Not the most inventive, but here's my contribution to the hobie shrine.
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@meritmisplaced
Not the most inventive, but here's my contribution to the hobie shrine.

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While all the poor souls were suffering.
While all the poor souls were suffering, I locked myself behind iron doors. I screamed out the sound of my mind. I beat myself a body anew. I came into myself, I became unused.
While all the poor souls were suffering, I calculated My gratuity, yet dispensed My savings Cent by cent
While all the pour souls were suffering I suffered nought for what Time do I have to suffer? I have to do, and so I do In myself to defend myself.
So let the poor souls continue suffering. Let them be rescued. Let them be light Against Prince charming's Palpitating chest as they descend the tower of hapless maidenhood.
While all the other poor souls were suffering, While all the other poor souls were suffering,
one upping taot
Title: What would I do without you?
The night fits a film over our vision.
It’s an aesthetic– dark academia, all gloomy and grey,
cigarette smoke, with a cigarette high and a side of delusion.
I didn’t think when I made the decision
You asked– I agreed, I stay where you stay.
But I didn’t anticipate the night that put a thin film over our vision
as we stargaze. You’re an extension
Of the freckled sky, I feel weightless– can someone belay
the flood of a deady cigarette high? My delusion
is escaping me, it’s a cruel erosion
of my figurative, emotional floodgates
compounded by the night, which has fitted a film over my vision.
Take away your hand, your terrible, innocent resolution.
Put it on the high shelf, a mile above my pay
Make it intangible like cigarette smoke. Stop feeding my stupid delusions.
It’s an irreversible corrosion
of my morals, of my inhibitions– I say,
“I’m breathing pure cigarette smoke, and I see only my stupid delusions.”
“Of what?” “Of you. Of me. Of us. And of my transgression
that pines, desires, wants, and hungers– everyday.
Night or light, it fits a film over my vision
and I breathe in the cigarette high, get drunk with delusions,”
Could I be loved?
An idiotic script for an idiotic speech about an idiotic conspiracy my friend dare me to do that I'm too idiotic-ly sentimental to delete.
America is a hoax. Outline:
What happened? Context (I am invalid,recently it has come to my attention… ) -I need to raise awareness -China conspiracy -proof (www.fakenews.com) -Motivations behind China's conspiracy
Actions the audience should take -why you should help (Please. As a fellow victim. As a fellow human being. This is a cry for help. A cry in a bid to be legally valid. And a cry for those who have suffered, who have been blind-sided, along with me.)
Let me tell you my story. Let me serande you with my words. Let me lead you gently towards a new world.
Recently, it has come to my attention that I am no longer valid. No longer valid-- Thta was a handful to digest. This realisation crashed into me, like the waves lapping at a beach, until the moon rose with the tides, and I sank into the Truth.
You see, America is fake. And you may scoff at this luciderous claim, deny it endlessly, but the Truth will remain as it is. Umoving, and, well-- true. I make this speech today, to implore you to stop living in the world of pernious lies, fed to you by a callous government. Open your eyes, and notice the world in its new skin. A world without America. Let me elaborate.
The continent of North America is, in fact, a vast ocean of glimmering water. Look at satillite images, look even at a world map! All of those images are heavily edited and streamlined to fit a false version of our planet. Special effects are layered generously to portray a mass of land above South America which, fortunately remain real. How could I tell? I zoomed in. And I noticed a blur. A blur! This meant that all these images-- they were "touched up". Scientists employed by the government are getting bolder and bolder by the second! They thought themselves clever, and carelessly left trace of trickery. A well-thought out plan, executed with a flaw. I knew right then and there, I need to get to the bottom of this.
The process was tedious, the journey to knowledge was ardous and time consuming. I had to learn learn how to hack, so as to get organic information, straight from the horse's mouth. After a month was securing covered up files from government websites, I discovered the root.
A ploy to dominate the world. A plan divised by a well-known superpower. China. Their motivation was simple. Monopolize support, and gain soft power. The way in which they would achieve it-- that was more complicated. It dates a thousand years back, in time of emperors and queen's, when China extended a partnership. It had offered a deal of a million gold coins to clumbus and his crew to sail to China, and claim it that land as a new discovery.
This is why, the real America is situated in a remote island that China owns. Each of its states are are big as a school classroom. Ever wonder why they use the imperial system of measurement? It is because all their units of measurement are actually broken down into miniscule parts.
You can read the detailed explanation on www.fakenews.com, a website created by my partner, Chloe, who has the same vision as me. To spread the truth and educate.
We cannot let these falsehood roam freely. This will only give China power. We need to snatch back our control. To rise up, and shown China the morally right. Americans, we cannot be a puppet in a complex, messed up plan for world domination.
Please. As a fellow human being. As a victim. This is a cry for help. A cry in a bid to be legally valid. And a cry for those who have suffered, who have been blind-sided, along with me.
Cringe(14th Jan)
I- can't- help
Flushed tomato
Raised hands
Surrender. your dignity

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More practice
Leap off of a tower That soothes your spite Jump into the arms Of a malicious sprite That murmers sweet nothings into your ear Camping the wild of doubt and fear Blames are pinned They deminish your might Faith in your soul Is lost probability in sight Emerging victorious in a bleak Snowstorm that keeps Pursuading all wars to drag into years Without a full heart that bears hope like no other Forseeing your win with utter Finesse
Winter is summer With everything wrong Cold is heat But everything's flipped Snow is rain, Leaves reappear Heaters are not so dear. Then a multitude of colors welcome the wind Jacket thrown on To greet another year Has passed. And meet the winter rain.
Air-borne, you leave the nest Winging away from home Mistakes grant you no rest As you wander alone They murmer sweet nothings in your ear Camping the wild of doubt and fear Taking advantage Deminish your might Destroy the chains? Lost probability in sight Boon or bane? To survive a bleak Snowstorm that keeps Pursuading all wars to drag into years A load of burden to bear Do you have hope? Forsee a win? Fight the chaos, succeed, With finesse
Practice
Jack of all trades Where'd you go? Hiding in a cave, perhaps? Maybe if you step out See the sun. Then, You'll feel relaxed.
Practice
A red ink pen listens to white noise Peering around the bars Of his watch tower Watching tiled floors with a patch of light trapped in it. Sneakers squeak Behind a mop, then the tiles let the light go
Start simple-
If you wanna write about being trapped in an endless cycle, start with a red pen :')
Simple Poem
It feels like trying to grow a tree On a mound of dirt.
You cup your hands and pat the dirt Hoping it would stay
And on the lumpy pyramid You place on top, a tree
High up atop a crane you watch The tree fall to the side
You get down, repeat all you've done A million times over.
Thus I try to help myself In my language skills
Chinese and Malay but all I see Is a sea of captivity.
Lucid dreams
I no longer know myself The shadow of before. (I no longer know myself- Yet I am not at war)
I dance with darkness, sold my soul A price I dearly paid. (I no longer know myself- Or the way I'm made)
The paint I use feathers and fades With life I do not own. I watch as black ink turns to grey 'Till nothing written stays
My mind has turned a game of chess Into a spider's web. (I no longer know myself- I'm glued onto my bed)
I have become my very own prey put inbetween the lines Under a bell jar, forged my sign Living a lucid dream.
Sometimes I wish I knew myself And lived without disdain. (I no longer know myself- The mirror held disdain)
Inspired by The mad girl's love song (Slyvia Plath) The couriers. (Slyvia Plath)

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Colloquial Lang
Hari raya
On the day: All the Chinese idiots gathered forth Around the two closed glass paned doors. 'JURONG EAST REGIONAL LIBRARY'-- -- is closed, the librarians? On break.
tEsT
Tired. Of myself.
Why do I smile so lopsidedly? Why smile so frequently? Why the desperation?
I’m pathetic. Grasping at straws.
“Can you lend me a pencil?”
“I could.” And my sticky fingers grasp.
“Thanks.” But it never leaves my mouth, because—
“What are you doing?” What am I doing? “I never said I would.”
Maybe I imagined their contempt. Children were candid. But I felt scrutiny, in the planes of their mouths, in lines of their eyes. And all I could do was hurt. Myself.
Forgetful, uncool, paranoid. I didn’t belong in the first place. Them? Friends. Me? Rando. Creep. I can’t call them out for helping someone else, not when I was undesirable. Presumptuous, desperate, lonely.
And urgh--if I could do it again, I wish I could do it again, I would stop. No smiles, no questions, no assumptions. I would sit there, silent, good, and deal. You don’t deserve their help. You don’t deserve their respect. And you certainly don’t deserve their friendship.
Okay?
Stop being an idiot. Stop giving yourself hope.
Be tired. Of yourself.
Clack, clack, clack
A pair of silhouette heels
Tap, tap, tap
Manicured nails drum
Swish
Cards burst forth like a waterfall
Flip, flip, flip
What should she do?
Nystagmus clouds
The eye and mind
Do you ever get super annoyed cuz your sister decided to rip up the pastic tissue covers(likes she always likes to do with thin plastic film) then stopped cuz you remembered a short cilp memory-thing of her once doing it with the most preoccupied and guilty look on her face and now you have decided to not to storm into her room to complain about it AND it has given you motivation to clean the floor of your room?
Yeah. Me neither(totally).
It starts simple.
(Doesn't it always?)
An insult here, a comment there, pointy knifes and shiny swords to a kid's heart.
These words are so trigger-happy, a twinge of anger and they fly.
You can't do this. Ig you are too scared. Or you don't know where to start. That's fine. You can try again sometime else(maybe) and you are not a failure for chickening out. This is fine.
Poems for the spineless.
Whoo
Trigger-happy words fly
Like birds in the sky with
Plummage red like
Blood
On the spears and swords of
Tin soldiers in a
Cacophony of words
Another lacklustre peom. Wonderful.

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You and I
@nosebleedclub’s October prompts : #1- autumn mystery
Isn't it strange? Seasons come and go, yet Colors remain the same. I feel the palette Begin to desaturate Such a wonder, mysterious How dim the days become.
Sigh this needs a lot of work. Go fix it sometime. Turn it into a story.
Winds and lost-and-founds.
How did you
wind up in a lost and found?
Did you walk past? Were you distracted?
Had you
chased another treasure?
Where were you as it
clattered onto the concete floor?
Where were you as it
scattered like the Anemoi winds?
Love drowned Zephyros in anger
Boreos never fared so well
Young Eruos has grown...
Not out of the sun
Ventis still bound
Free plains, free pains
Take the liberty
And steal me away.
Yes, I am weak. No, I do not spend all my free time reading greek mythology.
Oh and i'm basic, too. So this poem is about losing yourself.