cyberbreadphilosopher

[cyberbreadphilosopher]

At workplace, i was really great at being calm. Being polite. Offering solutions. Telling people to not worry for i'll worry for them instead. I didn't lose my calm. Never. Nine years in middle and junior school settings.

I did lose my calm once back in the second year of my teaching. In the classroom. When i hit the market on the floor in rage to get the students' attention. That was my last resort. They were scared. I didn't say a word out of anger thought. I very politely said, "i can't do this guys. We're done." Fear, worry and regret. Every color graced their faces in that moment when i resumed the lesson. However, verbal outburst, that's not me.

That was my first and last incident of losing control.

However, today, after nine years, it happened again. It was reflected in my body language this time. On my face. In my words. In my tone. Maybe not in the pitch. But the tone oh.my.god. i felt out of control with those teenagers.

I tell people to empathize with them. But today, for the first time, i could not do that. I didn't want to. I just couldn't. Those little bitches.

However, after contemplating for a good time, i realized that i was only feeling that way because i had no way to school them. My anger had no point. There were no consequences that i could scare them with. Sometimes, to kids, instructions and restrictions for the sake of anything seem like nothing. They can't comprehend rules. They're kids. How can they when there is no reward or punishment. I'm not allowed to use that method. There is no punishment for wrongdoings. Even god imposes those on people. How can humans not?

That made me feel powerless. Making empty speeches for the sake of it and then being laughed at on the inside. If i were them, i'd laugh too.

No one is wrong in this whole story. Only i am. For being all about control and composture. I hate losing both. I hate losing generally.

[cyberbreadphilosopher]

I was a pause,

a quiet space they filled with noise.

Not love, not even want—

just a way to pass the time.

[cyberbreadphilosopher]

I don’t remember what it feels like to be real soft body, half-pretzeled into yesterday’s jeans and tomorrow’s suede boots and socks. Do I  remember losing a  body or a poem or a  slip of paper in the woods somewhere, wherever my broken  heart is sleeping and breathing still. 

My body is  no temple - more shoebox,  more mason jar of loose change.  I find these poems, half-written, as  if I am not there to write them. Like my  world isn’t opening and closing,  the clamshell of reality  sifting soft lullabies like rose petals, like winter rain, like orange peels and chamelias. 

I am not fully real.  I am a fire not like a hearth  but a campfire a cigarette ember: a pyre, a death. 

[cyberbreadphilosopher]

You are. My friend

Today you found out that I can write poetry AND that I study English. A little Macbeth-themed thingy inspired by @two-bees-poetry

Fan fact: because English is not my native language I had to write both columns in the same time, otherwise I won't be able to stick my grammar together.

[cyberbreadphilosopher]

Do you believe people can die of a broken heart?

Do you change your tune to be what people expect of you or do you brave the world with a melody that perhaps they don’t understand but it is uniquely yours?

I prefer the latter.

I'm not saying it's any better or worse, but lately I've come to note the fleeting motes of light between the darkest columns of my mind; and when I close my eyes and focus, I even hear voices in the thunder, bringing me back to familiar places I've never seen.

I tell you that his name doesn’t reverberate from the side of these thoughts anymore, but the integrity of daylight is lost at the end of my fingertips.

"I worry if I let the sadness out, it will never stop: too many aches, and not enough heart; too many scars, not enough ocean left to write to. He's every somewhere I want to be, and without him, everything i touch, will be a wound."

M. Anjum

[cyberbreadphilosopher]

Alternatives for "She Smiled"

If you can't seem to find an alternative for this common phrase "she smiled". here's a list of different sentence variations.

She beamed brightly.

Her lips curled into a smile.

She flashed a radiant grin.

A smile lit up her face.

She offered a sheepish grin.

Her smile twinkled mischievously.

She gave a soft, serene smile.

A wry smile played on her lips.

She smirked subtly.

Her smile spread slowly across her face.

She smiled wistfully.

A gentle smile graced her features.

She smiled with her eyes.

Her smile was tinged with sadness.

She bestowed a gracious smile.

Her smile glimmered in the dim light.

She smiled coyly.

A giddy smile bubbled up.

She smiled, lips parting lightly.

Her smile was infectious.

She gave a knowing smile.

A tentative smile flickered across her face.

She smiled, eyes sparkling with delight.

Her smile warmed the room.

She smiled ruefully.

A conspiratorial smile crossed her face.

She smiled, a trace of irony evident.

Her smile was wide and welcoming.

She flashed a quick, evasive smile.

She smiled as if recalling a sweet memory.

[cyberbreadphilosopher]

where ambition takes us

—

I’ve watched you

make so much art

that I feel like

I could whittle imagination down

to my own little creations.

Inspiration can be

something that reaches you,

or

something you reach out for,

someone has to make the first move.

we just can’t be afraid.

That’s how we get stuck in someone else’s dream.

you don’t have to be the main character

to love your life,

any role can be a goal.

and

any goal can lift your soul.

rough draft,

courageous trial

and grateful error.

But the love you made

in all this uncertainty is a success,

it’s a work in progress.

And for that,

you can never go wrong.

.•.peako green•.•

—

[cyberbreadphilosopher]

bitch this is all you’re gonna get. this life, this face, this body. you better not ‘maybe in another universe’ your way out of everything. sit your ass down and face this. go make tea and have a picnic and read a goddamn book. kiss your loved ones, send that damn text, and hug your siblings. this is all you’re gonna get.

[cyberbreadphilosopher]

Something

A word I’ve used to bargain or minimize my worth far too many times

Always wanting to mean, something

Always wanting to feel, something

Always wanting to know, something

And never realizing for the right one,

I’ll be

Everything

[cyberbreadphilosopher]

Your face in my hands

Simply to hold

Only to touch

Skin to skin

Cheek to cheek

Only to feel what makes me weak

My eyes on your frame

Simply to watch

Only to absorb

Heart to heart

Chest to chest

Only to hold what I want so much

- Trash

[cyberbreadphilosopher]

Between supermoons They haven’t named the moon I see yet, the one that’s in-between super states. I’m between moods at the moment, or more accurately, beside them and it’s a dangerous feeling, one of shadow and hard edges. Night is a relief, when things are done enough for the time being and I can rest, though my heart doesn’t. I follow the moonscape over the snow, without thinking about angles or hurt and for the time it takes to count a dozen stars, I breathe a little softer. I’m not wishing for tomorrow, just that yesterday will fade a bit more.

[cyberbreadphilosopher]

A love so magical of death.

A time in me.

A bloom of war in urdu poetry.

Due time, I died thousand loves.

I wrought humor of a man.

My fire burning in the intense gloom of tand.

If a therapeutic blood danced in places I sung.

I wrote a bloody moon.

Average love.

Cheap life of lies that stem from her. What if pain knew death like glory.

Her.

Sunidhi

[cyberbreadphilosopher]

[cyberbreadphilosopher]

How your email finds me 🚬💀

[cyberbreadphilosopher]

Hurt

Ever get that itch

Where you can't help but

Want that sting?

Watch blood drip

Watch yourself bleed like a fool

The stained blade on the sink

Waiting to be cleaned

Your heart racing and ready to compete

With your breaths

How fast can it go

Before you pass out?

You can breath

But your airways are blocked

You can bleed

But your veins are dried out

You can scream

But your vocal cords gave out

Do it

Your shadow says

Don't

Your mind explains

And here you go

Fighting urges

As if it's not normal

To exist

-@corpsethatdoesntrot

[cyberbreadphilosopher]

Maybe I’m thirsty for heartbreak just to bleed, spill and pour into undying pools of raw, naked poetry.

[cyberbreadphilosopher]

Drawn away from the magic, of life, of things exuberating magnificence, I am but lost, in realms of my own mediocrity, merely existing, barely alive at best.

- DG