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Literature Text
Static noise,
a white background
with black gaps
where signals are
lost in ether.
The silence is nice,
free from subliminality
and the messages
they want you to read.
Go to school,
get a job,
pay your taxes,
obey the law.
Society is rotten,
and wasted to the core;
but, when art is unrestrained
we can become free.
a white background
with black gaps
where signals are
lost in ether.
The silence is nice,
free from subliminality
and the messages
they want you to read.
Go to school,
get a job,
pay your taxes,
obey the law.
Society is rotten,
and wasted to the core;
but, when art is unrestrained
we can become free.
Literature
Dream #1
So this dreams starts off that I went to a store with Jamie (friend) and his dad, but there was no significant dialogue to remember. We went to a small shop that sold all kinds of things, from soap to used "ds" games. I didn't know the name of the store, but I did know that my art teacher and my teacher from fifth, sixth, and seventh grade was working there with someone else that didn't look familiar. For some odd reason I was really tired and was unable to keep my eyes open, but after awhile I had infinite energy but by then Jamie and his dad had bought what they came here for.
After that I don't remember seeing their vehicle, it just tr
Literature
Breathe
I’ve known how to breathe all my life,
at least that’s what I’ve been told.
No one taught me
no one showed me how
I just opened my mouth and
breathe in,
breathe out.
If I never had to learn how to live
why does it sometimes feel
so goddamn hard to fill my lungs
and let go of everything
like I’ve been born to do?
Why did no one tell me about the earth
and how it lives too,
about how when I press my ear to the dirt
I can hear it wheezing and
crying all at once?
Someone once told me that,
someone once said that the Earth is alive
and it inhales children’s footsteps
and exhales the trees whispers
and sighs the so
Literature
Sleep
Sleep's strong arms grasp me
Pulling me under its serene surface
Rippling the lake of fantasy
I emerge on the other side
Familiarity of secret desires warming me
False sense of safety securing me
Here I can adventure, take risk
Or simply relax with those that are dear
I feel feelings real life rarely offers
Such as joy, admiration, bliss,
No worries of what others think
What might harm me
What will betray me
Freeing spaces and cozy corners
Heal the mind from reality
Heal the soul from cruelty
And others wonder why
I occupy my spare time
On a mattress
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Death to pop culture. Long live the outcast.
© 2013 - 2024 Nghts1lk3r
Comments2
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Good poem, I have to admit I relate to this rather easily, especially how art is a way to free ourselves from the tedium that is life.