― John Green, Looking for Alaska

What is an “instant” death anyway? How long is an instant? Is it one second? Ten? The pain of those seconds must have been awful as her heart burst and her lungs collapsed and there was no air and no blood to her brain and only raw panic. What the hell is instant? Nothing is instant. Instant rice takes five minutes, instant pudding an hour. I doubt that an instant of blinding pain feels particularly instantaneous.

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Love for my dearest

My love towards my lover is bigger than anything. It’s purer than an angel’s soul, deeper than the best soldier’s scars, clearer than the crystal water, it’s true. Like the beautiful sunrise it started out so magical and I hope it’ll end with a same magical sunset that will uncover the sky and the stars.A darkness spreading out diamonds.. the darkness goes beyond eyes and billions of diamonds that go beyond numbers. That darkness and those diamonds will show you infinity.. and it’ll last as long as my love lasts for my dearest.

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Society over your own self

The mirror reflection
showing you perfection.
Why couldn’t you see it before?
Sight wasn’t the problem therefore
you were blinded by your inner view.
But you wouldn’t change it even if you knew.
The cause of your poor judgment:
society being repugnant.
Instead of truth it sold lies,
but at the end you are the one who buys.
So why did you buy it?
The better choice isn’t something someone can forbid.
You can and you should
chose to be free, problem is if you would?
Would you chose to love
someone you know nothing of?
Or would you chose to hate
someone who you’ve called your best mate?
Would you let yourself free
or would you let your soul just… be?
Even though you know it’s not fair
you wouldn’t even dare…
“Questioning society is forbidden”,
at least that’s the only truth that wasn’t hidden.

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My voice- Oscar Wilde

Within this restless, hurried, modern world

We took our hearts’ full pleasure – You and I,

And now the white sails of our ship are furled,

And spent the lading of our argosy.

Wherefore my cheeks before their time are wan,

For very weeping is my gladness fled,

Sorrow has paled my young mouth’s vermilion,

And Ruin draws the curtains of my bed.

But all this crowded life has been to thee

No more than lyre, or lute, or subtle spell

Of viols, or the music of the sea

That sleeps, a mimic echo, in the shell.

 

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This is one of my personal favorite poems. Like I said it’s PERSONAL hahaha… So I’m not going to reveal the whole story behind it. But I’ll tell you guys this: It’s a poem about an ending of a relationship and the emotions that the man feels (I relate to it). And if you like this one you should check “Her voice” also by Oscar Wilde it’s about the woman’s point of view on their break up.

 

The voice of silence

 

It kills me to think

that I need to drink,

so I could spill the truth.

But why do I feel ruth

when I look at you,

when I’m the one who’s left without a clue?

I’m the one who’s lost 

who’s been tossed around and crossed.

I’m the one feeling pain and hurt

left with nothing but stains on my shirt.

No evidence of you or us,

so why’s a voice in my head reminding me of that day on the bus?

Why do I hear your laughter when I can’t hear your voice?

And why does this other voice keep making my choice?

It’s like a drizzle of good memories.

But then there are a lot of bad chapters and their summaries.

So again I ask why this voice keeps getting me back

when it knows I was almost back on track.

Living without the pure thought of memory 

my head was a blank directory.

That voice filled the pages

left your name like traces.

Loved how I got to know it.

Loved how it played how it fit

with my darkest hour.

I was lower.

Not at the voice, but at myself.

 It just helped me recognize oneself

of my soul that kept dying.

Because I wasn’t true to myself, I was lying.

 So then I understood, why the voice was a help,

when even I hadn’t heard my own yelp.

It was silent when all the other voices were loud.

It turned away the memory-cloud.

I could hear the truth, I didn’t need to peer.

The darkness was there, but it was clear.

I was at peace.

I’ve let the voice increase,

and then I knew where it came from.

It was the voice of silence and even thou it was numb.

It spoke louder then all those lies and fake cries.

Gave me the gift of peace with no prize

but took the remedy for sadness.

Someone would think it’ll lead to madness…

but it didn’t.

Even though happiness was hidden.

I was left alone without a worry,

so I’ve left all my thoughts for it to bury.

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Being mainstream is too mainstream

I’m going to start with a simple “hello”, so yeah.. Hello. First of all I’m going to start unraveling the story behind the title. As you can see this is my first post. Logically I’m supposed to write what’s this blog about. And like every other introduction, I’m starting with pretty mainstream things like saying Hello, what’s my blog about and a bit about myself. But I assure you, this blog is not even close to mainstream. If anything it’s the opposite of mainstream. So that’s the story behind the title of this post. I’m a writer, I love literature and honestly I think that it’s one of the best things that happened to us humans (besides art, history, basketball and Ed Sheeran). Yeah you guessed right, I’m going to post my works (prose and poetry) and maybe some others that I enjoyed reading. I hope you’ll enjoy reading this and if you do please make sure you like, share and follow my blog.

Love, Jadizy. IMG_4610