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Sam Luna Poem
To ponder or not to ponder - that is the question.
Is it a waste of my precious seconds, minutes, hours
To dwell on the questions that plague my mind?
I spend my waking and waning hours mulling and considering,
Crashing waves of question marks and possibilities
Dance around in my mind's eye, quelling the beast of sleep.
A skeptical girl's dream is a paranoid's nightmare.
The mind wanders the winding path, ways blockaded by the
immaturity of age's eye. Paths extend,
arms outstretched, sclera comes into view. I enter the land
of darkness and trivial trifles, numbers rapidly rising.
To observe then look away - oh what a gift.
The fluttering, juvenile gaze upon life offers a plethora of privileges.
A jovial demeanor, an emaciated ego, a blithe smile -
charities that are given to the majority.
The plights that plague me are mere afterthoughts
in the meandering mind of the thoughtless. Idealizing,
reading, puzzling reserve themselves for the
fragmented, slightly distorted. And now I must
ponder, what the slightly distorted
save themselves from.
Copyright © Sam Luna | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Sam Luna Poem
"And my thoughts are all sensations"
And my sensations are all my thoughts.
The sun controls the moon,
and the moon controls me.
She said she was a she/they/we,
and we just laughed. Not
her we, just us.
And my thoughts are all sensations,
we'll only ever be as smart as your sun.
But the sun controls the moon,
and the moon controls we.
You've heard this before, haven't you?
And my sensations are all my thoughts,
arbitrary thoughts, facetious thoughts,
as we see my body walking into the ocean,
but we're only on dry sand, dry land,
with a pen in our hand
writing down the same words,
over and over again -
Copyright © Sam Luna | Year Posted 2025
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