Stars, that rise High upon the spirited plain, Drain my eyes into petals, Drain my spirit into endeavor, Drain my body from pleasure. You grew two stones in either hand Where one I called my heart, The other I called this world. I was skipped, The other still spun Upon its own oceans. I remained absent In the arms I called my home. I remain clothed In the bare winter, that stayed. Where did I fall If not against the twilight Skies, that surround my shaking form? Of petals that dance towards the moon, Of a spirit that yearns to be filled, Of a body that wishes for worthy convulsions. You washed up, there Upon the ocean's desertion Of you, in the desert. I see you, from above, As the fallen dove I still do love.
The tears surround, Like oceans that are birthed From my growing eyes. They lift, Though pull back At the sight of the skies That cry ever greater streams To the tenderest dreams I once had of you. Why of pain, Does it need to rain? Why of this grief, I must remain in disbelief? We never touched In worlds apart, Like two devils scarred from their Hell, When Heaven never kissed us to begin A life upon its shoulders. We loved like life was a nothing, While eternity was everything.
Tell me stories, Sing me songs Of quiet verse by firelight. You'll tell of your pain to the searing flame That grows not merely in the hearth, Though in your heart. You will speak, Will you not? Of all avenues where your eyes track The simplest reprieve you've always lacked. To something you want to share Upon your chest, to the winter, so bare. You burn brightness to the visitor's surrender In your form, so frigid, that it melts. You have been cold, As you have been sold. You have been waiting For something for nothing. I did love, Though did I give you everything?
Let loose your feathers, Your wings come unfurled To the blood of romance. You curl your eyes to the sunset, Radiant upon your back. I seek to draw back a lock Invading the space in your sight, To be behind your ear At the spot where I let stay my hand. You are contented, As you've consented For me to touch Wings that quiver, Then to experience The scent of Heaven That erupts, from flesh. You are the sickness I draw from, Like a well without ending To its seeping contents. Your wings do bring A solace to the moon, wrapped around your form Like darkness to the sun. I kiss your eyes, Shrouded by the lids. I kiss your cheeks, Covered over by tears. At last, I kiss your breast Like a child for its mother, To then sigh, when I revel. Let loose your dying spirit Upon this path, under my feet. You are, what I crave Of what, I could not save.
“Humanity is always beneath Hell. Were a human to express humanity for its own sake, we’d all be God. We’d all be one. We’d have no need to divide, based on that Hell, based on what we don’t see. Hell is something constructed atop humanity. It is because a person’s pain extends into their actions upon what they despise. Humanity is pain. Hell is the cause of that pain. Everything burns when we are in pain, internally and externally. Love sees humanity. And, love forgives humanity. Pain comes together to heal, not as pain extending into Hell upon another, though as love extending to heal another person’s pain.
In essence, love sees beneath Hell, to the humanity of a person, being their pain, being their origin or identity.
We are all in pain for where we begin, unknown of the world, and unknown of others. We are ignorant, as an identity. Though, we are never blissful in Hell. We are blissful when we are loved, as Heaven is indeed portrayed.”– Anonymous
“Each human possesses faults, imperfections, all either contemptible or forgiven by other humans. For what is first understood, that is what is always received with punishment. Though, there is something else that is judged by love, being of the greater fault to any person. That fault is a person simply being themselves. Such means, that a person’s humanity is their ultimate imperfection. For such examples like a man who is angered much of the time, has that emotion stemming from a source of pain. His pain, is his humanity, for that example. That ultimate imperfection, being that humanity, is then judged through love with compassionate eyes. Thus, you have the opposite of punishment, being forgiveness.
Love becomes a judgement when it can judge a human’s fault, for simply being a human. It sees deeper beyond the first perceived faults, of a human. For is it not that humanity is buried beneath all a person’s Hell?
This is a judgement apart from the faults that are received with punishment.”– Anonymous
How is it the new books describe What the old books already wrote? You were the mattering For a perfect world. My eyes see glimmers. Perhaps it is the stars that I witness, Perhaps the beautiful moon over a lake, Though it is only my tears. My understanding Of what is so real as death, Is not my understanding of what is unreal As my life. You were the sunrise in the morning, Until you became the darkness that mingles In the evening's colors. You became what I lost of myself In the twilight, In the spring. Why do we reach for better tomorrows? What is there left, besides simple sorrow? I am the pacifist, with an emptiness, For I fight only during the night, Warding sleep in my early coffin. Running currents from my eyes, Remaining dried there Upon the surface, so bare.
“The more dear someone is to us, the harder it is to accept that they might die. In fact, you try to convince yourself that they can’t die. And you might try to find meaning in death… but all there is… is pain… and unbearable… hatred… Wasteful death… eternal hatred… and pain does not heal… That’s… that’s what war is…”– Naruto (Nagato’s last words, before his death)
“Does a person fear for themselves, or do they fear for someone else? Were a president or prime minister say about an immigrant that they must be kept outside the nation’s borders ‘for their own safety’, would that be hatred, or would that be fear? It would not be ‘racist’, because in this sense, it is just fear. It is fear. It is, because one will inevitably fear for themselves, or for what is kept out. For the same reason as one does not allow intruders in their house, is the same reason why one does not allow a healthy person into a house full of sick people. It is either fear for the self, or fear for someone else. It is fear.”– Anonymous
“If racism is simply a form of prejudice, then prejudice must have its origin in fear. It is not that racism is originating from hatred. For if prejudice originates from fear, then it also originates from the fear of the unknown. That which a person does not comprehend of another, not being their race, though being beyond the skin color, will spark the fear to that unknown. All humans fear the unknown, because we each have a brain stem, that runs every human’s nervous system. The nervous system acts on the ‘fight or fight’ response, meaning that each human can be a racist, or is a racist, if they simply fear what they’ve yet to understand. For each human fears the beyond.
Therefore, the greatest thing a human can possibly achieve, is the gain of simple knowledge. To not fear the beyond, and to grow out of one’s comfort zone.”– Anonymous
“When one fool will state that only a certain side can follow a certain path, such as one that relates to resentment, then they are naive. For to state that only a white man can be the one who is racist, is much like how the Colonists of old thought that only the Native Americans were the ‘savages’. Turns out, the Colonists were just as ‘savage’ as those Native Americans, being proven as them killing the Indians by the thousands.
Now, such statues of those so-called ‘traitors’ of America’s past, are being tumbled. Is this more proof to a human’s triviality?
What are we, in this world, as humans? Just hypocritical fools, who attempt to suppress our susceptibility to certain imperfections, by making us look unique and perfect? That exposes our weakness and magnifies it. To say we are immune to certain basic human traits, that are so fundamental they should be named as commonplace, is arrogance, incarnate.
Humans are beasts. We are all savages. No one is perfect, and it is purified weakness to assume one side can reign forever, without flaw. One simply needs to see at the aged ruins of Rome, to understand the truth, firsthand.”– Anonymous
How do you cry? How do you sing To rain tears upon your empty lap? I once loved, As I try, once more To love the stillness of frozen skies For my taking. You try to roam As I see you go To bathe yourself in the stream Leaking of your eyes. I wield a stone To hurl down in my cellar Where faded photographs grow so old, Where memories turn so cold. How do you see? How do you bleed From wires, like veins, to tell a distant connection? I have dreamed Like no other man Who could stand upon his own grave, That he knew not was beneath him. I swear I saw you Among the other women, Within their eyes, Within their sighs. I gave an ocean to them As they gave me land to step upon, To realize it is the cemetery for my bathing.