Plaguing
my idle moments
Like the wind
blowing off the prison isle
Confinement
becomes my mistress
Trapping each feeling
unsentenced — and alone
(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)
Under a green canopy, shutting out sunlight,
Amid the clump of trees, their leprous bark
Looking like roasted berry, in dappled light,
I stood lonely, my mind noiselessly crying in anguish,
With a volley of questions plaguing my mind:
Then I heard the trees whispering susurrus~
“Stay rooted to the earth, look upwards,
Endure the sun and rain, wind and storm
And yield not to the scorching of fall or winter”
I got all the answers to the questions that nagged me.
Who am I? Becoming? Who is that, she'll be.
The dragon slept... And also wept, hid herself from the party filled with tea.
Far away in her cave, brewing firey in depths.
Stewing and chewing on her mistakes and spitting out the pips of empty threats.
Emerging again, as you, as new.
A familiar dragon song, plaguing her mind and ringing again, loudly too.
The attacker, the observer, the tourist attraction, the hidden power... Which one was she choosing and could it be all?
Or none of those...
The guidance.
Behind the scenes, wisdom shared.
Could her wingspan encompass all and guide from behind?
The scenes, the circumstance, the trap of their minds...
The biggest of fantasy, monsters and magic need rest.
Sometimes a reminder of this from the hidden who once flew openly above their villages...
May encourage peace to infiltrate into to their nests.
The scariest and most unpredictable, with the brightest of lights...
Emerging as the understander and encourager of those who can no longer stay out of sight...
Listen to the whispers, before you must hide.
Hiding behind
each veil of deception
a reckoning awaits
Looming above
the sea of destruction
a fugitive of fate
Grasping for breath
on the edge of tomorrow
the future air most thin
Plaguing the weak
adrift in their sorrow
— the DNA of sin
(The New Room: January, 2025)
{“There are junctures where you pay the price of someone else’s Sins, through heredity, through kin, sometimes even through friends you once thought were your ultimatum, the very ones that you believe in. Sometimes, more than yourself.
The end you come to will be that of blaming yourself on assets that don’t even concern you, or revolve around you. Acceptance means coming to a conclusion, from the deep depths of your own being. Which is already difficult as it is for your soul to confine and or even to consider- that not everything can be your fault.
So, beaut muse.
It’s out of your hands, don’t cry your heart out, nobody will hear, and nobody will discern. It is not worth it, because
It’s not even your fault.
And I would ask you why you are plaguing yourself in such situations as I have done before.
And I know you won’t even be able to nourish a response right away, all because your sentiments are too high, and they endlessly torture you.”}
Wisdom penned on parchment white,
Spine of life’s path, our bonafide guide,
Quenches a voracious appetite,
Minds ensnared in a rollercoaster ride.
Like a hot spring’s embrace in an arid land,
Hollowness fades as enlightenment grips,
A healer extending a helping hand,
Nurses the seeker's shattered bits.
Tickles the sixth sense in adversity,
Reviving life in a parasite's domain,
Ignition stems from diversity,
The more the merrier, they sustain.
Soul-stirring lines enchant the beloved,
Lures a master to a disciple devoted,
Sings a baby to sleep, dreams vivid and loved,
A hobby helps one stand out, truly noted.
Mania plaguing masses vast,
Knowledge bound in covers tight,
Literacy curbing poverty at last,
A golden treasure in sight.
restless thoughts drain my mind
to stay or leave, a choice plaguing dead of night
fate...unkind
one dream on hold
while hours invade without delight--
I'm cold
coins tossed
nothing goes right--
lost!
restless thoughts drain my mind
while hours invade without delight
lost!
Far from shy;
w a l k s ten feet tall,
divorced
from plaguing doubts
and anxiety.
Steadfastly
b e l i e v e s
in himself,
and boy,
does it show!
It's powdered
all over his face;
there's a pep in his step.
He...
exudes confidence!
Monsters?
What are monsters?
Are they the things that lurk in the darkest places where you can barely see them?
Or monsters?
The ones that walk among us taking form as people we may or may not be familiar with?
Do you wanna know who the true monsters are?
Our very own thoughts that gnaw at us like a predator to its prey.
Heightening our darkest fears and biggest insecurities.
Making us feel less than what we're actually worth,
The thoughts that strip away our identity as we strive for what's considered "normal".
The same thoughts that heighten our fear and paranoia of what the world considers "monsters",
So much that we don't even realize that our mind is the deadliest monster of them all.
And by the time we've realized it's far too late, for the monster has consumed us
Plaguing our every thought and action.
Now we're no longer scared of the monsters around us but instead of the monster within.
I crave the creativity of imagination
Conceiving an idea that excites the idle soul
To toil it for value and purpose
As Aristotle intended it to be.
But waiting for the time to do
Limits the glory of accomplishment
As the idea rots in an imagined grime.
But to strike beyond this negligence of my apparent talent
Could my purpose come to fruition
And creativeness oozes its milk and honey.
Let me seek the sage in my troubled soul
To defeat the self-inflicting inquisitor
Plaguing the catalyst of my destiny to prosper.
A long night without sleep,
Dreams lay waste to silence,
Scenes empty, moments lonely,
Thoughts wishful, action passive.
Shackles of redundancy,
A cycle, round and round,
A blast from the past eternal,
Plaguing every sleep.
Nights are not for work,
But the 'mares of fears,
Haunted by the stagnation,
Of old past, strong and near.
Hidden talents, pouring hopes,
Promises of good times,
Even when they come,
Good times don’t last.
4:00 in the A.M.
Useless to go to bed
I have too many things
Going through my head
Piled up like a train wreck
My mind won't let me rest
Although my body is fatigued
And my sanity is stressed
I'm hard-pressed to find the reason
The method for my madness
This sadness is plaguing me
Driving me to my destiny
Easy enough
For me to just give up
Just to lay down and be run over
Because I have had enough
But you know I'm not that way
Because I need the pain
I feed off the pain
I live for the pain
I will die from the pain
Without it I could never be the same
I bring grief to my family
They don't know how to handle me
A loner I shall always be
As foreseen in my prophecy
Relationships won't have me
There's too much weight to carry
They all start to blissfully
But always end in tragedy
So take the chance and bet on me
51/50 the deck is stacked against me
Where are the pure white fields of moonlit snow?
Where did the green fir trees holding crystal white mounds go?
Where are the perfect snowflakes that wisp slowly downward?
What I see now in front of me can only be called absurd
All I see is brown and gray slush, plaguing my entire sight
For this winter I dream I would surely give my best of best of fights
This stolen winter by the machines of these present modern times
How I wish them to disappear at the drop of a single dime
“I want to be alone… with someone else who wants to be alone.” – Dimitri Zaik
I was born an introvert,
misplaced in an extroverted garden.
Mother's cocoon,
which once kept me safe and warm,
now left me exposed to
green-eyed predators,
who stole my fluorescent fragility.
Is it any wonder that in adolescence,
my heart resembles red glass,
which can shatter at the slightest betrayal,
bleeding in crushing, harlequin drops.
In between the silence of heartbeats,
there was a demonic darkness,
plaguing the scent of my honeysuckle aura—
making me feel an imperfection of ugliness.
Until a vision of a celestial silhouette,
appeared in evergreen ethereal tones.
His smile glistened like tender
pearls of white, seducing
my senses speechless.
I am like a drop of rain upon
his petals of orchid glory.
I know there will be monsoon seasons,
erratic elements harassing my presence,
among his poetic prestige,
yet, I yearn to be
the one,
who is forever enthroned by
his emerald eminence.
Sponsored by: Silent One
If this was the last
___________________
| If this was the last_goodbye |
But, what if this was the last time I cried,
Don't want to be hidden behind lying scrys.
The world forgotten on their prying device,
Humanity alone algorithmic thrice.
Heaven on you shoulder beckons you home,
Mirror-sucking marrow through soulless domes.
But, what if this is the last chance to thrive,
Society nullified blue tick uprise.
Locate my strength to become whole again,
Discharge into the torrent of play-pretend.
Am I willing to wonder the outdoors,
Bleak scepticism plaguing putrid drawbacks flaws
Pick up, put down, conscious cyber remorse,
No better a junky and their driving force.
But, what if this is the last time I lie,
Unsubscribe, double-click, shut device; goodbye.
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