17. The Moon | napowrimo
"Intercessory" by anv
floating on dark waters
beneath grave mountains
bodies bend to the earth
hands lifted in communion
with the divine
top left photo: Христос в Гефсиманском саду (Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane) by Arkhip Kuindzhi (1901)
top right photo: Лунная ночь на море (Moonlight on the Sea) by Arkhip Kuindzhi
bottom photo: Дарьяльское ущелье. Лунная ночь (Daryal Pass. Moonlight Night) by Arkhip Kuindzhi (c. 1895)
Soledad era independencia, yo la había deseado, y la había conseguido al cabo de largos años. Era fría, es cierto, pero también era tranquila, maravillosamente tranquila y grande, como el tranquilo espacio frío en el que se mueven las estrellas.
🖌️ Junaid Mortimer.
I live by the motto,"Treat ppl how they treat you."
Walking through ghost mode
head so heavy
try hard hope so
where'd the ground go
walls see through
a static wave
all I want is to converse for a moment
release my insides and show it
but I remain shunned
a dead flower under the sun
it's underground I've grown
living dead and unknown
By Andrew Kelly(AKE)2021
o kadar gereksiz şeyleri kafama taktığım için kendimden özür dilerim
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Hatam varsa yine yaparım yanlış insana doğru yapılmaz
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// Few words have the power to conjure the exact same picture for 7 billion people, but 2020 gave us 36 such. My #LockdownDictionary explores these words across #36DaysOfType. //
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Tonight I've Watched
The moon and then
The night is now
goes; I am
in bed alone
Born For This
Is not why
Born a poet.
not bury it.
As a breath;
You right off
Into a shadowed
There is always
We must feel it
And release it.
This is what
We are born
Set it free
That is how
Up and set
All writing belongs to me.
Salesmen with computers
Harnessing our data
Ads are aimed just at us
People expect our generation to move mountains
Truth is with all this technology
We’re still LOST..
Searching for what is, what isn’t and what will be
Thinking 'bout who we really are beneath all
The facade and smiles..
All this questions be making it harder
To move on from all we’ve ever known
Wanting change but not wanting to change
Numbing all our pains and dumbing our brain cells
Maybe that’s the reason we can’t figure our shit out
The world be forcing upon us shoes ten times our sizes
I hear them
I hear them
All saying the same thing
Of how we waste our youth and resources
Waste all that we’ve be given
On useless things that don’t matter
When we could be changing the world
So I ask
Tell me what you did when you were a youth
Speak to me about all the mountains you’ve moved
The grounds you’ve broken and
All the waves you’ve ridden..
Maybe then I shall tell you of all
The billions of tiny mountains I’ve moved
While you were busy
Screaming about how useless I am
Maybe I shall tell you of all
The thousands of ground that I’ve shaken
And the waves I’ve ridden..
We’re trying to live up to your expectations
But it is hard
You should know that
Because if it was easy your generation
Would’ve changed the world
I don’t mean to be disrespectful
Just stating facts..
Life is already hard as it is
Your expectations just making it harder to breath
Let us be
Let us see
Let us find ourselves
Let us heal ourselves..
Then we’ll move the mountains you place at our feet…
At a bad place right now, but I thought I'll dump this here 🙃
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Dubya did not want to lose.
He didn’t want the voters to choose.
He didn’t want to hear on the news
That the election was now you-know-whose,
So they threw out the votes of the Blacks and the Jews.
DUBYA AND THE GOOL OL’ BOYS
Dubya asked Gore to concede.
He said, “I’m in the lead.”
“And to count those votes again”
“Is obviously futile when”
“Another Supreme Court case”
“Will quickly end the race.”
You’ll wonder where your money went
When you give it to the government!
Poets—useless fellows, really!
The things they say are awfully silly!
They’ll sit and dream atop the hills,
But never, ever pay their bills!
They’ll tell us that we cannot see.
They’ll tell us how it ought to be.
They’ll tell us with a poet’s smirk
What fools we are to go to work!
THE USELESS POET
OLD MAN OF THE SEA
There was an old man of the sea
Who drank only Darjeeling tea.
He slurped and he burped and he said,
“Why are ya all lookin’ at me?
WELL WELL WELL WELL
If you say it well, you’re eloquent.
If you’re well-heeled, well, you’re a gent!
If you’re doing well, it’s heaven-sent.
A HALF A POEM
A half-truth really is a lie.
Half-wits usually can’t see why.
A half a man’s not much of a guy.
A half-assed joke just makes you sigh!
SPOTS ON THE WALL
Dung was flung among the Hmong.
It hit the wall—I was appall’d!
And there it rotted,
Because they were besotted!
HU FLUNG DUNG
Marty likes to party.
He’ll party all night long.
He’s partied since he first went wrong.
Marty loves to party.
He’ll party till he drops.
He’ll party, party, party,
Until I call the cops.
DECLARATION OF INTERDEPENDENCE
In the course of human events,
The bullshit can become intense.
We try our best to make it through—
It is the best that we can do.
THE PHILANDERING PHILOSOPHER
(He claims he loves all mankind, but he’s actually a cynic)
THE MAGIC FEAT
Whenever fertile gametes meet,
They will perform a magic feat.
The fastest sperm will get the egg—
So come on, sperms, shake a leg!\
Mother Earth licked her lips
As she watched the sunset strip.
The Sun wanted fun.
The Earth was filled with mirth.
The Sun made love with Earth,
And Earth to life gave birth.
THE CREATIVE POET
THINGS TO DO
My list of things to do
Is much too long, it’s true.
The list just keeps on growing,
With little progress showing.
I wish these things were done,
So I could have some fun!
THE THIRD WORLD TURD HURL
A turd hurled at the Third World
Whirled around the world.
THE THIRD WORLD TURD HURLER
TIMOTHY LEARY’S BEDTIME MANTRA
NOTMAN VINCENT PEALE’S PRAYER
There’s hope for any dope
Who doesn’t sit and mope.
He’ll try and try again,
And he’ll get rich!
Early to bed.
Early to rise.
Work like hell
Shit smells good to a fly.
How this can be, I’ll ne’er know why.
He’ll sit on it, and when he’s in the mood,
He’ll come and crawl all o’er your food.
PRAYER TO THE ALMIGHTY DOLLAR
Almighty dollar, give us what we need.
Once that is done, O satisfy our greed.
THE POETRY FACTORY
I have to write a poem a day,
Or else the boss withholds my pay.
The deadline isn’t far away.
My boss’s hair is turning gray
siento que no tengo a donde ir cuando me siento así
no me gusta estar sola
pero si busco ayuda la vulnerabilidad me invade
mi corazón está llorando otra vez
el pecho duele, las lágrimas corren
mi alma se siente cansada
he hecho mucho para dejar de extrañar
pero el sentimiento no se va
que es lo que tengo que hacer
huir? desaparecer? odiarte?
es lo que menos puedo
sólo ya no quiero sentir nada
-chapter 1 (part 2 out of 3)
authors note: I apologize once again, tumblr makes it so i can’t put down all the 3 parts in 1, it’s a pretty long chapter.
Word count: 838
Though being an extremely stupid dummy, He really was a sweetheart, he was my love. My only love, the type of love where you can’t stop thinking about them every second of the day. I figured we would be together forever, relationship wise or not. It wouldn’t matter, as long as we were destined to be together forever. It turns out, my angelic like prayers were heard, at the price to give up another thing. We stayed together, he proposed to me, we got married. We were in love, i was his and he was mine. That was how destiny was set up for us, meant to be together. When he stated the words “together forever, until the end.” He engraved the gentle words into my heart with a non existent knife. It was funny because, in a span of a few weeks everything changed. He told me he got another job offer, i was excited but suddenly got cut off when he told me it wasn’t the typical job. It was a far away job, he would only see me every few times a month. Those words hurt, they cut deep into me like newly sharpened knives; especially the ones he carved his promise into my heart like. This would mean we wouldn’t be close together, those hugs, there were setting off on a journey and only returning when peace was found. I was addicted. It wad an addictive type of love, i worried i would lose my damn mind without some words from his mouth. I looked out the window and below to the grass slaying to the wind’s rhythm; the moon illuminating the beautiful view. It was a full moon, what a coincidence. I read a story about a runaway woman who would kill on the full moons- that book always interested me. Today was the day that i called freedom, have the heavens showered such a divine moon on me for a special moment? Ah, a world full of mysteries i see. Swishing the wine in the glass, i examined the beautiful ridges and picked up on some small, yet detailed patterns on the wine glasses inner corner and ridges. I missed his warm hands that wrapped around my cold, dead body, i missed his scent and his goodnight kisses. He had indented his loving words onto me just as how the glass had its detailed patterns. And when all of that is taken away, all i could do was lean back and hold my pillow, pretending it was his loving hand that took care of me instead of lifeless stuffed pillow covers. He had taken his perfume with him, which was a pity because.. if he had left that small item I wouldn’t be so lonely, so sad. Atleast, I wouldn’t forget what he smelled like. I apologize, that seems a but creepy. It isn’t all that creepy: not that i would ever forget his scenr but.. maybe wearing it would mwke me feel better. Overthinking gets their ways with me, thus I can’t even control my own thoughts. It had been over 20 minutes, the black laced robe i wore technically glued to my body as i sipped on the wine that brought back so many memories, almost too many memories. It hurt, my engraved and detailed heart ached for his touch. My hair drizzled over my pale skin and my smooth textured ends, my bangs in my face like the wash of a single wave at the beach; oh the memories. I leaned my head back onto the couch, aiming my eyes at the dazzling ceiling with its many white, blank stars and planets that brought me back the divine remembrance of what we had painted together, with exquisite and fine movement careful not to ruin the ceiling of our brand new house. All was going well until a single splash of white paint suddenly flicked itself onto me, not from my brush. One moment two adults were painting stars around their house, and the next moment two children were applying paint on eachother, who would of thought someone could grow up and have the spirit of a 3rd grader? Snapping out of the flashbacks once again, i shifted my eyes slowly from the designs on the ceiling to the impatient ticking clock. I often find myself overthinking when anxious, especially when im so afraid that maybe the thoughts deep in the back of my head might be right. They were deep thoughts, that scared me. But what if, he really is cheating?.. i trusted him so much, there was absolutely no way.
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In case nobody told you this today , GOOD MORNING ! You looking good today ! And you always looked amazing ! I believe in you ! May you have a day filled with BLESSINGS today ! Stay safe ! Love yourself ! You are unique !
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Put on a smile to hide the fear in your eyes
It's the mask you use to hide the tears that you cry
You had a chance to say your goodbyes
This is something you'll regret until the day that you die
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"We'll talk of sunshine and of song; and summer days, when we were young"
Lines from "To a Butterfly" by William Wordsworth.
Dreams changing so fast,
Sometimes you forget the original
It gets lost,
Among the dreary and the drabble
Squeezed between boxes of thoughts
Long in storage
Finely covered in dust
There it is
Huddled in on itself
Looking lost and lonely
Arms reaching out
As your bright warmth reminds it
Why it exists in the first place
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