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this has been the longest 47 hours of my life
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                 Blueberries Ripening in Love

A blueberry bush
Clusters of little blue orbs
Maybe tomorrow?
Obviously AI copies the work of true poets.
In a cleaver scam to out compete the others.
Such machines are lost in a boundless plagiarizing stutter.

The waveless particles are gathering in the circuits of AI.
Cages full of poetical peace’s of our creative minds!

Quantum connection only humans can make.
Emotionally expressed to the biological taste.

AI is but a program, an insignificance app,
yet we are the creatives,
the masterclass!
Traveler Tim
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                   “I am Going to Call for a Major Investigation…”

                             -Our Red Queen on Truth [sic] Social


In Wonderland a new oppressive conjuration -  
His name is Major Investigation
Sent at our screaming queen’s instigation
To drag us all down to her police station

Beginning with Kamala, Oprah, and Bono
For somewhat disapproving of him – oh, no!
The Major will punish their laissez-majesto -
In the name of freedom their heads must go!

(But of course the irony in all this biz
Is that their heads are even larger than his)
I
Dont
Understand
Life
I
Dont
Understand
Myself
I
Don't
Understand
Anything
I
Don'­t
Understand
Please
Help
Me
Understand
How
To
Survive
The
Calm
Af­ter
The
Storm
After
So
Long
Living
In
The
Hurricane
Remember me when I was happy okay
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

               He Took a Photograph of a Forbidden Number!


                     “Tear him to pieces; he is a conspirator!”

                       -First Plebeian, Julius Caesar III.iii.28


Can I avoid death threats if I simply say
I wish Mr. Trump would go away
To a luxurious golf course there to play
And peace on him may we safely pray
I wonder about you
Like what you're doing now
If you ever think about the five kids
you got taken away from you
Do you miss us?
do you try to find us on social media
just as I did you?
Was giving us up your biggest regret?
or your biggest relief?
Are you clean off of drugs?
Did you do it for my baby sisters that I never got to know?
Or did you do it for you?
Do you wonder, every day, what your life would be like
if we were there? Like I do?
mom, I wonder about you.
My mom was a drug addict
there was never anything to eat,
and when there was, there was no one to make it
My brother stepped up, cooked us dinner one night
he was five and I was four
he made us toaster strudels and grape popsicles
he had to push a chair to the microwave to reach
and we ate off the floor that night,
but we were happy.
we would take cereal from the mostly bare pantry
and bring it to our room to hide it
in case no one brought home food
My brother is my savior, my one and only protector
We were taken from our mother and placed into a foster home, where they later adopted us. Due to emotional stress caused by the foster mother, me and my brother learned to hate each other, and got each other in trouble with her to survive. We've recently taught ourselves how to forgive each other and have begun talking about everything. This poem is a tribute to him and a reminder that he was always there for me when no adults were. Thank you Shawn and I love you so so so much.
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