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It’s like the morning blooms marigolds
And I’m in awe of cotton candy—
Spun between the sea of endless blue,
Looking further down the distance,
To find a path way back to you.

I’d travel through dense verdant forests
Caught in a wispy susurrus of wind tickling eaves of leaves
The cold crash against sweaty brow
If only one step further brings me closer.

I’d suffer the pungent smell of smog,
Taste the tar and burnt rubber through my nostrils
Plaguing my lungs in black plaque,
Uncomfortably squished in asymmetric lines
With others who robotically press on
Dwarfed as an ant as towers conspire up on high
If only the roads led me to the destination.

I would cross an ocean of stars,
Each one pearlescent as they glow
Their divine materials gifting me life eternal
And I’d trade it for a simple miracle
That they send me to any planet you have a revenant
So each you knew me as I wished to know you,
Bigger than life, enigmatic
Lovely, like a goddess.
If only to wake bedside, you clutched in my arms.

A dream that never ends,
But bleeds through my reality,
Grounded in this hungering need,
And I’m feeling famished
Love is a boundless journey, in and out of sleep.
Your thoughts & dreams, guide you through, this life’s stay,
They can change with decisions and opportunities, in many ways,
   Some can bring you comfort, as if a companion, on a lonely day, Visions, take time, something you do now must fade.
You can create many excuses, convince your self to hold and stay,
Or you can take the dream,  decide, what in your life, to set aside.
Do you need the change or you more afraid of a tear, in your eye,
Answer is inside of you, the  way to know, a positive attitude, try,
Some dreams, you have in this life, you wish they would come true,
A question  how to create them, where to start, what is there to do,
Will it be the right path,  a positive direction, only you can choose.




The original: Tom Maxwell  © 5/22/2025 AD
Nick 6d
I am not broken; the world is.
Every day, it’s a new trend, whether worthless or rich,
Whether Black or white, dull or bright.
Every day is a new battle, a storm in a sea of dreams.
Dreams which get lost among the crowd of mindless bees.

The unfortunate truth is, the world favours aesthetics.
Whether in your work or in your deary beak.
Each day it’s a new goal, whether money, happiness, or ******,
But I ask, where is the genuine, the giddy, and the fulfilled?
Lost in the wildfire of fleeting faces and smoke-choked dreams?

Where are the joyful, the dreamers, and the poets?
Lost in the world of the weary, the cynic, and the skeptics?
But finally, I see the truth, the infallible truth—
Hidden behind the layers, lies, buzz, and noise,
That I am not broken; the world is.
It was the books,
The same ones I read,
Over the summers,
In the libraries
That told me it was okay to wish.
So I wished,
For a **** body,
Like the ones on the posters.
I did not get that,
So I moved on.

It was probably TV,
The shows with eternal love,
Chemistry that was across lifetimes,
Romance and slow dances.
So I wished again,
For a tall funny man,
He will be my mirror I thought,
That shattered too

Why wish at all?
It is a futile thought
Like the sky you’ll never reach.
Shivam Sehgal May 20
WE OFTEN HIDE BEHIND THE NAME OF FEAR!
WELL, WE ARE ALL GROWN UP NOW.
WORRIED ABOUT FALLING BUT HAVE WINGS,
A WAY TO FLY, BUT NOBODY IS HERE NOW!
BURIED LITTLE ONE ARISES, SPREADING BEAUTY AND LOVE.
EXCEPTIONALLY WARM MUSIC MADE DELICATE FEATHERS UNCONSCIOUS.
HEAVEN SEEMS REAL, LIFE BECOMES ALIVE.
SUDDENLY TUK-TUK-TUK ---
THE DITCH REAPPEARS AND FEATHERS BECOME HEAVY.

By: Shivam Sehgal
Growth

Self-Discovery

Hope

Symbolism

strong
PA Trees May 20
It wasn't real
It wasn't real
It wasn't real
But this is

Beauty a lie
Truth a nightmare
All in a dream
Felt I lived it

Walls of flowers
Loving kisses
Then to wake
Forced repetition

It wasn't real
It wasn't real
It wasn't real
But this is

It doesn't seem like
This is real
It seems like
This is Hell

Here it hurts
Here it grates
It's all the same
Forced repetition

It wasn't real
It wasn't real
It wasn't real
But this is

I don't know
What hurts more
That it wasn't real
Or that this is
Cadmus 7d
🚂

We board with desire.

We return with clarity.

And somewhere between the stations,

we learn

What was attainable.

And what was worth carrying.

🚊
This poem captures the quiet transformation that time brings. We begin our journey burdened with ambition, desire, and expectation—only to return tempered by experience, having shed what we once thought essential. It’s a meditation on simplicity, loss, and wisdom.
oh, how I wish to press a kiss upon your lips
oh, how I wish to nuzzle my head into the crook of your neck
oh, how I wish to embrace you
and feel your warmth seep into my skin
oh, how I wish to entangle my hands in your hair
oh, how I wish to entwine my fingers with your
oh, how I wish to be called yours
but alas, this is a dream
a fantasy
it isn't the right time to tell you
oh, how I wish for my confession of love
to glide out of my mouth
and into your ears
oh, how I wish my confession is reciprocated
but alas, this is a dream
Sasha May 18
To hunt the moon till the sun must rise.
Or paint the pictures in the sky.

To adventure deep beyond the stars.
Or trap the memories from afar.

To drown the rivers in the sea.
Or hate the past and what's to be.

To feel the heart and hear the brain.
Or question in depth of what remains.

My dreams, they blossom a long reach.
Only to remind me of the longing I have for each.
Feeling the torn wings and shattered dreams.
Tear-stained pendulum swinging, as my eyes stare down the light in the hallway with a ten-yard stare.
Climbing into my soul, I cling to the shadow of my angel, trying hard to hold onto a ray of hope, like a dream catcher chasing away bad things.
Falling, I realize that in this descent, I am discovering myself on my way to the ground.
Falling endlessly and quietly, without a single sound,
I ask myself how much farther down I must go.
My soul whispers back softly, “Until you’re found.”

-Rhia Clay
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