Its beginning is a fuse,
Its end a nerve burnt out;
Creativeness is only you,
Before other hands dig in;
A pattern like religion,
The lonely mind of man.
EveningThe capillary rasp of tongues,
I know nothing but chattering
As warm air trades its place with young;
A shiver starts resurfacing
Within the walls of little lungs.
I know nothing but chattering,
Wintery gust I taste your braid;
A shiver starts resurfacing
As degrees fall in centigrade,
The weaving wind is circling.
Wintery gust I taste your braid
Within the walls of little lungs,
As degrees fall in centigrade
The capillary rasp of tongues
Will end all things that I have said.
Bad ConnectionUploading the art, in stops and starts, my patience departs
Like fractured quartz; these megabytes fail, and derail,
And e-mail never arrives. The Internet barely survives,
And gives little when it does, signals caught in the throes
Of unseen static. The hairline havoc and passive panic
Inside, an automatic trigger blown, the seed is grown
In my own anger; but soon the connection cocoon
Will balloon, and new wings this miracle brings.
SubsistenceWhy is it hard to admit you can't?
Can't live here, or you can't go back.
Can't carry the parable's lesson.
Why is it easy to be scant?
Eyes blink open the morning after
The thicket landscape of failures
Is set, yet admission cannot hold
The weight; no truths are a rafter.
Why is it hard to observe and decide?
Can't lay down, or you might lose sight.
Can't sustain like you want to or need.
Why is it so easy to hide?
Pried loose from the soil, small pebbles
Tossed aside; there is no end to
Labor, all is but sown or destroyed.
All green growth is born from troubles.
Genus BetulaLike quarter notes between the solemn face
Recorded there (the birch bark pulled away)
I scratched their names like tendrils carved from lace
The leaves will strut and curl this final day.
The cuffed, loquacious wind has naught to say
Of pink horizons purpling their hues;
The blaze replaced by melancholy blues.
The world already ended (is it known?)
The trees have gone with tempests in the news
Without a sound, eternal flat and brown.
ForensicsIt's maneuvered geometry,
The processes that machines see;
Where years inch by and fluids fall
From invisible anchor, all that mystery.
The thrust out scaffolds and tongues move,
Tidily performing a trove
Of objectives, but none can say
Shadows leave footprints here today, nor can they prove
A careful pandemonium.
The ruby of aluminum
Washed away, but the garments claim
The cluttered pitch of one stain's name will make the sum.
IntolerancePale gray, thinning and thickening,
Your upsurge and subduction sting.
Tectonic plates, your fresh cut
Motion, creases in the rut;
A hollow lava will clash,
Soon to speak to future ash.
Pale gray, thinning and thickening,
Your upsurge and subduction sting.
PhotoshopThe words returned, "not perfect yet",
On my aching eyes it
Highlights, needs less tonal width) "set
the contrast low" the lit
Enough now to meet the edge "no
But I'm not sure...(Undo, undo)
Each pixel can be more
House Of MirrorsA cutting gaze, the self-portrait's stare
Practices mimicry to fool the eyes;
The parts where light plays with air
A sputtering maze of lens and lies.
The foolish guise
Of glass, a lair.
Some are sneaky and stricken with lines
Of deformities, other strangers
Surely surprised; they sway like serpentines
On the run from hidden dangers.
Of see-through signs.
All these eyes, the self portrait's trap,
To see oneself in such ways, a mess
Of oddities within the mind that snap
When revealed; embroidered distress
The skewed depress
Of glass, a flap.
Something in the faces, the idealized
Distorted; and someone golden, gleaming,
The smile leaving something to be surmised.
What is this place? This thing?
I am the changeling,
Twenty-SomethingNo one hand could guide me,
So I searched for several.
Each touch from a new person,
Some hurtful, some gentle.
I am shaped by all I know.
No one standing beside me,
So I looked for shelter.
Than dying out there.
No one thought inside me,
So many at once racing.
I am shaped by all I think.
I am shaped by everything.
I must see the meaning that
No one can, besides me.
Contradictory Suicide LetterIf you’re reading this…
Dear everybody throughout the years,
I’m trying my best to write this through tears.
All I want to say is I have finally conquered my fears.
It’s time for me to close my ears
And start up my gears.
I’m leaving everything behind.
Today marks a new adventure to find
What I wanted when I was confined—
Life is telling me to unwind,
For today starts my peace of mind.
So, I’m putting away what harmed me.
All my knives and all their words; I’ll be set free.
I’ve gone through fires of the Hell that I couldn’t flee
Until I saw my own foggy breath and fell into the sea,
Where quickly enough I began to plea.
I’m going to let go of my life and start anew,
Correcting my mistakes and undo
What I have caused that wasn’t true.
So, I would like to thank you
For helping me get through—
There’s no point in me being miserable
When I have everything in my grasp and it’s unbreakable.
Practicing DeathWhat are we really doing during those nights?
What are these dreams that cloud our sights?
The world is still and quiet while we rest
Our minds wander far off under the crest
A low steady rhythm flows through our bodies
We're at peace as we dream through our stories
Some of them are beautiful, nothing can compare
And some are very horrible, a long nightmare
We see both worlds as we are practicing death
It sometimes wake us, shortening our breath
When we're awake, we are revived from the day before
And finally at the end of the day, we "die" once more
We practice death every night, a routine
Going into our imaginary afterlife, foreseen
So why are we so afraid of accepting fate?
We've been practicing death up to this date
ConsultationConspiracies have strange faces
Coins that spin in the air
From a fingernail dirtied grave
And a resting body in fear
Nuance drive the smoke to breathe
Wispy promises ensure
That all can be foretold ere long
The latency draws to a blur
A stack of strange words written plain
Read by mouths that speak no sounds
But the future missed its day
Abacus with beads of bone
Weights with hollow insides lean
To chains as frail of lines of heart
Between the table edge's scene
Bought and traded by the tide
Wash to blue-eyed skies of none
Save what they say will be ahead
Under the light of the same sun
Methods in the spells of old
Forgot the half of what to say
Left a captain a broken wheel
Spinning in circles far away
Hopes hath died between their hands
Paths in strange directions lead
By the lessons no one can know
Unless the fall lost from their greed
SenseDarkness stalks with impassioned gaze
Coaxing sense, in sensuous haze
Undressing night, its shadow plays
Along shoreline curves, provoking waves
Written by ChristheZorua
Gliding high in the sky
Living the dream
Ivory plays inside his head
Saving grace from the skylights
Can this creature fly at all?
Or is it just a glider in disguise?
Realization is his key to success
Dancing DarkOh why you do not wander into the light
But stay in the abandoned realm of dark
I hear your voice, but you're not in sight
I go forward toward the mystery spark
A song unheard of, a dance not seen
It's beautiful without a crowd around
So clear like glass, polished clean
And so musical without any sound
The dancing dark is charming
And far more impressive
Than the glorious morning
And its light, deceptive
Can't you see that it's better this way?
Here's the secret- so simple and stark
The light and day cannot make you sway
As the cold welcoming dancing dark
Inversion...Inversion, by David Nicholas...
Allow me a moment to take you straight back
Between pages inked red, blue, yellow and black
Consider the life we’d live, inside this comic
Defy limits as heroes, great or atomic
Each power pure, just picture the collective
Figure flying freely gives gorgeous perspective
Given a gift with gadgets to survive and adapt
Have super speed while you work; bet you’d be rapt
Imagine being blessed with strength super strong
Just hoist whole worlds with ease; see anything wrong?
Keep people keen with the ability to read minds
Learn to resemble whatever you shall find
Maybe despite this, let’s step back and recognise
None of this counters the torments that terrifies
Often humans hail you; sure won’t save themselves
Perhaps treat you like God, so potentials are shelved
Quash ne’er-do-wells with extreme use of force?
Right of YOURS to do it; you’re one they endorse
Suppose fans mimicked you, through costume or deed
Maybe...He'll Come BackYou love him,
It's weird why you do,
But you do,
Weirdness comes from the fact,
That after what happened,
He was still the same guy you fell in love with,
But something was different below the surface,
Of his heart,
And it started to show,
It was something dark,
It scares you,
And sometimes you want to run away,
But you run back to him at the end of every day,
You don't want to leave,
At least not just yet,
Cause you can see a future with him,
Beneath his threats,
Beneath his rage,
You see his kindness is just trapped in a cage,
Made up of his insecurities,
Are you the one actually protecting him?
Are you his security?
You see what others don't,
So you'll continue to float with him,
You'll hold him down,
Cause you know he's more than that clown,
That people see him as,
Maybe one day the guy you knew will be back from the prison,
Escape from Alcatraz,
And he'll still be different,
He'll be back
LoveNothing is more painful
Nothing so elating
Nothing quite so simple
Yet ever complicating
Love's the source of so much pain
And near all my suffering
But still my greatest reason
For rising each morning
It can bring two souls so close together
Or tear their lives apart
Move mountains and seas asunder
Or build walls around the heart
Love will bring you to your knees
Taking life not its to give
Make death seem like the answer
But still love is why you live
Love will make me fly
Then love will make me pay
Love is why I cry
And I wouldn't have it another way