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  May 29 badwords
Anais Vionet
Our land of stars and stripes, now glows,
with screens that flicker in hallowed halls.
Entranced humans shuffle, with eyes fixed below,
on small gadgets that have us enthralled.

Should the Statue of Liberty, our symbolic girl,
be holding a smartphone up to the world?
While tweets fly like eagles and hashtags swirl,
foreign disinformation trends as fast as it’s purled.

In lunch halls, real conversations take rest,
as influence is sought—in hoity-toity, binary quest.
Friends are backdrops—originality in short supply
as likes and shares make our dopamine fly.

America’s zombies, though ******* drained,
shuffle endlessly on, with Wi-Fi stimulated brains.
Once the land of the free, we’re now the land of tech
with minds wrecked by truths unchecked.

As we rock and sway—the new robot way—
will our old, analog-republic simply fade away?
.
.
Songs for this:
Airhead by Thomas Dolby
.
Oh, and a Christmas playlist because—it’s December!:
https://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_01.mp3
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 12/04/24:
hoity-toity = snooty or pretentious
  May 29 badwords
jules
the night pressed in,
heavy and mean,
the way it always does
when you’re sober long enough
to feel everything you’ve been running from.

i sat in the kitchen,
a cigarette burning in the ashtray,
the smoke curling up
like the ghosts of all the things
i used to believe in.

there was a cockroach on the floor,
big, slow,
moving like it had seen worse days than me.
i thought about smashing it,
about what it must be like
to live your whole life
dodging shoes and poison
and still keep going.

but instead,
i opened the window,
watched it crawl out into the night.
then i crushed the cigarette,
and thought:
maybe that’s all there is—
just figuring out
who’s worth saving.
and hoping someday,
it’s you.
  May 29 badwords
Thomas W Case
We used to talk about
going
to Montana--escaping it all,
building a log cabin and
making a garden.  We were
going to hunt and fish for
food--make rugs and
hats from the fur.

But look at us now.
You live in the
city and drive a Volvo.
Goldfish in a glass bowl.
You even taught your
cat to walk on
a leash.
Can you see the
sky with all the smog?

I'm not any better.
Living under the bridge;
the only hunting I do is
for cans, the rare and
illusive
aluminum nickel, so that
I can buy *****.  

I walk down to the
river's edge and look up at
the expansive sky.
I close my eyes.
And when I open them, baby,
we're in Montana.
Here's a link to my you tube channel where I read poetry from my recently published book, Rise Up Collected Poems and Short Stories, available on Booksie.com
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1khU1Mo5AKE
  May 29 badwords
Scarlet McCall
Locked into place.
Orwell’s boot on our face.
The human tragedy.
The human disgrace.
We slept with the enemy;
accepted his embrace.
“Aren’t things better now?”
they say; and it can’t be denied–
some things are better.
But is the difference so wide?
“Isn’t it enough, what I do for you?
Do I have to be perfect, too?”
No one is perfect. And I have gratitude.
But I’m waiting, still waiting
for one thing from you:
Admit what’s been done,
by your kind (and yes, you)
Don’t pretend to be blind.
Admit what we gave.
And what you received.
Admit what you took.
And how we weren’t believed.
When you bear this witness,
When you testify
We’ll be friends forever,
You and I.
Most men aren't sexist pigs. The problem is that they won't admit other men are.
  May 29 badwords
Traveler
Love can make us losers
Invested in love’s game
It can hurt to be human
But..
I love you just the same!
Traveler Tim
Dear Father
I’m alone in a very scary place
And I’m not certain how I got here.
I lost sight of the footprints I was following
And wandered off the pathway you laid out for me.

The wind is cold and the sky is dark.
I just heard screeches from the nearby woods
And this path ends in only brambles.
Kneeling on the rocky ground
I beseech the Lord to rescue me.
He either doesn’t hear my cry
Or this is where I need to be
To learn to never take my eyes
Away from the light that guides me.
ljm
Day 5 trying to post this.  Feeling lost.
  May 29 badwords
Airi Lightmoon
Atlas, the Titan who was punished by Zeus.
Burdened to carry the heavens, he walks slowly,
His muscles strain, he grits his teeth as the sphere full of stars continues to grow.

Above him, constellations dance, unaware,
Unmoved by the weight they press upon his back.
Atlas’s shoulders bear worlds that he’ll never touch,
A universe of light bound to his bones in darkened chains.
He remembers freedom like a song half-forgotten,
The days before duty sealed him to this fate.
Yet, no one looks back to see the man bent low,
The silent guardian of the stars’ cold glow.

I was his lover, his friend
Yet, he kept pushing
Refusing to let go
The heavens kneeling his figure more and more
As others pass by him without a single glance

“Why?” I asked him “Why not let it go?”
He looked at me with his sad eyes
And said,
“Someone has to carry them”

A star shot through the space within the sphere
As he fell more and more in love with his burden
And slowly forgot about me

So, I, too, became a shadow among the stars,
Watching him fade, bound to his fate.
I whisper his name to the heavens he bears,
Knowing he’ll never hear me through that endless weight.

Years later, I saw him again, set in stone
Those beautiful sad eyes I fell in love with
Permanently fixed forward
Until the end of time.
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