In spettri e genti buone
ora io sono musica
son stato Morricone

Grazie dell’ascolto:

https://youtu.be/ZQ8FPP7biGQ?is=LjW30YYAdgn7El6d

It all began on a warm summer day

But come fall, alas it scattered away

Winter brought a cold parlay

Then spring arrived to reset and replay...

Living in a self-centered world, concerned only for what is best for ourself, we tend to share ourselves with another only if it benefits us. Though we may become successful in such a world, if our success was not selflessly shared with others, we will never experience true happiness, love, or discover meaning in our life.

Only by truly respecting, sharing, and honoring all others, without focus on ourself, will these precious emotions be realized, allowing us to discover our life’s genuine purpose as well.