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Ken Voltaire Jul 10
What stories hide beneath the skin?
What rich knowledge?
What puzzles to solve, doors to unlock?
What landscapes to explore?
Oceans undiscovered,
Ripe with creatures beyond comprehension.
Lands of mysterious hues,
Shaded, bright, and beautiful.
Layer upon layer,
Row upon row,
Floor atop floor,
It is seemingly impossible to see it all.
Our minds fold at the thought of ourselves.
Ken Voltaire Jul 10
Fresh, sour,
Cowardly and brave,
All lives within.
Tales of fear and valour,
Novels that turn into trilogies that turn into mysteries.
None shall tell the tale.
Not mind,
Nor face,
Nor body.
I am life,
And I am a mystery.
Hello again!
  Apr 27 Ken Voltaire
Matt Shaw
Not the one of flesh and bone.
The one whose steel legs pick the world clean,
Clean as American washing machines
The one whose banks are fortresses of power
With all the rats orbiting around them
With the best rat home you'd imagine

The one who made good and evil your brother and sister,
Manifest dragons biting each other's necks
Scales flashing like neighbors and corporate logos

Mindful man trapped in a cultural cell,
Vicious man with reins in both hands.

Not just the world cascaded from them,
But the actual cave inscriptions and fossilized love of generations,
Their ***** deeds and misgivings,
Evil experiments and slave-drivings
Their war-mongering and capless greed
Their style and their flicking tongues.

Don't be so mesmerized by the screen.
Don't be so naive.
Know your mother well,
You won't always be so green.
A poem for the generation z kids
Ken Voltaire Mar 23
There is life outside my window.
Fresh winds blow from the east,
Bringing with them crisp ocean air.
Creeks and rivers are washing,
Whisking away the last remnants of winter.
Through my window, I see the sun,
The sky so blue and a world anew.
In my room, through my window,
I observe, with experiences few.

Within my room, through my window,
You may see me, trapped,
As if bound by iron rings.
The trees are ready,
And I too, am
Ready to shake hands with spring.
I often feel trapped by the long dark of winter, as I feel many others do. I am ready for spring to release me.
Ken Voltaire Mar 18
There is nothing more to say than "hello".
Expanding its breadth,
The sun waves,
And I smile back.
"Hello"
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