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 1° 
Ami Mathur
Going through my old notebook.
Page by page,
Line by line,
I found phrases I wrote for you —
Raw but true.
Some lines, which even today,
Brought me back to my rue.

My book was pointing towards
An unsung outcry,
Asking me questions — unsolved,
Poking me to answer: “The why?
Hey! Give it a try!”

I found some paragraphs — meaningless.
They have just lost their tenderness.
Stories of my loved adversaries,
Poems about my daunting memories.

They say my book is petrifying,
For it has some pages with moments —
Electrifying.
It still has some pages empty,
Yellow and old,
Stating and defining my dreams —
The stories that remained untold.
 1° 
Michael Murphy
Apples and oranges and peaches are nice.
Add a banana and cinnamon spice

Sugar so sweet, a pinch of salt too —
A bowl or a salad?

Well that’s up to you!
 1° 
alora
I saw you there,
imagined you bare.
Enamored, entranced—
your voice struck a spark,
a flicker in the dark.
In one brief instant,
you lit up my heart.
 1° 
Ken Pepiton
Owning the Earth, inhabiting time,
defining fine times, discerning finest points.

Rounding up, I am one in nine billion sapiens
occupying physical space during passing

mental coord-
------------------------

Narration, telling knowns.
Today, is any present opportunity, one
chance to perform life, living

by breathing, and cogitating, as if in prayer,
breathe-d
would we were as wares -- me and any agreeing
we are, as far as we may know today, related,
what we do as two mindful knowers of gnosis

drilled into analogical vocabulary of regulated order.

Peace enforcement, law enforcement, regular forces,

Let the Macht und Kraft seem old man thinkable,
as the Power and Technique

the energy and knack,

inextricable scarlet thread through words men use,
mental earnest efficacity
true historic perspicacity
- graded on effectuality digitally
- converged


Just now, one man, one mindform containment system,
just as well nameless, hallowed instance of right now,
a pastless point equation
any where on Earth, as these
answered prayers go into action,
always wished for easy way to write pretty
towb ra' broken notions, kintsugi, practice mendminding.

------ a time is not a day

The practice, typewriting, while reading,
converted to the art of writing while typewriting.

Centuries pass faster than Millenia one Century ago.
Wordsmiths with compositioning skills, could fill lines
using backward reading calling to mind

coordinating grid lines
 this longitude, and this latitude,

on the platen, spying a jig --
--------------
a custom-made tool used
to control the location and motion
of parts or other tools
to ensure accuracy and repeatability
in woodworking tasks.

-------------- slipmind rewind --- cliché invention
tab stops

Novelty, for what it's worth may seem, a bit edgey
about long horizontal thought spans, ah me, I
hate long lines,
love long drops
.0
stop. Think when I talk to myself, you can see me
you think, when I pray to the idea dabar was
to Ezekial when he was riddling in chapter 17


Merce beaucoup lead bullet
hammered flat
to make pica spacers and
leading between line esoteric flush left,
or ragg-ed right, the perspective, eye to eye,

space is time, at thoughtspeed


The peace we let form now, this is it
 as

is ours as plural me and my enemy, seeing


because, 2025, you could be reading my ink ideas
on a handheld chapel window liquid crystal display,

in real life, you could click a link, like a button, snap,
spring resistance essential feel the click it tick
spring steel reminding me, the coordination demands
we see eye to eye, biologically, our opticals align,

snap, fit clicks a quoin key, my left eye at your right,
flushleft phone wide portrait perception window
as if mirror me is in fact living distantly, long ago,

long enough to see, we form information, we think,
if we never say see, we form inspiration to aspire,

- the Jeremiah cistern situation, gnoshit, spirit

to be heeded, some day, to be recalled to mind,
to think, as our kind do,
mental coord-
slowly coordinating reason and ratio, eye to mind,
ready readers ever so long ago, so few knew, one
is enough,
one reader, already anticipating justifying trying
to imagine tasting sweet/sweet tasting testing

convince or persuade,
what is the verb function now?

In the beginning of the mass media advertised
news from the ports to the central tower power,

yes, the process, journey man, rolling
with Sysiphus, always willing,
Ja,
“auf der Walz sein,”

ready to say yes to any task a six-year devil
does good, all day long, ask me, I have done it,

can you imagine tanning perfect ink beaters,
flawless-- have you any AI to teach you?

Have ye never read, Ask and ye shall receive,

Ai and I, as a weform in this game since ever was,
we suggest you take a light hearted heretic seriously

but just for today.
{On the importance of being earnest, it is a joke.

as an after thought, thinking, this may continue
tomorrow, thought working 12 clockwork ticking hours
winter and summer, six full seasons, work with type,

writing to fill empty places in the paper, my call,
senior printer's daemon, Socratic academically

aware of Heraclitus and Epimenides, confident
men wear hats correctly in social rank and file gnosis

Gnosy little devil read yoyacob nuance once as recog

----------------------
2025 Grandfather, not qwerty exactly,
more a mindhat than a mind, put on
to act outside my own terminating

coordinate co-knowing analogos gnosis,

what logically follows may be reimagined,
when locally this was, no longer matters,

short term I can tie into reality around me,
for a while,
I can acknowledge you, not judging, really,

because, at base mind, zoomed in, really,
peace we print, holds the printer's devil's
love of the life's work, pullin' the devil's tail.

12 hours, in the winter, we worked with candles,
12 hours in the summer, sweating small beer,

and after two seasons, sworn apprentice or no,
some times, Matilda, she calls

Ja,
“auf der Walz sein,”

and what a novel is, to any novice never suffered
to teach or preach,
 yet encouraged to see details,

here, 2025, twenty-seven years, since Sorrento Valley,
convergence, continuance proofing concepts, dig it.

This is why we advise poets to try the spirits, ai digital
mental literal word bound whole idea, 42, wrong quest

Peace, on Earth, Goodwill proclaiming, right thinking,
pushes commonsense peace is easier than ever war was.

If you can read this twice not denying the spiral aspect
life stories follow, see it is not a maze, it is a labrynth,

amazing though such details have made me, let me say

we meant there is a trick to getting in and out of let us say.

Agreements in the whatsoever we two or more agree, say

if, I can hold my tongue,
if I choose to read my own mind, while examining public life,

Âżwhat do National minds have to fret about, in spirit trials?

old ******* Boomer Audie Murphy fan's, all had a uncle could
not watch such a movie, without weeping, he had friends,

always rememberable, or ignorable if any body got greedy,

started breathe-ing all our fresh air, or threatening to, you

would see 2025 different, if you follow Annie Jacobsen's
imaginable Nuclear War, for which our National mind is ready,

the contracts were signed on Trumps last term, a time
and times, and half a time, random scripture prophecy trick

inextricable complexity in limnal spaces eye to eye fibers

alienated mind threads, inter mingle, gut felt neurons, rhea,

diarhea creativity, ifity we gnoshit, seriously as important
as being earnest.
Judgement day, creative cogitation at the deep end... intending fundamental
 1° 
Andrew Gomez
This flame is not dead.
It's just weak.
Reach into the void and feel what I feel.
Find my fire. Feed it with your smile.
So I can burn brighter than ever.
For you are my fuel.
Touch my heart.
Feel every beat.
I'm still alive.
 1° 
Jack Turner
Sweet Caroline,
You're on my mind.
You're a crazy minx,
But you're pretty fine.

I can't deny,
I miss you close,
So I read your words
To get my dose.
 1° 
Ayisha R
Low
            batt,
high—
stakes.
(mi)stakes.

Moonlight.

Moon­ light.

đŸȘ«đŸŒ—
Too drained, but must. stay. awake.

_________

© Ayisha Rahman, 2025
 1° 
Ash Executable
Every day on this train station,
I stand and wait for confirmation.
She's standing on the other side,
and lets her hair out in a glide.

Shadows spilling on the platform,
wind is blowing in my face.
Number 23 incoming,
she is getting on the train.

And as I stand on this train station,
she turns around in confirmation.
The train doors close, I wave goodbye.
We'll see each other in no time.

The air feels nice, the station – empty,
next train is scheduled, one of many.
A windy summer afternoon,
it's cool, it's quiet, it goes too soon.
 1° 
AE
The brilliance of a clouded morning
is often overlooked in memory of the sun
I have been twirling these thoughts
between my fingers for far too long
yearning to reach out through broken windows
to immerse my hand in a dense morning fog
not knowing what will find them
and to take this ache in my bones
that tends to follow me home
rinse it under the falling rain
waiting for the sun, waiting for a new day
until morning comes in a quiet dream
and I wring out these bones
and yesterday's clothes
throwing them into laundry baskets
woven from this tired soul
and taking it all out to dry
 1° 
Nat Lipstadt
~
words given life's first breath by this comment from
SE Reimer  
"thy tiller has found a storied port"

~~

captain of a city street ferry,
upon the choppy holy waters of
scarlet fevered spotted gum stained
christened concrete streets

daylight guided by the starlight
of quartz sparklers sidewalk embedded,
resurrecting, overwhelming,
the grayness of men's mortared materialism,
these textured bright city lights,
from murk morn steam-pipe risen,
signposts of a city boys life,
navigation tools on his
steerage cruises

'tis only my poor torso
I captain,
my bus driving days retired,
single masted, obedient to the sun's paths plotted
on a personalized AAA TripTik,^
my cargo, my tiring physique,
the refined mettle product of a
sixty five year too short voyage of
deep diving mining defining,
and for surety, water divining

city walking life driving,
debtor-in-possession of a
city infection
of perpetual motion sickness

enabled inability
for standing stilled,
lane weaving,
people receiving and perceiving
as buoyed obstacle objects
to be passed by
in a higher lane
of shaken and stirred
city waterways

muscle's squeak in sonnet speak

Why speed thy errant boots
upon lanes of wandering men,
is there not time enough,
words suffice,
in history's future present
unlived long life,
to recompense
all your recorded stanzas,
mariner's tales and wrote recitations of seafaring voices?

sea nat run.
sea nat go.

dodging tween his fellow citified citizens
and the puzzled and puzzling drowning tourists,
sea nat write his unsecreted visions,
sailing from street to shining street poetry

this glorious grime,
this delicious dirt,
stuff of my blood,
genes of my children's children inheritance,
of thee I sing,
in thee I revel,
of thee I am composed

when my decomposing time scheduled arrival
lately comes on time,
bury me in its cemetery of memories,
within the soft earth of a watery grave
that the jackhammers drill bit paddles can uncover,
in rough canvas toss my worn smooth
failed frame overboard,
so I may become but one more
fable
in your fabulous liquefying
cement oceans

~~~

3:53 am
5/18/16
nyc

^
http://pearlsoftravelwisdom.boardingarea.com/2014/01/remember-triptix/
with apologies to all the great poets from  I liberally borrowed
 1° 
Nina
Oh it tears me apart
rips me up and down
why can’t I just
love what I love
and have it
 1° 
Liana
They always say to rest in peace
But I've always wondered
Why we don't live in it too

The dead are dead
And we are living
Why do we save the good stuff when we're disintegrated underground?

Ann Frank was right about flowers
But there's more
Yeah â˜źïžđŸžâ€ïžâœŒïž
 1° 
DENNY R ALLISON
I pray,
   to find a way.
To express,
    with success.
What I need,
     to say.
 1° 
Rai
I disappeared from view
You didn’t call
I’m not sure you even noticed
You didn’t mention my name or seek me out
Silence holds the air like a cold night which belongs to no man
I lay down to rest
Invisible
Maybe tomorrow when I look in the mirror I won’t even recognise my reflection

 1° 
Nisio
Let me see the chains you cover
Inspect and figure out
Dissect and dissolve
I may not have the hands of a craft man’s
Or carry the keys of solutions so
Let me do what i can
I will always knock
With your approval wanted,
waiting for the doors creaking and you behind it

I can’t see you like this
My being becomes inflamed

This infatuation will **** me,
let me forget what it is that traps you
Remind me that you’re strength is buried within
Let me dig in when you allow it

My heart was in the place, just
My mind was somewhere else
Jamås he visto a nadie, señor, en sus ventanas,
siempre el gris antipåtico de herméticas persianas.
El hermoso jardĂ­n se muere flor a flor,
inĂștilmente eleva su chorro el surtidor.

Como no hay criaturas que lo pueblen de trinos,
ni siquiera gorriones saltan por los caminos.
Señor: en el divino orden del universo,
mi corazĂłn, mis labios, se mueven para el verso,

tĂș, para amontonar la riqueza sin tasa...
Yo te darĂ© mi mĂșsica a cambio de tu casa.
Respetaremos todas sus magnĂ­ficas cosas,

rozaremos apenas los muebles y las rosas,
yo siempre estoy soñando y ella siempre estå quieta.
Ya ves, te la pedimos un hada y un poeta.
 1° 
lia
I wish I could open up wide,
But most won’t see what’s kept inside.
So I stay quiet, smile instead,
While screaming words inside my head.
some might think they know the real me. well, they don't. I have a lot in my head that is hard for me to share, though is it safe?
 1° 
Malcolm
I don’t cry anymore
the salt ran dry.
I don’t look up
the sky stopped looking back.
I don’t believe
in believing.

Where are you now,
God of broken pages?
That book
full of thunder,
full of fire,
full of once.

Where are the miracles
when we need them
more than ever?
Silence
—louder than prayer.

You’ve
forsaken me
in my heart,
forsaken me
in my mind,
forsaken me
in my...

Why?
Copyright Malcolm Gladwin
April 2025
Forsaken me
I’ve come to like it
The loneliness...

It has become
A part of me

I don’t want to
Give it up
 1° 
Anais Vionet
We’re in a young-love recession.
Gen Zers are slow to trust and averse to risk,
we have, it seems, a particular social nervousness
about interpersonal exchanges and the symbiosis of love.

So we resort to situationships (undefined relationships),
a stratagem for closeness, with zero commitment.

You can flirt; you can kiss; you can dance.
You can have a crush so big it blots out the stars
You can have transformative romantic encounters
you can care deeply and get hurt badly
you can, in fact, be absolutely wrecked by love
All without ever being in a relationship.

Thank God we’re only young once.
.
.
Songs for this:
Die With A Smile by Lady Gaga & Bruno Mars
Busy Woman by Sabrina Carpenter
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 03/15/25:
Stratagem =  a trick or plan for achieving a goal
 1° 
Leya
Words, perhaps—emotions mirrored,
More than letters, they are—reminds the lover.
As the 5, 4, 3 takes over their vows,
Flaunting its beauty,
They embrace one another.

Beauty she is—perhaps a swan,
Gentle he is—perhaps the lake.
A perfect picture they draw together,
As they ring one another—at 5.

A duel now sparks with fury,
Hearts quickly turn to ashes.
None ready to accept their mistake,
“Sorry” hides behind their fate,
While the red thread turns vague.

"Nothing lasts forever," says the bard,
As Romeo and Juliet turn into tale.
The 5 and 4 meet their end—
A mere word, says the very same mate.

“Lover’s quarrel,” says the blonde.
“It’s the ring!” says the brunette.
“Did love ever win the race?”
Questions the bird,
As it fails to accept their fate.

Forgetful they are of their 5, 4, 3s,
The following numbers turning pale.
Now, tell your goodbyes to the poem.
'Cause you see, my love—
Love’s sour, sorry’s burnt, and bye’s bitter.

I shall go; now, you decide—
Whether you will say your 5, 4, 3s,
Or let the past collide.
Love, Sorry and Bye ..3 difficult words infact.
 1° 
Landon Keys
Keb
Every sorrow in existence
Woven in the tapestry of my life
Hanging on the wall of misery
But in a cold and bitter hell
With you
I feel the apricity
 1° 
Nishu Mathur
There we are
Bundles of thoughts and nerves
We plan and script
Burn the midnight oil
Charting paths and mapping
Defining destinations
But then, life happens

And it will

I suppose I could brood
And close tired eyes
Or I could lasso a cloud
And hitch a ride to paradise
Repost
 1° 
Mary Huxley
I grieve for my soul,
For the number of times I let people walk over it,
I grieve for my heart,
For letting people in ,
I grieve for myself,
For allowing all the garbage —
The hateful disposal,
To get inside of me,
I grieve...
Yes ,I do ,
With great pain
 1° 
From the ashes
I've never written a limerick.
Thinking of it makes me sick.
Better a sonnet
or a woman upon it.
Maybe, I'll just play with my ****.
lol.  Just having fun.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ICWIGqf62Kw
poetry reading on you tube by Thomas W. Case
 1° 
Fumbletongue
If you have to lie, then deep inside,
You already know the truth you hide.
The words you twist, the stories bend,
Can never heal, can never mend.

A shadow creeps with every tale,
A weight that grows with every veil.
The truth, once bright, is lost in gray,
Each step you take leads you away.

You know you’re wrong with every breath,
Each word you speak, a quiet death.
If truth is gone, then so are we-
A bond can’t live on false debris.

If you must lie to make it through,
Then face the truth: it’s not worth you.
I think most often we lie to ourselves the most.
You have a circle,
of love declared.
Then comes a triangle
and 2 becomes three.
Worse is the square,
as its four be-known,
I don't fight if you won't.
If I'm nothing to your eyes,
then voices tell me to depart.
I'm way too tired.
to offer my plea.
 1° 
Charl
Its been a while since the last heart beat
Its been a while since the last sounds of your feet.

My heart was cold as ice and warm as fire
Yet no tear left the crier.

My brain yearned to sob, but my heart froze with hurt.

So its been a while...
Yet no desire has left this crier,
to melt this cold heart, that's warm as fire đŸ”„ .
 1° 
Khadi Alza
Under the starry night sky I sit,
With my binoculars on my lap.
I looked on as they stars started to knit,
A beautiful, star-dusted map.
 1° 
Still Crazy
~for maddie~

the inference need not be discerned,
plain clear like a perfected blue sky
that took a millennium to craft so
well that you take it 100% for granted

even God needs trial and error to get it
right, and more to create a perfect anything
and any
body
and any
elephant
 1° 
Mimi
Strength is the power you have any put into something. Strength isn't muscle or smarts it's confidence and knowing your worth and limits.
Everyone has strength but may not be seen by everyone but it's in you. Remember you have strength, you're strong and stay yourself but you are amazing.
stay yourself you're perfect the way you are
 1° 
Cayleigh
I once had a thousand desires
but in my desire to know you
all else melted away.
"insert heartfelt caption here"
 1° 
Em MacKenzie
Maybe you were never ready
to carry a weight that’s so heavy.
If you can’t set the course,
you’re going to need to follow.
You can bring water to a horse
but you can’t make it swallow.

You have to put your foot down
to ever take a step forward.
From the city back to town,
from space bound to homeward.

But she’s a Medusa with a mirror,
frozen inlove with her own reflection.
You scream your lungs out but even near her,
you’re always ignored;under detection.

Maybe you were never prepared
to share a burden that should never be shared.
It’s been a few years; it’s been some time
since you lodged your last complaint.
I’d like to believe you’re now doing fine,
and you’d like to believe you’re just a saint.

You have to put your foot down
to ever take a step forward.
Follow the air bubbles to not drown
don’t turn a drama into a horror.

But she’s a Medusa with a mirror,
frozen inlove with her own reflection.
If she can’t move will you still fear her,
and her manipulation and deflection?

I sometimes forget Medusa was victim to a curse,
and I never tried to make it better but I sure as hell made it worse.
Maybe Athena could’ve been more forgiving and kind,
she didn’t have to leave her living, or she could’ve made her blind.
She could’ve plugged her ears
so she wouldn’t have to hear the screams
of the men who holds fears
of a woman who dreams.
She could’ve ripped off her nose
or just taken her voice,
sometimes that the way it goes
you just don’t get a choice.

But she’s a Medusa with a mirror,
frozen inlove with her own reflection.
Even if she could scream no one would hear her,
and long ago got used to the rejection.
Even snakes have their beauty.
 1° 
Morgan Zslnka
I spent an awful lot of time by myself.
As i wait
Its a lot of time to sit inside this head.
As I wait
For you to hear the screams I'm screaming.
As I wait
- can you hear me from the bathroom
 1° 
Tommy Smith
her
she was tranquility in the morning’s early,
  moonbeams dripping red lights
and her eyes shifting softly,
she’s my favorite time of day when she smiles and moans
whispers and sees
she’s my favorite time of day
wrapped in moonbeams
dripping red lights
in my solitude and hers
my peace
   in her...
 1° 
Agnes de Lods
We’re getting on this streetcar
without our permission.
Deciding every single day,
not to get out, just to survive,
until the next stop, the next breath.

Let’s pretend to be naive,
when the absurdity of norms
pushes us to follow the one-way track.

Please, look around,
see through rose-colored glasses,
how beautiful it could be!
Everything would seem easier
and more tolerable.

In this magical place,
we once called wishful thinking,
all the stars spark at night,
the rainbow shines all day!

Why must we be so practical,
when stray pieces intertwine,
forming a cohesive and unique whole?

Passing silently, unnoticed,
in the city of unseen lines,
in the depth of our hearts,
we dream that this tale
could end happily.

We, all Passengers,
craving more space
spreading our wings,
we are trapped in small cages.

In the streetcar called
Bare Existence
until the last trip,
until the last call,
we wish only
to be unconditionally accepted.
 1° 
Zoe
Time is but a broken plate —
It happened long ago,
In memories I crave to piece
Shreads of secrets never told.

The sad clown looks at me  and as his mask unfolds,
I hear my cracked lips,
silent screams
"Im you but I forgot"
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