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Esther May 12
you live
in my memories now
and i like to
revisit
every now and then
@2:50am
19/08/24
Chris Saitta May 12
Low are the crickets of Delphi
With their chirping rays of sunset,
Like Phaethon to photon destructs
Into the fiery ruts of chariot wheels,
Or two eagles flying opposed on stringed vicissitudes,
A bird-yarning of sky from the omphalos stone,
The fulcrum of sung misery, a fishing net thrown,
As the half-bird and half-ion in siren’s undertones
Lure in subatomic orbs of ghostly parabolic swerve,
Into this blued Corinthian evening, self-vibrato,
Rocking like an empty boat from the dock rope,
Or an empty heart, unmoved by its own beating.
The Greek myth of Phaethon, son of the sun-God Helios, relays how he ignored his father’s protests and drove his father’s chariot across the world burning it in fire when it came too close.  Zeus struck him down with lightning.

The Omphalos stone was considered the “navel of the world,” the center of all things and situated in the Ancient Greek province of Delphi.  Myth relates that Zeus commanded two eagles to fly in opposing directions and they met over Delphi, which was ordained the center of the world.  A copy of the Hellenic stone exists in a museum in current Delphi and is covered with a carved wrought net, which some interpret as the woven narrative of life and the tales of time.
Esther May 11
i have just moved all our pictures
into the hidden folder
the graveyard of memories
my heart aches with endless yearning
sorrow, grief and regret

our love was so short-lived
like a helpless little kitten
that died before it ever got a chance
to fully experience the wonders of life

our love was a flickering candle flame
that burnt so bright
and fizzled so soon

my tattooed golden retriever
my soldier, my love
you said it was "right person, wrong time"
but what if the timing could never favour upon us?
what if we could never find our way back to each other?
𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨...
Mirage of lives,
Ever tell me current lies.
Mirage of time,
Sever bells that cries.
I live today,
But I died tomorrow.
I live today,
To see the old of me present.
Dead memories,
Unknown reality,
What shall wake me,
treacherous why.
She had a well-oiled mind.
A kind of thinking that kept a rhythm,
even in chaos.
That kept tapping the well of knowledge until it found what it sought.
That kept time with life,
while feeding the spiritual.
With one foot in the proverbial language of the world,
and one foot in the meadow.
Quick but careful.
She took her time,
in a world where anything tedious was shunned.

-Rhia Clay
Charles May 10
In the eyes of another man,
Cascading on the hearts quaking,
A tragedy that was to never be named,
The judgement of fate is his for the taking.

My misconceptions environ me, no longer a soporose dream,
These are the threads of my sanity,
It's a fetch of my hollowness, benumbed thoughts so grim,
Reprieve me, for I am the only kin.

Life revised to the memories inscribed,
Confined within the ageing strands of mind,
Seeking those left undefined,
To deconstruct the crux of life.

A new mould ignites, contrived from past morbidity,
Ever frozen in time,
The voidness of this excited debility,
Flares forever inside.

The chasm within, a shadow well-withheld,
It knows when something's amiss.
When all is lost, a lesion turning gold,
Retorting back the abyss.
The struggles of the puny humanity
Piyush May 10
The curse of not being chosen,
A heart that remains unbroken.
A person who wants to fly high,
But can't even say a moment’s goodbye.

The curse of being alone forever,
Not even able to spell her name together.
What a drag this life has become,
Is it worth it, or should I succumb?

The curse of being forgotten,
I wonder how many tomatoes I've got rotten.
Funny, isn’t it?
The writing always tells the truth of myself.

The curse of losing everyone,
Wanna hear a fact full of fun?
Somewhere a heart tries to gain,
While somewhere else, it counts the pain.

The curse of knowledge,
I wonder how people manage,
Living their lives on the edge,
All this just to earn the privilege.

The curse of feeling too much,
Even thoughts of lunch feel like a crutch.
But still, we breathe, we break, we bend,
And hope one day the curses end.
Emery Feine May 10
i am so tired of being yelled at
im tired of the screaming
im tired of the lying
im tired of the whining

i am in a black hole
and you take more and more
and you bend the sound
and you take my time
you have taken the one thing i cannot bring back
Elena Vale May 9
When it’s pouring outside,
rain disturbing windows–

When afar,
my mind is restless;
sleepless and insane.

I proceed to scream your name
like a sinner prayer.
Sunrise comes–
and still,
you are not near.

I remember our time,
vivid picture on my mind;
In one man bed,
we lay squished together.

Young and naked, naked souls,
we enjoy
our time together.
Oh I wish we had forever…

Your gentle touch all over me,
your eyes as well,
as we become together.

You roughly fill me with your love,
not worrying about the sleeping neighbours.

You brush my golden hair,
slowly after,
before we head back to the bed.

I fall asleep,
mind blank,
because I’m by
your side,
and nothing else compares.
a little poem because memories is all I care about.
irp May 8
Who hasn’t wanted to stop time for just a second?
Something fleeting — a moment, pure and simple.
The peak of life should be something we could wrap up and keep safe.
Everything passes — and most of the time, that’s a good thing.
But sometimes, it’s heartbreaking.
Not everything should slip away.
Some moments are so rare,
they feel heavy in your hands, like you could actually catch time.
But you can’t.
It always slips through — and like I said, everything passes.
A tiny fragment of time.
From Latin momentum, meaning the power to move, to shift.
And it’s that weight packed into small, passing moments
that keeps us moving forward.
Everyone has a moment they’d live in, if only they could.
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