Next Semester, I hope to start making my presence felt here again in a small way.


SolipsismI miss the rules of that world. I miss linear time and three dimensional space. I miss the place where I had meaning. It was your world. You built it to your own rules.Solipsism
I know that now. But I didnt then.
It is as futile as missing a dream. It was beautiful in its transience. You were never there, then?
No.
Then why do you care?
Because all you can ever know, all that can ever be meaningful, are the contents of your own mind. Because you can never tell what is real and what is dream. Because maybe there is no difference bet


Failed DreamersOnce, we soared on dreamer's wings Marvelling at the vista of our potential; Till glutted on wasted time we lost our way Yet plunged on, heedless, Recklessly seeking boundaries to our mortality. Drunk on despair, we forgot we could fly And crawled instead, blinded By dust and recollected glory. We are what remains when hope fails; Futile yearning without releaseFailed Dreamers
As the future dissolves in to the past, And even dreams are bleak And fade on waking.


La poetique de l'espaceWe build our own tradgedies, Lovingly piling brick on brick as we wait For the optimum time to tear down the walls And allow reality to smother us. We mock ourselves with dreams; Subconscious images of what cannot be Form a mortar of self deceit That crumbles under scrutiny. There are words that refuse to be articulated, Diffusing meaninglessly across synapses- Becoming lost before they reach existence. And so we hide in our illusory shelters, Eyes stitched shut against the shadows of truth That slip through the cracks of our darkness.La poetique de l'espace
[And still I wond


And We Never KnewWe swore that we would never change- Those were dreams bornAnd We Never Knew
In long hours spent staring at night skies Making pictures out of clouds, sure That wishing on stars was all it took. Our imaginations bore us far and The future stretched beyond us- We leapt to meet it gladly, unaware How one day we would drag our feet At the thought of leaving. In the days before we met the world We were happy, mostly; And we never knew.


BlackberriesNobody in the lane, and nothing, nothing moving. Blackberry bushes on either side, crushed flat and burned, A winding, ashy alley, devoid of life, and a sea Somewhere beyond it, out of sight. Blackberries, Oh how longingly I remember them, round baubles in the hedges, sweet and wholesome, spilling purple blood on my grasping fingers, surrendering their lives to my child selfs greed; they loved me not, and I cared not, squashing their bodies into glass tombs. But no longer.Blackberries
Overhead, the sky boils, heavy grey with ash and dust - Scraps of charred cloth and old newspapers
--
Like a cat in a tumble dryer O.0
Also, thank you for the favorite for Pseudocide... for any of my pieces to be added to your favorites is an honor. I hate to seem like a petulant child, but could I ask you to drop a comment when you have the time? Favorites without comments, to me, are like getting awards without knowing what I was nominated for!
--
Existentialism.
Surrealism.
Love.
You just know this will be in about half an hour, as soon as I open the relevant documents for the uni work...
--
Of my own work:
My Favorite: Smoke And Mirrors.
Everyone Else's: Existential Word Search.
--
To twist one purest cause
Into an honest verse,
Itself, a call to angels.
The saddened lips of song that
Kiss away our innocence
From the vile mundane.
~justb
Previous Page12345...Next Page