Beautiful Chaos Poetry Novels & Stories

I need to go faster, faster than the thoughts chasing me, faster than the chaos that’s been building inside me. The city fades into the background as I push the bike harder, the streets turning into long, winding roads. The skyscrapers shrink into the distance, replaced by the vast open landscape. Green fields stretch out on either side of me, endless and quiet, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside my head. I push the bike past its limits, the speedometer edging close to red, but I still don’t slow down. The engine roars louder, and the wind tears at my clothes, but it’s the only thing that makes me feel alive right now. The only thing that makes sense.

I'm also impatient, so I grab it and turn it over. The sketch is beautiful. A woman holding her heart in her hand. As I look at it, I tilt my head, her body appears to be melting in some ways. She looks beautiful, but like she is hurting, holding her broken heart in her hand. I begin reading the poem. Shattered reality A broken vision Sees imperfections Flaws and disfigured Beauty is the truth Truth is lost Bound by the words Fear that cripples Shattered reality Broken vision Unable to see the beauty

It’s beautiful, the kind of beauty that sneaks up on you, quiet and devastating. In the low light, she looks almost unreal, her long lashes resting against her cheeks, the faint shimmer dancing across her veins. There’s something fragile about her in this stillness, but it’s not weakness. It’s like looking at lightning trapped in a bottle, delicate, but capable of burning everything it touches.

There is such eminence and fascination in the appearance of those sentiments, yet weakness goes with its delicate magnificence. I embrace the magnificence, delighting in it as the attacks jewels before our eyes, rich with despair and unadulterated sadness. As the jewels sprinkle into our very own demise container, it appears to cause all that to appear to be much more depressing, yet considerably more lovely. I fail to see the reason why, or even how. The water ultimately depends on our midsections, and the genuine frenzy heightens to an unheard-of level. I'm continually moving among chuckling and hollering in an insane manner that presumably shouldn't at any point be attempted at home.

Let the chaos of the night sweeten sin with a patchouli-embracing smell no dandier than a whispering ruba’i. Nobody has got this matter straight— Life... oh it’s the magical mystery kind! In the desert I could die loving the sand, the voice that touches the voiceless in every particle of dust, composed and collected, like the Eternal Painter. Where we come from and where we got to The Master of Fate wraps myths with the moon's squeaky hush, and sound to sound the rains of Iran shower

Daphne took the time to glance at the enjoyable expression on her face, and asked: "Are you still going thinking about your sister..." .... .... .... Ah, love, let us be true To one another! for the world, which seems To lie before us like a land of dreams, So various, so beautiful, so new, Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain; And we are here as on a darkling plain Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, Where ignorant armies clash by night. She walks in beauty, like the night

She whipped her rainbowed braids around and bent over while I hurriedly walked away. I forced my way through the crowd without caring who I stepped on, pushed away or ruined their dance. Most people I offended on my way out screamed curses at me, the others just hissed. I didn’t care, I wasn't in the mood to apologize to anyone. My thoughts whirled around in my head and it felt like I was about to go insane. I hurried past the bar, my eyes met those of the Bartender and there was a glow in his eyes I hadn’t noticed before.

Everything was in an uproar, producing loud noises and resulting in flash movements, similar to a state of absolute madness and havoc. The intense powerful vibrations and echoes from the earth, depicting the unmistakable elements of commotion. How does one particularly define chaos? Maybe as a mega potent trigger of an overactive mind, undergoing battles with an inner active self but what happens when that war is inside out? It's almost like chasing a dream that is not yours to actualize and definitely, seeking an inner peace becomes futile as the internal and external responses you require are automatically the chaotic circumstances that determine your thoughts and feelings.

Bayo asks an already furious Ini and although I could hear and understand them, I still could not speak up. "Guys, una dey see who I dey see abi na my eye dey deceive me?" Angela asks immediately she walked up to us and something about them asking made me feel even worse. Lord knew, I wished so dearly that seeing him was only a part of my imagination but the fact that they see him too and that he's actually here with his stupid wife right behind him made me wish the ground could just open up and swallow me whole. (Are you guys seeing who I'm seeing or are my eyes deceiving me?)

I snatched up one shell trying to fill that up with little sand, trying to mold it. The lightning hurled itself across what was once the tame uncaring heaven. Thunder boomed while the atmosphere relieved itself of unwanted moisture. An explosion of heavenly emotion has replaced my peaceful evening. What could be more exciting than living in a place where everything seemed so peaceful? Or is it just my thought?