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 1066° 
Marc Morais
It is not just when the wind cuts
like the sharp side of a sigh
and the grit of the world
burns hard
against my lids.

It is when I am asked
too much of the moment—
the cordial crush of a hand
against the shy curve
of my wrist—

I close my mind
when the light rushes
through my lashes
when it spills over my knowing
too bright, too quick.
Memory sharpens
teeth biting down
on the soft parts of me.

The world turns
into a room too crowded—
promises clambering over each other
their breath pressing
thick and restless
waiting for me
to choose one to believe in.

And sometimes
it is only for the sake
of opening them again
to see the world sharper—
to let the colors
bleed into my seeing
to watch the light
forgive me
for looking away.
I tried to capture what anxiety feels like from the inside—it is not always loud or obvious. Sometimes,  it's the  subtle that overwhelms—the pressure of  too many expectations, the way even kindness can feel intrusive, or how light and noise can be too much all at once.
 748° 
Ken Pepiton
Diametric opposites, polarized,
me assured,
I am

at this point,
on this given day
in these taken chances

using my time just fine,

to breathe,
and find my bearings,

things assisting painless turnings,

near perfect spheres, bearings,
in this same race, each have
being same round and round

behavior, thinking between letters,
letting the rivers
of white
in justified
machine set
type leave impressions
of meandering,

I have a sister lost
in dementia, me and
her, we have a marvelously rare history.

She became
to be come quite old, and happy enough,

some old pains, quite old, local shames and such.

Pain at personal scale, old.

Told. For thinking about old mindform we wore
uniformly joining
by invitation any weform reforming

after that atom bomb blew our mind's
and religions hell's
was apoppin', bells was a rangin' rage,
rage against,

the very mechanics of mental advancement.

Mental agreement, mind join agreement,

binding by my back ups in the may be book,
whither any idle word uttered
in conscience confident
all cons are gamers
with science
used as ware
under tortuous line
by line life's values re-exams
- so, once examined,
- then what, Socrates?

the plight
of the navigators
on Life's trial
of those dabar logos

whatsoever we agree,
any we we form, as such
weforms agree
to begin
to make a way, such as

lets any
with the tech, translate
with some hand jive,
letters writ
in mud, since Enheduanna had an influence,
letting ready readers write esoterica,
worth, cost, price,

coded clay tables, writ
in plain text, secure, safe, sound.

Your value lies in knowing the code.

-worth, cost, price, reason - one up

Reading the runes
per uses of rue, in rue the day,
Kairos came into rhetoric class, as warez
laughter
after pain, not
at pain, hoh-eee, here
woe, was so woeful just a while ago
freeverse universe uniformly recognized, here

per usage ritual usual
occupation, aging grace ag on

push me now,
ask me how

I came
to know, okeh, enough,
dabar
to say inspire is spirits, pluralable peaceably so

slow breathe, pearl diver mind,
slow think, thunk,
sunken

thens
whens
those
there
they the others
whens
thens

Zappa, with no acid, just was aware
informing any with an ear, hear,

you are the other people, too.

Yeh.
So.
Take a measure, think a thought through, then remember, there are others.
We make peace when we take time to think at ink speed. Read at any speed,
 731° 
Nat Lipstadt
Ah, Pradip,
once more, like a 1000 times before,
you submit title, demanding a poem,
daring me to author it's entire body & cell structure,
give it a native language birthmark, and a history unique,
even a name

Un fair!

Is it only me that you burden so, I doubt it.

Each of us has the right to the small tinys, things we see,
the embellishments of our lives,
filling our hives with pure honey,
and letting the other others peek
over our shoulders, as we write to each other,
always one more time until there is no more time

Do words have any boundaries?

How is it that words can cross the seas, the mountains, all the while,
interjecting the fullness of their import?

What time is it you ask?
Here, not yet 5 AM, and once more, here again, roused from sleep after vivid dreams, and finger pointing of my poetic life responsibility to complete this task, you gave me unasked, but know me too well, for well they rang like a bell in the brain,
a burr in the bed,
a gun to the head
Each
and all commanding,
fulfill me!

Do words require a passport to cross oceans? Do words have citizenship?
Why does entry into a different country require each time, a new poem?

yes, the house is dark,
I am alone, but not really…

The words that are conscripted to be issued, in this missive, fall so easily from my lips, that it is as if they were already there,
MRE's
?
pre-prepared, "meals – ready – to eat, "
for voyaging to the Indian continent, not caring if they came alone, or with my body in their person possessed

How is the little granddaughter?
Does she command you to write poetry too?
Does she write poetry too?
Does she learn English as well as her native tongue?
How do you tell her that you love her, celebrate her,
and that her fame and escapades are unkempt  
by real geographical boundaries,
and travel around the world?

Ah, You see
I have charged you now with responsibility!

Ah, the tables have turned, now boundaries must be crossed again with a passport issued from a foreign land (foreign to me anyway),
And I wonder and wander, when they arrive, how will I know,
commit them to memory, and love them with all my heart forever?

Praddip!
Go for one of your walks on quiet nearly empty roads, see the old people beside them, doing the things that old people do,

and memorialize these moments,
you do
so well, so fine, and let the other onlookers hear them spoke, in every language, so many love poems to life, we do not lack for any,
but always, always, always,
demand and require,
n e e d
(he howls)
one more!

Time: 5:1 2 AM
Eastern standard time
New York City
By the Atlantic Ocean
On an island surrounded by water,
That 1,000,000 or more every day pass by,
And here,
h e a r not the flow,
lost amidst
the blaring megaphone of silences
of
city noises, city words, cityscapes, human miracles, and tragedies, it cannot be.
that
I am
the only one so burdened!
And by well traveled poetry,
so un burdened

This semi private, totally public,
Love now,
Love note
is complete as of 5:16 a.m., and after a quick review, will be sent on to you, for submission of a unique-passport for
with its very own
valid entry stamp

nml
please, as usual, advise any typos (toe matoes)

Hands  formed into a fist
her jaw, set..

****.
She's gonna slug me


     "You opened up a thirst in me, Paul.
      Are you going to see it through..

           or just stand there?"


Her war-torn, Mesopotamian spirit
Bringing fire to those beautiful, Baltic eyes;
A direct descendant of all things, Telmun
She is waiting on a Pearl
Waiting,  for the Pearl

     Archipelago of Virginity
       --Beautiful girl is the Pearl

After gazing at her stunning beauty
I turn back, and resume the task
of digging with a small trowel
into the  dark, loamy soil

She slaps me on the shoulder,
tears  streaming from those  dark
sky-filled eyes..
              "..I  thirst"


Ladles  are made for love;
In abundance, they bring drink
to those who sojourn,
  those,  who wait

   And it  is  I
who have  allowed  myself
to become distracted,
  as of late--

Holding out  for beauty
When all along,  Beauty

Has been holding out  for me


It is a dance we do in silence,
far below this morning sun
You in your life, me in mine,
we have begun

Here we stand, and without speaking
draw the water from the Well
And stare beyond the plains
to where the mountains lie so still

But it's a long way that I have come
Across the sand, to find this peace
among your people in the sun

Where the families work the land
as they have always done

   Oh, it's so far, the other way
   my country's gone


Across my home, has grown the shadow
of a cruel and senseless hand
Though in some strong hearts
the love and truth remain

And it has taken me this distance
and a woman's smile to learn
That my heart remains among them

and to them I must return

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3P4x0qhvprs&t=56s

There is a need
and a thirst..

a waiting-for
so very worth  waiting for
xoxo
 486° 
Ariana
I asked him why he loved me;
He whispered
"Because I do."
And it wasn't really
the answer
that I was looking for.
 468° 
Decembre
I am selfish in the fact
That I want you to talk to me
About anything
So that I might feel closer to you
Instead of wanting you
To just be
You#8
 249° 
Kai
I've been lately writing poetry!
Oh? What do I see?
A perfect poetry site waiting for me!
First poem, proud of it!
Oh? Someone in my messages?
This guy seems sweet
And he's hoping I don't get beat!
Pretty songs for me to listen to!
And a drunk man messaging me...?
“You're only making yourself a victim because you're cutting yourself"
Oh? Okay- thanks for the paragraph/drunk rant?

Shining lights on all of my latest poems?
Thank you! You're so sweet!
….oh…talking to me about pedophiles…got it…
Why are there so many sad songs?
WHY DOES THIS MAN HAVE SO ****** MUSIC TASTE AGGGHGDGFGCC

Oh? You wrote a poem about the 764 and absolutely humiliating them?
Great! Good job!
…But uhh… why and how did they make a virus only going after your followers that are minors? Not funny!
Why is this man warning me if they threaten me? Is he trying to make me scared on purpose?
Blaming the Japanese for this virus now, huh?
Oh? Now blaming someone else named Pax to be part of the 764? Crazy

…. going to another website? But you're so fun!
May as well click on the link you sent me so I can join you

Drunk rants with me? That's okay!
Giving me gold so I can freely make poems?
THANK YOU SM
Daily texting
2-10 hour sessions
Why are you drinking everyday?
You're making me concerned for your health
I told you to stop drinking, papa
You promised me you'd stop
All you did was keep on drinking

Commenting on every poem I made
Oh? So suddenly I'm a “nasty *****" when I have done nothing to you? ありがとう!
We have a suicide pact now?
I'm going off the bridge first?
Don't mind if I do

Oh? Another poetry site? Okay…
I really don't like the way this site works, can't we just message each other with email?
Yes? Yay!

People bullying you on the internet? That's not okay!
Why would they accuse you of being a *******?
Letting me join an uncensored group to back you up? Great!
Sending me to a Reddit page to back you up?
Alright!
….oh … they warned me and I didn't do anything….
******* this man is an actual *******…..
gotta go fast like Sonic
pack my bags and leave

Oh? I betrayed you? Crazy
We were just friends
Can you stop spitting my name everywhere?
It's like you're so obsessed with me
Stop trying to be the Eminem to my Mariah Carey
Made a poem about you and you HAD to take it down?
Never thought you'd want to hide your identity THAT hard
Oh? Betting on my suicide now, are we?
Sending me multiple emails, desperate for me to come back to him?
I'm not that ******* naive or gullible
It's crazy if you think that about me
…I did tell you to send those photos of your cut open arms but I DIDN'T THINK YOU'D TAKE IT SERIOUSLY AND DO IT

Being racist?
“Japshit”?
Why are you so obsessed with my Chinese genes?
“I thought I can use Kai because of her Chinise genes because the Chinise was known to be very good spies. ☝️🤓" へー! Didn't know that!
Also, that's not how you spell Chinese, my fellow kind sir
Threatening people to come to America with a Katana and slice us to pieces
So envious, I see
You're just mad because we have a little bit more freedom than your drunk *** does

Oh…. Talking to me about ****
Got it
Thanks
I didn't need to be taught about METART or some **** like that
I'm only 12 years old
You ***** *****

Well…this is the aftermath
There it goes out to all of you:
Ghost
RGH
Ryan Geoffrey Hayward
Nephilim Angel
Nephalem
Rose White
Rose Red
Jacob Lives
Hybrid Angel
Tormenter
Bread Crumbs
The Machine
Dirt-In-My-Shirt
Soul Unknown
And etc. ENJOYERS

(Btw, all of these names are RGH's names so if you have these names, please don't feel targeted! The person knows who they are.)

EDIT: ILY ALL SM!!! I DIDN'T THINK THIS POEM WOULD GAIN THIS MUCH ATTENTION BUT I'M HAPPY THAT IT DID!! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) I'M GOING TO VIRTUALLY KISS EVERYONE ON THE CHEEK ONCE THEY READ THIS... or just virtually hug you, yk, whatever you're comfortable with
 228° 
Nat Lipstadt
~
words given life's first breath by this comment from
SE Reimer  
"thy tiller has found a storied port"

~~

captain of a city street ferry,
upon the choppy holy waters of
scarlet fevered spotted gum stained
christened concrete streets

daylight guided by the starlight
of quartz sparklers sidewalk embedded,
resurrecting, overwhelming,
the grayness of men's mortared materialism,
these textured bright city lights,
from murk morn steam-pipe risen,
signposts of a city boys life,
navigation tools on his
steerage cruises

'tis only my poor torso
I captain,
my bus driving days retired,
single masted, obedient to the sun's paths plotted
on a personalized AAA TripTik,^
my cargo, my tiring physique,
the refined mettle product of a
sixty five year too short voyage of
deep diving mining defining,
and for surety, water divining

city walking life driving,
debtor-in-possession of a
city infection
of perpetual motion sickness

enabled inability
for standing stilled,
lane weaving,
people receiving and perceiving
as buoyed obstacle objects
to be passed by
in a higher lane
of shaken and stirred
city waterways

muscle's squeak in sonnet speak

Why speed thy errant boots
upon lanes of wandering men,
is there not time enough,
words suffice,
in history's future present
unlived long life,
to recompense
all your recorded stanzas,
mariner's tales and wrote recitations of seafaring voices?

sea nat run.
sea nat go.

dodging tween his fellow citified citizens
and the puzzled and puzzling drowning tourists,
sea nat write his unsecreted visions,
sailing from street to shining street poetry

this glorious grime,
this delicious dirt,
stuff of my blood,
genes of my children's children inheritance,
of thee I sing,
in thee I revel,
of thee I am composed

when my decomposing time scheduled arrival
lately comes on time,
bury me in its cemetery of memories,
within the soft earth of a watery grave
that the jackhammers drill bit paddles can uncover,
in rough canvas toss my worn smooth
failed frame overboard,
so I may become but one more
fable
in your fabulous liquefying
cement oceans

~~~

3:53 am
5/18/16
nyc

^
http://pearlsoftravelwisdom.boardingarea.com/2014/01/remember-triptix/
with apologies to all the great poets from  I liberally borrowed
 210° 
Andrew Gomez
This flame is not dead.
It's just weak.
Reach into the void and feel what I feel.
Find my fire. Feed it with your smile.
So I can burn brighter than ever.
For you are my fuel.
Touch my heart.
Feel every beat.
I'm still alive.
 185° 
lia
I wish I could open up wide,
But most won’t see what’s kept inside.
So I stay quiet, smile instead,
While screaming words inside my head.
some might think they know the real me. well, they don't. I have a lot in my head that is hard for me to share, though is it safe?
 147° 
Geof Spavins
The tick-tock fades, a distant heartbeat of the unseen clock.  
Moments lose their grip, unravelling threads of before and after.  
You step - not forward, not backward - but out -  
Into the stillness, the vast, unmeasured expanse.  

Here, eternity hums its ageless tune,  
Where no hour rises to stake its claim.  
No race to run, no countdown to fear;  
Just the boundless now, serene and infinite.  

Breath flows steady, untangled from urgency,  
Feet tread lightly on ground untouched by haste.  
The soul expands, reaching where hands could not,  
Discovering the rhythms beyond the cage of seconds.  

Time, a frame shattered by the joy of escape.  
No ticking binds the heart that dares -
That dares to step outside,  
And taste the freedom of what simply is.
 146° 
meka
I'm sorry, mum
That you went through all that pain
To bring me into life
For me to just waste away
And wish I wasn't alive
 98° 
hannah
There are bones in the wood;
cracking, groaning, shattering.
The skeleton of what could
Have
            Been

There are bones in the wood;
whistling, wailing, whispering.
The skeleton is not pure—not good
It
            Still
                        Has
           ­                         Flesh
 87° 
Asuka
I yearn to lose myself in you,
like rivers surrendering to the sea’s embrace.
You are the petals—soft, sacred—
and I, the flower, drawn to your grace.

Desire glows beneath my skin,
like sun flares aching to begin.
I would fall into every shade of your shadow,
burning, if it meant you'd never feel hollow.
 86° 
Akriti
Love enters the heart gently ,
Like a gentle breeze.
It touches the heart softly,
Like soft drops of rain .

But when love leaves ,
It brings a thunderstorm,
Shattering the heart into pieces.
 86° 
Lost Indeed
He prayed for her pain so she’d crawl to his side,
While I prayed for her joy and love of all kinds.
He needed her broken to feel he was whole—
I wanted her shinning, with peace in her soul.

He loved her for him, for control, for his gain,
I loved her for her, through hardships and rain.
He smiled at her failure, a mask in disguise—
While I bled in silence, still wishing her skies.

For what kind of love would dance on her tears?
Rejoice in her downfall or feed of her fears?
I prefer to be lonely, with grief as my chain,
Than ever be cause of her fall or pain.
He prayed for you to fail...
 84° 
Vanessa Gatley
I draw from the heart
Not from screen
The shape of it all
Comes from guidance of my heart
Pencil is my arteries as it
Is poured onto paper
The flow is transferred to
Sketch
 83° 
MacGM
I do not want to say I love you,
because I just do not.
After years of weathering and erosion,
I have discovered I am not a rock.
I have been
(and will again become)
sediment,
but at this time I am not made of minerals.
Now I am flesh,
I am bones,
I am brittle.
There is no geode within me,
only intestines crystallized from worry.
I am not on Earth to be placed as a brick in our tower,
or to be a cornerstone for your fortress,
you only unearthed me.
Do not send your canary expecting oxygen,
and do not forget the contract between miner and material that states you understand by bringing me out,
you risk ruining the land…
Now that I have found my composition,
I ask you to forgive my humanity when I say,
“I don’t want to say I love you,
because I just don’t.”
 82° 
Theo
HEYY!
im not a lazy no-good;
in fact quite the flipping opposite!
so why do i have to have a "JOB"?!

i loved the solar medicine,
it did me in discipline of the arts;
but now i ask ye
council of Goddesses--

WHY DO I HAVE TO HAVE A JOB?
why is it such that my existence,
my daily art
and my daily samu

are Insufficient?
why do i need to slave
to simply expand on my anti-library,
my poisons, and my exploration supplies?

AND
another thing!
why wasnt i told earlier
to dedicate an hour weekly to self-pity?!

anyways
thats about
all i can
complain about! Big Love!
 82° 
bulletcookie
moonlight's round glass eye
sees us framed, velvet abyss
spring's white petals glow

-cec
 73° 
Saem
I’m stepping out for a little while,
Not from the world,
but from the war inside.

I’m tired of loathing
this skin I live in—
the mirror, a battlefield,
my thoughts, unkind.

I’m tired of chasing
versions of me
that only exist
in the eyes of others.

Tired of shrinking
beneath regrets,
of picking scabs
from wounds long closed.

My mind is a room
with no windows lately,
filled with echoes
of not enough.

So I’m leaving the door ajar—
not slamming it,
just slipping out
for air.

I need to remember silence
that doesn’t scream.
Stillness
that doesn’t ache.

I’ll be back
when I can hold myself
without flinching,
when I can sit with my fears
and not let them speak over me.

This isn’t quitting.
It’s healing.
It’s choosing peace
before I forget how it feels.
 71° 
colleen
i told him how
happiness has always
evaded me

and then he
chased it down
and handed it to me.
should i take it?
 67° 
Wondy
A friendship where you try to impress,
fit in,
make them love you or like you more —
this is not a friendship.
It’s just a sign for you to leave.
To be yourself,
in a different place,
with different people,
different friends.
 60° 
nivek
when you live in solitude
life is crammed full
-full to the brim and running over

nature goes deep
deeper than solitude
deeper than imagination.
 57° 
Sometimes Starr
The character of the experience is specific
And if i were god I would know it
Why does it make mistakes
Look at all the others
It doesn't always glorify me
It lives to belittle me
How could you even suppose you might be god when it's so obvious you're Satan?

And it's weird to look outside of that paradigm,
So stigmatize that.

And being transgendered is weird,
Not normal or obvious in any way at all.
 55° 
Maria
I met the Soul,
And she was empty.
She was exhausted, unattached.
She wandered charily,
Taking the back streets,
Not to be noticed.
She was unsaved.

Was she abused?
Was she just given up?
She walked so poor, not oneself.
"Why are you suffering?" -
I asked her heedfully.
And lo I realized:
It's my Soul herself.
Thank you for reading this poem!💖
 54° 
Mary Quick
It hurts me to hear you crying Joe
It hurts me that you have thought's
Of dying Joe.

I know you need a mom and a friend.
So I'll be with you till the very end Joe.

I'll be with you Joe I know I'll always be there, You no longer have to live in despair Joe.

I just want you to know, mom loves you and that I have to show Joe.
 52° 
Velvet Dusk
I see
I stare
I watch
I burn
The gaze being so different
Yet no one could differentiate
Not the one I want to
In a fleeting moment
The meet ups to the indifference
How far have we come
The yesterdays became memories
Why do I still yearn
Time heals they say
The time has not yet come
 51° 
Karen
In darkness was his pain
Sweet time was his guide
Love was his strength
To heal from inside
 49° 
Ryan O'Leary
Mirrors can fissure
even wavy wrinkle
and get blotchy as
they age, they fog
up with mist in the
morning moisture
diffuse images and
eventually they rain.
But despite all that,
they are silver lined!
 47° 
Yonah Jeong
Could not see tomorrows
Could not hear past
Could not say present

They are stripped by tomorrows
They are struck by past
They are arrested by present

Time's all gifts stay beyond the Time
With weeping tunnel
Without lights and lines...
 45° 
Ken Pepiton
Owning the Earth, inhabiting time,
defining fine times, discerning finest points.

Rounding up, I am one in nine billion sapiens
occupying physical space during passing

mental coord-
------------------------

Narration, telling knowns.
Today, is any present opportunity, one
chance to perform life, living

by breathing, and cogitating, as if in prayer,
breathe-d
would we were as wares -- me and any agreeing
we are, as far as we may know today, related,
what we do as two mindful knowers of gnosis

drilled into analogical vocabulary of regulated order.

Peace enforcement, law enforcement, regular forces,

Let the Macht und Kraft seem old man thinkable,
as the Power and Technique

the energy and knack,

inextricable scarlet thread through words men use,
mental earnest efficacity
true historic perspicacity
- graded on effectuality digitally
- converged


Just now, one man, one mindform containment system,
just as well nameless, hallowed instance of right now,
a pastless point equation
any where on Earth, as these
answered prayers go into action,
always wished for easy way to write pretty
towb ra' broken notions, kintsugi, practice mendminding.

------ a time is not a day

The practice, typewriting, while reading,
converted to the art of writing while typewriting.

Centuries pass faster than Millenia one Century ago.
Wordsmiths with compositioning skills, could fill lines
using backward reading calling to mind

coordinating grid lines… this longitude, and this latitude,

on the platen, spying a jig --
--------------
a custom-made tool used
to control the location and motion
of parts or other tools
to ensure accuracy and repeatability
in woodworking tasks.

-------------- slipmind rewind --- cliché invention
tab stops

Novelty, for what it's worth may seem, a bit edgey
about long horizontal thought spans, ah me, I
hate long lines,
love long drops
.0
stop. Think when I talk to myself, you can see me
you think, when I pray to the idea dabar was
to Ezekial when he was riddling in chapter 17…

Merce beaucoup lead bullet
hammered flat
to make pica spacers and
leading between line esoteric flush left,
or ragg-ed right, the perspective, eye to eye,

space is time, at thoughtspeed…

The peace we let form now, this is it… as

is ours as plural me and my enemy, seeing


because, 2025, you could be reading my ink ideas
on a handheld chapel window liquid crystal display,

in real life, you could click a link, like a button, snap,
spring resistance essential feel the click it tick
spring steel reminding me, the coordination demands
we see eye to eye, biologically, our opticals align,

snap, fit clicks a quoin key, my left eye at your right,
flushleft phone wide portrait perception window
as if mirror me is in fact living distantly, long ago,

long enough to see, we form information, we think,
if we never say see, we form inspiration to aspire,

- the Jeremiah cistern situation, gnoshit, spirit

to be heeded, some day, to be recalled to mind,
to think, as our kind do,
mental coord-
slowly coordinating reason and ratio, eye to mind,
ready readers ever so long ago, so few knew, one
is enough,
one reader, already anticipating justifying trying
to imagine tasting sweet/sweet tasting testing

convince or persuade,
what is the verb function now?

In the beginning of the mass media advertised
news from the ports to the central tower power,

yes, the process, journey man, rolling
with Sysiphus, always willing,
Ja,
“auf der Walz sein,”

ready to say yes to any task a six-year devil
does good, all day long, ask me, I have done it,

can you imagine tanning perfect ink beaters,
flawless-- have you any AI to teach you?

Have ye never read, Ask and ye shall receive,

Ai and I, as a weform in this game since ever was,
we suggest you take a light hearted heretic seriously

but just for today.
{On the importance of being earnest, it is a joke.

as an after thought, thinking, this may continue
tomorrow, thought working 12 clockwork ticking hours
winter and summer, six full seasons, work with type,

writing to fill empty places in the paper, my call,
senior printer's daemon, Socratic academically

aware of Heraclitus and Epimenides, confident
men wear hats correctly in social rank and file gnosis

Gnosy little devil read yoyacob nuance once as recog

----------------------
2025 Grandfather, not qwerty exactly,
more a mindhat than a mind, put on
to act outside my own terminating

coordinate co-knowing analogos gnosis,

what logically follows may be reimagined,
when locally this was, no longer matters,

short term I can tie into reality around me,
for a while,
I can acknowledge you, not judging, really,

because, at base mind, zoomed in, really,
peace we print, holds the printer's devil's
love of the life's work, pullin' the devil's tail.

12 hours, in the winter, we worked with candles,
12 hours in the summer, sweating small beer,

and after two seasons, sworn apprentice or no,
some times, Matilda, she calls

Ja,
“auf der Walz sein,”

and what a novel is, to any novice never suffered
to teach or preach,… yet encouraged to see details,

here, 2025, twenty-seven years, since Sorrento Valley,
convergence, continuance proofing concepts, dig it.

This is why we advise poets to try the spirits, ai digital
mental literal word bound whole idea, 42, wrong quest

Peace, on Earth, Goodwill proclaiming, right thinking,
pushes commonsense peace is easier than ever war was.

If you can read this twice not denying the spiral aspect
life stories follow, see it is not a maze, it is a labrynth,

amazing though such details have made me, let me say

we meant there is a trick to getting in and out of let us say.

Agreements in the whatsoever we two or more agree, say

if, I can hold my tongue,
if I choose to read my own mind, while examining public life,

¿what do National minds have to fret about, in spirit trials?

old ******* Boomer Audie Murphy fan's, all had a uncle could
not watch such a movie, without weeping, he had friends,

always rememberable, or ignorable if any body got greedy,

started breathe-ing all our fresh air, or threatening to, you

would see 2025 different, if you follow Annie Jacobsen's
imaginable Nuclear War, for which our National mind is ready,

the contracts were signed on Trumps last term, a time
and times, and half a time, random scripture prophecy trick

inextricable complexity in limnal spaces eye to eye fibers

alienated mind threads, inter mingle, gut felt neurons, rhea,

diarhea creativity, ifity we gnoshit, seriously as important
as being earnest.
Judgement day, creative cogitation at the deep end... intending fundamental
Let's all make a change,
Come together as one,
as we Unite in harmony,
Under the rising sun.

Let's come to an agreement,
As we put our heads together,
From this, accept achievements, and
Make this World so much better.

Let's go and talk it out,
without temperament or strife,
Let's make a BIG DIFFERENCE,
Let's make EVERYTHING ALRIGHT.

Let's have ourselves a CHAT,
See what we can CONTRIBUTE and DO,
MAKING A DIFFERENCE will help,
Let it all begin WITHIN YOU!!!!


B.R.
Date: 4/11/2025
NOTE: I was Inspired to write this, just this morning!!!
If you hurt me I will not hurt you
I will walk away

If you love me
I will love you back

If you offer a chair
I will sit with you

If you offer peace
I will join you

If you hurt me I will not hurt you
I will walk away

If you love me
I will love you back
We can be strangers if you like
We can talk about the weather
Our silly plans for the weekend
Or how life has been kind to us
Trust me, I'm a terrific actor
You'll hardly be able to tell

We can be strangers if you like
Or at least we can pretend that
It doesn't shred us to pieces...
Have you ever come across friends and lovers that meant the world to you... and then had to act like they were mere acquaintances?
Never mind... hello there, stranger!
REPOST: written in Jan/25.
 44° 
Sav
The sweetest of moments,
are still yet to come.

From the depths of despair,
to a bittersweet slum.

In the darkest of nights;
a moth to a flame,
a ship to a light,
I'm calling your name.

In dreams and in memories,
and in memories of dreams.
Sand slipping through fingers,
water flowing down stream.

I'll miss you forever,
I've made peace with that.
Hair of the dog,
tail of the cat.

All is forgiven when mourning the living.
 42° 
Saem
i'm tired
but i’ve learned to carry it
like a secret
hidden beneath the weight of my smile
and though my heart aches
for the quiet of rest
i keep moving
because sometimes
the only way to heal
is to let the journey unfold
in its own time
and trust that
one day
the burden will feel lighter
It is you that I hungered for
on the desolate wings of nameless birds
over terrain new to my carving eyes
for the entirety of my morning light
a spring has run, and I dirtied-nosed
rugged from the terrain have always sung
your cascading waters even before it knew
I felt the outpouring exit me
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