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Literature Text
Is this the real world we see?
Or is it just an illusion of reality?
Will death be the thing to set us free?
Or is that just a weird mentality?
Is life just an illusion?
Do we perhaps preserve things differently?
And is this all just a big delusion?
We want the people to think free
But can they be free if they need to follow the rules?
Can they break free,
Without being branded as fools?
If we want to know more
And learn the real truth
We have to venture in the unknown more
A wise man doesn't take the road everybody sees
A wise man travels off the road and leaves a track
Or is it just an illusion of reality?
Will death be the thing to set us free?
Or is that just a weird mentality?
Is life just an illusion?
Do we perhaps preserve things differently?
And is this all just a big delusion?
We want the people to think free
But can they be free if they need to follow the rules?
Can they break free,
Without being branded as fools?
If we want to know more
And learn the real truth
We have to venture in the unknown more
A wise man doesn't take the road everybody sees
A wise man travels off the road and leaves a track
Literature
Recycle Bin
Oh Recycle Bin,
How you taunt me so.
Plump from my ideas,
With none for me to show.
Your mouth always open,
Waiting to be fed
The words that roll about
So messy in my head.
Each scrap a banquet,
Each page a tasty treat.
You grin at my failure
And swell from my defeat...
Literature
Dear Poetry,
I am trying to cover my sadness with words.
Tape them against my scars
& wear them like worthy paper cuts.
My tears are alcohol swabs, burning & cleansing
wounds of my own making. Sometimes,
I wish I could hide behind them forever.
But not even this journeyed flesh can stand
castle strong against speechless ink stains.
I know the code. This body does not deserve
a warriors death. & poetry, you're a monster
a creative monster, but evil nonetheless.
I wish to string you into knots, force feed you
down the throats of others. De-format you
& leave you empty; freeversed-
to hang loosely along the heartstrings
of strangers
Literature
Silence
Silence.
A language that everyone speaks.
But one that we are not able to hear.
A place where emotions and abandonment meet.
Of which we are forced to confront our buried fears.
There are no more lessons that the agents of society can teach.
An infinite amount of words expressed through a solitary tear.
People dish out advice but never practise what they preach.
A language with the same traits as a hopeful prayer.
A society where people judge others, as they sit back i
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I needed to get my mind of things
I visited my grandmother today, she's dying.
Doctor said that she might not make it to tomorrow...
Anyways I'm here to get my mind of that and that's basically why I wrote this.
Life is just an illusion I think.
Maybe the life we live is a dream, and what we think is a dream is the reality.
We can't be sure before we try to discover it.
Those we dare to might be branded a fool or outcast, but they may discover something of the utmost importance.
Please leave feedback so I can improve in the comments.
EDIT: My grandmother passed away in the night of the 25th of July on the 26th of July peacefully in her sleep
I visited my grandmother today, she's dying.
Doctor said that she might not make it to tomorrow...
Anyways I'm here to get my mind of that and that's basically why I wrote this.
Life is just an illusion I think.
Maybe the life we live is a dream, and what we think is a dream is the reality.
We can't be sure before we try to discover it.
Those we dare to might be branded a fool or outcast, but they may discover something of the utmost importance.
Please leave feedback so I can improve in the comments.
EDIT: My grandmother passed away in the night of the 25th of July on the 26th of July peacefully in her sleep
© 2012 - 2024 Calmaffine
Comments96
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I like this poem and I need to learn from it. I turned 30 in june and ever since then I have been doing more thing for the 1st time and until I die I want to experience more and more new things.