poetry

$You must burn. Burn higher. Burn for everything you have ever wanted. For everything you have ever lost, for every crack in your heart and every fraction of every irreplaceable moment. Burn high for love. For fear. For life. Burn as fast and as long as you can. You must burn, burn higher. Because nothing in this world will kill you faster than a dying fire.$

You must burn. Burn higher. Burn for everything you have ever wanted. For everything you have ever lost, for every crack in your heart and every fraction of every irreplaceable moment. Burn high for love. For fear. For life. Burn as fast and as long as you can. You must burn, burn higher. Because nothing in this world will kill you faster than a dying fire.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

The war to preserve the privilege of mythmaking

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

MISERABLERelease the toxic and infectious-Spreaders of misery,Souls destroying souls-And poisonous liars.Awaken from the hallucinations-And take back your heart.Reclaim your self-esteem-And leave the toxic be.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

Poetry is the language of intensity. Because we are going to die, an expression of intensity is justified.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

Rocket shipsare excitingbut so are roseson a birthday.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

O, it's die we must, but it's live we can, And the marvel of earth and sun Is all for the joy of woman and man And the longing that makes them one.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

You have played, (I think) And broke the toys you were fondest of, And are a little tired now; Tired of things that break, and— Just tired. So am I.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

A mighty flame follows a tiny spark.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

I really don't know what "I love you" means.I think it means "Don't leave me here alone.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

[I'm]a freak user of words, not a poet.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

To be a poet is to have a soul so quick to discern, that no shade of quality escapes it, and so quick to feel, that discernment is but a hand playing with finely-ordered variety on the chords of emotion--a soul in which knowledge passes instantaneously into feeling, and feeling flashes back as a new organ of knowledge.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

By a route obscure and lonelyHaunted by ill angels only,Where an eidolon, named NIGHT,On a black throne reigns upright,I have reached these lands but newlyFrom an ultimate dim Thule --From a wild, weird clime that lieth, sublime,Out of SPACE, out of TIME.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>