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Nat Oct 2021
If these webpages could talk
They did it a decade ago

These ancient posts jut up
Rotting like titan bones
Every comment another grave
Born and dead the same day

Our ancestors built this place
Nine years ago
They blew away one by one
But for a few huddled remainders

The words are relics
A rome and its ruins
Echoes and ghosts, lingering
As the forum quietly fades
That feeling you get when you stumble upon (or, worse yet, revisit) a once thriving website or fandom, and see how it has dwindled down to nothing over the years.
John McCafferty Jan 2021
Pale fading jaded moon
Echoes of the same old routes
Subconscious fed what we are read
Some consume such hazy fumes
Supposed repeats become belief
To each eye is dry and empty
When disorientation looms, Jesus
Our efforts count when only viewed

Hard to shake off the grey fog
As the pace of life seems lost
Host a place for creative minds
Build upon what you've been taught
Changing layers of further thought
When heavy clouds pull into view
Energy depletes inside over time
Should you stand affront or wait anew
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
dailythoughts Nov 2020
my screams were so silent I could create the music you like
Poetic T Aug 2020
A knot of truth hangs over me,
more a promise that all things
      come together.

Were a straight line that if
    you take enough steps
leads to an amphitheatre of

                         echoes

reverberating around and around
         resonating with this truth

that all things have a balance.

We start, end, doesn't matter if we
                   stand still of reach for the

heavens..

Eventually we'll just swing silently
                like a extinguished light bulb

hanging dead in the abyss.
AE Aug 2020
In endearing silence,
Exists the stillness of black and white,
The painter holds the palette against their chest,
And their heartbeat colours in the pigments,
As their brush strokes the canvas,
Droplets of light begin to surround you,
Like floating fireflies, or stars on earth,
And in your eyes, colour blooms,
You sit, framed, in black and white,
But the smile you wear when you stare at wonder,
Brings your colours back to life,
The painter captures a portrait,
Made from the paper of destiny,
A picture of you finding yourself,
As the silence waves goodbye,
Leaving behind echoes of your hopeful laugh.
John McCafferty Jul 2020
This femme fatale
A girl that captures
She be bright and skin tight
Shiny white with youth implied
Conversing in quirky loops
As we jump through her hoops
Slowly showing error codes
Could it be the alcohol
Clap snap of bear traps
Broken from within
Signs of white lines that fracture
Reactions to vast echoes of her past
Trauma tinged before the dawn
Soft but informed
A hardened persona with claws
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
John McCafferty Jun 2020
Tides continue to turn
Though Rome has changed
The sun still circles as people pray

Prompted to pace
Echoes of rage
Darkness seeps in the shadows
of her longest day
Still we afraid

Little bubbles rise from the fireside
Frustrations heard on the mount
Count in reverse internally and observe the confusion or clout
Why do you serve one of the two when collision rules for the powerful
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Nicholas Fonte May 2020
I've heard it all before. Worthless.
I tried to run from it. Worthless.
Then I found new strength. Worthless.
I stood and faced it down. Worthless.
I moved on now. Worthless.
Yet here I am again. Worthless.
I'm standing here alone. Worthless.
The voices had stopped.
I was finally happy.
I was getting sleep.
I made friends. WORTHLESS.
Why is it here again? WORTHLESS.
I was better. WORTHLESS.
Why is this happening? WORTHLESS.
Is that you mom? WORTHLESS.
Father, you too? WORTHLESS.
Why is his voice here? WORTHLESS.
Why? WORTHLESS
Why why why why?! WORTHLESS.
I did my best! WORTHLESS.
The echoes are right. WORTHLESS.
I'm worthless.
Laokos May 2020
brief echoes of the past
arrange themselves in my present
like shadow puppets on the backs
of my eyelids while i sleep.  

there is an uneven fulcrum
digging into my lower back no
matter how i turn my long
body.

my eyes open into
the same familiar room, with
the same familiar speckles on the
ceiling that they always do.   the
shadows resume their innumerable
forms and i wake
to write another step towards
the beveled edge of immortality.
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