Where did I park it?
Where will I find it?
Do I really care?
Does it really matter?
I don’t really think so.
G’head, relax, its gonna be alright.
Really,
it is.
Author: nomisyar
I collect Spores, Molds, and Fungus.
Get Some
some people get it.
some people want to get it,
and so spend their whole lives looking for it.
some people get it, and hate it because it shines a light on their emptiness.
and they hate, they hate so much, and tear it all down.
Others get it, but run from it, because they fear the ugliness of the haters.
Some get it, and announce it brilliantly-
and are destroyed for it.
how about you?
what do you see?
where will you go?
how will you die?
Free
Is it wrong, when encountering waves upon waves of the monochromatic masses, to feel pity? …but it is not really pity, because there is a sense of pride, boastful pride rooted in the knowledge that my own vibrancy reverberates Mother’s song, from the other end of the spectrum. Resonating deeply with the dirt beneath my toes. Is it wrong to feel so connected, and at the same time, so disconnected from that which is? Oh, the game must be played, and it shall be… it is currently, but it is only fun if it is remembered to be just that, and only if we are always aware of the song. That song that rang out at our births, and fades away gently, to black
Return
In the distance
his pink tail edges down
away, from me.
But he is coming
closer and closer everyday.
Getting nearer to me.
am I ready to stand up
and away from him?
I am.
I have.
let him return.
I am not at home.
his ashes are his,
for I’ve buried my own.
Winner
maybe, just maybe he did a good thing.
perhaps a big heart, and ideals
are better, than a big brain, and calculations.
or perhaps,
we misjudged our buddy.
perhaps this was planned.
maybe, the ends CAN justify the means.
maybe this is the beginning.
don’t lose it
right there, in front of your eyelash…
can you see it?
No, don’t look at it!
its gone.
wait now,
here it is again.
do you feel it?
just…
just…
breathe.
let it go.
I promise you
it will be right back.
Little bits of Perfect
millions of pieces of perfection
crunch under my boot.
straining the forced monotonous quiet.
a brief chirping erupts, but she remembers her place
and the muffled silence returns.
Perfect.
Stagnant.
Winter.
And so it starts
it’s a celebration
let it begin
it’s time.
luv ya
Running
run from the calm.
run from the sea-
the gentle, rolling, and wild tumbling of the mighty sea…
when you run from these my dear,
you run from me.
Blast that bass
and fire that beam
eve, stillness,
begone!
man stomps here,
noisefully.
man treads here,
fearfully.
Child,
do not fear me.
Love,
do not run from me.
I am here,
to be adored.
I am here,
quietly,
I am here
like you.
There is a War going on
are YOU on the right side?
or can you shift with the eastern wind
and bend with the twilight-
through a raindrop?
It is a vicious little battle,
but they tell you that it is all fine,
to go back to sleep
to do it again.
Will you but awake
just imagine the possibilities.
Will you but awake.
theDeprevation 