Prose
You-You Hymn?
it comes again — from heaven a strike of thunder— not a post-trample echo from a distinct temple I roar— I sample was—Sam? my bond to Adam? seek it— death. feel it or not I shall turn this summit—solid no admiration, no proving a provoking rhyme— not for your tongue funny to tell… but when you hear—me, that you— you-you… hymn? how? why ask— as if I would answer in fact, I don’t I threw the puzzle—berserk heavy on your body void-smirk, my joke skull. labyrinth. no blueprint sign it significant—arrogant… at its—end I saw you reading your eyes—clap / collapse your mind—crack… cracks
By LUCCIAN LAYTH7 months ago in Poets
The Settling
Lyrically—sign, atone / atom / Adam—a cracked apple bleeds its proof:sweetness first, then the settling truth.If it was ever worth the devil, stand—and wrestle.When the storm remembers you,I arrive as thunder—each letter a black sheet slowly settling.Heavy strike—a divine edge through time—you divide in a minute.After… what remains of youlearns the shape of absence.I define nothing.If I were something,I would speak once—zip the one,and force it into None.None / All—the pillar stands.Humans squat the halls of time.
By LUCCIAN LAYTH7 months ago in Poets
Running Ran Us Down
We weren’t there for the speeches, the pink Hokas, or the ambitious declarations—this year I’m running a marathon! We were called in later, after the fact, to repair the damage, step in when it hurt too much to step, and keep you walking without screaming. Running? That part, you handled on your own. We just cleaned up afterward.
By Tina D. Lopez7 months ago in Poets
Unveiling
A piece about reclaiming personal power, setting boundaries, and letting go. An embodied and paced descent into the depths and rhythms of our emotionality. An exploration of hurt and reflection along a broader journey to honesty—the evolution from disillusionment to self-empowerment—only to resurface into awareness, revealing the process of transformation. It introduces vulnerability by way of change, self-expression, release, and renewal, and with clear reclamation. Layered, introspective, and ever-so whimsical, this prose highlights the movement through hardship into self-empowerment. The writer hopes to invite curiosity, thoughtfulness, and connection. This is not a romanticization of pain, nor is it a therapeutic how-to. It is simply, my truth.
By Ph03n1xR1s1nG237 months ago in Poets
Eyes Half-Closed, Flame Half-Lit: A Riverside Morning Blues
Eyes Half-Closed, Flame Half-Lit: A Riverside Morning Blues I woke up today intending to write a "purge story" something to drive the Shadow Man spirits out of the corners. But the system was not ready for the dark, so I ditched the ghosts and looked at the sunshine instead.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 7 months ago in Poets
When Silence Watches You
At night, when everything goes quiet, why does your mind get louder? The room feels full even when I’m alone. I stop moving— but something doesn’t. The silence stays. It leans closer without a sound. I try to ignore it— scroll, breathe, sleep… anything. But it knows. It knows the thoughts I hide during the day. Silence isn’t empty— it’s where everything I avoid comes to sit beside me. And in that stillness, I hear myself too clearly. You can run from the world all day— but silence is where it finds you again. The scariest part is… nothing is chasing me. It’s all already here.
By Rohit Kalsariya 7 months ago in Poets
