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alive for you 6.26.25 (9:13 pm / 21:13)
i like to think i stay alive for you
i like to believe i breathe for you
i like to imagine my heart beats for you

i might be wrong
i'm probably crazy
it's a nice thought, anyways

[playing: the lakes - bonus track by taylor swift]
Ken Pepiton Jun 20
I ran into all any man in his right mind, at 77,
may take as my peace,
made, not earned,
used shiny keys,
fully functional,
- used to defuse confused war loyalties
- spiritually de re ligimating unlegitimating
- locking try by first reaction, feel
- peaceable, if launched, real
- easily entreated, sublime
- breathe, smell taste test

It is just what the doctor ordered, manufactured
consent,  the matrix, is mental, same rate of consume
balance
on compute it takes
to imagine me

doing this

when wound
tight, and loosed

spinning spiral inneracting

in all its military ways, he can do
what he did,
snap
from any where, since ARPA went Defensive
and swallowed our core reason, Isaiah calls,

all involved
in believing the God, who gave us

hands, gave us minds that can
use hands, and use
both qwertywise
whole bodies
of like minded children
to become, faithful reproductions
of the average child, perfectly average, born

where all children are above average

in Lake Woebegone,
too lowly
by degrees

life is different north of me

mind space, mud on y'face,
back off,

demazed leave taken, my life
to make up, redeeming waited ages,
as I read along, taking my time  
to account,

Why did I not try
to sell, not as much fear
of rejection, but warning
from Kenworthy,

can you believe that, that, guy was a Marine,
clerk typist, in Vietnam, in 1968, football
scholar, played with Roger Staubach;

AI say, ain't so, you remember a lie wrong
Kenworthy is and maybe was, a lying spirit,

y'gotta try guys with war stories,
and lying spirits, worshipping
in full on make believe,
serve, and die.

Pretending to have been, and being
as with any lie, defended, long enough,
all pride pledged to defend any story told;

this is why we always hate, we learn,
aha, we watch haters hating, we learn,

Naked Jungle, run away, live alive ever learning
what would you ask for on earth, that you may,

you know,
you may picture your whole reality,
you can think and try to think and do, at once,

it may be as good as I could be, but only as much

as there are no records that prove Kenworthy real,

but his Staubach connect crossing links,
to the recluse who created Catcher in the Rye fans,

Kenworthy, told me, he threw rocks, at J.D.



Now, as I was fishing for a verification see,
I came upon on a lie I believed, that I learn,

looking up Staubach, the timing, ain't right,
so, maybe Kenworthy played same high school,

no, Staubach was New Mexico Military Institute,
yeh, Kenworthy woulda bragged about that,

so. What if a person, seeming sane in every way,
so common it is a story arcing trope, in every way
so wondering, once, level, fundamental every way

silly wishings things were become thinkable, now
blessed peace, thunk war weary, peaceable answer,

San Diego Hollenstein, warrior ready, sent
to Switzerland,
with his silver wings and green beret





-- not in this reality,
this is really science, confictional precepts,

certain things seldom are
certain other things always are
certain choices occur alwise been

we wu wei iching trusting maybe so am big as us is

It should be fun to be old, not stupid, in a world,
not stupid, sharing a tool unimaginable, a mere century ago.
While musing, I tried a memory I had of a story I was told, and found, with an appropriate, got me chuckle, the whole thing was a deranged person reinventing himself, inside the bubble of all I knew at the time, that's a lesson.
A M Ryder Jun 19
This is the great trial
Of being alive
Right now

It is necessary
for all of us
to view ourselves
accurately
in the pre
Apocalypse

And yet
because of this
it is also
absolutely vital
to imagine
and work
and dream
of a world
that is different
Cynthia Jun 14
Not everything sacred needs to be born of suffering.

Not every acknowledgement needs to come from rock bottom.

My love,
you are allowed to feel peace.
You are allowed to live a joyful life.
You are allowed to experience softness and call it sacred.

So stop using your pain as proof of your depth.
It’s time to retire that narrative,
that your pain is the most interesting thing about you—it’s not!
There are hundreds of beautiful reasons for your existence,
but suffering isn’t one of them.

You can explain every scar.
But when it comes to healing?
You stall.
Because healing isn’t poetic.
It’s messy, boring, frustrating.

Peace makes you suspicious.
If things go too well for too long,
your brain starts poking at old wounds or inventing new ones.
You miss the chaos even though you claim to want peace.

But here’s what you need to know;
you’re still becoming.
You’re still growing.
You can still be profound without bleeding for it.

So allow yourself to heal,
and let joy into your life,
because the best version of you isn’t your pain,
it’s your rebirth.

Don't punish your body for carrying the weight of your soul.
You are meant to be alive.
Very important message.
Emery Feine Jun 17
is it so much to ask
to love me like you're breathing
unlike a chore
love me like you're alive
I know they'll find me one day
Haritha Seby Jun 9
Do I need to live?
Or am I just filling space,
A name no one calls,
A face no one sees,
A soul forgotten in the human race?

I breathe, but what’s the point of air,
When no one’s reaching, no one’s there?
I cry in rooms where silence grows,
And no one hears.
And no one knows.

Am I supposed to stay and try,
When all I do is drift and sigh?
I am tired of “one more day,”
Tired of pretending I’m okay.

Can anyone love me,
This version I hide?
The one that’s quiet,
The one that’s tried.
The one who’s broken, bruised, and scared,
Who only ever wanted to be spared.

I don’t need the world to cheer,
Just someone, real, who draws me near.
To look and say: “You’re not a ghost.
You’re not too late. You still mean most.”

But maybe I’m not meant to stay.
Maybe my purpose slipped away.
Still, something in me holds on tight,
A flicker in the endless night.

So here I am. Not quite dead.
But barely holding up my head.
Hoping someone, someday might see,
That even shadows long to be free.
Reece May 8
Waiting for the one,
Single perfect moment when I,
Finally, feel free.

When I breathe and it,
Feels like I am alive and,
Everything is fine.

When that moment comes,
Appreciation will spread,
Smiling happily.
Short, sweet, and simple: the beauty of Haikus.
Today was a sad song day
And I am alive.

I read a poem about love and tomatoes
that moved me to tears

And it’s raining now,
storming.

And I am alive.

Were I a different kind of mother,
the kind from movies,
I would wake you up so we could run outside and dance flailingly in the front yard as the neighbors peer through their slatted blinds, shaking their heads.

The storm has already slowed, though.
It always ends eventually.

The rain will bring tomatoes
and soften the grass between your tiny toes.

And I am alive.

How perfectly my aliveness fits my every me,
how much room there is in here.
If fill my aliveness to the very top, somehow it is never full,
there is always space for another swirling galaxy,
another thunderstorm
another sad song.

Tomorrow there will be tomatoes
and soft grass and tiny toes.

Today was a sad song day.
And I am alive.
Elliot Smith Figure Eight, Beck Sea Change
TheLees Apr 30
A park bench, and
A yellow orb nukes its core
a million times per second in space.
Somewhere, a man spoke his last word,
Or an infant giggled at her father’s scruff.
A black hole light-years away
engulfed another black hole of lesser mass;
the surrounding planets spaghettified.
Yes, this park bench is.
And you,
sit there with a leg over mine.
Wrinkles on your iris orbit a black hole,
visible because of our star.
It's just you and I,
sitting on a bench.
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