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The crying sunglasses
The Crying Sunglass ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ I never fancied sunglasses, not until my eyes could explain what my mouth couldn't. My eyes drowned in the pool of their own tears. How cruel was I to cause my eyes so much pain and keep them behind dark sunglasses. My eyes were wide open, but the actions that could cause them so much pain, they overlooked. From my eyes, I saw the betrayal. I sensed it, but the beautiful lie was the creation of a perfect artist that even wowed Michelangelo, that these same eyes convinced my heart it was nothing. The art on the wall became the very painting that hides the tears of the sunglasses. Should I blame my eyes or my heart for using the one thing that was not manufactured to fit into my lifestyle as an armour? Then came the vastness of River Nile that calmed my eyes, dried them up. I put the sunglasses away. The eyes were now more radiant than they had ever been before. ━━━━━━━━ Mamadu Jalloh ━━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━ ◆ ━━━━━━
2
Classic
The Dead
Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead! There's none of these so lonely and poor of old, But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold. These laid the world away; poured out the red Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene, That men call age; and those who would have been, Their sons, they gave, their immortality. Blow, bugles, blow! They brought us, for our dearth, Holiness, lacked so long, and Love, and Pain. Honour has come back, as a king, to earth, And paid his subjects with a royal wage; And Nobleness walks in our ways again; And we have come into our heritage.
1
New
The Silent Stitch
A delicate needle of bone and of grace She pierces the leaf in a quiet embrace And gathers the silk that the spider has spun To pull through the green where the teardrops were shed And tailor a home where her heart can be fed We curl in the dark when our spirits are torn Too frightened to fight with the weight of our grief Forgetting the soul was created to mourn That beauty is shaped when the fabric is worn And strength is reborn in the light of the morn Why drown in the silence? so helpless and deep When even the smallest of creatures takes stand? The power to heal through the coldest of storm Will guide every step till the shadows depart And crown us victorious, whole in the heart So why do we fear to awaken our part? — Brésis
2
New
I love him...in not the way you think but in many ways.
I love him…no in a weird obsession way you think bahah, But in a way that’s in many different ways mostly as my best friend, I love the way you say okay or oki instead of k or kk I love how you changed to kk/k to okay/oki for me It meant so much to me, Because people don’t really get that Because I hate kk or k it makes me feel like you are bored of me or don’t like me anymore or makes me think you are so tired of me you are getting dry sometimes depending on the person you are but thank you. I love the way you call me ‘gorgeous’ and not ‘hot’ Many guys/girls call me hot but I don’t always like it It’s just 3 words not much passion in it like the word ‘gorgeous’, so thank youuuuu. I love the way you are such a dumbo that it makes me laugh and know you only have 3 braincells pffft. I love the wayyyy you are not dry…I meannn you are sometimes but meh I LOVE ITTTT, You the best, I love the way you are weird like me BAHAH just kidding I love the way your favourite colour is red, Might sound bit weir or a small thing to say huh? But I love dat because it’s you, And finally…I love him for HIM, Not romantically. - Afiy-fireflys
2
Resurfaced
Eyes can tell everything
A girl i saw her today at a bus stop, I just see her face she was young, her eyes have beautiful dreams .. It seems as though she wanted to tell everyone thing but she didn't know her eyes beautiful expressions told everything about her past and dreams .. I want to talk her but there is some thoughts stop me. She is so much beautiful with her eyes .
3
Resurfaced
The Cost of Fear
I once again leave behind The very things that tie and bind My heart to my soul so that the flesh Continues its useless labor, toiling under the sun Skin flayed and burnt as if upon an altar But no gods respond to the odor and smoke No deity looking down with pleasure No source of guidance or hope or radiance Just blisters and broken bones Betrayals and cages for those With no homes Send them to a land that they've never seen Send them off where the map ends Send them where they won't ever return And maybe your land becomes a few shades brighter They wonder why the amount of anger directed Towards those that are whiter But it completely ignores the tyranny and murder Committed against those who are deemed free From law and order All because no one told you to respect your elders And that no one is trespassing when the very land is stolen And you're so upset about how they're treating children Unless those kids are too brown for your liking Then you only see the monster lurking beneath the surface Ready to pounce on those with nowhere to go, Preying on the weakest and hoping it makes you look Endless In your rage and animosity No hope for those with ancestors in lands you can't spell But we're supposed to accept mediocrity as superiority All because it puts your fears at ease.
1
Resurfaced
The price of survival
The city feels colder when the pocket is empty, while wealth makes even winter feel warm. Sometimes the price of your perfume is another man's meal for a week. Empty pockets can depress a man with a mountain of plans but no first step. One meal cannot make a man secure; it only teaches him to hunger for the next. Those who kneel may one day lead, but genius means little when no one follows. And remember where you stand— for every place has a substitute.
3
Yesterday
some days
some days, it feels cruel, heavy, almost impossible to understand. you wake up and everything feels a little too much. the world keeps moving, but you do not know how to move with it. and then, somehow, there is one day. just one. and everything feels different. the same sky looks softer. the same streets feel warmer. you laugh without forcing it. you breathe without thinking about it. you do not even know why. maybe someone said something kind. maybe someone stayed. maybe someone looked at you and made you feel like you were worth listening to. and sometimes, you find the courage to tell someone what you have been carrying inside. it is scary. because feelings are strange things. they become real the moment you give them a name. but when that person listens, when they care, when they do not make you feel foolish for feeling too much— it feels almost like being understood for the first time. you think, maybe this is what life is supposed to feel like. being heard. being cared for. being loved without having to earn it. but life is strange. because even beautiful things can change. a person can become distant. a moment can become a memory. a place that once felt safe can suddenly feel unfamiliar. and the same heart that once felt so full can become quiet again. i think that is the hardest part. not that good things end, but that while they are happening, we never know they are becoming memories. so maybe life is both. cruel and beautiful. heavy and gentle. lonely and full of love. maybe we are not meant to understand every day. maybe some days are simply meant to be felt. and maybe, when the good ones come, we should let ourselves love them while they are still here.
3
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Beginning final descent...
