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They may want blood from you but do what's good for you and deny them the opportunity.

I remember the Lockdowns when them friggin' clowns down in Whitehall were laughing at us and having a ball.

Vote?
yep I'd vote that lot into Judge Jeffreys's courtroom and hang the whole shebang.

But for that, I'd do penance
while they pay me a pittance
and call it my deliverance

we're still in lockdown.
  Apr 2024 Traveler
Maddy
Some rules are made to be bent and broken
Adapted, if you will
Some truths are never spoken
Even when you get it right
What some hold true and powerful
Finds a way out of the door
Never returning again
If you hold it dear, Keep it close to nurture it
If you need to set it free do so
Let the excuses go and never return
If they come back in another form
Landing gently

C@Rainbowchaser2024
  Apr 2024 Traveler
Kurt Philip Behm
A voice for the voiceless
whose cry still unheard
Alone in the womb
but blessed by the Word

Defending the helpless
as murderers loom
Divinity watching
— a reckoning soon

(The New Room: April, 2024)
Traveler Apr 2024
Greedy rich neighbors
and their “keep out signs”
no hunting, no trespassing,
no solicitors of any kind!

100 acres is not enough
for greedy rich people
who have a lot of stuff.
I reckon it’s all in case
their going gets rough.
Of course the rest of us
would just be out of luck.

If I had their money,
I would give it away,
you can’t take it with you
at the end of the day.
People simply gets old and broken
with all the wealth they have
put their hopes in.

Eye of the needle open wide
I’ll be broke as hell when I die!
🧳 TT
Traveler Apr 2024
The clouds refused to allow
the sun to shine as bright
but love will always find a way through the darkest dreary night

Take my word
My poetic hand
I am much more spirit
No less human
And..
Don't believe those lies
you're telling me,
I have spoken your words
I've dreamt your dreams

Nothing can separates
The quantum hold
We are fractals
Of living souls
We are but dreamers
On different clouds
Shake me no more
I'm wide awake now..
Traveler 🧳 Tim
  Apr 2024 Traveler
South-by-Southwest
I claspe the dreams:
damaged
crumpled
crushed
incomplete
and deleted from
memory

. . . yet . . .

The lips of langurs
kiss the corpse
of death's sweet
nectar
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