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themanwithaplan
themanwithaplan
A poet in a world, in a painting, in a castle, in a kingdom.
Sometimes I'll write a poem Just because I want to say something But don't know if anyone will listen If it isn't wrapped in intricate flowery language Art the great communicator The end result of our need for autonomy and dependence on community Coming to a head A sort of proof of purpose It's our way of insisting we're doing more than just screaming into the void Which is kind of arrogant in a cosmic sense But I'm not cosmic and the closest I ever got was a Lisa Frank jigsaw puzzle There's a weird spot online A video that plays an extended cut of a Nintendo song The title in Japanese That's not the weird part though Viewers across the world have found it so strange This random video suggested to them That it must be a sign Each person a main character on their quest The comments a tavern of stories of people sharing their journeys They call it the Internet Checkpoint Many would say this is just people assigning undeserved value to randomness But I say people in general and artists specifically Don't imagine meaning We define it So I say be arrogant Create and scream the meaning to life Ride that neon rainbow and say what you have to say
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Jun 1, 2020
Jun 1, 2020 at 5:27 PM UTC
The Internet Checkpoint
I bought a book of Escher prints So I could study infinites and reflect subtle sentiments Against these paper dolls. To find the rhyme where reason ends. To see where disbelief suspends. Connect the dots and spot the trends. The lines define us all. Now here we are outside of space. Where thoughts create our sense of place. Realities we’d often chase Are drifting out of view. We’ll make each piece a perfect fit. A world we’ll build inside of it. Filled with oceans, platforms, pits. Existing somewhere new. Memories, dreams, and starry nights. Jarring spectacles of light. Sirens donning masks of white. In hopes you’ll do the same. The journey we will start tomorrow. Hope that there’s some paths to borrow. Dance the laughter sing the sorrow. Start another game.
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May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 9:43 PM UTC
Psychic Real Estate
There's a roaring applause from the porcelain dolls The performance was flawless they say Just a single retort, from an old rocking horse who said "too back and forth for my taste" But the tragedy stands that the raggedy Ann it was written for didn't attend Did this marionette fall to pieces? You bet. But in ways that scotch tape cannot mend. Now I'll start a new score marbles strewn on the floor at my core a toy soldier I'd be With an etch a sketch shake I'd create a blank slate Make a solo that's soley for me. Even toys know that life is no story book and that some Lego bricks just won't latch Now this puppet will only write choir songs he promised her "no strings attached"
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May 10, 2020
May 10, 2020 at 5:46 PM UTC
Toy Box
Sometimes I think we built Rome just so we could burn it down Made a makeshift Mt Olympus just to find some common ground Went to trial in Salem but we didn't hang around Then took the train to nowhere back into that old ghost town. Where the lover's always lonely in a house that's not his home And the loner's got a lady but he'd rather be alone The one's become malicious while the other one gets ****** But you see they both agree what's done is done and gone That's where I met an angel with eyes that glow at night In summer they'd be fireworks, in winter Christmas lights No golden ring above her head or pair of wings in sight The sunshine is her halo and she's higher up that flight I guess that's when I settled in with men that played the blues Dimensions crossed and I got lost in search of happy news But all I find is how much time I've spent inside the shoes Of someone I can hide behind afraid to pay my dues This memory revisited, this page already turned Has made me finally realize some history books don't burn Yes retrospects a lesson and experience is earned But if you don't move forward then the lessons less than learned
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May 9, 2020
May 9, 2020 at 4:18 PM UTC
Ghost Town
I know a girl who could see my dreams in the mirror With eyes as surreal as the sunrise And a smile that could clear the grey sky morning I know a girl with porcelain skin Meant for more than just christmas tree ornamentation She's pure inspiration, unhinged and unheard of a certain some thing that's got me second guessing stealing glances feeling anxious every chance I get to sit and be enchanted. I know a girl who's pretty like poetry and hot like city lights The spitting image of picture perfect mixed with sunlight through stained glass. Beautiful on a bad day Like classical music through radio static. And my quick witted well written verse Couldn't come close to describing those curves I know a girl that truth be told this poets heart's already sold too The light house and shore line when I'm sure I'm lost at sea. An ice pack and life jacket through Hell and high water I know a girl who asked me what I had to say so here it is. I never meant to spit a flow to which there's no contemporary I just want to let you know your anything but ordinary
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May 9, 2020
May 9, 2020 at 3:40 PM UTC
I Know a Girl