birthwrite
pen to paper, try to
write. convince yourself
you've got the right
as if you are
the kind or type who
makes the words fall in line,
besides
all those mistakes mean
finding out the truth that's in your
mind & whether
you have
got the
time to
ponder what you've learned or
wonder if it's worth it
they'll be
back to tell you:
take what's yours, don't
wait, more
mistakes are
ways we grow and so
make
more, don't
pour another cent
into what they say or do
until you know that
you're the type of you
that's worth some
saving.
i claim to not believe in talent
that it belittles artists
who work hard to be skilled
but i don't have another word
that explains why i'm like this
why i can so clearly see
everything in my mind
before i make it
why my brain is like a track
for words to cross through
from some part of the sky
to the ground
it's never been difficult for me
to think of the right words
unless i have to say them out loud
but i don't believe in talent
so i just say i'm not good
Silence
Silence is a superpower for those who are truly brave
Immediately defending ones-self or jumping to conclusions happens too often
Learning when to speak and when to listen has become a lost art
Everyone has their own story and own mind and are quick to jump in
Never really stopping the flow to consider that others have more to say
Calling the shots instead of following the lead of a friend
Engaging in conversation should not be such a competition
Sometimes we are so caught up in ourselves, we forget our supporters
Anybody worth keeping around requires some relationship maintenance
Veering off topic can prevent those closest to you from asking for help
Even if they don't need saving, they might need to feel heard
So silence, though difficult, is a superpower for friends in need
Our Time
Predisposed, is a log to fire.
That is—
if the right elements & fuel are there for it to catch a spark.
Howbeit, once the log gets sparked, a flame will burn bright.
Uncanny, how the same can be said about a person.
Predisposed, is a person to their own superpower & their talent.
Not knowing their capability—
that is, until something sparks it.
Once it is sparked, you too burn brighter.
Especially knowing, that there is always a possibility to be had from the start.
living vicariously through myself
i've learned to be
intangible
my actions are not my own.
i am merely a parent,
projecting their successes onto an infant
as it takes its first steps
into the unknown
and then getting angry
when it
moves away from me
into something else entirely.
once, i would have attempted
to grab it as it fled
fingers closing around a tattered sheath
of youth
and pulling it away to reveal
the monster it hides beneath.
a monster that looks a little too much like me.
once, i would have fought,
but today i can no longer see myself in my eyes,
today i can no longer feign my surprise
when my body
gets up
and walks away
leaving me on the bedroom floor
for someone easier to adore,
and I unwind:
out of touch.
out of sight.
out of mind.
The End of the World, Untenable Whale, Elvis, and A Large, White Balloon
Hello, Writers and Dear Readers.
Had a blast with our video today. Featured a new talent, and also a post by one of our pillars. Here's the link. Author tags in the comments.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mPItivmEYiw
And.
As
Always...
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team.
mortality and riches
kings entombed in pyramids are not immortal.
enshrined in their mortality, trapped in their lifespan
they are the quotient of the division they sowed
ruling the lower classes by fright and fright alone
until they absorb it as their own, turned to stone.
fossils of a crueler time, ruins of a civilization's pride.
glaciers will melt, mountains will tumble
destruction is a habit, one impossible to break
similar to the eternal pyramids, and just as bleak:
a pharaoh can stand on his balcony and watch
his predecessors trapped forever by their own pride
never getting to ride in the helicopters of the future,
they will slumber while progress awakens,
until their bodies crumble into dust,
becoming the harsh desert they were born in.
rulers were enmeshed in their sand-coated lives,
never blessed by the smooth movements of a jellyfish,
or the chitter of a chipmunk, mouth filled with winter fuel.
they never got to stare into an ocean sunset.
in life, they were trapped in their fear of death,
even as they continued their march towards it.
and when they finally did crumple
at the end of their walk towards unattainable progress,
they built themselves towers, far from typical
so even in death they could not be doubted.
yet still, they were nothing but mortal,
even as they claimed to be hosts to gods.
not so powerful after all.
Regretfully Remembers You
Anything is not working
I'm tired of making excuses
I have failed everyone
What do I do now
Hopelessness slithers into me
Kiss me and bite my veins
Love me and destroy my soul
I have lost my desires
Who knew that my biggest enemy
Was my own self
Opposed to my happiness
Comfortable in misery and decay
Joyed by the dissolution of sanity
What the hell are we doing?
Chaos assembles in my world
To obliviate all accepted systems
I just wanted you to love me
I just wanted the warmth of your embrace
I just wanted the comfort of your calm breathing
I
I
I
The ego
Its too strong
My I is blind to you
Even your existence is my selfish one
I want you
My desire
So what does it matter
I care for you to be in my life
I don't even need to know your name
I will never look at your face
Your eyes are gaping holes
Windows into the abyss of my regrets
Your heard smiles are a twisted grin
A reflection of my own
I will only see those feet
Rounded nails
Broken at the edges
Small fingers
Veins crisscrossing
One lifts and hits the ground and the other follows
My own feet follow the rhythm
We sway in sync as we walk to the beat of our hearts
I'm sorry
But what's the point of being all apologies this late into the game?
No victory for the apathetic
No happiness for the passive
No love for the ones who forget
Time melts into a mush
Forgetting brings a comfort
That I don't want
I want the anxiety of your memory to keep me alive
But what can one do
When one loses the ability to cry?
