Everyone is dying and burning and there's nothing I can do

I'm not being cynical right now, this is pure fact

The world is on fire so I'll roast a marshmallow

Have s'mores with the people who aren't burnt corpses

If it's fucked, what can we do? Screwed is screwed.

Let's dance around the fire, tell stories and have fun

Until it decides to consume us

Purification and renewal are symbolized by fire, along with creativity, passion and desire.

Protection and safety, fanned from a spark, encircling the fire, the light in the dark.

Vitality, energy, intuition, the divine, fire oh fire a positive sign.

Yet fire can burn and rage untamed. Not freedom, but anger and war and pain.

Not warmth, but acres of forest aflame. Not comfort but temperatures gone insane.

Will we rise like the phoenix, renewed and evolved?

The flame of compassion, our problems solved?

An alchemical transformation, our hearts of gold?

All the burning greed and hate gone cold?

(I'm NO poet, but enjoyed the challenge.)

“No.”

“I’m sorry, honey, but it will make life so much easier for both of us.”

“I already feel like you’ve become more mother than spouse with this sickness. Now this? I’m an adult, not a baby.”

“I know. It’s not a big deal.”

“Then you wear them!”

“I’m sure I will someday, especially if it keeps me from having to get up in the middle of the night, remove the bed linen, load the washing machine, remake the bed, change my pajamas and then try to go back to sleep.”

“Fine. I’ll get Dependence.”

“Depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“Nevermind.”

Everything runs together. Thoughts. They interject, interrupt, intercede, intersect. I begin intricately laid out mind designs…midstream…and twenty steps ahead. This steam engine barrels down the track. Carefree of obstacles or pedestrians. Caution was thrown to the wind the instant my feet hit the floor. Mind numbing quantities of all consuming thoughts crush against my skull on the inside. Rabbit holes hang on the end of every word. Post-its. Lists. To do’s. Jumbled. Out of order. Out of context. Out of time. Anxiety rises up and takes a seat on my chest. Absolved of duty to distract. Adderall silences my mind.

To know you

Get to that place

Where no one else can go.

To visit you there

Hold your feelings

Side by side

Fight for our lives.

Be a little less

Empty inside.

Can't cure our broken bits

Will still come up short

As we tally our hits

Wronged by the miss.

But in an instant

Hope finds an instance

Meet your eyes

No words

As our Souls reflect.

My wish

That solid Truth

You have me

And I have you.

Around us

The Universe swarms

Vast is the darkness

Cold and unknown.

But never again

Will we be unfound

And alone.

Happy birthday.

In the heart of neon nights, where shadows dance,

The lungs breathes their secrets, whispers of romance.

Concrete veins pulse with electric dreams,

As souls collide in kaleidoscope streams.

In alleyways,it bloomed like wildflowers,

As we shared tales of love, loss, and stolen hours,

In the night dinner hours, with you my Darling,

Broken glass reflecting the moon's tender gaze,

As lovers trace constellations in the haze.

Oh, this love hums with forgotten melodies,

The hard times we went through with you emma,

The differences that caused us to cross parths,

But our love worn it all, yeah me and you emma,

In the quiet of dawn, when the sun tiptoes across the sky,

I gather stardust in my palms, weaving wishes for you,

Your laughter, a melody that dances through my veins,

And your eyes, twin galaxies where my heart remains.

On this day, when the universe celebrates you,

your 19th trip around the sun,I pen verses of love,

whispered secrets of our worth.

Your smile, a sunrise painting hues upon my soul,

And your touch, a gentle breeze that makes me whole.

Let the winds carry my words to where you reside,

A symphony of affection, a love that won't subside.

May your days be adorned with petals of joy,

And your nights cradle dreams that never decoy.

Happy birthday, my love, wrapped in constellations,

You are the poetry I breathe, the sweetest revelations.

May time etch our story in celestial ink,

As we waltz through life, hand in hand, on love's brink,

My our love prosper for eternity my love emmaculate,

Happy birthday.

Poetry by Lewis mwenda,

Title: Happy birthday

Am 20 years old,

Style:free style piece,

My hobbies: reading books, going for adventures and traveling.

I live in Kenya at a place called chuka.

p.o.box 84-60403,

Magumoni-chuka.

I am a second year student at kisii university taking bachelor of arts in geography.

is deceptive

as that (by-my-self)

is inaccurate

the 'we,' dispossessed

and self, associative

at best ...

my mind's

so far gone

I cannot begin

to say how long

or how come,

save the distance

between my

and self

has become

protracted,

and when it

happened

well

I'd

also like to know

and that thought

will not leave me

(alone)

06.27.2024

Alone challenge @dctezcan

“Shoot for the moon,” they said. “Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.” And so I did. I aimed for the moon, shot higher than I had ever dared, higher than I had ever dreamed.

I didn’t quite make it, but that’s okay. They were right – I landed among the stars. And it was beautiful.

It was darker than I had imagined among those tiny pinpricks of light. From Earth, they always seemed so close together – little communities of stars joined together in their constellation neighborhoods. But once I was out there, I realized how lonely they truly were. Even the closest stars were hundreds of thousands of miles apart.

And now I am among them, a dark spot floating in a dark sea, occasionally passing other shadows, blacker than the inky void that serves as our background. Sometimes when I remember who I once was, I search for something to reach for again, but I think I’ve gone as far as I can go. There’s nothing left to reach for, at least nothing that I can see. I can’t even move backward because there is no backward; there is no direction at all. There is only blackness and shadows and tiny pinpricks of light too far away to reach in one timeline or a hundred.

I long to search for the inspiration and motivation I once had, but it’s hard to see by the light of stars and shadows.

I bite.

I bite.

I bite myself.

I bite myself to distract.

I bite myself to distract from the fact....

from the fact that I'm going insane.

I don't even remember my own name.

Reality is confused with an endless race.

Just pick up the pace,

Alone,

that's all I feel.

An empty pit of loneliness

stretched out before a meal.

Yet,

I cannot eat.

I stare and stare at the delicious feast

but I know it is not for me.

It is for others,

those that have never starved.

Those that live their lives

in the glamour of a bar.

It's not for me,

I tell myself its ok.

It's ok that I can't tell anyone

what I want to say.

Its ok

that my first language doesn't feel like my own,

Its ok

that those who want to hurt me

call me home

Its ok

I can't communicate

without shaking my hands.

Its ok

that I relate to the villain

and never really have a plan.

I hope its ok to be different,

to be lost in a crowd,

to know you're alone

no matter how many people are around.

I hope its ok

to feel what I feel

because I have finally convinced myself

that every single part of it

is real.

The alone nights, seeing things beyond the stars.

The days when I don't want to think about it anymore!

Those times where I don't want anything but to go to bed,

but I sit there

and stare

at a screen

instead......

Those days where I wake up and everything is pain, when I stay silent and just wait for the end of the day. I don't tell a soul, what happens in my mind. All the shattered glass and figments inside. Everything is breaking in the eclipse of time. Moment to moment reality unwinds. Everything dwindles into decline. I sit alone now, as I have many times before. Slowly going insane from the inventions of war.