1201 posts
  • faceless90 3d

    Demons Atonement

    The shrieking unknowns will not cease with their woes until dieties dose them with preachings of hope.
    Though demons invoke the deceiver below they still dream of atonement from Jesus alone.
    So they plead unbeknownst to the people whom host their regime that's composed of a legion of ghosts.
    Through screechings bemoaned what they seek is now shown; they've been freed from their foe Lord Beelzebul's hold.

  • petrichorune 1w

    थक जाता हूं अक्सर
    क्या करोगे तुम पूछकर

    इस बयाबान में
    वो सूकून भरी पिहरवा आवाज़ खो सी गयी है कहीं
    ढूंढने में मदद करोगे क्या...


  • petrichorune 1w

    शब्दों का मोल कुछ ऐसे शिकस्त दे जाता है,
    जब आपकी समझ में एक अनदेखी धुंध का बसेरा हो जाता है।

    आप उन शब्दों के अंश को बस उस धुंध के ज़रिये,
    पूरा कभी अपनी सोच में पनअपने का मोका ही नहीं दिया करते हैं।


  • ananias 1w

    We are all rivers, but there's more than one kind.


    As our odyssey unravels, forget not the travels and tribulations of each person and their station.
    For where you're from and how you're going; these truly impact your knowing.
    Developing along particular tendencies, we are swept in currents and streams - brooks and creeks that flow and push from the sea.
    A vast ocean of connectedness, splashing and mixing calmly; no gray spray or mist.
    Such a calm beginning we all shared, and thinning is the sense that we are all from there.
    Not all rivers flow the same, some are peaceful and others lay claims and redirect lanes.
    Some build dams, sacrificing another river to fill themselves; some rivers crash and crush with a force that's seldom felt.
    Some rivers dump all their sludge and grime, filth and crime down runoffs; oh less fortunate late-comers, that is likely you.


  • faceless90 2w

    Thoughtless Subconscious

    With memories forgotten and the present day unwanted I reflect on why the clock ticks incessantly for all men.
    If seconds offered pauses would everyone be thoughtless or dead because our conscience expects us to be conscious.
    Our temples would be spotless and spells of periodic digression would befall with our sensories concoctions.
    While conceptually preposterous I've dreamt and even processed that death to correspondence with everything is solace.

  • faceless90 3w

    Lonely Days

    Loneliness is all I've known since I have been a fallen foe of the one that drapes a scarlet coat upon his crimson hollow bones. I'll lie and watch the darkness grow as ultaviolet stars are thrown into the galaxies far unknowns to die the death they all have loathed.

  • scaredycat2222 3w

    Finish your milk

    Epitaths and bubble baths
    Blustery days
    Fires ablaze
    Chilly dogs
    And morning fogs
    Hot summer days
    Long distant gaze
    Rewired brains
    Unclogged drains
    Drops of rain
    And Ankle sprains
    Friday nights
    Sore eyed sights
    Street lights on
    And played out songs
    Buzzing phones
    Flying drones
    Dirty floors
    And List of chores
    Ticking clocks
    Unmatched socks
    Tangled cords
    And Slamming doors
    Broken hearts
    Car wont start
    Shards of glass
    Pain in my ass
    Rips in jeans
    Forgotten dreams
    Shoe lace in knots
    And little red spots
    Razor burn
    Missed my turn
    Broken nail
    Stolen mail
    Tierd eyes
    Killing flies
    Liquor stores
    Dont want anymore.

  • ananias 3w

    As my recollection begins to fade; details loosen and facts evade. Self-flattery, a less-sadder-me? Staticy-thoughts coming in on all channels, my tuning seems corrupted and to fix it there's no manual. I indulge in songs played on fragmented frequencies, my mind races and dreams of times and places away from things I know to be true. But in this falsified world I reign over green and blue, my memory serves to pay my ego dues and any contradiction is explained that I am refamiliarizing myself too soon with these remembrances. Verily, these moon-lit dances we envy in my dreams are temptuous curses to distract from actual being, actual seeing, the actual fleeting reality that you hardly lay claim to any longer. Is it really wronger to live as we do, to have chosen how we choose; but not to wish to fly when you've never flew? Stay true to yourself, wishing beyond reason is a recipe for torment and making your own life in to hell, so please pick yourself up if you fell and look forward not backwards. Nostalgia is not a gale that will fill your sail, merely a siren's call; falsified memories.


  • raulcortesjr 4w

    The Miraquill Anthem

    'The Miraquil Anthem'
    © Raul Cortes Jr. 9-24-2021

    Find your passion, creativity & soul to lose yourself.
    You can start, by visiting mirakee.com/help.
    If you're an author or have published works, you can apply for a verified badge.
    Writing affects the whole brain, discipline & influence - two parts of this craft.
    Various social media platforms, you can share across the cyber map.
    & The watermark can be found at the bottom right corner of the card to tap.
    If you want a chance to be featured, on the official page..
    Use the hashtag #pod, for the opportunity to be seen on Post Of The Day.
    If you want daily creative challenges to write..
    .. Activities are hosted frequently by @readwriteunite.
    You can save your pieces in the draft & there are different language preferences.
    There are different colors & images for posts that are long to your benefit.
    You can protect yourself from those who want to copy what you write.
    Welcome to Mirakee, you can discover, connect & compose what you like.


  • faceless90 6w

    Devilish Dread

    Losing my head like I usually am, I excuse any senses refusing to cleanse any truly extensive inexcusable dread that my temple may brew when I puke out the threats given to me by some mutual friends I have with the devil, leave him fueding with death while I loosen the noose that's been used on my neck for 30 plus years; my future is blessed.

  • faceless90 6w

    Child Abuse

    To the children whom hurt and feel neglected. Remember to never conceal your message. Whether parent or teacher reveal the red slits or bruises left on you by people who've wept when adults have assaulted them rightly with weapons, ending the lives of molesters with vengeance. 

  • hovah_ 6w

    Write too much
    Bleed too much
    To want to have
    To be too much
    To chase a dream
    Would cost too much
    At night it feels a bit too much

  • poetrani 6w

    I can, Eventually

    Life befalls all at once,
    If I could pause all for once... I'm jaded.
    It's always gonna be complicated...
    Dark days love me—hard relations.
    As if programmed, I'm reliving the same days.
    My conscience rams my thoughts: "Change ways!"
    I promised that, but never did I follow.
    My conscious lags: "Later, or tomorrow."
    Why don't I do it now? Whatever it is...
    Am I that pooled with doubts?
    Can't I pressure limits?
    I think too much, but I never do much;
    Life gives too much, but I don't use none
    Of the chances given.
    My shots, I blew some, misused some;
    My brain lose trust in me who just
    Keeps killing minutes.
    I have to pick my pen every other day,
    And stick to it to the end,
    Till I can bring nice sense in better ways.
    A good mix of words sends
    A mix of feelings to mend—
    If not to mend, then to get—a reader's pain.
    I can eventually write good,
    If I write good enough every other day.
    I can eventually fly—I could—
    If I flap my wings enough every other day.
    I can... Eventually.

  • badnugget55 6w


    Mondays to others are played out and dreary. The day seems to drag on, making them appear sunken and leary. To me it's a fresh start and the chance at a clean slate. A hope to renew and fix my previous mistakes. But the day zooms by and with nothing I've completed. I'm left to lay in bed and feel nothing but defeated. But the week will go on and time will pass by and by. Mondays are my favorite, I can't exactly explain why.

  • reshma_kausar_mohideen 7w


    Orphan wrapped in dust,
    Raped mother died, newborn cried,
    Stranger adopted.

  • jpwriter 7w

    What am I Waiting for.....

    It was so hard to find, this heart of mine
    Distinctively I need to draw to start the line
    When I think of me she falls behind, like a ball
    sometimes inclined on a slope
    Asking father time to find me some hope,
    The father of mine was always on dope
    I was crying sometimes but it dried like a moat 
    I need to stay alive inside, not hide or worst mope 
    I'm not going to lie & decide that I'm not worth most
    There's a light that guides that shines on the floor
    I'll swallow my pride and open that door 
    I know it's new life, don't say anymore ,
    I keep taking my time, what am I waiting for....


  • petrichorune 7w

    एक सूखे से दामन में,
    धधक रहा एक झील का दिल है,
    रक्स करता अंधेरे-उजाले में,
    अपनी ही धुन में,
    किसी मचलती बरसात का इंतजार करते,
    एक राह की खोज में,
    गेहरी किसी खायी को.... आफरीन अबशार बनाने को अंगडा़इयां भरता है....
    एक बाघ की दहाड़ में उमड़ने का दिल करता है।


  • ananias 8w

    #bees #buzzing #rhymes #pointless #tinnitus

    (Edit: changed the image)

    Read More

    Zip, zap, pop. I'm buzzing and can't stop this feeling inside that I'm sure is so pure it can't be bought at a shop. I don't feel it a lot, so I'm not sure when I'll drop my anticipation of what this buzzing might prompt. What has it wrought? I could not really say, except it's better on good days and worse when I'm malaised. Buzzing, busy buzzing, like a bee with flowers to graze; I am biding my time as long as my precious, special buzzing remains.


  • faceless90 9w

    Maniacal Mindset

    This maniacal mindset will not quiet my mind yet.

    Aside from a psyche den where will I reside when I find myself mindless crying silently quite sick???

  • badnugget55 10w

    The Ending

    One day if everything stops, it's not an if but a when. The music, the words, their company will shrivel to an end. So like a game of tug of war, we pull and tug and beg, it won't make a difference, yet we still listen to what they said. You have one time to exist but it'll evaporate just like the start. Now ignore it, wish the inevitable away, we've been trained to play the part.