Alone, at 'home'. A day, unpaid.
Bills to atone, fiscally afraid.
Debt of two, now on one.
Payments due, nothing 'fun'.

Survival, not 'thriving'.
OT windfalls--budget conniving.
Choices made. Austerity seeps.
The bed is laid, time to sleep.

Hardship evoked, no regrets
Deals revoked, struggle I beget
Conscious clear, I did my best.
For dollars, fear. Portents to attest.

But this is me.
Limited vocabulary.
Vernacular simplicity.
Self-imposed repository.

The Idiot with history.

The fool doling out the same lines.
An unaware pantomime.
To succinctly find.
Another pre-used rhyme.

(Look it up)

Burn me at the stake, another fake.
Dream, do not wake. For goodness sake
I take and take. Little do I make.
'Images' I bake. In my tower, I quake.

I fear the truth; I am no better than no one.
I fear abuse. A lofty status--position not won.
I grab and I steal, to broker this deal
Better to feel, a fantasy over what is real.

My efforts contrived, come as no surprise.
To open eyes, importance implied.
This flippant disguise cannot hide--
Ego paralyzed, Meaning subsidized.

---

I sit alone in this place, a history to trace.
Accountability's lace. Consequences to face.
I made my decision, in our division.
A better vision, self-inflicted incision.

To heal what is not well
.

Amid the clamor of self-assured minds,
Where the knowing parade their truths refined,
A quieter echo hums, profound and true:
The wisdom of those who confess, "I don't know."

Socrates walked where shadows spoke,
Challenging sages with questions that broke
The fragile veneer of their certain lore—
Truth's light reveals we know far less, not more.

To claim "I know" is to build a wall,
A citadel guarding knowledge small.
Yet cracks appear where hubris reigns,
And truth escapes through humility's pains.

The unknowing few, with open eyes,
Gaze past the clouds of prideful lies.
They ask, they doubt, they sift, they weigh,
In search of dawn where night holds sway.

Euthyphro claims divinity's hand,
Yet falters when truths shift like sand.
Crito pleads for escape to the day,
But justice demands the law's heavy sway.

Phaedo weeps at the prison’s gate,
Yet Socrates drinks the hemlock of fate.
In questions that turn the soul to flame,
The unknowing walk a nobler aim.

To know is to cease, to doubt is to grow;
The river flows where the winds dare blow.
For wisdom, dear friends, begins to take flight
Not in the sun, but in yearning for light.

It ain’t over yet,
Falling through the jagged depths—
Rock whispers, "Begin."

The fence posts stand, bleached and brittle,
a tidy graveyard for dreams not their own.
Each board a promise of security,
painted white by hands that never bled,
guarding a silence that screams privilege.

A lawn mowed to uniformity,
as if clipping blades could trim truth.
Beneath, the roots tangle in soil tilled
by those unseen in the storybooks,
their spines curved by centuries of labor
to raise a house that barely held them.

Inside, the air is stale with whispers
of manifest destinies and invisible hands.
Windows frame a world distorted,
a lens of 'normal' that filters out color,
washing the streets in sepia nostalgia.
The picket fence becomes a cage
for those who see the bars.

But who built this town?
Not the architects of ignorance
who claimed the blueprint as birthright.
No, it was those in shadow,
their brilliance stolen to light the chandeliers
of men who never thanked them.
It was the voices erased
to make way for the monotonous hum
of a narrative too pale to reflect reality.

Progress wears brown hands,
scarred from the heat of engines
that drove the country forward.
It sings in languages
that don’t fit neatly into syllabaries,
its rhythm syncopated, refusing the march
of conformity.
Progress carves its name
into the very foundations of a nation
too proud to look down.

And now, the town crumbles,
its picket fences splintered
by the weight of unacknowledged history.
The 'white normality' that painted
its walls in monochrome
is revealed as smoke—
a ghost-town haunted by the very people
who gave it life,
only to be exorcised.

Yet those ghosts do not wail.
They speak, steady and firm,
their presence undeniable.
They are the architects now,
designing futures that will not crumble,
drawing plans that see the beauty
in every hue.

And the white-picket fences
are repurposed for something new,
their shards forged into tools
to till a soil fertile with truth,
where a garden of multitudes can finally bloom.

(A dumb song we put together)

[Verse 1]
You send a text, I wait and stare,
A little "k," like you don’t care.
I type it out, delete again,
Why am I trying to pretend?

The pixels glow, my heart beats fast,
But your response is fading fast.
A digital wave, a hollow "hi,"
Another low-effort reply.

[Pre-Chorus]
We used to build these castles,
Line by line, bit by bit.
Now it’s all just static,
No meaning left in it.

[Chorus]
Low-effort replies,
Why do we even try?
A "sure," a "cool," a "k,"
And it all drifts away.
Low-effort replies,
Like love on a Wi-Fi line.
Just once, can we collide?
No more low-effort replies.

[Verse 2]
Your typing stops, the dots don’t move,
I’m stuck here waiting for a clue.
Was it the wrong emoji face?
Why does it feel like empty space?

The beat goes on, the synths repeat,
But your words just skip the beat.
We’re satellites that lost their way,
Drifting in the gray.

[Pre-Chorus]
We used to share our secrets,
Through every tiny screen.
Now it’s just encryption,
And messages unseen.

[Chorus]
Low-effort replies,
Why do we even try?
A "sure," a "cool," a "k,"
And it all drifts away.
Low-effort replies,
Like love on a Wi-Fi line.
Just once, can we collide?
No more low-effort replies.

[Bridge]
(Spoken, vocoder-style)
"I just want to feel your voice again,
Not just echoes in the silence."

(Glitchy synth solo)

Can we break through the noise,
Find a signal in the void?
Or is this all we’ll ever know,
A love that’s buffering, too slow?

[Chorus]
Low-effort replies,
Why do we even try?
A "sure," a "cool," a "k,"
And it all drifts away.
Low-effort replies,
Like love on a Wi-Fi line.
Just once, can we collide?
No more low-effort replies.

[Outro]
(Ticking drum machine fades out)
Low-effort, low-effort,
Low-effort replies...
We used to build a world,
Now it’s empty skies.

Once upon a time. Very, very long ago
I found myself in infinite black.
Without direction, I started to go,
moving forward, never looking back.

Years and years I trudged through the dark,
always searching for a faint unknown.
Time unraveled, leaving no mark,
as I wandered in shadows alone.

A glow appeared, soft and shy,
its edges faint, but growing near.
A warmth, a whisper, a gentle sigh,
its promise banished every fear.

I was only a wanderer here, called to move on,
To find my courage and heal my longing.
But the moment has come, the awaited dawn,
To leave the void behind, the shadows thronging.

To guide me toward my quest was the light’s intent,
A companion to kindle strength within.
Waves of uncertainty washed over me, but onward I went,
To step into the glow, where new worlds begin.

This is where I am now, or have I always been?
Bathed in brilliance, with nothing to fear.
Am I awake or asleep? Sometimes I think I dream
of a time before the light made all things clear.

It’s hard to remember and harder each time
to imagine darkness that once defined me.
I am soaring, endlessly.
Soon there will be only light. Only me.

I am light, and I have always been.
Infinite brilliance, eternally.