They called me a dreamer like it was a bad thing, until my dreams started to come true.
Ekta Somera
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“Because here's something else that's weird but true: in the day-to day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And the compelling reason for maybe choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship—be it JC or Allah, be it YHWH or the Wiccan Mother Goddess, or the Four Noble Truths, or some inviolable set of ethical principles—is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive. If you worship money and things, if they are where you tap real meaning in life, then you will never have enough, never feel you have enough. It's the truth. Worship your body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly. And when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally grieve you. On one level, we all know this stuff already. It's been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, epigrams, parables; the skeleton of every great story. The whole trick is keeping the truth up front in daily consciousness.”
David Foster Wallace, This Is Water: Some Thoughts, Delivered on a Significant Occasion, about Living a Compassionate Life
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bittersweet is the place
where we rest our sore feet
after dancing all night
with a bottle of
serotonin,
oxytocin,
endorphins,
dopamine
risky and raw
on your cousin’s kitchen floor,
a place where
your hands find its way
to the arch of my back,
with you whispering,
“I can’t breathe”,
only for me to catch you smiling.
bittersweet is how
you tell me you admire
everything about me
in between
inhales and exhales,
sounding like a drunk person
eager to have the next sip.
bittersweet is when
that bottle is empty
and all that’s left
of the bottles are wines and whiskeys
and more nightcaps to sip out,
what we both do not want
to take away–
like the night
and the memories combined
and the love that grew bitter
and sour
like the colors of wine.
bittersweet is when you love me
and i love you
and we still couldn’t be together.
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Like soda bubbles
I rise and pop.
There is no end
every time
I give in
to love.
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You’re still here. You’re still here despite the darkness that has engulfed you. You’re still here despite not being able to envision a future where you’re happily living and not just surviving. You’re still here despite the number of bridges you had to burn down. You’re still here despite every tear filled night. Continue to fight every battle in you to stay here. Be gentle with yourself. Give yourself more credit! You deserve it.
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Short sleeves in November
a warming sun of amber
before an Autumn moon
surrenders earlier than
temperatures remember
the seasons norms.
Light splays around
lingering green leaves
who stay to dress from
Summers heat and decorate
berries and boughs.
Poem and photo by - Lisa Lopresti
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You shuffled me around your board until you ran out of moves. Just a pawn in your game, a victim to your ruse. You filled me up with love, empty promises mean nothing. Told me forever, like you believed we’d be something. Those wounded and weak, often search for a place of relief. Came in and stole my heart like a cold calculated thief. The sorrow is in knowing all my intentions were pure. The pain is in knowing for you, I was merely a cure. A place of peace for you to take a moment to pause. Refuge for you to rest and dress your wounds in gauze. But I was never a place where you planned to stay. The time was long overdue for you to walk away.
I wanted to be more than “your peace” | K.A.M ( @inmyownwordz ) | All Rights Reserved 2023 ©️
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" I have seen many falls, when will I see my first snowfall? "
Yusha Rizvi
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The Roar Among the Quiet
As said but it came from none
Only the eternal struggle of sword and shield amongst the plains
Decades, centuries, even in the war you’ve seen and partake
War where cause and effect exists beyond where you’ve been born
Never left
That battlefield of steel and bone shrapnel
Tore even deeper than skin but the soul milked over the eyes
The heart which somedays breathes and sometimes seizures
I have made thousands of paintings I can’t remember
In a battle of oceans of words
New to repetitive metaphors in the anatomy of beauty and pain
Blessed, as well, by new waters which flow from pens of strangers
In this endless abyss of faceless allies and opposition
There is a strong desire
For good
Great for all that is and ever was
That which consists in a word I either never knew or always forget
I share to you my welcoming homefront
Awaiting when the silent fight breaks from the sky’s crackle
Which, in the abyssal darkness, thickets the void
With a single flash, a sprinkle of light
And a groan that crawls all that endlessly
The horn that brings back sound only for everyone and I to
Stand still and watch patiently in the moment
I am not sure what any of that means
Though, I present to you the I against I
All that is me
Oh Fortuna, I bleed a blood I can’t see
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Temptations
I don’t want your flowers
if they come with conditions
I don’t need a rough draft
With all these revisions.
For, I never looked for love
In all the wrong places
That’s like —-
inviting the devil into spaces
that are sacred.
Those snake eyes
And warm smile
Always has me smitten.
But, it’s the audacity for my heart
to question my intuition.
Yet, if I was submissive
Would you get on one knee?
And if I said no, would you know how to leave?
But, I never looked for love
In all the wrong places
That’s like —-
inviting the devil to spaces
that are sacred.
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The size of your forehead, the shape of your nose, the way your body looks, all that pales in comparison to the complexity of your soul, the butterfly effect your smile brings, and the way your presence makes the earth feel a little more like home.
Ekta Somera
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I don't know how to feel.
People who used to matter a lot, now have become a nuisance in my life.
They have become the cause of sadness and tension.
Why? Why is it that it becomes hard for people to understand the problems of others but they are super empathetic towards the problems of their own people?
I fail to understand if the same thing is done by two different people then how is it justified for one and not justified for the other?
I'm just tired of proving and explaining myself. I'm just so done with people.
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Will the yearning ever stop?
When will I stop stripping myself naked only to be noticed and never to be held?
When will the snow covered mountains thaw?
I am beyond cold.
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Anne Shirley, I'm in love with you.
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To my anxious self,
Inhale deeply, exhale slowly.
Scream anything that's in your head.
In the stillness of this second, your mind is constantly racing. The taste of reminiscing past is always there. Sweet at first, but there is always a bitter aftertaste.
However, there are still sunsets to enjoy, starry nights to cherish, full moon sky to stare into, places you haven’t been to and food you haven’t tasted yet. There is more music to enjoy and more laughter to create. There are more happy memories to make, even though it seems like everything is collapsing around you right now. Hold on tighter to the thin thread of will to live, you hanging on to.
There’s a lot more to life than the heaviness you feel right now. You’ll feel lighter some day. You’re worth it. Your heart beating right now means something.
For now, just keep breathing.
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