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Literature Text
I am immobilized by time.
by the idea that it is somehow slipping,
fleeting,
evaporating
through the cracks of
my fingers and high
above my head.
I am terrified by the incessant notion
that no combination of thoughts,
words,
silences,
or actions
could possibly satiate it.
I realize only now that it can never be filled:
all which is tossed into it is swallowed in haste
or stretched
so far
that it dissolves into non-being.
I find that I am caught within its furrows
much like the words it devours:
swelling,
ebbing,
suspending
between its twisted arms
and I find myself aching
to do so much at once
that I end up doing
nothing
at all.
Literature
The Outlook Is Bleak
Oh, woe is me, the outlook is bleak
As bleak as the moors in the midwinter
As bleak as the balsa wood splinter
That’s imbedded deep in to my finger
As I run my calloused hands softly
Over your recently polished casket
Bow my head beneath the church steeple
Dismiss thoughts that are iconoclastic
Oh, woe is me, the outlook is grim
My routine’s based solely on surviving
Goodness me, my ambition’s been crushed
While their great expectations are rising
Just like the high rise, brutalist flats
And the tormented tenement buildings
A concrete encapsulated fate
Scrapes the skies of the dreams of my children
Oh, woe is me, the ou
Literature
NaPoWriMo: Day 3
Today,
I wanted to pluck my ribs
from out my chest &
hang them about my house
like wind chimes-
dangled brutality;
a taunt for hungry wolves.
I didn’t grab for sharp objects,
I just wrote about it.
I never knew
I wanted to be a writer
until I lost something.
I still don’t know what that is-
(my mind, maybe.)
But words,
they fill gaps
that had no stories
to keep them
from hollowing out
in the first place.
Literature
Pressure
Pressure:
You try to breathe, but you're barely breathing,
You can't think clearly; you can barely speak.
Your mind is filled with needless thoughts.
Your cheeks are red and feverish...
-
You know what you must do,
But you can't bring yourself to do it.
Instead you jump into a thousand distractions...
Mindlessly seeking the thrill of the 'anything',
You cringe at the progress of time on the clock.
And with lips gone dry from an internal hell-fire
You continue to evade what you cannot face...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 22nd June 2013
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I've been rather consumed with the thought of time lately.
I don't like it at all.
I don't like it at all.
© 2013 - 2024 HoldTheNoise
Comments24
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time is so hard to understand.. this is a wonderful piece of art. amazing poem