Padding.

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I’m a writer. Of course — words mean everything to me.

It’s when your actions go against everything you say

That I, as a writer, can openly admit

That (your) “Words mean nothing to me”

 

– O.D. ©2020

 

Art by: GUWEIZ

 

I love you, yes you.

Totally unrelated, I know. But I also have nice things to say sometimes, dear reader.

Stay safe.

Ridiculousiology (Final)

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*Ridiculousiology 1 * Ridiculousiology 2 Ridiculousiology (3): Friendly-fire edition*

 

Want to hear a joke?

Life, that’s what.

Fact is, anything can be funny.

You don’t have to believe what I say to be true.

You just have to change the context.

 

– O.D. ©2020

 

Art by: snatti89 

 

I find the philosophy of absurdism to be relatively comical, how humans seek to build meaning or find inherent value in a universe that is completely indifferent to their presence. Because the alternative is scary, isn’t it? Believing there’s nothing leaves you with nothing. If there’s no meaning to anything then there’s no point to anything. A nihilist’s wet dream for sure.

Life sucks (I know, ‘boo-hoo’ right?) everyone knows this but hear me out. Truth is, there is strength in rebelling against a seemingly ‘cursed’ fate such as this. By rebellion, I don’t mean being reckless, self-sabotage or suicide. 

See, I think of Sisyphus in this instance. For those that don’t know Sisyphus, he is a figure in Greek mythology who was punished by Zeus to forever roll a boulder up a hill. Every time he would push it to the top, it would roll down and he would have to do it again and again. This entire process can be likened to life in general. The end is sealed, we are not in control of this process. Our irrational universe is.

…. But the interesting thing to this story is how it proceeds beyond this point.

Sisyphus knowing his fate to be sealed, knowing there was no escape, did something that the Greek gods did not expect. He embraced his fate. Instead of toiling in misery and frustration over the boulder rolling down, he made a game out of it. He found ways to enjoy it, getting creative despite his circumstances. This is the rebellion I’m talking about. The gods were left furious and confused as the punishment did not achieve its intended purpose.

Life may suck sometimes, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t enjoy the view on the way down. Have fun. Do stupid things for the sake of it.

Just the other day I slept upside-down. Woke up confused, but that subtle change made all the difference for the rest of the day.

Hell, tomorrow I plan on brushing my teeth with my left (and weaker) hand. Why? Because I can. And because I’ll laugh at myself in the mirror.

And the day after? I’ll walk around my house nude, because why the hell not right?  

 

Absent.

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Dear stranger,

Your opinion of me

Is about as misplaced

As the. Dot

In this sentence

 

– O.D. ©2020

 

Art by: Aenami

 

 

 

Fleeting.

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I spoke to the void, it spoke back.

How? some might ask. Well,

When you’ve made a habit of speaking to nothing for as long as I have

Your whispers are bound to eventually reverberate into echoes

That, in due time, re-introduce themselves back to you.

 

Is this me? Wishing this hard to be proven wrong.

Wasting time fantasizing about a lucid embrace entangling itself with actuality

It’s a nightmare,

When you assume what you love has left you behind.

Its hell,

When reality testifies on how tight you clutch yourself at night

Bridging fleeting connections with phantoms as fragile as the tender veil 

Blanketing your world of illusion.

 

You can’t lose something that was never there;

Mend your broken heart, young warrior,

Do not hold yourself bound to a love

That finds itself forever fleeing with the first shades of dawn.

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: snatti89

 

I’m thinking of putting out a voice note in the form of a status update. If anyone is interested in the idea please let me know.

His/Hers.

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I’ve grooved through familiar tunes.

I’ve been entranced by the same pitch –

– the same dance, many times over.

How am I the pessimist

For simply knowing how it ends?

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: Aenami

 

 

Overclocked.

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The clock hands wind themselves into an unending spiral,

Fast-forward and they look like rotor blades

Levitating whichever moment they are bound to.

I don’t speak in jest when I lace my words into an elaborate analogy 

That better accentuates how fast time flies.

 

We live through the same time yet we run a race in different lanes

Try to peer into mine and all you’ll see, is me,

Playing skip rope with what you best understand as the finish line.

I write the best I have to offer with mirrors as a recipient;

These words are me, 

If asked to look at someone, and use them as a muse;

Who else would it be?

 

I discard the limitations of feasibility with each beat

 The swiftness of my ink runs in parallel with a shooting star

Don’t be snared by the how, but by the why,

Try not to judge my self-appraisal

You learn to be an expert at navigating your own thoughts and emotions 

When you’re a refugee in the realm of a narcissist.

And that’s about as much backstory you’ll get out of me

From this incremental dose of poetry. 

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: Aenami

 

Love yourself fiercely, but not at the cost of basic human dignity ❤

Alter.

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Solitude often feeds eventual madness,

Jeez, you’re telling me …..

Being uncompromising with my authenticity

Often means, I lose friends faster than I make them.

 

Sticking to my identity is a conscious decision

Staying true to myself despite the circumstances 

Means I end up disappointing someone regardless

It means in the eyes of those around me I sometimes come across as selfish

An acceptable casualty I’m willing to contend with 

Even as I get noteworthy push-back from outside influences.

 

Many are quick to steer you, quick to try and build harmony 

In a way that makes them feel good.

I question the validity

Of people founding terms which they believe are definitive enough

For anyone who they believe to be morally upright.

Respectfully denying their embrace, by default, brands you the next Führer.

 

Because harmony obviously means submission,

Harmony – if their position is to be entertained – is putting your free will on hold

Leaving choices on what’s best for you in their capable hands.  

 

You assume a position you have not earned

You trust me and immediately think I trust you

Yet you have no knowledge of how little I trust my own shadow.

My seclusion from much of what the world has to offer

Is a natural conclusion born of multiple cycles

Helping me formulate what I want

To be me, outside of you.

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: Aenami

 

 

 

R—each.

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My one wish with regards to this

Is, quite simply, that what I pour

Through the bits and pieces

Making what you call my poetry

Percolates, through each page,

An unconventional filtering process

That subsequently permits my words to settle –

At the very bottom: the final page,

Of my journal, clearer,

Your thoughts and mine, aligned,

All in the comfort of a more formative design.

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: Aenami

 

 

Reminder No.789

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My mind often finds itself lost

Between the space running in parallel

With the time that keeps us apart. 

 

Depending on where you and I stand

These words will no doubt come across different.

When I share my story, my intention is not to harvest your pity.

No, not when I can do that exceptionally well on my own.

 

Nine out of ten dentists have nothing for this cavity

Naturally, It’s not a teeth thing,

It is instead, the emptiness I keep hidden within.

A void I shamelessly fill with material desires that do nothing

In the mending of my soul.

 

Took a long time to understand what strength means to me

It’s not the relentlessness of one’s conviction,

Or having hope that is absolute or concrete.

Strength begins in the admittance of weakness.

 

Strength, to me, is having the courage to be kind

To others and yourself

Despite having no incentive to do so

At all.

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: Aenami

//\\Burning//\\

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What am I angry about today?

I appreciate your forwardness

But that would have been a good question, had I,

Like many others, taken refuge

In considering only one avenue of thought.

 

No, the question I choose to engage in

Is what shouldn’t I be angry about today? 

‘Cause every day feels like a cleansing, having to dig deep,

Sifting through bags of dirt, trying to get to

That which I’m naturally drawn to.

 

How many have grown accustomed to garbage

To the point where the day-to-day

Has become a matter of finding

Which landfill shines the brightest?

 

Variety is the spice of life and yet I believe

 There a too many cooks looking to touch the lining of the cookbook

It’s over-kill; I mean, look at all the ingredients cluttering the cabinets

Look at all these wannabes donning chef hats

Sprinkling all manner of seasonings in the kitchen;

Hoping their vision of the right taste sticks,

All this with little regard for the consequences.

 

They preach visions from their wet dreams

A near clinical state of delusion,

Claiming to hold answers on what’s best

For you, me, everyone and the greater good.

It’s a shame

That those who know what they are talking about

Meld like clay,

With those who wish to be part of the aforementioned.

 

Watch how they flinch when I share my own worldview

That if there’s a heaven, everyone will make their way to it.

Because I believe God makes no mistakes with his creations.

But no, they say, those who do bad will burn, they say,

Like seriously, are you that sick?

So sick that you’d seek catharsis from the smell of charred flesh.

 

I spend as much time talking about religion as I do 

Tossing unlit molotovs at different riots. None.

I don’t judge you, so don’t judge me.

Do what works for you and let me do what works for me.

 

With the state of the world

It’s hard to know when you’ve got your hands on a sure thing

So excuse me for believing in a little more light,

Excuse me while I choose to believe in a world

With a better ending than the one transcribed.

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: Aenami