Tracing patterns in our skulls The hipshot is most reliable Yet flawed We enter the room so full of incense Eyesight was limited to about a foot in length Its scent reminded us to Relax and gather strength A powerful yet unknown song Began on original vinyl The rhythm was droning A Baritone so low it was barely perceptible Provided opening verse So too did the surrounds Begin to come apart The dust from deep in our hearts Repaired with broken parts When did it all start The early models summarily Were decommissioned Rebuilt Repaired Hidden circles trace spiral patterns The human mind too flawed to read Familiar verse The Baritone did sing Of unseen things Unknown things Hidden or repurposed Yes this is the one Empty Box empty Yet another Boon Not at All too Soon.
My little horror show, a life no longer comforting, but still, it keeps going. The motorcycle wrecks of my youth my reckless dances with fate— etched into my bones. Each scar a whispered memory, a testament to youthful invincibility. My body now a relic, a museum of aches and regrets, pathetic and worn, like an old leather jacket that's seen too many storms. What was it all for? The wild rides, the laughter, the reckless abandonment— I wouldn't change much, for those moments were my currency, spent freely on the carousel of life. Friends, once vibrant constellations, now fading stars, their light extinguished, Leaving behind echoes of laughter, and empty barstools. I’ve seen so many lives tumble and burn. Some by going too fast but more by moving too slow. My body, a crumbling temple, no longer capable of half the feats it once reveled in. Yet, there are still moments usually after a few drinks, when I look up at the stars, and they shimmer like forgotten dreams. These
Unfolding memories, like a weird movie, play within my mind— A reel that refuses to unwind, looping selective imagery. A dance of repetition, certain words and phrases collide, Worlds entangled, a vortex in time. Places shift, yet remain the same, Discriminatory pauses etched into my brain. Programmed, perhaps, or a code to break one day, Deja vu, each moment old yet new. What does it mean, this tangled thread of existence? Sensing another plain, a whisper of elsewhere. Listen closely to the echoes, the unspoken truths, Messages to ourselves, unread, awaiting revelation. Can we decode our own essence before we past, Or is that knowledge reserved for another place and time? In the silence, let us listen, for within lies the key, Unlocking the mystery of our souls. Each memory a piece of the puzzle, A fragment of the past that shapes our present. A mirror reflecting our innermost fears and desires, A map leading us to our true selves. Embrace the weirdness, the
Power will rule the future No good or evil, no right or wrong Only who has it, who wants it And who suffers for it This day is coming soon... For some, it is already here People are just numbers Most are disposable And treated as such The oppressed are silenced, Their cries ignored, their rights denied. No one to stand for them, Resistance is treason, dissent is crushed. In the name of the greater good The many endure in silence No one to hear them No one to defend them Only one view Imposed and enforced Privacy is a lost luxury, And lies are spun to justify it, Claiming only the guilty need it, All to protect the order. One vision prevails, Binding us not in harmony, but in fear. This force spreads like a plague, The worst enemy humanity ever faced Leaving only ruin, Violence, and chaos in its wake It destroys nature, leaving it Wasted, scarred, and burnt. It has no empathy, It is a savage beast driven By the urge to dominate, exploit, and devour. It must be stopped If we
what do you mean you don't have time to be someone you admire? "if circumstances were different" is one of the biggest lies you can sell yourself. if you want to change, modify your environment and retool your system. the problem with stoicism isn't the philosophy itself, but the rampant commodification of a lone ruler's anxious thoughts. but he wasn't alone- these tubers and debt millionaires won't tell you. he had a beautiful wife and children worth suffering for that made all the difference. the space itself has been so radicalized that what was once a diary of a mortal's earthly burdens of being has become an entire industry of suffering cucks that love pain without pleasure's purpose. they think toiling alone is brave. that's the last thing anyone truly alone really thinks. so anticipation waiting drains participation and progress over prudence any fuckin' day.
Light plays flickering On eyelids tired of morning Passing through peepholes Broken up by sky. A moment, of celestial will Bade shadows standing still A blinding noose surrounding Wrenching brilliance daily. --- Stamping out an irritation in foot Hoods of canopy, a forest without wearer A lone wisp lingers, settles among roots Staking ground.
Her eyes the size of round marbles, with fire behind her light. Her lips the hue of rouge dawn, sweet bubblegum sky. Her hair the silk sunlight, undoing of the night. For I dare not confess my love, it remains in the shade. From my heart, bless me one last, fraught, serenade. So I will play. Once more, the tune that guides me, feeds me - yet loves me today. For I wish she did. Glad to have been a being in this universe, even if it's only once. So what was I thinking, a seed denied soil Does not reveal? Steel the wind of fire, For it burns within all of us.
Journey to the edge towards the old man's home Spring into the night Like a jackal all alone Feel the white heat rise taste the sweet, cold burn Swirling flames inside your head cause substance and dreams to merge Listen to the echoes call you toward their home Journey to the edge watch the night explode. Years ago before our birth Strangers had decided What we were worth Where we would live How we would behave What we would do What we could say Now many years have past But little has changed Endless thoughts On this endless day Don’t give up Don’t give in Don't surrender Don't comply Forge your own path Learn to defy Free yourself from strangers and their judgments Break away from rules and their constraints Feel the white heat rise Embrace the sweet, cold burn Let the flames inside your head Fuse the tangible and the visionary Listen to the echoes of your own voice and soul Journey to the edge and let your true self show
Cold Reality (second version) by 3p1cFa1l, literature
Literature
Cold Reality (second version)
All that lives must die one day, kid Everything has it's Time Hasn't it? And you cry "What a crime!" Death will always catch up, kid It'll take your pets, your parents, Hell you might even survive your siblings It'll take your everything and everyone See it, kid In a way, it's already done And when the reaper takes When the thread breaks Whom are you going to blame? For the extinguished flame For the cold that came For the last and final sigh For the unfinished, unsaid goodbye For all the unspoken words The broken worlds Huh? Whom are you going to blame? Your lover? Your friends? Can't you uncover? Are you too afraid to discover? How far will you take it, kid? Will you blame your own bloody family? Whom are you going to blame, kid, Huh? And why? How far will you take your lie? What are you willing to believe? What story will you weave? Was it some weird kind of aura? Or was it their vibration or such a thing? Face it, kid The only one to blame, is life The composition
Happiness is painting another painting with a brush Happiness is doing my thing and not in a rush Happiness is seeing you without even have to miss Happiness is knowing it already even if all is a mess Happiness is a feeling and I think a very big thing Happiness is listening to music and dance or sing Happiness is feeling lucky and understanding it all Happiness is feeling blessed and not have to fall Happiness is the key to living without limitations Happiness is being free and with my imaginations I think many new things I can already find I think I'm ready to leave all old things far behind Happiness is being myself without anyone's advice Happiness is staying true and having my own paradise Happiness is being with you without being sad Happiness well what is that? I think with that enough is said { Jill }
Hello! May I come to know about the purpose of those folders provided, especially the folders involving Cafe Poetry? I would love to share my poems that I've written since long ago, but I don't know where I could get to share them here.