*In the year of twenty twenty-five,
Pi Coin’s journey comes alive.
From mobile screens to blockchain’s might,
A new dawn breaks, shining bright.

Pioneers from near and far,
Gather 'round, beneath the star.
With wallets ready, hearts alight,
They celebrate this wondrous night.

Mining Pi was once a dream,
Now it’s real, a flowing stream.
Transactions swift, secure, and free,
A decentralized economy.

From nodes and codes, a network strong,
Pi Coin’s future can’t go wrong.
Empowering people, far and wide,
With every transaction, a sense of pride.

So here’s to Pi, in twenty twenty-five,
A symbol of hope, a digital drive.
As we embrace this new frontier,
Pi Coin’s promise is crystal clear.*

They asked for my honest opinion
but I’m not sure it’s something I can give them
to know I see past their visage
I would rather remain a chameleon at large
always blending into the background
you may search for me but I will never be found
not the real me the core being
because if I reveal me I reveal you
like the eye that’s all-seeing
toppling your pyramid scheme
reducing us to grains of sand
tell me what makes a man?
is it the value of his name
or the respect he has gained
does his wealth hold weight
what determines his fate?
won’t we all be reduced to nothing
despite clinging onto something
is this really what you want to hear
or would you rather I placate your fear
passing my smile around the room
I guess it doesn’t matter either way
it will all be over soon.

Remains spread across a mossy bed,
Trees warned of the wind above,
Dissuaded from reassembling,
Decided rotting was better,
Transforming into the earth below.

These hands,
These arms,
This torso,
This mess,

It’s more so,
Less so,
Guess so,
It’s so-so.

From moss comes the dewdrops,
Caught sight of the glimmer,
Travelling inside of fingernail beds,
Through pumping varicose veins,
The pressure erupts through-

These eyes,
These ears,
This nose,
This mess.

It’s more so,
Less so,
Guess so,
It’s so-so.

These legs,
These feet,
This tragedy,
This mess.

I’m less so,
More so,
Guess so,
I’m so-so.

Startled awake,
Thought I was fake,
It didn’t take,
For heaven’s sake.

The story of revolution
the glory of Che
The fury of wander
a doctor’s foray

Silver spoon of his birth
the high noon of choice
A tune peasants cling to
that force in his voice

Daring insurrection
then falling from grace
Each stalling acceptance
a rebel’s embrace

His legend in khaki
a friend to the weak
Unbending in spirit
— both joyous and bleak

(Dreamsleep: December, 2024)